Summary: Dazai was a small twig that had been cut off from its branch too early to take root as a new tree. It was too small to survive. Perhaps, Mori speculated, it had died already, or was doomed to soon. But, Mori could always 'water' the child and see what happened.

Mori looked over as the Boss entered the infirmary, a young boy near the man's side. The two visitors walked over to Mori. The small thin boy's brown eyes were lifeless and his brown hair was greasy.

"Patch him up," the Boss ordered. He was an older man, white already peppered his gelled black hair and triangular beard. He was still strong, despite the way his muscles had started to sag slightly due to his age.

Mori tilted his head. "Yes, Boss," he politely replied.

The Boss left and the boy approached Mori. It was interesting how the child's eyes lit up with both hope and caution as he grew closer.

"What's your name?" Mori questioned. He gave a smile, with the goal of reassuring the kid. He did not want to deal with crying or screaming brats.

"Dazai," the child offered. His volume was low, almost a whisper.

"I'm Mori," the doctor calmly replied. "I'm going to help you get better. Where are you hurt?"

"Torso," the child simply replied. His clothes were slightly too large. They hung off him in small folds.

Mori nodded. "I'm going to pick you up," he curtly forewarned. "Are your armpits hurt?"

The child shook his head, "No."

The doctor picked his patient up and placed the boy on the bed. The size of the infirmary bed was hilariously large compared to it's small occupant.

Mori drew the curtain around the bed. It made a small alcove.

The child almost instantly looked relieved. The possibility of someone walking in while he was being treated had certainly occurred to him.

"What types of injuries do you have?" Mori asked. It would likely just be a few bruises and cuts. Nothing really serious now, but could get infected if not treated.

"Burns."

Mori's eyes narrowed. Burns? "Can you take off your shirt by yourself?" The child nodded. Mori kept up his smile. "Then take off your shirt while I'm gone. I'm going to grab a few things."

The doctor returned in about two minutes.

Mori swept his gaze across the small figure. Dazai had taken his shirt off, revealing his wounds.

The burns were bright red. Likely second degree and very painful.*

Mori wondered how the boy could keep from crying. Most children Dazai's age would. The explanations were a high pain threshold from continued exposure to pain-possible-or as was more likely, Dazai felt the pain but was holding back his reaction to it for some reason. For some reason...like that his father, the Boss, didn't allow him to cry.

"Come here," Mori ordered. His tone was soft, a contradiction to the one he used when treating his adult patients.

Dazai shifted closer. He was still tense, distrustful.

"Can you swallow pills?"

Dazai gave a hesitant nod. "Yes."

Mori handed the boy a plastic cup of water and a pill in a small white tray. "It's pain medication," he explained. The doctor watched as Dazai swallowed it. "Good," he murmured. "Now, I'm going to put some cold water on your burns."

The doctor cafefully trickled icy cold water on the burns. He held a sponge above the wounds and let the water flow down.

After a few minutes of this, the doctor put on antibiotic cream. His fingers gently coated the burns in the cream. From the brief flinches every time Mori touched him, the boy seemed to be touch averse.

Finally, Mori wrapped bandages around Dazai's thin torso. He kept them looser than he would for other types of wounds, as to not aggravate the burns.

The third time Dazai came, about two weeks after the first time, Mori retreated the burns and a new mixed bag of injuries. Large welts from punches and slaps, long thin slashes from a serrated knife, and abrasions that looked as if someone had forcefully rubbed his skin against rough sandpaper. Once Mori was done, Dazai looked close to a living mummy. The boy's arms, torso, and legs were wrapped with white bandages.

By the twelfth time, Dazai had gotten used to Mori. He stayed still, only blinking and biting his lip as Mori treated marks on his neck.

Mori felt a sick sort of interest in regards to what the Boss had done this time. The marks were very unusual, after all. They looked to heave been inflicted by barb wire. As if someone had crafted a cruel necklace of it and forced it around Dazai's neck. Likely, that was what happened.

The twentieth time, the Boss had forbidden any pain medication. The doctor merely nodded and took it in stride.

