Bsd Tanizaki - Blog Posts

Bungou stray dogs agência de detetives, da pra saber quem é quem?

Eu realmente não faço a menor ideia

On Jun'ichiro Tanizaki--

You know, a lot of people dispel the theory of the Tanizakis having some dark horrific past or hiding secrets because of Jun'ichiro in the light novels consistently talking about in the fact that he's "just an average guy, with no dark past or horrific trauma. just a normal guy."

Thing is, he states it a biiit too much. Plus we know that canonically, his entrance exam for the agency was "so horrific and traumatising that he buried the memories in his subconscious", so even with just that, we know he's not exactly being truthful about having "absolutely no trauma".

Other thing is, the irl counterpart of Jun'ichiro Tanizaki had quite the penchant for unreliable narrators. AKA, the narrators of his stories were, a lot of the time, unable to be fully counted as truthful due to the warped nature of their own minds/reality, for one reason or another. And now, wouldn't you say that Jun'ichiro could be counted as an unreliable narrator?

I mean, it's common for trauma survivors to lock away the memories of traumatic experiences, not only of what happened during them but also sometimes that they even happened at all. And he already has an account of doing so, as mentioned just previously.

Another thing though, not just the trauma but the "average guy" bit too, he was referred to by the CREATOR OF BSD as "the character closest to evil" in the ADA?????? Like,,,, there's an ex-mafia executive with HOW many listed crimes (AND THOSE AREN'T EVEN COUNTING THE STUFF ANGO ERASED)??? And you're telling me passive soft-boy ginger over here is WORSE? And if you know about the eye symbolism in the manga,,,, HIS EYES GET DARKER THAN DAZAI'S SOMETIMES.

Tanizaki has absolutely NO moral code - like literally has the moral code of DAZAI. Tanizaki strives to do good PURELY because of his sister, but even with that if he has even a half-decent reason to throw all good intentions out the window, he will do it with NO hesitation. Let's bring up the Higuchi encounter right at the start of the series. He flips his fucking shit the second Naomi gets hurt, and gets around Higuchi with his ability and attacks her from behind, trying to strangle her. But how does he try to strangle her, specifically? Generally, when strangling someone, the usual thought is just to squeeze their neck, kinda unspecifically, ya know? But when Tanizaki did it, he went straight for her windpipe.

He fucking pressed his fingers down on her windpipe specifically. On the sides of the neck are veins, so when choking someone safely as a sexual thing, you go simply for the sides of the neck to block blood flow and get your partner light headed without actually ensuring they'll get hurt by it and making sure their breathing isn't obstructed. But the windpipe is where you go to kill a person. He did not want to just choke her out, he wanted to fucking murder her. May I add that this wasn't even self defense by this point? She wasn't even really threatening Naomi at this point, he went to do that for revenge.

And I bring up next the guild arc. While the two from the guild had Naomi and her friend, as well as Tanizaki and Kunikida, captured, they threatened to take Naomi and Tanizaki used his ability to get the two guild members hit by a truck. But why I bring this up is because he hasn't even just hurt the attackers this time. That driver did not get out uninjured. Who knows if he even got out at all. In that moment, Tanizaki attempted to kill 3 people, 1 of which was a completely innocent driver who had nothing to do with the situation.

Then if we wanna talk about the cannibalism arc,,,, woo boi. During the cannibalism arc, he got held captive by the fucking Port Mafia's Black Lizard, and when they threatened his sister he went "I'll fucking kill you all, don't test me." He was basically at their mercy, and still threatened and genuinely scared them. He managed to SNEAK UP ON and SCARE Gin. Just, yk, the BEST ASSASSIN IN THE ENTIRE PORT MAFIA

In fact, he managed to SNEAK AWAY and get ALL THE WAY TO THE BOSS' ROOM WITHOUT BEING CAUGHT. He stood over the guy's fucking bed with a knife ready to plunge it into the guy's heart without hesitation or guilt - not even self defense, just because "someone has to die, and I've decided it's going to be him". He only failed in doing so because Kouyou showed up, and might I say it took a fucking EXECUTIVE to stop him from assassinating Mori.

