i wanted to draw an extra art as a bonus postcard for online book orders... so here's what i ended up drawing! i wanted to draw something along the theme of a wedding, but i didn't want to be too on the nose with it LOL
i hope you like it 🙏 may krng forever transcend space and time
(if anyone is interested, POs are still open until June 15th...!)
demon prodigy, huh? (ada!dazai x current demon prodigy reader)
summary: in which mori sends you on a mission that shatters you, and dazai is willing to pick up the pieces
content: ada!dazai x pm!fem!reader, reader is 15, platonic, brotherly love!!!! angst no comfort (yet), mentions of death, blood, violence, this chapter doesnt really have dazai in it lmaooo its mostly mori and reader, tragic chapter haha im so sorry guys, NOT PROOFREAD OOPS
a/n: SORRY THIS CHAPTER IS SO LONG I GOT WAY TOO DEEP IN MY FEELINGS UHMMMM I'LL MAKE IT UP TO U GUYS NEXT CHAPTER GIVE ME A FEW HOURS 🫰
CHAPTER THREE
Days have passed since you last saw Dazai, and truthfully, you’ve forgotten all about it. The tentative comfort you felt no longer lingered in your heart because of how occupied you’ve been with your responsibilities. It was early morning, you were having the usual weekly reports with Mori in his office. His praise felt validating at the start, but nowadays, you don't feel contentment when you hear him applauding you for a job well done.
“Ah, yes, Y/N. I almost forgot to ask. How did that mission go? The one I sent you on…I believe it was a Tuesday.”
“It went well.”
“Did you follow exactly what I told you?”
“...No witnesses.”
Mori clapped, an amused smile on his face. “Briliant! Ah, Y/N, I can always rely on you.”
The praise made your skin crawl, but you forced a polite smile, just like you always did. There were days where you smiled so much and nodded so many times you were sure muscle fibers in your cheeks were torn—but it’s okay. As long as the Port Mafia had their reliable, obedient, capable Demon Prodigy, then all is well.
“...Did you change anything about you today, Y/N?” Mori asks, his velvet voice masking his suspicion for genuine curiosity so well. You didn’t know what he was referring to—sure, you may have put on a bit more effort on your makeup today to hide your exhaustion, but a man like him didn’t care for those things.
“Hm? What do you mean?”
There was a small pause, and then Mori laughed. It was the laugh that always sets you on edge, because it often meant he was supposed to say something, but he chose to keep it to himself just a little longer. “It’s nothing, Y/N. Your assignments are on your desk.” And just like that, you were dismissed.
You walked to your office, your shoes slapping against the floor felt like a countdown. What assignment was it this time? You seemed to get used to the viciousness that your assignments required. It’s your duty, after all.
Once you arrived, the mahogany doors slammed behind you before you collapsed onto your leather chair. The black binder of instructions and details about your new mission looked like it was taunting you, but you opened it anyway. To your surprise, you were getting new companions—new recruits, almost your age. Ogawa, Meiko, Sayaka.
“New recruits…huh?” You mumble to yourself, looking through their files, and sure enough, they were still fresh members. Impressive abilities, yes, but inexperienced. But honestly, you felt quite relieved. You can’t remember the last time you worked with kids your age.
A soft knock interrupts the silence in your office, it was different from when people just barged into the room. “Enter.”, you call out. And there they were. One look at them, and you already had a good guess on their personalities, but looking at them together, they didn’t look like mafia assassins. They looked like a bunch of teenagers trying to look tough. Just like you.
Ogawa had his hands in his pocket, you smiled at how he was trying to play it cool, but you could see that his boots were polished so bright the office lights reflected off them—he was trying hard to impress the Demon Prodigy.
Meiko was…overly formal. She had the binder clutched closely to her chest, her voice cracking slightly as she introduced the three of them.
And Sayaka…You could tell she had a good heart. She looked at you, not as the legendary prodigy, but as a peer. “Hey…you seem exhausted. Did we arrive too early?” The girl says, and you offer her a polite smile.
“No, you’re…right on time. I’m relieved. I look forward to getting to know you three on this mission.” You say softly, the tone that was usually reserved for your loved ones at the orphanage seemed to come out naturally. “...You all look so tense! No need to be so formal, we’re the same age.”
The visible relief that washed over their faces was almost pathetic. Meiko’s shoulders dropped, Sayaka let out a breath she seemed to have been holding since the lobby.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Sayaka squeaked, taking a daring half-step forward. She nervously fumbled with her pocket before pulling out a small, crumpled candy, holding it out to you. “We–we heard the Demon Prodigy was terrifying! But…Y/N-san, you…you look really tired. Do you want a sweet?”
“Sayaka, shut up! You can’t just offer candy to an executive!” Ogawa hissed under his breath, his face flushing bright red.
You stared at the colorful wrapper in her hand. For a second, you remembered the smell of a warm convenience store meat bun. A small, genuine tug pulled at the corner of your lips—different from the smile that Mori demanded, but something real.
“Thank you, Sayaka.” You smile softly, taking the candy. “Let’s get to work!”
The three of you got out of the vehicle, walking to the venue that Mori described. “Mori-san, you assigned me to work with a brat!” You groaned into your collar mic, ignoring Ogawa’s offended squawk from behind you. But despite your complaints, a huge smile was plastered all over your face, and for once, it was a smile that reached your eyes.
“Wha– hey! I’m right here, y’know! Tsk.” Ogawa huffs, lightly hitting your shoulder. At that moment, the four of you didn’t look like mafia members, you looked like a group of friends going on a walk. You felt it too, actually. The bond that was forming felt reminiscent of the ones you had back at the orphanage.