The first priority was the glass shards in Dazai's forearms. The pieces were larger and were easier to take out. But they left larger holes and drops of blood trickled out from the spots. Mori swept a cloth over the spots, put antibiotic cream on, and placed a small square bandage on top of each. His job done there, the doctor moved on.

Mori painstakingly picked tiny glass shards out of Dazai's legs with tweezers. The process took almost an hour. Dazai flinched more during this session than he had during the others, taken unaware by the small pricks of pain.

The pattern of Dazai showing up at the Boss's side and Mori being ordered to heal the boy continued for months.

Dazai was a small twig that had been cut off from its branch too early to take root as a new tree. It was too small to survive. Perhaps, Mori speculated, it had died already, or was doomed to soon. But, Mori could always 'water' the child and see what happened.

Mori treated Dazai's wounds and candidly taught the young boy some medical knowledge that would be useful for keeping himself alive or stopping others from living. A few philosophical discussions were also had between them in the sterile white infirmary.

The boy had an unfortunate love of puns, that had become known as soon as he got comfortable enough to talk. He made it his goal to get a reaction from Mori, as the doctor had made it apparent that he disliked puns. Every wince and brief grimace was counted as a win from Dazai's perspective.

For Dazai, the place was a haven, if only briefly between training sessions.

XXX

There was one time the Boss carried Dazai into the infirmary. He cradled his unconcious son in his arms, an act that for any other father would be looked at as caring and heartwarming.

But with the Boss doing it, the action gave Mori a different feeling, that of wrongness and disgust. The sensation welled up in Mori's throat and he felt the urge to grimace heavily. Instead, he gave a large empty smile. "Good evening, Boss."

"Good evening Mori," the Boss politely returned. "I need you to treat Dazai again."

"Of course," Mori evenly replied. 'Again' was an understatement, the doctor had lost count of how many times Dazai had shown up at the infirmary door in the past three years.

"I'll take him if you don't mind, Boss?" Mori offered as he walked over to the Boss.

"Of course not," the Boss reassured. He partially extended his arms out and Mori slipped his arms under Dazai. The boy was light, lighter than Mori had been expecting. The Boss scrutinised Mori's face for a moment and then left.

Mori had almost forgotten about the Boss's paranoia and possessiveness regarding Dazai. He would have to be more careful about triggering any landmines in the future. Appearing close or sympathetic to Dazai in the eyes of the Boss, anything aside from apathetic, could lead to problems.

Mori put Dazai on an infirmary bed and drew the curtain. He stripped the boy of his shirt, pants, socks, and shoes.

There were scrapes on Dazai's palms and knee caps. But what mainly stood out were the oval marks of reddened skin. They were bitemarks. That was evident from the indentations of sharp teeth.

Mori guessed that the session had been centered around attack, not just Dazai being forced to stand somewhere and be bitten. Considering the scrapes, the activity was mainly Dazai attempting to run away and getting taken down by the dogs.

Factoring in Dazai's age, there's a nigh hundred percent chance the child would be scared of dogs his entire life. Even many adults going through the same event would end up with a fear of dogs.

Dazai whimpered as he woke up. He froze instantly, a fearful look crossed his face. Then he saw the white ceiling above him. He felt the tug of the bandages and the silky feel of the clean white sheets on his skin. And realized he was in the infirmary, his father and the dogs were far away. He frowned and closed his eyes again, wanting to go back to sleep. For only God knew what torture Dazai would be put through tomorrow.

A hand gently combed through Dazai's hair. The gesture was foreign to the boy, but soothing, comforting, in a way he hadn't felt for a long time.

Soon, Dazai fell asleep. The hand was withdrawn and its owner went back to work.

XXX

Dazai grew more quiet after his caretaker died. The Boss had 'revealed' to his son that no one else cared for him. How the Boss did this was by getting the caretaker to gain Dazai's trust and love, then break it by having the caretaker torture Dazai.

Mori weathered Dazai's distrust in silence for a few sessions. Forcing Dazai to do anything would backfire.

