#i was on the verge of consciousness and i quite literally woke myself fully up laughing over it

[franklyimissparis]

had an extremely cursed dream where miles and alex announced tlsp3 by doing a full-on faux pregnancy photoshoot complete with a photoshopped ultrasound of a fetus holding a guitar with a caption like ‘baby turner-kane, due september 2024’

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment Is All We Are (26/?)

AO3 link: HERE

Music is recommended for this chapter. When you hit the first **, please open up this link: HERE When you hit the second **, please open this link for the BSD 1st ED

It was dark.

So, so dark.

I opened my eyes as wide as I could and then squeezed them shut just to check that they were actually open. They were.

I swallowed uneasily and tried to stay calm.

Earlier, when he was carrying me to the car, Dazai had accidentally jostled me awake. When I looked at him, he simply said he was taking me back to the ADA, specifically to the infirmary so Dr. Yosano could heal me with her Ability.

“It’s going to be rough,” he’d murmured softly into my ear, “and she’ll probably keep you overnight, but it’s better than being in a hospital for several weeks.”

I heard a crack of a smile in his voice.

“You’ll be okay.”

I’d then floated in and out of consciousness as Dazai had gotten in the back seat with me, buckled in my seat belt and laid my head against his shoulder for support. As the low rumble of the engine starting slowly filled the car, I found myself drifting off yet again. I was so out of it that I didn’t really remember the trip... Except for one small detail.

At one point during the ride, I thought I felt Dazai brushing his long fingers through my hair. He was singing something under his breath, something low and pleasant that sounded like it had nothing to do with suicide... and his singing voice had sounded so beautiful that I could feel myself smiling as I listened...

That was the last thing I was aware of before I passed out entirely and woke up in this pitch-black room. Where the heck was I?!

Groaning a little, I tried to stretch out but found almost immediately that I couldn’t. My arms and legs were strapped down to a partially upright table—a cold, hard slab of a table I didn’t remember being strapped into. I then tried moving my hands and flexing what little muscle I had but instantly regretted it when my entire body was suddenly flooded with a sharp, electric surge of pain.

Right. My arms and ribs were still broken.

I rolled my head to the side with a sigh of defeat, my neck cracking loudly as I moved. It was pretty clear to me now that even if I were at full strength, there was no way that a weakling like me would be able to break free from these restraints. They were probably made for holding down the monstrous strength of an angry Kunikida or a starving Kenji... Which just left one question...

Who strapped me in here?

There was a soft creak.

I swiveled my head towards it and saw a sliver of light appearing in the corner, watching as it grew wider and wider until I realized it was the light from an open doorway. Then I heard a hollow “snap.” Lights—bright, white and blinding came on all around me, flooding into my eyeballs with such intensity that I winced and screwed my eyes shut against the onslaught.

** “Well, well, well,” a low, feminine voice purred, “If it isn’t our newest recruit? You’re hurt, aren’t you...? Kyou-chan?”

Heels clicked against tile, the sound echoing sharply throughout the room. I looked up to see Dr. Yosano in a lab coat and gloves, the golden butterfly clip gleaming brightly in her hair. I should’ve felt comforted at the sight of her but there was something about her smile—something sinister that made the blood turn cold in my veins...

“Y-Yosano-sensei.”

I tried to crack a smile but found my face feeling oddly stiff and frozen.

“Yeah, I guess I am... Dazai-san said you were going to heal me?”

Yosano’s smile widened.

“But of course, my dear.”

Her black-gloved fingers went for the buttons of her lab coat and that’s when I realized she hadn’t been wearing her tie. In fact, she wasn’t even wearing her shirt.

I suddenly wished I’d opted for a normal hospital...

“Welcome to my special operating room,” Dr. Yosano continued, slowly shrugging off her white lab coat. “I’m sure Tanizaki-kun has told you plenty of stories about what happens here, but let me be the first to reassure you...”

Her lab coat dropped to the floor and she kicked it under a tarp.

“It’s not as bad as he makes it sound.”

My eyes widened.

There were tarps everywhere, covering the other chairs, the floor—even the surgeon’s lamp over my head was covered in a thin sheet of plastic.