You were teasing Ogawa, telling the two girls to stay on your side so they don’t have to deal with his attitude. “You know, you really live up to your title, huh? You’re as cruel as a demon can get. Is this how you normally act on missio–”
The series of giggles that came from the group suddenly faded, looking at Ogawa and the blood stain blooming on his chest that stained his clean shirt. And suddenly, your body went cold.
He didn’t die instantly, no, that was the worst part. He drops, hand pressed to his chest, gasping in shock.
“Get down!” You commanded, pulling the two girls by the arm and urging them to hide behind anything. But the terrifying truth hit you like a truck—they were new recruits. And this is where their lack of training ruined everything. Meiko, instead of taking cover, throws herself in front of you.
“Meiko, what are you doing?! Get down–”
“M-mori-san told us to protect you at all costs!”
“He…what?”
Before you could even ask why, another shot was fired. Wet crimson started to trickle down Meiko’s shoulder. Still, she tried to use her abilities, but it was no use. The shooter was far away, too far for even you to spot.
Sayaka and Meiko kept trying to shield you, like you were something fragile, as if they weren’t the ones who were absolutely vulnerable! Their hands are shaking too much, they won’t even pull out their gun. They won’t take cover, they stand completely exposed in the open, trying to play hero, and the enemy just opens fire.
“If the two of you don’t take cover, I swear–”
“I-I can’t leave Ogawa there! He’s hurt!” Sayaka cries, standing up, contemplating whether she should come out of hiding and drag Ogawa’s body back to them.
Your earpiece crackled with Mori’s voice,
“Y/N. Do not redirect your squad. Let them hold frontline.”
“B-but…they’re–”
“Yes, I am aware they are outgunned. But their deaths will buy you exactly ninety seconds to flank the target.”
“That’s absurd!”
“Proceed with the optimal route.”
Every cell in your body was telling you to pull her down and stay low, but you couldn’t act fast enough. She was already running to Ogawa.
She didn’t even make it three steps.
The sound of the next gunshot was deafeningly sharp, cutting through her terrified sob. You watched, paralyzed, as her body jolted and crumpled onto the asphalt right next to Ogawa. She didn’t move. Not even a twitch.
“Sayaka!” Meiko screamed.
“Don’t you dare get up.” You say coldly, your jaw trembling. You haven’t felt this scared in a long time. You’ve always been comfortable working with other subordinates. Why are you hesitating so much?
In a blind panic, Meiko abandoned her stance and lunged forward after her friend, completely exposing herself to the unseen shooter.
Crack. Crack.
Two more shots echoed through the empty street. Meiko collapsed mid-stride, a choked scream ripping through her throat as she reached out toward the others before her body went entirely limp.
Just like that, the street went dead silent. Three bodies lay on the gray asphalt, the dark crimson pooling around them and staining the pavement. The quietness of your surroundings allowed you more mental space to focus, but your heart was beating so loudly in your ears, so deafeningly loud that the silence their deaths offered was useless.
Still, your instincts and reflexes were flawless. You performed perfectly, eliminating all targets and finishing the mission all by yourself. Yes, you were all by yourself. All alone. Perhaps you were destined to be that way, if all those who came too close to you were doomed to end up as bodies on the pavement.
When the last echo of gunfire faded, you stood in the center of the ruins, completely unscathed. Not a single bullet had grazed you.
You were safe. You were rich. You were the untouchable Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia.
And you were entirely, utterly alone.
Your breath hitched, the realization of what you have done and what you were capable of doing settled like a suffocating weight over your chest. You lunged forward, should you carry them back to the vehicle? Should you check if any of them were still alive? What should you do?
“That’s enough, Y/N.”
Mori’s voice crackled through your earpiece. It was cold, clear, steady.
“Mori-san…” Your voice came out as a ragged whimper, almost like a child about to cry, because you were. For the first time in years, your eyes were wide and glassy with tears as you stared at the blood on the ground. “They’re…they’re all hit. I need to move them, I need to–”
You scrambled frantically, running to their bodies scattered on the pavement.
“You need to go back.”
“Go back…? To headquarters?”
“Yes. Come back home.”
Home. The sheer audacity he had to assume that you called that cold, sterile, cruel building home. That was not your home, that was his chessboard, and you were being played as a pawn. Yes, a pawn. And a pawn followed its linear devotion.
“...I’m on my way back.”
The ride on the way back was quiet. The driver didn’t even question why you came back alone. He knew far too well how the mafia worked.
As soon as the elevator doors opened to Mori’s office, seeing his cold and unbothered smile, you failed to keep composure. Tears threatened to fall, the drying blood on your hands seemed to sting, your collar felt too tight. The weight of your skill and ruthlessness was unbearable.
“Oh? Y/N…don’t tell me you’re about to cry.” He smiles, walking up to you and embracing you—he was proud. You were his pride. “Don’t look so miserable now. The mission was a 100% success! You should be proud, another thing to add to your long list of credentials.”
“They…they died and I left them, I–”
“The ambush only proves the enemy’s numbers and vantage points are far greater than our initial prediction suggested. If you had broken cover to retrieve unviable assets, you would have risked compromising the Demon Prodigy.”
“Unviable assets?” You choked on the words, a bitter wave of nausea rising in your throat. “They’re kids! They were trying to protect me because you told them to!”
A crack of thunder made you jump. It had started to rain.
“It’s…It’s ludicrous! The fact that you purposefully sent me on a mission with kids who didn’t have sufficient training to even go on hands-on missions is absurd! And for what, to buy more time? You know I’m more than capable of doing that by myself! They were just recruits!”
“And they fulfilled their purpose beautifully, Y/N. Their compliance bought you valuable seconds to calculate the reload pattern and trajectory. They were a necessary, mathematically acceptable distraction. Now…use the data they provided, and better yourself.”