Mofo went "alr, i bought time for the others to escape………………………………imma go try to kill mori now lol"

His ability "isn't suited for fighting", my ass. Just an "average guy", huh? He has absolutely no actual combat training that we know of. Plus he's just so mentally unstable. The guy's teetering on the edge of his sanity the entire goddamn series. Guy heard "I don't want to join the Port Mafia" and went "Why? I'll do it" Our Jun'ichiro "self-proclaimed average guy" Tanizaki played a terrorist bomber scarily well in like the first episode or two.......

Drawing Tanizaki Junichiro from BSD Beast because I got scammed and never got my manga.

Crying. Never ordering anywhere ever again.

I’m making a Bsd RP server and I ain’t got no one yet😭

It’s just a fun server that anyone can join sooo

This is also my first time making a discord server

He looks exhausted when he walks in—a hectic week altogether—tie loose, hair a mess, the weight of the day still clinging to his shoulders. You only get a proper kiss before he mumbles something about freshening up, leaving you standing there, needy and restless, watching him disappear into the bathroom.

When he comes back, he’s shirtless, hair damp, towel lazily slung around his neck. He settles on the bed against the headboard, long legs stretched out, a book in his hand. The glow of the bedside lamp casts soft shadows over his chest, the definition of his collarbones, the slope of his abs. And yet, he doesn’t seem to notice the way your gaze lingers.

You’re curled up at the edge of the bed, watching him, sulking a little. He must feel it, must sense the heat of your stare, because he barely glances up from his book before tilting his head toward you.

“Come here, baby.” His voice is low, lazy, but there’s something in it that makes your stomach tighten. “Sit on me.”

You first didn't understand if he meant his face or his lap, when he takes off his shorts is when you understand.

Your breath catches. “Aren’t you tired?”

A slow smirk tugs at his lips. “And? C'm on, you know both you and I want it.”

That was enough to make warmth pool at the base of your spine. He sets the book aside for a second, beckoning you with his fingers.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice like honey, thick and coaxing. “Missed you.”

It’s enough to make you move before you can think better of it, before you can let the last bit of hesitation keep you away. As soon as you settle onto his lap, his hands find your waist, taking down your panties as you lift your hips up.

He lifts you slightly, making you sit on his cock, it doesn't completely fit, of course, thumbs stroking your skin through the fabric of your shirt as his tip teases that spot.

He picks up the book again, but his eyes flicker down to yours,

“You gonna behave while I read?”

You shift slightly, just enough to make his grip tighten.

His chuckle is low, teasing. “Didn’t think so.”

He picks up the book again, pretending to be absorbed in it, but you don’t miss the way his grip tightens when you shift just a little.

“You comfortable, darlin'?” he murmurs absently, eyes flicking over the pages, but there’s a teasing lilt to his voice. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You hum, pressing your palms to his bare chest, tracing slow circles over his skin. “Mhm,” you breathe, leaning in, brushing your lips over his jaw. He doesn’t react, doesn’t move—just keeps reading like you’re not practically melting against him.

So, you move. Just a little. A slow, innocent shift, dragging your body against his like you’re just trying to get comfortable. His fingers twitch against your waist.

Still, he doesn’t say anything.

You try again, shifting higher, rolling your hips ever so slightly before sinking back down, your arms wrapping loosely around his neck.

His jaw tenses, his breath catches—just for a second—but he keeps his face hidden behind the book, stubbornly ignoring you.

“Baby,” you whine softly, dragging your lips along the column of his throat, your fingers slipping into his hair. He’s so warm, so solid beneath you, and the way he’s acting like he doesn’t care makes heat spark in your stomach.

He exhales through his nose, tilting his head back just enough to let you nuzzle into him, but his voice stays even. “What is it, sweetheart?”

You shift again, slower this time, your body pressing flush against his. His hands slide down, palms warm against your thighs now, holding you in place—but not stopping you.

“You’re ignoring me,” you pout, rolling your hips ever so slightly.

He lets out a low hum, flipping a page with maddening calm. “Am I?”

“Mmhm,” you whisper, lips brushing his ear now. “Feels mean.”

His grip tightens, his fingers flexing, but he doesn’t pull you closer, doesn’t stop you. He just lets you move, lets you tease yourself against him while he hides behind the book like you’re not driving him insane.

Finally, after another slow shift of your hips, he exhales sharply, his fingers pressing into your skin. “You having fun, sweet thing?”