Dazai's child logic and lack of psychology knowledge won out. Since Mori wasn't trying to get close to him, Dazai drew closer of his own accord. Dazai started talking. Mori had quickly earned Dazai's tentative trust yet again.

XXX

Mori didn't make a significant move for years. Until a majority of the Port Mafia whispered their misgivings about the Boss. Until everyone agreed the Boss was sick and not right in the head. Until even if everyone would suspect Mori murdered the Boss, everyone would stay quiet about it.

And, until, Mori had become the Boss's personal highly trusted physician.

It was time for the Boss's treatment.

'So, what are your last words?' Mori thought to himself as he entered the room.

The ravings of a mad man were the answer.

"As you wish, Boss." Mori slid his scalpel across the Boss's throat. An unnerving sadistic smile crossed his face as he did so, the action of killing a cruel man was satisfying.

"You, are the witness, understand?" Mori questioned and turned his head towards the young teenager near the window. The man's face was streaked with blood.

Dazai stared back and gave a slow nod. The child was still thin and malnourished, the Boss kept him on a ridiculous eating schedule.

"We must go announce the Boss's unfortunate 'death from illness'."

"And, after?" The child asked. His only visible brown orb held fear that he swiftly replaced with apathy.

Mori gave a small smile, a rare genuine nonthreatening one. Although, the appararance of sincerity was lessened by the blood splatters on him. He casually replied, "After, I'm going to get you some food."

XXX

Dazai had filled out and grown a few inches taller. He was still skinny as a twig and had nightmares. Mori was occasionally awoken by sobs from the neighboring room.

The twelve year old had discovered the concept of suicide by now. And was rather enthusiastic about it. Mori had several near misses trying to prevent his protege's death.

XXX

Kouyou looked after Dazai when Mori was unable to. The female Port Mafia Executive knew how to deal with Dazai's shenanigans.

It took time, but Dazai started calling Kouyou 'Ane-san', big sister.

XXX

Dazai had become a Port Mafia Executive, after a plan of his led to the capture of one hundred and seventy two enemy combatants without any losses on the Port Mafia side.

Said genius young teenager was pouting. He had spent a good bit of time creating a strategy which he had turned in to Mori. But, Mori was rather harshly critiquing the idea.

"It's not that bad," Dazai mulishly muttered.

Mori stared at Dazai. "Dazai, it's bad."

Dazai stuck out his tongue.

XXX

The King of the Sheep, Chuuya Nakahara. Mori made him an offer the young teenager could not refuse.

Mori's and Dazai's machinations worked out, as Chuuya willingly joined the Port Mafia.

Kouyou took Chuuya as an apprentice. Chuuya also started calling Kouyou 'Ane-sane'.

Chuuya and Dazai became partners. Their relationship was labeled as a devastating rivalry. But they were less plain spiteful rivals and more so siblings that drove each other up the wall at every chance. Although the first part, devastating, was rather accurate as they easily squashed many Port Mafia enemies.

The redhead teenager soon got himself promoted. And thus the squabbling partners became fellow Executives in under a year.

At least the Executive meetings were more enjoyable...and full of less puns. Although, they were certainly louder.

XXX

Mimic, a European Gifted organization, driven from Europe.

Mori had a choice, let the Port Mafia burn under the mounting attention from the Japanese government, or sacrifice one member. Wade through the blood and chaos of Yokohama in the aftermath of Port Mafia arrests and deaths, or sacrifice one member.

The decision was obvious to Mori after a small amount of contemplation. Dazai's response was obvious as well. Mori might as well kill two birds with one stone.

XXX

Mori listened to rumors. Some were amusing, some were interesting bits...and some were substantiated gossip.

One such concerning piece of substantiated gossip was that Chuuya wasn't taking Dazai leaving well. Mainly, that the redheaded executive kept over working himself, constantly smoked, and drank too much.

Mori waited for Kouyou to act. She didn't. He took matters into his own hands.

He called Chuuya to his office, under the guise of asking more about a recent report on smuggling operations. Mori and Chuuya exchanged pleasantries and discussed the topic.