You froze, his embrace suddenly feeling like a branding iron against your skin. He had known. He had ordered them to act as shields to protect you because he knew they’d obey. He knew they’d die. They weren’t assigned to you as companions, partners, teammates, no. They were assigned as disposable bait.
Once you were dismissed, you ran out of the building, not even bothering to clean up the bloodstains on your shirt. You didn’t care who saw, you just couldn’t take being in the compound anymore.
It was raining, the rain mixing with the blood created a strong, coppery scent that made you scrunch your nose. You were soaking wet with rain water, so you seek refuge in a familiar convenience store. The cheap grease, the steam from the meat buns.
“Did he really think he can just manufacture a perfect executioner if he dresses them up and hands them a gun?”
Dazai. You remembered Dazai. Before the clerk could even welcome you in the store, you already ran out. The pitter patter of the rain on the empty street mixed with your shallow breaths and rapid heartbeat was enough to drown out all other thoughts in your head, all you thought about was Dazai. They alleyway.
You arrived at the alleyway, obviously, he wasn’t there. Days have passed since you last saw each other, and he probably already forgot about it. The alley was humid and damp, like the air stuck to your skin. It didn’t help that you were already soaked.
Tired from the run, the exhaustion finally registering. Your legs were shaking and your throat hurt from just breathing. Looking around at your surroundings, you remember the exact spot where he stood that night, teasing you and trying to get you to open up. The warm memory didn’t stand a chance against the cold of the rain and empty brick walls.
He isn’t here. Why would he be? He escaped. He’s in the light. You’re the only one trapped in the dark, covered in the blood of kids who trusted you.
You tried to lean against the wall, but your knees buckled, hitting the moist asphalt. In search of your phone, which you left in the car, you found the candy that Sayaka had given you earlier, stored away in the pocket on your coat. Pulling your knees to your chest, burying your face in the dark fabric of your coat, and finally letting go.
You didn’t just cry; you wailed. Hiccups disrupting your breathing, hot tears falling one after the other. The image of Ogawa dropping to his knees, Meiko’s shaking, Sayaka’s eyes—It played like a loop in your mind. Your sobs felt like a physical blow to your ribs, tearing at your throat until you went hoarse.
“They were a necessary, mathematically acceptable distraction. Now…use the data they provided, and better yourself.”
Mori’s velvety voice in your head made you pull on your own hair, in hopes that you could just forget.
Minutes bled into hours, and you cried until the tears ran dry, your muscles ached from the sheer strain of breathing. Your forehead rested limply against your knees as you drifted into a state of pure, miserable exhaustion. You were so cold. So tired. And so alone.
“My, my. Someone’s having a terrible day.”
Your head snapped up, and there he was, Dazai. Your Dazai.
He crouched down to your level, pity evident in his eyes. He felt so much of that for you. Oh, he pitied you greatly. Your eyes were red, cheeks flushed from crying, your hair sticking to your forehead from the rain. “You must be the reason why it’s pouring so hard today,”
Dazai flashed you a teasing grin, cupping your face with his bandaged hands and making you look up at him. “Come on, Y/N, I’m already here! How are you still crying when the one and only Dazai stands in front of yo–”
“Dazai-nii…” You sob, burying your face in his chest. Dazai-nii. It wasn’t forced anymore. You needed someone, a confidant, and he was the closest one you got. “Dazai-nii, everything is so…painful.”
He stayed quiet, a bit surprised at your vulnerability. You looked different from the kid with the sharp tongue nights ago—you looked smaller. “I feel so miserable. I make everyone miserable.” You sob into the fabric of his coat, and though it was muffled, he felt it in his very soul.
He didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. Not when he knew what it was like to be in your place—to be a kid who carried the weight of the world, who had blood on her hands. Because as he looked at your trembling shoulders, the feeling of wearing the same coat as yours settled in his own mind. He knew how you felt, he knew it in his very bones. It was a suffocating belief that had been pinned in his mind. He spent years believing that he was a creature born from the dark, a curse so toxic that anyone who dared to show him warmth or trust would eventually be consumed by it.
He spent his entire youth believing he was a plague. He had looked at the bodies of his own subordinates, and eventually, Odasaku’s, thinking the exact same thing: I make everyone miserable.
He was right when he said Mori made you a copy of him, because this was the proof. Not just anyone could shatter a kid’s soul so thoroughly that they’d fully believe they made everyone miserable.
demon prodigy, huh? (ada!dazai x current demon prodigy reader)
summary: in which dazai runs into you, the current demon prodigy of the port mafia and tries to form a bond.
content: ada!dazai x pm!fem!reader, reader is 15 with an attitude lmaoaoao, dazai calls reader "kid" a lot, not proofread, platonic love !!!!!
a/n: okay im on a roll and i wrote two chapters in one day i think i can do this HDJSNDJWNSJAJ
CHAPTER TWO
“Dazai-nii, huh?” You say softly, seeing how the words felt on your tongue. Your voice sounded like a whisper, even in the quiet of the night. “Hah! As if!” You scoff, followed by a series of shallow giggles. Dazai was a bit offended, but seeing you laugh, even just a little bit, made his heart feel lighter.
“How rude!” He pouts, sitting on the side of the curb and peeling away the packaging of his egg sandwich that he bought at the convenience store. “I wouldn’t laugh so hard if I were you, I can guarantee that you will be running back to me asking for brotherly advice!”
You sat down next to him, taking a sip of your soda, “You’re terribly confident, huh? You’re not even sure if we’ll see each other again.” You scoff, but there was no bite to your words. Dazai looked like a kicked puppy, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his pouty expression.
“Stop that. What are you, 5?”
“Don’t be so rude, Y/N! I’m still older than you!”
He crosses his arms, looking over at you. He sees that you haven’t opened your candy, or bought any other food that can fill your stomach. Luckily, he came prepared!
“Hey, aren’t you gonna eat?”