You grin, pressing your forehead against his. “Maybe.”

You keep moving against him, slow and teasing, pressing yourself closer, but he doesn’t give in. Doesn’t acknowledge the way your body rolls against his, how your hands roam over his chest, fingertips tracing over his collarbones, his shoulders, the muscles in his arms.

He just keeps his book in front of his face, pretending to be unaffected, though his grip on your waist tightens each time you shift.

Still, you don’t stop.

You press your lips to the curve of his jaw, down his throat, your breath warm against his skin. Nothing. Another slow roll of your hips. Nothing. His chest rises a little quicker, but he keeps reading, keeps ignoring the way you’re growing needier by the second.

So you pull back.

Lift off of him completely, his hands falling from your waist as you shift onto your knees in front of him. He doesn’t say a word, but you can feel his gaze burning into you. Like he isn’t gripping the book just a little too tight.

And then—slowly, deliberately—you pull your shirt over your head. Let it fall somewhere on the bed before you turn around, completely bare.

This time, when you sink on him again, when your skin presses against his, warm and soft, he sucks in a quiet breath. It’s subtle, barely audible, but you hear it—the smallest groan, low in his throat, like he’s finally letting himself react, just for a second.

You smirk, leaning back against his chest, your bare back skin meeting his warmth. His hand finds your waist again, palm splayed across your stomach now, going lower, caressing your public hair, fingers pressing in ever so slightly, then, creeping up to your breasts.

But still—one hand stays on the book, his eyes flickering over the pages like he isn’t affected, like he doesn’t feel the heat of your body against his.

Then—slowly, lazily—his free hand moves up, reaching for the band holding your hair in place. A gentle tug, and your ponytail loosens, hair spilling over your shoulders, cascading down your back.

He exhales, fingers threading through the strands, brushing them over one shoulder before his palm rests lightly against your collarbone. His lips ghost the side of your head, warm and teasing.

You lift again, rolling your hips, teasing yourself against him, but he’s too big—he doesn’t completely fit, and the realization sends a frustrated whimper past your lips. You try again, sinking down only to an extent, but it’s not enough. The slow drag, the aching stretch—it’s driving you crazy.

And then—you feel it. The sharp inhale he takes, the way his fingers dig into your hips, his patience snapping in an instant.

His book is tossed aside without a second thought.

Before you can process it, he grips your waist and pushes you down onto him fully, a deep, strained groan rumbling from his chest as you gasp with a moan, hands flying to his thighs for support. The pressure, the overwhelming fullness—it has your whole body trembling.

Then, he moves.

He leans forward, chest pressing against your back, his warmth caging you in as he shifts, guiding you down onto your elbows and knees. You barely register the change in position before he presses against you from behind, rolling his hips in slow, deep thrusts that knock the air from your lungs.

A strangled moan escapes you, your fingers clutching at the sheets as he moves again, unhurried but devastating, each motion precise, like he’s savoring the way you fall apart beneath him.

His breath is heavy, hot against the back of your neck. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” His voice is rough, strained, and when you whimper in response, he lets out a low groan, his hips pressing even deeper.

He leans forward, to hear you and to feel your skin better—his arm slides around your throat from behind, not tight, just enough to keep you close, to keep you exactly where he wants you.

His grip is firm but careful, fingers resting lightly against your pulse, feeling the way it races beneath his touch. He groans again, voice husky in your ear as he keeps moving, slow and deep, his other hand holding your waist.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your neck. “Take it. J—just like that.”

Your eyes flutter open, hazy with pleasure, and that’s when you see it—the mirror straight ahead, mounted on the wall opposite the bed.

The sight knocks the breath from your lungs.

The reflection captures everything—his body towering over yours, his one hand gripping your waist and the other on your heck, the way he moves against you, desperate, like he can’t get enough. His expression is dark with hunger, his lips parted, chest heaving with each deep thrust, biting and kissing your neck.

You can’t look away.

A choked moan escapes your lips, louder than before, your gaze locked on the image before you. The way you tremble beneath him, the way his body fits against yours so perfectly—it sends another wave of heat through you.

Behind you, he notices.

His pace falters for a second, his head tilting slightly before he follows your gaze—and when he sees it, when he sees himself buried deep inside you, his body covering yours, your dazed eyes, drool from your lips, how you tighten around him, how your moans got louder, his grip on your waist tightens.

