Dazai stepped out of the cell, his mind weighed down by the gravity of what had just transpired. Kororo was far from ordinary—she was an enigma, a manifestation of chaos itself, a being whose potential was both terrifying and boundless. How to contain such an entity was the question that gnawed at him, but no easy answer presented itself.
The Agency had no protocols for something like this. Kororo wasn't just an individual with extraordinary abilities; she was a singularity, an aberration that defied any classification. Dazai knew that conventional methods would be futile—he would have to devise something new, something that could match the darkness within her.
The first step was containment. But how does one imprison a force of nature? Kororo wasn't a mere prisoner to be shackled; she was a reality-bending storm, capable of rewriting the world around her. The concept of a containment facility for someone of her caliber was almost laughable, but it was necessary.
The Armed Detective Agency's resources were formidable, yet insufficient for a being like Kororo. Dazai turned to the government, specifically Ango, the only person who might have access to the kind of resources needed for such an undertaking.
As expected, Ango had a solution—one that reeked of desperation and fear. A covert facility, buried deep beneath the earth, originally constructed to withstand nuclear fallout, now repurposed as a containment unit. It was a place forgotten by time, isolated and fortified, but would it be enough?
Transporting Kororo presented another challenge. She couldn't be moved as a typical prisoner; she required a prison that was mobile, yet impenetrable. The Agency's engineers, under Dazai's guidance, constructed a transport—a heavily armored fortress on wheels, equipped with the latest in metaphysical containment technology. It was a cage for a god.
When the day of the transfer arrived, a strange unease settled over Dazai. He approached her cell, the air thick with tension. He was about to engage in a dance with a force that defied comprehension, and the stakes were impossibly high.
Kororo awaited them, her lips curled into a smirk that held no warmth, only the promise of destruction. "So, you're taking me away," she mused, her voice dripping with dark amusement. "How quaint."
Dazai ignored her taunt, his expression unreadable. "It's for your safety, Kororo," he replied, his voice cold, but firm.
Her laughter echoed through the cell, sharp and sinister. "Safety? From what? Myself?"
Dazai said nothing, signaling the guards to restrain her. As they moved in, Kororo raised a hand, and the air itself seemed to freeze. The guards were statues now, their bodies locked in place by her will.
Dazai's mind raced, the tension in the air crackling like a live wire. This was not a situation that could be resolved through force or strategy alone—this was a battle of wills, a confrontation between his resolve and her chaotic nature.
He stepped forward, his every movement deliberate, as if each step held the weight of destiny. His eyes locked onto Kororo's, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them. He raised his hand, a silent command that seemed to ripple through the very fabric of reality.
A single word, ancient and potent, fell from his lips: "Bind."
Reality twisted, the cell walls warping and contorting as they closed in around Kororo. The air thickened with a suffocating energy, forming a cocoon that tightened with every passing second. Kororo thrashed, her screams tearing through the air like a storm, but the cocoon held firm—a testament to Dazai's unyielding will.
When the storm subsided, the cocoon solidified into a crystalline prison, encasing Kororo within. But even trapped, her eyes burned with a fury that sent a chill down Dazai's spine. She knew of the Special Division's tools, instruments designed to capture ability users, and this was one of them. Yet, even in defeat, there was no fear in her gaze—only a dark, simmering promise.
"You think you've won?" she hissed, her voice venomous, as if daring him to believe it.
Dazai's smile was cold, devoid of warmth or triumph. "The game has just begun, Kororo," he replied, his tone sharp as a blade. "And I intend to win."
●
Kororo didn't understand why he was so determined to bring her into the Agency. Perhaps he sought to wield her power, to bend her chaos to his will. A hiss of pain and perverse delight escaped her lips as a familiar ache surged through her head. She closed her eyes, and when they opened again, her left eye had transformed—a black orb, a void that consumed all light, stared back at the world. Through her fingers, one could see that single, black eye, holding within it the promise of annihilation, a collision of nothingness and everything, a dance of chaos.
Maybe that's all it would take.
●
Kororo's arrival at Dazai's apartment was met with an unsettling quiet. The chaos of her 'prison' had given way to the unnerving stillness of his home, a place far too serene, too human. It was a disconcerting shift, a stark contrast that only amplified the dissonance within her.