When Chuuya relaxed-signaled by his small crooked smile-and the time had dragged on, Mori got to the line of questioning he had wanted to over the past hour.

"How have you been doing?" Mori casually asked. He looked calculatingly at his executive.

Chuuya straightened up in the chair. His smile turned tentative. "Was there something wrong with the operations I led or the reports I turned in?"

"Your work has been impeccable, as usual," Mori acknowledged. "However, the time you've spent working, drinking, and smoking has grown...troubling and unhealthy. Therefore, take the rest of today, and tomorrow, off," he ordered.

"But, Boss-"

"That's an order, Chuuya," Mori calmly declared. His eyes narrowed and his smile fell into a slight frown.

Chuuya's lips tightened into a thin line. He gave a small nod. "Of course, Boss."

XXX

After five years later, Mori got a message from an unknown number.

Rib pnctrd a lng

Nd hlp

Plz

-D

Or, translated:

Rib punctured a lung

Need help

Please

-Dazai

The number also shared a location, the Armed Detective Agency Headquarters.

Mori immediately asked Chuuya to wait for him outside . He gathered together a bag of tools-a few clamps lamps, an extra sterilized scapel, a syringe or two of anaesthetic...

XXX

"Boss, what's going on?" Chuuya asked as Mori opened the passenger seat of Chuuya's car.

"Dazai asked for my help," Mori calmly explained. His smile was still fixed firmly in place.

Chuuya swore and started his car. "The Agency HQ, right, Boss?" He grumbled something under his breath as he pulled out of the parking spot, "If this is a prank I'll kill him."

XXX

Mori and Chuuya rode the old elevator to the fourth floor of the red brick building.

The doctor opened the and entered, a warm disarming smile on his face. "Where's Dazai? Or, I guess I must ask your President first. Where's Fukuzawa?"

Chuuya trailed behind Mori. He flicked his gaze around the office.

The detectives were clumped together in small groups around the room, mostly in pairs of two. They jumped to their feet and reached for weapons as they saw who stood before them.

"Why do you want to know?" Kunikida questioned. He had already activated his ability, a newly formed taser in his right hand.

Before Mori could reply, Ranpo responded to the Port Mafia Boss's question. His glasses rested on the edge of his nose and his eyes were wide and visible. "President and Dazai are in the infirmary, over there," he pointed lazily in the direction of the room. "Leave Mr. Fancy Hat out here though."

"Why thank you," Mori happily said. His tone was innocent enough to be sickening to those who had experienced his dark side.

About five hours later, the verdict was given. The detectives and Chuuya had waited together in an uneasy silence. They gathered together even closer and he chose a corner to stay in. The only positive emotion expressed in the room were the small smiles exchanged between Kyouka and Chuuya.

"Dazai's fine," Yosano announced.

Mori went around her. "Do give my regards to Dazai." He headed towards the exit.

Chuuya tipped his hat politely at the detectives and followed his boss. "Glad to see you're doing well, Kyouka," he murmured to her as he passed.

XXX

Dazai waltzed into Port Mafia HQ just a bit past one PM. He showed up in Mori's office. "Hello Mori," he chirped. "I thought," a mischievous grin spread across his face, "that you'd like to know-"

Mori got an inkling as to where Dazai was going with it. "Don't," he warned.

Dazai's eyes twinkled as he finished, "That I'm going tibia okay."

Mori gave a brief grimace. "Dazai, why," he protested with exasperation.

Dazai pouted. "Why not?" He mused in reply.

Mori sighed.

A/N

I decided to have some fun with Dad!Mori. Sometimes, I like the answer for Mori being nice not always being 'to induce Stockholm Syndrome' but instead 'actually cares, a bit.'

This story was partly inspired by Animejessi's Inception story. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it.

* Dazai has second degree burns. They usually heal within 2-3 weeks. Suggested treatments (from https/health/burns#seconddegree-burn):

Antibiotic cream

Running cold water over the burn for fifteen minutes

Cleaning and bandaging the area properly to prevent infection

Taking over the counter pain medication

-Silver