“Hm? Oh…right.”
You tear open the packaging of your snack, popping a few pieces in your mouth.
“You know,” Dazai starts, scooching over closer to you. “You’re gonna get sick if you eat just candy. You need sustenance, Y/N.” He says in a dramatic, scolding manner. He digs through his paper bag, pulling out two steaming hot meat buns. “Here.”
Dazai hands her the warm bun, waiting for her to take the first bite. “...Why are you being so nice to me?” She asks genuinely, the attitude in her voice starting to chip away. “I mean…we’re in rivaling organizations. I don’t think your colleagues will appreciate you talking to me.”
“Hm. A thank you would’ve been nice,” Dazai hums, chewing on the meat bun. “I’m not talking to you because you’re a Port Mafia executive, you know. Even if you aren’t, I still would chat with you if I saw you alone in that alleyway. And take you out for meat buns. You look like you need a snack, kiddo.” He lightly bumps your shoulder, trying to keep things lighthearted, but the loneliness in the air was undoubtedly heavy.
The two of you quietly ate the meat buns, the sound of crinkling paper wrappers and the occasional blowing to cool down the food were the only sounds shared between the two of you. Still, you finished your food. You didn’t realize you were that hungry.
“Dazai-san…?”
“It’s Dazai-nii.”
You sigh, throwing your head back in slight annoyance. “Fine. Dazai-nii.”
The nickname surprisingly didn’t feel foreign or unusual on your tongue—it felt natural. In a way, he was being quite brotherly by looking after you like this, bantering with you like this. “I hope you don’t mind me asking…but why did you quit?”
The question made Dazai pause, tilting his head and pondering if he should give you a real answer or just say something easier to understand. He chose the easy route. “Eh, it just…wasn’t my place anymore.”
“How come? Everyone said you were good at what you did, and you had such a high-rank. Surely you didn’t quit for such a simple reason!” Damn. This girl was way too curious.
Dazai sighed. He knew he wasn’t gonna shake you off so easily, but he didn’t want to tell you the full story about it either. He didn’t feel like bringing up Odasaku to you yet. No, not when you still had the Port Mafia deeply rooted in your heart. “Hm…that’s the best answer I can give, Y/N.”
You simply nodded, not bothering to press the issue any further. Still, your mind wandered.
“What about you? I mean…how’d you end up in that hellhole?” He asks, the question a mix of lightheartedness and genuine curiosity.
“I grew up in an orphanage. They kicked me out, said I was too dangerous for the other kids. Mori found me on the streets when I was ill…and this led to that.” You explained it so easily, as if you were simply talking about the weather.
Dazai felt…pity. Your story reminded him of Atsushi’s, and he wondered—what if it wasn’t Mori who took you in? What if it were him, or Kunikida, or Fukuzawa, anyone else but the man who molded children into weapons—would you be spared from seeing the horrors of this kind of life? He thought about where you could’ve been at that time, that if he could just turn back time and go back, he’d find you before anyone else did. He knew it first-hand; being in the mafia was no easy feat. Being a mafia executive was harder. Being Mori’s prodigy was suffocating.
“Hey, you still there?” You hum, tapping his shoulder.
“Psst. Hey.” still not listening.
A deep sigh came from you, “Dazai-nii.”
“Hm? Yes?” He turns his head towards you, a grin on his face. Asshole. “Ah, yes, sorry. I was just…lost in thought.” Dazai stands up, picking up his paper bag and brushing dust off his slacks. “It’s nothing, Y/N. Don’t worry about it. But I will say, you must head home. It’s already 3 in the morning, and I have to head to work in 4 hours. Let’s call it a night?”
You stood up, nodding and waving goodbye. You had to head home too. The two of you had opposite routes, so he couldn’t walk you back to your place.
“Hey, kid.” Dazai calls out. He was already strides away. “That alleyway from earlier…I hang around there a lot. Just to hide from Kunikida. Pay me a visit some time, will you?”
You turn your back, seeing only his figure illuminated by the dimmed streetlamp and the moonlight. You flashed him a polite smile and nodded. He didn’t seem so annoying anymore. Of course, you gave credit where it's due—he looked out for you tonight and gave you company, maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. You felt a bit guilty, reducing his identity to ‘TRAITOR’ all those years ago without actually meeting him, but now you have met him. And you ate meat buns with him. And he was a pretty nice guy.
“...Yeah. I’ll see you soon, Dazai-nii.” You waved him goodbye and walked away.
When you arrived at your small, worn down apartment, you crashed onto the couch, not even bothering to walk the few steps that lead to the bedroom. You were exhausted—the training earlier this morning, the mission, the mere thought of training in a few more hours…it was a grueling schedule, but you tried to assure yourself it’ll be fine.
After a few minutes of shut-eye, you sat up on the couch abruptly, so fast it made you dizzy, but the point was to wake yourself up. “It’ll be okay. I’ll do better today.” You tell yourself, trying so hard to convince your mind that the next time you stepped into that godforsaken building will be better than the last.
【interest check】 star trail ; a karmagisa-centric compilation fanbook
I'm currently doing an interest check for a Karmagisa compilation artbook that I've been working on for quite a while now, and I wanted to share more details on it if anyone is interested!
You can find the interest check form here.
As mentioned in a previous ask, I also plan to put most (if not all) of my previous krng merch (as well as other merch) for preorder at the same time, so please feel free to take a look!
The projected preorder / production schedule is as follow:
Interest check: Until May 15, 2026
Preorder period: Mid-May to Mid-June, 2026
Production period: Mid-June to Mid-August, 2026
Estimated shipping date: Early August 2026
NOTE: As I will be bringing the book to Doujin Market 2026, any leftover post-con stock will be shipped out first ahead of time. If the books arrive earlier, they will be sent out earlier.
Thank you so much for your support all these years!