Dazai, ever the gracious host, offered her tea. Kororo accepted, her gaze lingering on the delicate porcelain, a fragile thing in her hands, a small act of defiance—a reminder that she was still in control, no matter the circumstances.
As they sipped their tea, silence settled between them, thick and heavy. It was an odd peace, a fragile truce between two beings who understood each other far too well.
"So," Dazai finally broke the silence, his voice smooth, almost casual. "What do you think of my place?"
Kororo shrugged, her eyes cold. "Adequate."
Dazai chuckled, but the sound held no humor. "Adequate? High praise, coming from you."
Kororo raised an eyebrow, her expression unmoved. "Is it not?"
Dazai's smile was thin, barely there. "Perhaps not. But for now, it's a place to call home."
Kororo's gaze swept over the room, taking in every detail with clinical precision. "Home," she echoed, her voice laced with a strange, distant longing. "A peculiar concept."
Dazai nodded, his gaze piercing. "It is. But it's one that humans cherish."
Kororo considered this, her expression unreadable. "Humans," she mused, as if the word itself was foreign to her tongue. "A strange species."
Dazai's laugh was low, almost mocking. "You're one to talk."
A rare smile ghosted across Kororo's lips, but it held no warmth. "Perhaps. But I am a different kind of human."
Dazai leaned in, his eyes intense, searching. "Different, yes. But human nonetheless."
Kororo's expression hardened, her eyes narrowing. "Is that what you believe?"
Dazai nodded, unwavering. "I do."
For a long moment, they sat in silence, locked in a wordless exchange that spoke volumes. Then, Kororo spoke, her voice barely a whisper, a dark undercurrent beneath her words.
"I want to understand," she said, her tone almost reverent, as if she were speaking of something sacred. "I want to understand what it means to be human."
Dazai's eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by her admission. He hadn't expected this. "And how do you plan to do that?" he asked, his voice cautious.
Kororo's smile returned, but it was sharper now, more dangerous. "By observing you, of course."
Dazai raised an eyebrow, skepticism lacing his voice. "Observing me? And how will that help you understand humanity?"
Kororo shrugged, her demeanor casual, but her eyes gleamed with a dark intensity. "Humans are creatures of habit. You're a detective, always observing, always analyzing. Perhaps if I watch you long enough, I can learn something about your kind."
Dazai considered her words, weighing them. It was an unusual approach, but then again, Kororo was anything but ordinary. "Very well," he said, finally. "Observe me, but remember, I'm not like the others."
Kororo's smile widened, a dangerous glint in her eye. "That's what makes it interesting."
She took a sip of her tea, her gaze never leaving Dazai. Then, she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a low, almost intimate tone. "Speak up. You're curious, aren't you? Ask."
Dazai hesitated, the question burning in his mind. He had been trying to unravel the mystery that was Kororo, but the more he learned, the more he realized how little he truly understood.
Finally, he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you want to understand humanity?"
Kororo's eyes darkened, her expression turning lethal. "Because," she said, her voice laced with venom, "I want to destroy it."
A cold shiver ran down Dazai's spine, a chill that seeped into his bones. He had always known Kororo was dangerous, but this... this was something else entirely. "Why?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
Kororo shrugged, her tone indifferent, as if discussing the weather. "Why not? Humans are a plague upon this earth—selfish, greedy, destructive. They deserve to be eradicated."
Dazai's heart thudded like a desperate drum, each beat heavy with the weight of inevitability. His mind, usually a fortress of logic, found itself besieged by a single, unanswerable question: How could one hope to contain the storm that was Kororo? She wasn't a person; she was a force, a living embodiment of chaos, and the thought of halting her felt as absurd as trying to hold back the tide with bare hands.
"And what of me?" His voice wavered, betraying the tremor that ran through him, an undercurrent of despair he couldn't suppress. "Am I just another part of this blight, a piece in your twisted game?"
Kororo paused, her gaze softening for just a moment, an unreadable shadow passing through her eyes. "You are different," she murmured, the words landing like a feather on a grave. "You are... interesting."