“Y-Y-Yosano-sensei...”

I could hear my own teeth chattering as I spoke.

“Wh-why’s everything covered in plastic? What are you—?”

I heard a heavy thunk.

Clad in only a lacy black bra and a matching set of panties, Dr. Yosano had dropped her thick black faux-leather bag on the ground and was now bent over it, fumbling with all sorts of things that jangled and clattered with a jarring metallic frequency. I couldn’t see past the edge of the table where she crouched but I could definitely hear her squeal of delight when she found what she was looking for.

“Kyou-chan.”

Something gleamed from underneath my table and I bit back a scream when I saw Yosano rise from the floor with an actual honest-to-God machete—the kind I once saw in a horror movie—in her gloved hands. The shine of the machete’s long, polished blade was reflected in the manic glint in her purple eyes and as I struggled against my bonds, I fully understood why the patients in this room needed to be strapped down.

“I believe I once told you how my Ability works, yes?” she whispered. “That I can heal you back to perfect health so long as you’re on the verge of death? Well, unfortunately, Kitten... you’re not quite there yet.”

“Unfortunately?!”

I started to shake.

“See, that’s where this beauty comes in,” the good doctor explained, running one finger along the edge of the blade. “You’re not quite injured enough, so I have to speed the process along. I mean...”

She shot me a pointed look.

“You do want to get better quick, don’t you?”

I didn’t have the courage to shake my head ‘no.’ For some reason, I found myself nodding instead.

“Good. In that case...”

Running her tongue over her glossy pink lips, Yosano approached.

“The doctor is in.”

Slowly, lovingly, she leaned in and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. The golden butterfly shone in her short, dark hair.

“It’s not very often I get to patch up a girl,” Yosano crooned, her fingers deftly sliding from behind my ear down the line of my jaw. “Kyouka-chan is very good at avoiding severe injury you see, and it’s not like the office girls ever see combat...”

She cupped my chin and lifted my face up towards hers.

“But don’t worry, Kitten,” she whispered softly, “I promise I’ll take good care of you...”

She let go of me, raised the machete high into the air and let out an absolutely maniacal laugh.

“Hold still.”

She swung.

The last thing I heard before her machete buried itself in my flesh was the sound of my own terrified screams ringing in my ears.

***

“All done!”  Yosano called brightly.

Fully clothed once again, she threw open the door to the main office, which hit the wall with a loud crack but not even that was enough to shake me from my stupor.

With no wheelchair available in the Agency infirmary, Dr. Yosano was forced to cart me into the room on a dolly, the kind that movers normally used to bring furniture into a house. While the wheels squeaked against the tiles below me, I sat mutely on the flat metal surface, staring straight ahead with blank, unseeing eyes in an upright fetal position. My knees were drawn up against my chest and my arms were wound so tightly around my body that I was cutting off the circulation the good doctor had just restored. But it’s not like having any amount of blood flow would’ve made a difference.

I was still feeling completely numb from the trauma of what had just happened. Had I spent the entire night in the infirmary? Two nights? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that it was mid-morning, that there was bright sunlight streaming in through every open window but I was still feeling cold and numb in a way that had nothing to do with my body.

Someone approached and it took me a full ten seconds to remember where I had seen his concerned face before.

Tanizaki Junichiro frowned.

“Told you,” he mouthed without actually speaking, shooting a nervous, furtive look up at the terrifying woman who had literally just cut me apart and put me back together again.

“Come on,” he mumbled instead, struggling to pry my arms away from my body. “Let’s get you to your desk. You can pass out safely behind your laptop the way the rest of us do after ‘treatment’...”

As he gripped my wrists over the jacket sleeves and pulled me off the dolly, I looked up into his face, full recognition dawning at last. I tried to speak but found my mouth unable to cooperate with my brain.

“T...T...”

Tanizaki raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“T...Ta...Ta...!”

Tanizaki was now looking slightly disturbed.

“What is it, Kusunoki-san?”

Unable to hold back any longer, I burst into tears.

“Tanizaki-kunnnn!!!!” I wailed, latching onto the redhead’s waist.