A low, guttural groan rumbles from his chest.

"You like that view, sweetheart?" His voice is husky, rough with desire.

You can barely manage a response, your moan answering for you, and that’s all it takes.

"Y—yeah? you like that baby?"

His pace shifts—harder, faster, so hard you start moving upwards away from him so he pulls you back on him, as if the sight of you together, of you unraveling beneath him, has pushed him over the edge. His breathing turns ragged, each thrust sending shivers down your spine, and you know he’s close.

So are you.

Your hands clench the sheets, your body arching, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until—

His name spills from your lips, broken and breathless, as the pleasure crashes over you, leaving you trembling in his grasp.

Only then does he let go.

With one final thrust, his body tenses, his own release following yours, a deep groan escaping as he collapses onto you, his weight warm and heavy, pressing you into the bed.

For a moment, neither of you move.

His chest rises and falls against your back, his breath warm against your shoulder, his arms still wrapped around you like he’s unwilling to let go just yet.

Then—softly, teasingly—he presses a lazy kiss to the side of your neck, his voice a deep murmur against your skin.

"Now that," he breathes, a satisfied smirk in his tone, "was a sight worth watching."

A lazy hum vibrates against your skin as he stays draped over you, his weight heavy but comforting, grounding you after the storm you both just weathered. His lips graze your shoulder, soft and lingering, before he finally shifts, rolling off you just enough to let you breathe.

But he doesn’t let go.

Instead, he pulls you back against his chest, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing his face into the crook of your neck. His breathing is deep, still uneven, but his lips find your skin again, trailing slow, featherlight kisses along your shoulder, up to your jaw.

"You okay, sweetheart?" His voice is warm, thick with exhaustion, but there’s a hint of something else too—concern, devotion, the quiet way he always makes sure you’re alright.

You nod, still catching your breath, and he chuckles softly, his fingers brushing lazy circles against your bare skin.

"Did so well for me," he murmurs, pressing a kiss behind your ear.

You sigh, sinking into his warmth, letting yourself melt as he shifts to sit up, reaching over to grab the blanket from the edge of the bed. With careful hands, he pulls it over both of you, tucking you close against him, his body still warm from exertion.

The weight of exhaustion tugs at your limbs, pulling you toward sleep, but just as you begin to drift, you feel it—

A slow, lazy touch trailing along your skin.

At first, it’s featherlight, almost absentminded, like he’s moving on instinct even in his half-asleep state. His fingertips trace delicate patterns along your stomach before slipping lower, pressing against you with a knowing intent.

Your breath hitches.

"Mm," he hums sleepily against your neck, his voice thick with exhaustion but still laced with that ever-present hunger. "Not done with you yet, sweetheart."

The words send a shiver through you, heat pooling where his fingers tease, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the way you react even with his eyes closed. His grip tightens around your waist, keeping you close as his lips press against the curve of your shoulder, a lazy, satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

"You can take one more for me, can’t you? I can’t believe I lived without this for a week.”

Usually, he takes his time, his mouth and hands working in tandem, drawing you apart piece by piece, only then do you come on his cock, but tonight, there was a crack in the routine.

He’s tired—so tired—and yet, not enough to resist.

Not enough to deny himself this.

His fingers dip lower, pressing against you, and when he feels the heat, the wetness waiting for him, he lets out a low, satisfied hum.

“I almost forgot,” he murmurs, lips trailing along the curve of your jaw, “how gorgeous you are like this. All flustered, sensitive and red and—”

He presses in, two fingers sliding deep, and the breath you take is sharp, stolen from your lungs.

“—so fucking wet for me.”

His fingers move with a practiced rhythm, slow but deliberate, coaxing you closer. His lips press against your shoulder, murmuring against your flushed skin, a litany of sweet nothings that only make the pleasure coil tighter inside you.

"That’s it, sweet, sweet cunt," he breathes, voice thick with exhaustion but dripping with satisfaction. "Let go for me… just like that."

Your head falls back against his shoulder, body melting into his as he works you through it, his touch unrelenting until he feels you come undone, trembling in his arms. He doesn’t stop until the last wave passes, until he’s sure he’s wrung out every last drop of pleasure from you.