It's my first time making a book, so if you do decide to get a copy, I hope that you'll look forward to it.
—— ♦♢♦♢♦♢ ——
Content introduction
A compilation of all the doodles / illustrations / comics I've drawn from Aug 2022 to Apr 2026.
The book is SFW, but please note that some pages have suggestive / violent undertones. You can see the extent of it through the sample pages under the cut.
If you've been following this blog for long enough, you'll know that a lot of the art that I draw about them contains heavy romantic undertones, which might not be for everyone, so please take note of that while considering this purchase.
I'll be honest it's really just a book filled with 90% brainrot.
Text contents are written in English and Japanese, but please note that the Japanese text is an amateur translation at best as I'm still learning the language, and there may be unnatural expressions as a result.
Please take note of that if you're particular about the text content!
This post is really long, so more details are under the cut:
—— ♦♢♦♢♦♢ ——
Book specs
Size: A4 size, 140p (excluding cover), full colour
Paper: 300gsm Matte Laminated (cover), 157gsm glossy paper (contents)
Spine width: approx. 1.1cm
The book's contents are summarised as follows:
Sample pages
As mentioned earlier, some of the content contains suggestive / violent undertones. The following images are meant to demonstrate the extent of it — as well as some art you might be seeing for the first time...?
Some of the art have not been posted on this blog before because they are very embarrassingly freaky but I have to do my due duty to inform you guys of the level of freakiness so here you go
Additionally, the following merch will also be put up for preorders, so if you're interested in any of the following, it would be really helpful if you can indicate your interest via the form so that I can get an idea of what to expect!
Thank you so much for your interest and your support over the years! If you do decide to get anything, I hope that you'll look forward to it.
The mountain air was crisp that morning, carrying with it the scent of pine and dew-laden grass. Class 3-E's dilapidated building stood isolated from the main campus of Kunugigaoka Junior High School, a physical manifestation of their status as outcasts and rejects. But within those worn walls, something remarkable had begun to bloom—a sense of unity forged through shared hardship and an impossible mission.
They were assassins in training, tasked with killing their teacher before graduation. A teacher who happened to be a super-powered octopus creature capable of destroying the Earth.
It was absurd. It was impossible. It was their reality.
And through it all, one student remained an enigma...
Nagisa Shiota had always been observant. It was his greatest skill—the ability to blend into the background and notice the details others missed. His small stature and feminine appearance made him easy to overlook, and he'd learned to use that to his advantage. Observation was the foundation of assassination, after all.
So it bothered him, more than he cared to admit, that he knew so little about [M/n].
The thought occurred to him on a Tuesday morning, during one of Korosensei's rapid-fire literature lessons. The yellow octopus was zipping around the classroom at Mach 20, writing notes on the board while simultaneously checking each student's work and offering individualized feedback. It was dizzying to watch, but Nagisa had grown accustomed to it over the months.
His gaze drifted, as it sometimes did during lectures, across the classroom. It landed on [M/n], seated three rows over by the window.
The dark-haired boy sat with his usual posture—straight-backed, head resting on crossed arms, eyes closed. Asleep again. His black hair fell in sectioned strands around his face, the longer pieces brushing against his nape. Even in rest, there was something unnervingly still about him, like a statue more than a sleeping teenager.
When had Nagisa last heard [M/n] speak unprompted? When had he last seen the boy smile, or frown, or show any emotion beyond that empty, half-lidded stare?
The more Nagisa thought about it, the more he realized how little he actually knew. [M/n]'s birthday was... sometime in winter, maybe? Or had that been someone else? Did he have siblings? What did his parents do? Where did he live?
The questions multiplied, and Nagisa found himself frowning at his notebook, the lecture forgotten.
"Nagisa-kun, is something troubling you?"
He jerked his head up to find Korosensei's large, round face mere centimeters from his own, the permanent smile somehow conveying concern through sheer proximity.
"N-no, Korosensei! I was just... thinking."
"Nhuhuhu, thinking is good! But thinking about the lesson is better!" The octopus's face flashed red and white in a teacherly scold pattern before zipping away to harass Karma about his sloppy handwriting.
Nagisa glanced back at [M/n]. Still asleep. Still perfectly, unnaturally still.
Who are you? he wondered.
At lunch, Nagisa found himself gravitating toward Karma, Sugino, and Maehara, who had claimed their usual spot on the building's worn wooden steps. The spring sunshine was warm on his face, a pleasant contrast to the cool mountain breeze.
"You've been spacing out all morning," Karma observed, unwrapping his lunch with deliberate precision. His gold eyes glinted with curiosity. "What's eating you?"
Nagisa hesitated, then decided there was no harm in voicing his thoughts. "Do any of you know much about [M/n]?"
The question hung in the air for a moment.
Sugino paused mid-bite, his rice ball halfway to his mouth. "The quiet guy? Dark hair, always sleeping?"
"That's the one."
Maehara leaned back on his hands, tilting his face toward the sun. "Hmm, can't say I do. He's been here since the beginning of the year, right? But now that you mention it, I don't think I've ever had an actual conversation with him."
"He doesn't really talk," Sugino added, finally biting into his rice ball. "I offered him some of my mom's cooking once—she always packs too much—and he just stared at me for like ten seconds before taking it. Didn't even say thank you."
Karma's expression shifted, becoming more focused. "Interesting observation, Nagisa. You're right—we know practically nothing about him. And that's..." He trailed off, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"Weird," Maehara supplied. "It's weird, right? I mean, we're Class 3-E. We're supposed to be in this together. The whole 'unity through adversity' thing."
"Transparency is key," Karma murmured, almost to himself. "We all agreed on that early on. No secrets that could compromise the mission or each other. But [M/n]..." He looked toward the classroom windows, though they couldn't see inside from this angle. "He's a complete blank slate."