“What the—?!” Tanizaki squawked, instantly blanching. “Kusunoki-san, get a hold of yourself!”

“I was so scared!” I bawled, hanging on tighter even as Tanizaki tried to peel me off of him. “You were right! You were right about everything! I swear, I’ll never let myself get hurt ever again! I’M SO SORRY—”

“Kusunoki-san...”

Hiccuping, tears and snot running down my face as I clutched at the ends of the red sweatshirt Tanizaki tied around his waist, I turned to my left to see Naomi, standing there with a chilling look in her dark blue eyes.

“May I ask you why you’re hanging on so tightly to my dear brother?” she asked, her voice no louder than a whisper. “Is there something I need to know?”

Shaking my head, I was forced to let go as Tanizaki finally succeeded in pushing me away. I hit the ground with a sharp smack as Junichiro ran to his sister’s side, apologizing profusely and begging her not to take it out on him later on tonight, at which point I finally remembered to clap my hands over my ears and do my best not to listen.

Fortunately for me, someone else’s indignant shout suddenly shook the room.

“Like I said before, we’re the Armed Detective Agency, not the Lost and Found! Go take that thing to the police station instead!”

As one, we all turned to the door to see Edogawa Ranpo, standing in the doorway looking extremely irritated, with his arms loaded to the brim with an actual stack of pastry boxes. Behind him was a rather short, thin young man with close-cropped brown hair in a black tie and gray slacks—a regular office worker from the look of him. He was clutching a pink embroidered handkerchief in one hand.

“Now let go!”

Scowling, Edogawa snatched the end of his brown poncho out of the young man’s other hand and stomped into the room, the boxes in his arms wobbling dangerously as he went. Suddenly spotting me, he stopped walking and paused to squint at me.

“Oh, Kusunoki.”

Edogawa looked me up and down and frowned.

“I heard you got sent to the Infirmary. You all better now?”

When I gave him a very shaky nod, Edogawa nodded approvingly, then jabbed an index finger back at the guy in the doorway and demanded:

“Then do something about this guy, will you?”

“Do something?” I repeated, glancing towards the door.

The office worker waved.

“What... do you want me to do?” I asked blankly.

Edogawa slapped a palm over his face.

“Ugh. Do I have to do everything around here?” he griped. “Here—!”

He shoved the boxes in my arms and I let out a tiny squeak as I struggled to keep them all from falling over.

“Take these to my desk—and if you drop a single one, you’re going out to buy me two of whatever hits the floor. You!”

He jabbed his finger at the guy in the doorway once again. When the office worker perked up, Edogawa pointed in the direction of the client booth.

“In there.”

No sooner had I finished putting the boxes of pastries on Edogawa’s desk (taking extra care not to drop or smush a single thing) than the Great Detective grabbed me by the back of my shirt and dragged me to the client booth. The young man was already sitting and appeared to be fiddling slightly with the handkerchief in his hands.

I sat down opposite him.

“I’m Kusunoki,” I said, bowing slightly. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Miura,” the office guy said, also bowing awkwardly. “Thank you for your time.”

I glanced up at Edogawa, who had not taken a seat on the detectives’ side with me. His arms were crossed and he was tapping his foot impatiently.

“Tell her what you just told me,” he ordered.

“Uh, yes!” Miura stammered. “You see, I found this earlier today, at the subway entrance around the corner from here.”

He held up the pink handkerchief. There was a capitalized “R” embroidered in one corner and it looked slightly damp, as if the young man had taken the time to wash it in the sink before bringing it in.

“I don’t know who dropped it but, if it’s not too much trouble, could you help me return it to the rightful owner?” Miura asked.

“Uh, Miura-san,” I started, shooting a quick look over my shoulder at Edogawa, who was standing behind me and seemed only to be growing more irritated with every passing second.

Clearly he didn’t want to be kept from his pastries while they were still hot and fresh...

“I hate to repeat what my senpai said earlier, but...” I pressed my lips together. “We’re not the Lost and Found. Lost items are better off being returned to the police station—”

“But you’re a detective agency aren’t you?” Miura pressed. “I heard you’re the best in Yokohama! My friends tell me you solve cases the police can’t handle. They told me...”