Anger, sharp and sudden, flared within Dazai. "Interesting? Is that all I am to you? A curiosity? An experiment?"
A subtle shrug, a gesture so casual it was almost mocking. "Perhaps. But you are also a challenge. A rare one. And that," she whispered, "makes you a worthy opponent."
His fury cooled, hardening into something colder, more calculated. "And what happens when I win?" His voice was a blade, honed and dangerous.
Kororo's smile widened, a smile devoid of warmth, dripping with something far darker. "Then," she purred, venom lacing her words, "we will see."
Her laughter echoed in the empty space between them, a sound that started as a chuckle and unraveled into a manic giggle. "Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.' Don't you see?"
She watched him with eyes that held both amusement and a profound, hollow contempt. To her, he was a game, a puzzle to be solved, but also something more—a test subject in an experiment where the stakes were existential. And, as it turned out, he had passed the test.
"You are a worthy adversary, Dazai," she said, her tone laced with a twisted respect. "Perhaps, in time, we could even be allies."
Dazai's eyes narrowed, suspicion and disbelief warring within him. "Allies?" he repeated, as though the word itself tasted bitter on his tongue. "You want to work with me?"
She shrugged again, as if the idea were the simplest thing in the world. "Why not? We both seek the same end, after all. The destruction of humanity."
A cold shiver ran down Dazai's spine, the kind of chill that settled in the bones and refused to leave. He had known she was dangerous, a harbinger of something dark and terrible, but he had never truly grasped the depth of her malevolence until now. She was a monster wrapped in the guise of a woman, her beauty as twisted as her soul.
"I don't think so," he said, his voice low but firm, a thin veneer over the fear gnawing at his resolve. "I'm not going to help you destroy the world."
Kororo's eyes narrowed, her gaze cutting through him like a blade. "Oh, but you will," she said, each word dripping with a chilling certainty. "You have no choice."
Anger surged within him again, a desperate, defiant anger. He was a detective, a man of reason, not some puppet to be manipulated and controlled. He wouldn't let the darkness consume him.
"We'll see about that," he replied, defiance in every syllable.
Kororo's smile remained, unyielding. "Oh, we will," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with something almost predatory.
As Dazai turned to leave, her voice followed him, soft, almost tender. "Dazai," she called, "Remember, we are connected. Our fates are intertwined."
He paused, not turning back, his voice barely audible as he whispered, "I know."
●
Midnight. The world outside the window was bathed in the cold light of the moon, the city below a restless sea of lights, a stark contrast to the darkness within the room. Kororo stood at the window, her silhouette sharp against the pale glow, unmoving, her expression unreadable.
Inside, Dazai slept, his mind mercifully silent, oblivious to the storm brewing beside him. Tomorrow, she would be introduced to the Agency, a step closer to the culmination of her plan.
She turned away from the window, her eyes hard, calculating. The future was a blank canvas, and she intended to paint it with blood.
After all, they were just frauds, playing their parts in a world too fragile to endure.
●
Dazai's sleep was restless, haunted by a recurring nightmare. In his dreams, the city was collapsing, buildings toppling like fragile towers of cards, their inhabitants buried alive beneath the rubble. The sky bled an unnatural red, a sunset that refused to die.
Amidst the destruction, he saw her—Kororo—standing atop a skyscraper that defied the chaos around it, her silhouette stark against the burning sky. Her eyes, cold and unfeeling, seemed to see through the very fabric of his being.
"This is your doing," he whispered, his voice lost in the roar of the apocalypse.
Kororo turned, her gaze meeting his, and she smiled—a smile that was more a void than an expression, a chasm of darkness.
"Perhaps," she replied, her voice a whisper that echoed through the ruins of his dream. "Perhaps it is."
Dazai woke with a start, his heart hammering in his chest, his skin slick with sweat. The remnants of the dream clung to him, a premonition, a warning of the devastation that Kororo could unleash. He had to stop her, had to find a way, no matter the cost.
But what price would he have to pay?
What did she truly want?
"You already know," a voice, soft and insidious, whispered in his mind. It chuckled, low and menacing.
"Entertainment. Chaos. Destruction."
"That's what I wanted."