Nagisa felt a small sense of relief that he wasn't the only one who'd noticed. "So what do we do about it?"
Karma's grin turned sharp, predatory. "We observe. Carefully. If he's hiding something, we'll figure out what. And if he's not..." The grin softened into something more genuine. "Then maybe we just need to try harder to include him."
The decision to observe [M/n] more closely spread through Class 3-E like wildfire, though with more subtlety than their usual chaos might suggest. They were assassins in training, after all—subtlety was supposed to be their specialty.
What started as Nagisa's idle curiosity became a class-wide investigation, though 'investigation' might have been too strong a word. It was more like... collective awareness. Students who'd previously overlooked [M/n]'s presence began to pay attention to the small details of his daily routine.
And those details, they quickly discovered, were strange.
Observation #1: The Shoe Incident
It was Okano who first noticed the shoe thing.
Physical education with Karasuma was always intense, pushing the students to their limits as part of their assassination training. Today had been no different—two hours of circuit training, hand-to-hand combat drills, and endurance running up and down the mountain path.
By the end, everyone was exhausted, sweaty, and desperate for the showers.
Okano, being one of the more athletic girls, was usually among the first changed and ready to return to class. As she exited the girls' changing room, she nearly collided with [M/n], who was walking down the hallway in his uniform, vest neatly buttoned, tie straight.
And barefoot.
His black shoes dangled from one hand, forgotten.
Okano blinked. "[M/n]-kun, your shoes—"
He stopped mid-stride, looked down at his sock-clad feet as though noticing them for the first time, then glanced at the shoes in his hand. For a moment, his expression remained that same empty, half-lidded neutrality.
Then, without a word, he turned around and walked back toward the boys' changing room.
Okano stood in the hallway, utterly baffled.
When she mentioned it to Kataoka later, the class representative's eyebrows rose. "He forgot he was supposed to wear his shoes?"
"Not exactly forgot," Okano said slowly, trying to articulate what she'd witnessed. "It was more like... he didn't remember that wearing shoes was something he needed to do. Does that make sense?"
Kataoka frowned thoughtfully. "Not really, but I think I understand what you mean. Like it wasn't a natural habit for him?"
"Exactly!"
The two girls exchanged glances, and without needing to say it aloud, both understood: this was something worth noting.
Observation #2: The Food Paradox
Yada was the next to contribute to the growing list of [M/n]'s peculiarities, and hers came during lunch period two days later.
Class 3-E had fallen into the comfortable habit of sharing food. With so many students from different backgrounds—some wealthy, some struggling—it had become an unspoken rule that if you had extra, you shared. It built camaraderie, and besides, some of their classmates' homemade lunches were too good not to share.
[M/n] was often a recipient of these offerings, though Yada had never really thought about why.
Today, she'd brought an extra portion of her mother's tamago sushi and offered it to [M/n], who sat at his desk with what appeared to be a very modest lunch—a single rice ball and a small container of pickled vegetables.
"[M/n]-kun, would you like some?" She offered with a warm smile. "My mom always makes too much."
Those dark, shallow eyes lifted to meet hers. For a moment, he simply stared, and Yada felt an odd chill run down her spine. There was something unsettling about his gaze—not hostile, not cold exactly, but... empty. Like looking at a reflection in still water.
Then he blinked. "What is it?"
"Tamago sushi. Egg over rice. It's really good!"
He looked down at his own lunch, then back at her offering. "Does it have protein?"
The question caught her off guard. "Um, yes? It's egg, so—"
"I'll take one piece."
She handed him the container, expecting him to take one and return it, but instead he studied the contents with an almost analytical focus, selected a single piece that appeared to have the most egg, and handed the container back.
"Thank you," He said, the words flat and practiced, like he'd learned to say them by rote rather than feeling.
Yada smiled anyway. "You're welcome! If you want more—"
"I don't."
And that was that.
Later, Yada mentioned the interaction to Hara, who was known as the "mom" of the class for her nurturing tendencies.
"He only took one piece?" Hara asked, her round face scrunched in thought. "But you had plenty."
"That's what was weird," Yada explained. "It was like he was... calculating what he needed. He asked if it had protein first, and he took the piece with the most egg."
Hara's expression grew more troubled. "Now that you mention it, I've noticed he's really particular about what he accepts. Last week, Kimura offered him some candy, and he refused. But when Kurahashi gave him apple slices, he took them."
"Balance," Nakamura interjected, having been eavesdropping on their conversation with her usual shamelessness. The blonde girl leaned back in her chair, arms crossed behind her head. "He's balancing his nutrients. One protein, one vegetable, one carb. He never takes more than he needs from any single category."
Yada and Hara stared at her.
"What? I pay attention." Nakamura shrugged. "But here's the kicker—have any of you ever seen him bring his own lunch?"
The question settled over them like a heavy blanket.
"No," Hara said slowly. "I haven't. I just assumed he bought bread from the store or something."
"Same," Yada admitted.
Nakamura's blue eyes gleamed with interest. "Exactly. He never brings lunch. He only eats what we give him. And he never, ever asks for food. We offer, he accepts or declines based on some internal calculation, and that's it."
The implication hung unspoken between them: What kind of person only eats what others give them?
Observation #3: The Sleeping Pattern
If there was one thing everyone in Class 3-E could agree on, it was that [M/n] slept. A lot.
Takebayashi, ever the intellectual, had started keeping a log out of sheer academic curiosity. He tracked which periods [M/n] stayed awake for and which he slept through, looking for patterns.
What he found was both consistent and baffling.
"He's awake for Karasuma's physical training, always," Takebayashi reported to a small gathering of interested classmates—Karma, Nagisa, Nakamura, Isogai, and Kataoka—during a free period. He pushed his round glasses up his nose and consulted his notebook. "He's awake for math and science. He's awake for assassination technique lectures. But literature, history, English with Professor Jelavić, and any free period? He's out like a light."