He dropped his voice and looked around even though the door to the client booth was closed and the three of us were clearly alone in here.

“They told me a newcomer solved that recent serial kidnapping in their first week here—”

I flushed.

“Oh, uh, that—”

“—and that if all else fails, you have the power of a legendary genius at your disposal—”

“That is absolutely, one-hundred percent correct!” Edogawa crowed, suddenly beaming like he was being interviewed on TV.

I turned all the way around in my chair to gawk at Edogawa just as he slammed both hands on my shoulders and shook me in a friendly, if somewhat overly excitable way.

“In fact...”

He grinned and I suddenly felt the need to run.

“Kusunoki-kun here is the one who caught the serial kidnapper! And she’d be more than happy to help you return the handkerchief.”

My jaw dropped as Miura looked on in amazement.

“Ranpo-san, what—?!”

“On two conditions. One...”

Edogawa held up a finger.

“You buy the whole office a party-sized box of pastries from that new macaron shop downtown.”

I balked but Miura only nodded readily.

“Two...”

Edogawa held up a second finger.

“You have to go with her when it’s time to return the handkerchief. In fact, I want you to be the one to personally hand it over to the owner.”

Edogawa shot me a meaningful look.

“You got that?”

I breathed in sharply as I suddenly understood his meaning.

Edogawa wanted me to see into this man’s future and find the person he hands it back to. But how was I supposed to do that when I didn’t know when this event was going to take place?

As if reading my thoughts, Edogawa motioned me closer.

“You said that before,” he whispered in my ear, “when you looked into my future, you saw a massive book, right? And that there was writing in it, right?”

I nodded.

“Look for the word ‘handkerchief,’” Edogawa instructed me.

And with that last bit of advice, he patted my shoulder and walked out of the client booth.

‘Look for the word ‘handkerchief?’’

I frowned. I must’ve still been a little dazed from Yosano’s “treatment,” because this made no sense. Look for a word... Look for a word...? Why would Edogawa instruct me to do something like this? Unless...?

I let out a soft gasp as it came to me.

Edogawa really was brilliant...

Taking my cell phone out of my pocket, I set a timer to “vibrate,” and tucked it back inside my coat pocket. I turned to Miura and stuck out my other hand.

“Can I see the handkerchief?”

Miura nodded and as he passed the handkerchief to me over the table, I carefully switched on the timer and reached out for Miura’s hand.

If this worked, I’d have a new way to use my Ability...

My fingers brushed against Miura’s just as the timer went off and I closed my eyes and let the vibrations wash over me.

I felt a pull—just the slightest of tugs on the tips of my fingers, as if a small child were yanking on them and leading me forward. Taking a deep breath in, I concentrated on the sensation and let it lead me away...

...And I floated down, weightless, and sank into that dark tunnel once more.

When I opened my eyes again, my body had disappeared. All that was left of me was a pair of eyes and the memory of a form I’d long since left behind. Taking a moment to look around, I examined my surroundings. Words, silvery and undefined, twinkled all around me like stars, floating in the air in long, sparkling columns, like strings of crystal beads hanging from a massive chandelier. I quickly spotted the four walls of the tunnel and the four corners where the walls met and nodded to myself (or at least that’s what it felt like) as I realized I was once again in a giant, translucent book.

This was the “Story of Miura’s Life.”

I stared ahead of me, down the “tunnel” that was actually not a tunnel, but reams and reams of transparent pages and considered the task ahead.

Edogawa had said to look for the word “handkerchief.” Basically, he wanted me to find the very next instance of the word “handkerchief” and touch it to “activate” the vision—in the same way I’d done with the date and time when I’d looked into Edogawa’s future.

But what if the word showed up multiple times in Miura’s future? How was I supposed to know which one to touch?

Feeling nervous, I looked around and randomly selected a word to focus on. As before, the longer I stared at it, the more it began to take shape and within moments, the silvery amorphous blobs to my left condensed and became a legible set of characters.

“Armed Detective Agency.”

Okay, not what I needed.

