There had been signs of her defection, of course: how the shadows under her eyes were always darker than the rest of theirs, cloth a smidgen finer than she should possess, and most of all, the smiles tucked away in corners she thought no one could see. Which was a valiant but vain effort because every mafioso should know for a fact that at least two among them have very functional eyes.
Dazai didn’t care much for gossip himself. And he’s sure Mori knew from the very beginning, but what Dazai hadn’t be sure of was what exactly Mori was saving the knowledge up for. At least, until tonight.
The mafia enjoys twisting circumstances into shows. Warnings. Which is a shame, because for a show, Dazai’s still bored.
Small eternities pass before the night’s retrieval force finally leave the cells and he can slip inside. A pale form shifts at his arrival from the darker end of the room, tattered ends of a kimono scratching the dirt, any elegance long faded. He beams into the darkness as he sits down in front of her, placing the chessboard tucked beneath his arm between them.
“ Big sis! So is this why you’re always too busy to do anything with me? ”
He sighs, supposedly dejected. The chess pieces make a resounding clack as he begins displaying them one by one, each sound somehow making the silence even hollower.
“ Already had someone else… Or, well, had. ”
@kouycu