Only then does he ease his fingers out, dragging them up over your thigh, slow and reverent, as if he’s memorizing the way you feel against him. His other arm tightens around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, anchoring you against his chest, clean his fingers by tasting you.

"Missed you so much," he mutters into your hair, voice barely above a whisper. "Don’t think I can go a week without you again."

His lips press against your temple, soft and lingering, before he shifts, reaching for the blanket and pulling it over both of you. His warmth surrounds you, his touch still gentle as he strokes lazy circles into your hip, lulling you into a haze of post-bliss exhaustion.

"You good, sweetheart?" he asks, voice softer now, more tender. You nod sleepily, and he chuckles, kissing the top of your head.

"Sleep," he whispers. "I’ve got you."

And with his arms wrapped around you, his breath steady and warm against your skin, you believe him.

@evvwenthome tis was I

your secret santa!!

taniatsu is cool. that’s it. that’s the post.

drew tanizaki while listening to msi during school today and then my computer crashed and rebooted itself so i lost my speedpaint

this was pretty fun though X333

doodled tanizaki on a sticky note :3

the reference i was using looked super silly so it’s under the cut.

WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE THAT 😭

ummmm, tanizaki doodle anyone??

i miss him sm :(

THE SILLIES (๑>◡<๑)

Why did Kuninkida shoot twice? What happened to Tanizaki's hands?

Tachizaki Art

We need more of this rare ship qwq

trans junichior yaaaay

BSD 117 SPOILERS

First bram then kunikida and now we're losing tanizaki too

I have found more out in the wild

They're everywhere

⚠️ SPOILER BSD CHAPTER 117⚠️

I need, and when I say I need it's true, for Dazai to be in pure rage when he finds what happened to Kunikida. Like genuinely. Even worse than Junichiro's reaction. He is no longer the Dazai we know, but a mad man on the verge of despair. He is angry that he treats him like this. Him and his ideals? You don't treat him well? Very well, Dazai will take care of you.

Oh boy that'll be crazy

Atsushi's diary:

"Dazai-san was telling me I can grow shrimp out of shrimp's tail by planting them. What kind of FOOL he thinks I am, what kind of idiot will believe that at this age? Kunikida-san told me I did nice work today, it made me feel so good that I almost cried. I think I have abandonment issues. Last night, I went to Junichiro-kun's house to return him a bag he lent me, and I heard some weird noises from his house. Note to self- do not go to Tanizaki household alone. Kyouka-chan gets cold really easily, I want to buy her a big fluffy blanket but my savings are running low. Kenji-kun told me he'll give me farm fresh vegetables every two days, that'll save some money, but I do not want to bother him with my problems. Something weird happened today, Yosano-san pulled me aside during lunch, she told me that she is worried about my health. She's always worried about people's health, she is so kind. "You should rely on people more, Atsushi. We all are here for you. It is not good for your well being if you worry about every single thing all by yourself". Yosano-san is a doctor, she knows what she is talking about. But she doesn't know me. Truly. I know myself. I have always been a burden on people. I want to take care of myself now, and of Kyouka-chan. There are so many nice people in the world, I can never be compared to them, I just do whatever I can.

Tomorrow I am going on a mission with Ranpo-san. This is the only time I am not scared. Ranpo-san is childish but he is so reliable"

(ps: this doesn't follow any timeline, only for fanfiction-ey funsies)

*ADA DURING AN EMERGENCY*

Kunikida: quick where's Dazai, we need him

Kenji: he isn't here, he went home

Tankizaki: let me call him

Kunikida: he's not answering

Ranpo: Osamu has a habit of not answering calls when he's drinking

Yosano: where's Atsushi?

Kunikida: Junichiro and I called him so many times what makes you think Dazai will answer him?

Yosano: cuz he's Atsushi? Everyone is wrapped around his little finger

Kunikida: that's not true---

Atsushi: ---hello, Dazai-san?

Dazai: hey, Atsushi kun~ Why did you call ⊂⁠(⁠(⁠・⁠▽⁠・⁠)⁠)⁠⊃

Kunikida: .....

(PS: really sorry if any other got left out, I was writing these on top of my head so I don't know if there's more. Feel free to comment if you know any other siblings/sibling-ish dynamic I left out!)

Atsushi, confused after a mission: what exactly is the relationship between Dazai-san and Chuuya-san?