I glanced back down at the hall of loosely glittering words and grimaced.

I may have found my way back to that strange metaphysical space where a person’s future was written down as if it were a literal story, but today the situation was different. If the words didn’t properly materialize until I spent enough time looking at them, how was I supposed to pick out a single word like, “handkerchief,” much less get to it in time before Miura got weirded out by my so-called “narcolepsy” and pulled away?

If only Edogawa was in here with me to give me some kind of hint...!

Fighting the growing sense of panic, I closed my “eyes” once again and tried to focus.

Concentrate. Think about the words you’re looking for. What exactly are the words you need to see?

Without thinking about what I was doing, I wrote the words “return the pink handkerchief” in the air.

At once, there was a sound like a chime. I opened my eyes to see the words I’d written hanging in the air, glowing before my eyes like molten gold. But before I could reach out and touch them, they shot off into the distance, streaking through the book like a shooting star in the sky.

I ran after it, phasing right through the translucent pages like a ghost, silvery words parting around me like curtains and fluttering in my wake. My Ability was guiding me—taking me to the exact moment I needed to see. I stopped running as the glimmer of gold stopped moving at last, shining like a beacon in the air, just up ahead of me. Knowing instinctively what I had to do, I reached forward and touched it, shielding my eyes as the entire page in front of me suddenly materialized like a solid wall.

I’m standing in front of a train station.

I’m halfway across town, nowhere near the place I picked it up, but the detective girl is insisting this is the place...

The clock nearby chimes three times... It’s two in the afternoon, a full week after I first picked up the handkerchief...

I sigh and glance down at the handkerchief in my hand, this tiny pink square I happened to pick up. I stare at the softly embroidered “R.” Something about this feels familiar but I’m not sure what...

I look up. A girl is walking towards me. She’s not really looking up at me or any of the other people around us but at the ground. She has softly curled, light brown hair and big eyes and—woah!! She’s really cute!

I can feel my heart beating faster as she approaches. Her skirt and purse are the same color as the handkerchief in my hands.

Panicking, I wave to the dark-haired girl behind me, the detective—oh man, she’s not even standing anywhere close is she? I can’t see the look on her face but she’s mumbling something, pushing me towards the girl with the pink skirt.

I can’t do this—I can’t!!

My mouth’s already open—too late!

“Excuse me, Miss,” I hear myself say.

Uwaaah... she’s looking at me... What do I do?! She’s so freaking cute...

I hold out the handkerchief

“Are you looking for this?”

She stops, she stares at me and her hands fly to her lips. She’s nodding...!

Suddenly, the girl disappeared. Darkness fell over my eyes, something pressed against my face and I let out a strangled gasp when I realized I was now back in the physical world. The handkerchief slipped right out of my hands.

“Guess who?” a warm, familiar tenor whispered right into my ear.

“What the—Dazai?!” I shrieked.

Irritated, I reached up and tried to remove his large half-bandaged hands, but before I could grab hold, Dazai jerked my head to the side and laughed.

“Let go of me!”

“Not until you turn around to check~!” Dazai sang.

“Dazai, I know it’s you,” I snapped, getting to my feet, “so take your hands—”

Wrenching his hands away at last, I spun to face him. But as the cool air hit my face at last, I realized my cheeks were wet.

I froze.

I hadn’t been crying, so that could only mean one thing...

Gingerly, I reached up and brought the tips of my fingers to the area below my eyes. They came away wet with flecks of bright, red, fresh blood.

“...shit.”

Had Miura seen...?

At once, Dazai gasped dramatically.

“Oh my gosh, Kusunoki-kun!” he cried, frantically digging a handkerchief out of his own pocket. “I’m so sorry! Your makeup is all smudged.”

He smushed his handkerchief against my face and stared smearing at the area over my eyes.

“But don’t worry, I’ll fix it!”

“Ah—wait—Dazai-san, stop!!” I sputtered, making a face as part of the hankie went into my open mouth. I spat it out and tried to fight him off as he kept wiping at my eyes.

“I said stop! I can do it myself!”

“But I wanna help,” Dazai whined as I finally snatched the hankie from him and held it up against my eyes.