"So he stays awake for practical subjects," Isogai observed, his princely features thoughtful. "Subjects that have immediate, applicable use."
"Exactly. But here's the strange part—he never shows signs of fatigue before falling asleep. No yawning, no drooping eyes, no sluggish movement. One moment he's alert, the next moment his head is down and he's unconscious."
Karma leaned forward, interest piqued. "What's his academic performance like?"
"Above average in everything he's awake for. Average in everything he sleeps through." Takebayashi flipped a page. "Which suggests he's either naturally gifted or he studies on his own time. But he never stays after class, never asks for help, and I've never seen him with homework."
"That's because he finishes it during class," Nagisa offered quietly. All eyes turned to him. "I sit close enough to see. During lectures, he takes minimal notes—just key points—and if there's any worksheet or assignment given, he completes it before the period ends. He's efficient."
Kataoka frowned. "But if he's that efficient and capable, why sleep through half his classes?"
"Maybe he's bored?" Nakamura suggested.
"Or maybe he's not sleeping at home," Karma said, his tone darker than usual.
The group fell silent.
"You think he has insomnia?" Takebayashi asked.
Karma's expression was unreadable. "I think we're noticing a lot of strange things that individually seem quirky, but together..." He trailed off, letting them draw their own conclusions.
Nagisa felt that familiar chill again, the one he'd been experiencing more and more when thinking about [M/n]. "Together they paint a concerning picture."
"Exactly."
It was during a free period on a Friday afternoon when everything changed.
Korosensei had been working quietly at his desk—or as quietly as a Mach 20 octopus could work—sorting through administrative documents for the upcoming class trip. The students were scattered around the classroom in their usual clusters, chatting, studying, or in [M/n]'s case, sleeping.
The yellow octopus hummed to himself as he worked through the stack of student files, cross-referencing emergency contact information, medical histories, and travel permissions. It was tedious work, but necessary, and he took his responsibilities as their teacher seriously.
Then he reached [M/n]'s file, and his humming stopped.
The folder was thin. Suspiciously thin.
Korosensei opened it fully, spreading the contents across his desk. His permanent smile remained fixed, but his tentacles stilled—a telltale sign of concern to anyone who knew him well.
The file contained exactly two pieces of information:
Name: [M/n]
Date of Birth: [XX/XX/XXXX]
That was it.
No emergency contact. No home address. No previous school records. No medical history. No guardian information. Nothing.
Korosensei's face cycled through several colors—blue for depression, purple for confusion, red and white stripes for agitation—before settling back to yellow. This was highly irregular. Every student was supposed to have comprehensive documentation on file, especially for situations like class trips where emergency contacts were essential.
"[M/n]-kun," He called out, his voice carefully neutral. "Could you come here for a moment?"
Across the classroom, the dark-haired boy's eyes opened. There was no grogginess, no disorientation from being woken suddenly. One moment he was asleep, the next he was alert. He rose from his desk and approached without question, his movements fluid and silent.
The classroom's ambient chatter died down as students noticed the interaction.
"Yes, Korosensei?" [M/n]'s voice was quiet, flat, completely devoid of inflection.
The octopus gestured to the open file with a tentacle. "I was reviewing the documents for our class trip next week and noticed your file is missing some information. Quite a bit of information, actually. We'll need an emergency contact number at minimum, and a home address for—"
"I don't have those."
Korosensei paused. "I beg your pardon?"
"I don't have an emergency contact or a home address." [M/n] stated this as simply as one might comment on the weather, his dark eyes fixed somewhere around Korosensei's shoulder rather than making direct eye contact.
The classroom had gone completely silent now. Even Karma had looked up from his manga, interest clearly piqued.
Korosensei's face flickered blue briefly. "Everyone has a home address, [M/n]-kun. Where do your parents live? Where do you go after school?"
"I don't have parents." The words were clinical, detached. "And I don't have a home."
The statement hit the classroom like a physical force.
"You don't... have a home?" Korosensei repeated slowly, his voice uncharacteristically small.
For the first time, [M/n]'s expression shifted slightly—not quite confusion, but something adjacent to it. His head tilted a fraction to the side, like a bird examining something curious.
"A home?" he asked, as though testing the word. "Why would I have a home?"
The question hung in the air, unanswered, as twenty-seven students and one alien teacher tried to process what they'd just heard.
Nagisa felt his chest tighten. Why would I have a home? Not "I lost my home" or "I don't have a home right now." The phrasing suggested [M/n] didn't understand the fundamental concept of why a person would need a home at all.
Kaede's hand had moved to cover her mouth, her green eyes wide. Kataoka looked stricken. Even Terasaka, usually so brash and unconcerned with others' problems, had a deep frown creasing his face.
Korosensei recovered first, his teacher instincts overriding his shock. "[M/n]-kun, where do you sleep at night?"
"Different places." A pause. "Wherever is convenient."
"And where do you keep your belongings?"
"I don't have belongings beyond what I carry."
"What about meals? Where do you eat?"
"Here, usually. Sometimes I acquire food from the convenience store."
Nakamura's sharp mind caught the careful word choice. "Acquire?"
[M/n]'s gaze shifted to her, that same hollow, half-lidded stare that never seemed to focus quite right. He didn't answer.
The implication was clear enough.
Isogai stood from his desk, his role as class representative kicking in. "Korosensei, we need to contact social services or—"
"No." [M/n]'s voice cut through the room, still flat, but with a firmness that hadn't been there before. "No authorities."
"[M/n]-kun," Korosensei said gently, his tentacles reaching out in a gesture of comfort though he didn't quite touch the boy. "You're a minor. There are systems in place to help children who don't have—"
"I don't need help." The statement was absolute. "I've been fine. I will continue to be fine."