Fukuzawa: they are enemies

Kunikida: more like ex-coworkers

Yosano: definitely, enemies with benefits

Kyouka: best friends!

Kenji: they help each other out in times of great trouble like good neighbors :)

Junichiro: Aren't they rivals?

Naomi: I thought they were Ex-boyfriends!

Haruno: I heard they got divorced

Atsushi, even more confused: they were married????

*Everyone looks at Ranpo*

Ranpo, takes his Lollipop out: Gay.

A detail that I always found curious in bsd is how in fifteen Dazai needs to consciously activate his ability, but in the current time of the story he doesn't. At first I just thought Dazai had trained his own ability to the point where he could keep it active all the time, but Dazai's ability doesn't really seem very important to his work in the mafia, because we only see him using No Longer Human a few times during the light novels that take place during the time he was in the Port Mafia, so I don't believe this was something trained by Dazai, but rather the effect that All Men Are Equal has on him.

We know that Fukuzawa's ability is a suppression ability that influences the abilities of ADA members, allowing the agents themselves to adjust and control their powers, so it makes sense that joining after the ADA, Dazai made No Longer Human always be activated, so he couldn't be affected by abilities attacks even if he was caught by surprise.

The fact that the agents themselves can adjust their abilities with the help of All Men Are Equall made me think about the other ADA members, and how they are affected by Fukuzawa's ability. In Yosano's flashback, it's never said that she can only heal people with fatal wounds, and when Yosano refuses to heal Tachihara's brother (who Mori says is not seriously injured) she says that she doesn't want to heal him, not that she can't, so I believe that after everything Yosano went through in the war and with Mori, she herself chose to only be able to heal people who were almost dying, so she doesn't feel like she was reducing the value of the lives of those she heals, and so that others detectives of the agency understand the value that their lives and wounds have, and don't end up like the soldiers in war.

In Kenji's fight against Tetchou, we have a flashback of a conversation between Kunikida and Atsushi, and Kunikida says that Kenji's ability is driven by his anger, the angrier he gets, the more powerful he will be, however, his hunger can calm him, and I wonder if that might have something to do with Fukuzawa's skill. Kenji is a very calm person, and Kunikida says that this prevents his monstrous strength from coming out, so creating a way to calm him down so that his ability doesn't go out of control may have been Kenji's own choice when he joined the agency.

Kunikida only using his ability in his notebook of ideals may also have been his own choice. We know how connected to his ideals Kunikida is, and he says that all of his future and ideals are written in that notebook, so it makes sense that he would want his ability, an important part of his life, to be in his notebook too. On the other hand, All Men Are Equal could be the reason why Kunikida can only create objects the size of his notebook, but I can't see a specific reason for this choice.

I don't see many ways in which Fukuzawa's ability can affect Tanizaki's Light Snow, other than limiting the area in which he can use his ability. We know that Tanizaki can be very aggressive if provoked, so the fact that his ability can only be used at a short or medium range may be to prevent him from doing more damage than necessary when angered.

I believe all of these assumptions make a lot of sense, based on what we've seen of the influence of Fukuzawa's ability on Atsushi (forbiding him from fully transforming into a tiger, and from losing his mind while using his ability) and Kyouka (allowing her to control Demon Snow without her phone), and I really hope this topic is explored at some point during the manga.

Francis final protocol better be taking Lovecraft out of the fucking ocean and send him and Steinbeck to this damn airport because I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE

I agree. They need more love and page on shipping wiki

taniatsu is cool. that’s it. that’s the post.

JUNCHAN MY LOVE i want to squish his cheeks <3

Panel: Vol 2, Ch.7, Pg.107

I couldn't get the same amount of whimsy that he has in the panel and i'm a little saddened by that lol

My head canons for the Hogwarts Houses of the Bungou Stray Dogs Character

Ranpo: Ravenclaw

Kunikida: Ravenclaw

Yosano: Slytherin

Atsushi: Hufflepuff

Kyouka: Hufflepuff

Dazai: Slytherin

Chuya: Gryffindor

Fukuzawa: Ravenclaw

Akutugawa: Gryffindor (possibly Slytherin?)

Mori: Slytherin (Possibly Ravenclaw?)

Fydor: Ravenclaw

Kenji: Hufflepuff

Tanizaki: Hufflepuff