“I think you’ve helped enough,” I mumbled.

Clearing my throat, I tried to turn around so I could speak to Miura again. Unfortunately, because I couldn’t take the hankie away from my eyes, I ended up doing an awkward shuffle and bumping back into my own chair instead. I hissed as a bruise appeared on my shin and immediately scowled as I heard Dazai stifle a tiny snicker behind me. Thankfully, before I could hurt myself further, I felt Dazai’s hands at my back as he helped guide me in the right direction.

“Uh, Miura-san?”

I did a sort of half-bow in apology, hoping I didn’t look too stupid doing it (what if I was bowing at the wall the way Katai had done with me?!). At least Dazai hadn’t laughed this time, so maybe I was safe...

“Yes...?” Miura’s voice sounded tiny and unsure, and thankfully, was coming from right in front of me.

“I can figure out who that pink handkerchief belongs to, but you’re going to have to give me some time,” I babbled. “Do you think you could meet me back here in a week? Around one in the afternoon?”

“One in the afternoon?” Miura asked, sounding ecstatic.

There was a loud clattering noise as he hurriedly got to his feet, nearly knocking over the table from the sound of it.

“Yes, Detective! I’ll set my calendar—oh crap, it’s this late already?!”

I heard the glass door slide open, followed immediately by the sound of running feet.

“I gotta go back to work,” he called, his voice growing quieter as he ran further out into the hall, “But I’ll be back! See you in a week Miss Detective!”

There was a bang—the front door of the Agency office slammed shut and I took Dazai’s handkerchief away from my eyes at last.

“Oh my God, that was too close!” I gasped, turning to the tall, bandaged detective beside me. “Do you think he saw the blood?”

“Judging from his reaction, probably not,” Dazai said, shrugging.

“Thank goodness...” I moaned, sagging on my feet in relief.

I probably should’ve expected something like this to happen, given what happened the last time I used my power with Edogawa. But in all honesty, I’d expected the side effects to be a little better this time...

I should probably have more control by now. After all, Edogawa hadn’t seemed worried...

Shoulders slumping a little, I glanced down at Dazai’s handkerchief and winced. Two bright red spots, roughly the size of a pair of ten-yen coins, had bloomed like rose petals in the middle of the white and gray striped cloth. They were still wet to the touch. I crumpled the handkerchief in my hand and sighed.

“Thanks for helping me out back there, Dazai-san...” I mumbled sheepishly. “I’m... sorry about your handkerchief. I’ll go wash it for you.”

But as I took a step towards the open door, Dazai shook his head.

“You don’t have to do that right now, Kusunoki-kun,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, it is!” I insisted, to Dazai’s apparent surprise. “President Fukuzawa asked you to keep my Ability a secret, didn’t you? You really helped me out back there. I mean...”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. Heat crawled up my neck as I remembered that the last time I’d interacted with him, he’d been carrying me (princess style) around because I was injured. I suddenly couldn’t look him in the face.

“It’s not only that... you saved me from getting blown up after I fought Akutagawa. You... you saved my life. Dazai-san, I...”

I twisted the handkerchief in my hands. My face felt hot.

“I... owe you one,” I finished lamely, staring at his feet.

For a moment, silence reigned. Dazai watched me quietly as I fidgeted with my hands in front of him. Then he raised an eyebrow.

“You owe me one, huh...?” he asked, rubbing his chin. “Well...”

I looked up just in time to see a familiar smirk crossing his face and before I could stop him or even react, he walked over to the door and started pulling it closed.

“I can think of a few ways for you to pay me back,” he whispered, his dark eyes gleaming with possibility. “In fact, why don’t you keep that handkerchief. You might need it later...”

My breath hitched in my throat.

“What do you mean by that, Dazai-san?”

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean...”

I took a step back, only to hit my chair again and I cursed as I accidentally sat back down in it.

“What’s the matter, Kusunoki?”

Two half-bandaged hands shot out and grasped the armrests. I glanced up only to find myself staring directly into Dazai’s chocolate brown eyes. His lips parted seductively.

“You seem a little nervous.”