"But you're homeless," Kurahashi said, her voice cracking slightly with emotion. "You're living on the streets and stealing food and—"
"I'm clean. I'm fed. I attend school. I meet all basic requirements." [M/n] rattled off the points like a checklist. "There's no problem."
Karma leaned back in his chair, studying [M/n] with an intensity that would have been uncomfortable for anyone else. "You use the school showers, don't you? That's why you're always here before Korosensei in the mornings."
[M/n] didn't confirm or deny, but the lack of denial was answer enough.
"The food we give you," Hara said quietly, her nurturing instincts clearly in overdrive. "That's your only food, isn't it? You don't buy lunch. You don't have groceries at home. You only eat what we offer you."
Again, no answer. But the silence spoke volumes.
Sugaya, usually quiet and focused on his art, spoke up. "And your school supplies? Your uniform?"
"I take what I need to function." [M/n] showed no shame, no guilt. "It's efficient."
Nagisa's mind was reeling, pieces clicking together with horrible clarity. The shoe thing—growing up without shoes, going barefoot would be normal, and remembering to wear them would be a learned behavior, not instinctive. The food selectiveness—when you don't know where your next meal is coming from, you learn to balance nutrition carefully, take only what you need. The sleeping—if you're not sleeping safely at night, you catch sleep whenever you can during the day.
"How long?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "How long have you been living like this?"
[M/n] looked at him, and for just a moment, Nagisa thought he saw something flicker in those dark eyes. Something ancient and tired.
"Always," [M/n] said simply.
The word settled over Class 3-E like a shroud.
"[M/n]-kun," Korosensei said, and for the first time since they'd met him, the alien's voice wavered. "Please. Let us help you. Let me help you. I am your teacher, and it is my responsibility to ensure your wellbeing, not just your education."
"I don't need—"
"You sleep in the forest, don't you?" Chiba spoke up, his long bangs hiding his eyes but his voice certain. "I've seen the same area of disturbed undergrowth near the old shrine path. Someone's been bedding down there regularly."
[M/n]'s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly—the most emotion any of them had ever seen him display.
"You're sixteen years old," Kanzaki said softly, her polite demeanor cracking to show genuine distress. "You should have a home. You should have people taking care of you. You should be safe."
"Safety is relative." [M/n]'s tone hadn't changed, but something in his posture had shifted. He was still standing perfectly straight, perfectly controlled, but there was a tension there now, like a wire pulled taut. "I am alive. I am functional. That is sufficient."
"No, it's not!" Okano burst out, standing up so quickly her chair scraped loudly against the floor. "That's not sufficient! That's not even close to sufficient! You're a person, [M/n], not a machine!"
"Okano-san is correct," Korosensei said firmly, and his face had shifted to a pattern none of them had seen before—a deep, determined red with white highlights. "This cannot continue. At minimum, I must report this to Principal Asano and—"
"No."
The single word was sharp, cutting, and for the first time, [M/n]'s carefully controlled facade cracked. His eyes widened slightly, his breath quickened just a fraction, and his hand moved unconsciously to grip his opposite shoulder—a defensive gesture.
"No authorities," He repeated, and now there was something in his voice. Not quite fear, not quite panic, but something in that family of emotions. "No reports. No systems. No one else."
"We can't just ignore this," Kataoka protested.
"You can." [M/n]'s eyes swept across the classroom, and for the first time, he seemed to really see them all. "You have been. For months. Nothing has changed except your awareness. My situation remains the same. I remain the same."
"But now we know," Karma said, and his usual playful tone was completely absent. "We can't unknow this, [M/n]. We can't just pretend everything's fine when it clearly isn't."
"Why not?" The question was genuine, curious in that detached way. "Ignorance was preferable for you. You were comfortable. Now you're distressed. This benefits no one."
Maehara shook his head slowly. "That's not how caring about people works, man. We're Class 3-E. We're in this together, remember? All of us."
"Including you," Nagisa added quietly.
[M/n] stood there, surrounded by his classmates' concern, looking utterly lost. Like he'd suddenly found himself in a situation he had no script for, no learned response to deploy.
Finally, he spoke, and his voice was quieter than before. "What do you want from me?"
"Let us help you," Korosensei said immediately. "At minimum, let me arrange proper housing. I can speak with the Principal, explain the situation—"
"The Principal expelled me to this class for a reason." [M/n]'s interruption was flat. "Involving him will result in complications."
"Then we'll figure something else out," Isogai said, his leadership voice firm. "But you're not sleeping in the forest anymore. That's non-negotiable."
For a long moment, [M/n] was silent. His eyes dropped to the floor, his shoulders held rigid.
Then, barely audible: "Why?"
"Because you're one of us," Sugino said simply. "And we take care of our own."
it was ok!!! i went with my family as a family holiday so it was pretty fun overall hehe~ we got to go to qingyuan in the first half where we saw a lot of natural scenery, which i am honestly so obsessed with omg bc have you guys seen china’s natural sceneries… the mountain game is strong af
i also brought my mini krng badges along to sneak some pictures!!!!
also story time!!
this is sliightly related to the last picture, but we were on a boat when i took that… it’s like a short experience where the boat sails through the river and past a lot of scenic spots for the tourists and other passengers to take pictures of / with
and it just so happens that i posted a short compilation of my krng arts on my instagram the day before (this is very important for context)
so for some reason my aunt was using instagram’s camera function to take pictures of the scenery, and when she swiped right it went back to her ig’s home feed
and the first thing that appeared at max brightness, in pure white light, like a single lighthouse, in the middle of the night’s darkness, was my post of krng being so gay LMAODJKS I WAS ABOUT TO PASS AWAY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RIVER 😭😭😭😭😭