“I-I’m not nervous,” I stammered, heat flooding into my face. I struggled not to squirm in my seat as Dazai’s grin widened.

“I just want to know why you closed the door...!”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Dazai asked.

His dark, tousled bangs fell into his eyes as he cocked his head to the side.

“I wanted to make sure we weren’t interrupted.”

“Inter...?”

My cheeks were on fire. My voice was no louder than a squeak. I shrank back into the chair as Dazai slowly leaned in close.

“After all,” he murmured, his voice low and husky in my ear. “This is a very personal matter...”

“Dazai-san...!”

This was it. My heart was beating way too fast and my face felt so hot, my brain was probably boiling over. I was going to pass out on the spot...!

I closed my eyes and braced myself. But to my surprise, nothing happened. Instead, I heard the flapping of paper and when I opened my eyes, a sealed envelope had appeared before my eyes. I blinked at it.

Dazai grinned.

“For you,” he said sweetly.

I stared, looking from Dazai to the envelope and back.

“Eh?” was all I could manage as Dazai placed the envelope in my hand and went to take a seat on the coffee table in front of me.

“What?”

He propped his chin up in his half-bandaged hands and looked at me.

“Disappointed?”

I scowled and returned my attention to the envelope, my cheeks burning in humiliation and rage.

“You wish,” I snapped, refusing to look at him as I tore it open. “And you know what? I take back what I said earlier, I...”

I trailed off as I looked inside the envelope. There was only one thing inside and I grew quiet as I lifted it out.

It was a Polaroid—a very old one—and the rectangular image nestled within the yellowed, off-white frame was grainy and faded with age. I could see three people in the picture, all laughing and smiling as they toasted one another with tiny cups of sake. They looked like they were having the time of their lives. Squinting at them, I brought the picture closer to my face, peering more carefully at the two figures on the left and I let out a soft gasp as I finally recognized them as a much younger Mr. and Mrs. Yamazaki. They were wearing their wedding clothes—the same clothes they were wearing in the big photo in Mrs. Yamazaki’s apartment—and as I followed their gaze to the left of the photo, I realized I knew who the third person was.

He had to be the former president of Tanaka Investments—Tanaka Ichiro’s uncle, the man who started the business. The more I stared at him, the more I began to see the family resemblance: the angle of the jawline, the shape of the nose...

I lowered the photo and looked at Dazai.

“Where... did you get this?”

“Shimada-san dropped this off last night while you were resting in the infirmary,” the bandaged detective answered. “He said to tell you, ‘President Tanaka sends his regards.’”

My eyes widened.

“He did?”

Dazai nodded.

And as I glanced back down at the photo, I thought I saw something written in black on the back side. I flipped it over.

“To Tanaka Isshun,” I read aloud, “Thank you for everything. I owe you my life...  Yamazaki Shuji.”

I grew quiet. Dazai took his chin out of his hands and sat up.

“Something wrong, Kusunoki-kun?” he asked. “You look confused.”

I put the photo down and glanced up at him.

“I... I don’t understand,” I said. “If President Tanaka had this in his possession the whole time, then why would he have told me that Shuji-san was a bad person?”

Dazai’s eyebrows drew together.

“When did he tell you this?”

“Yesterday,” I said, thinking hard. “Or maybe it was the day before...?”

I shrank down in my seat a little as I told him the truth.

“It was the day you were in Nagano...”

“Ah.”

Dazai’s expression grew placid. I looked away from him and back at the photo.

“I-in any case, he said Shuji-san was desperate to escape Nagano, that he was willing to do anything it took to leave CORVID, include faking his own death. If this photo tells the truth, then why...?”

The photo wrinkled in my hand.

“Why did he give me this?”

Dazai grew quiet. Noticing my hand was shaking, he gently took the photo from me and examined it.

“I think...” he said quietly, lowering his eyes and scanning the picture, “that this is a thank you present. A gift for the rookie detective who saved him from being killed by a car bomb in that dingy parking garage.”

His expression softened into a smile as he handed the photo back.

“It’s also an apology.”

“Apology...?”

Confused, I took the photo from him.

“For what?”

“You remember that conversation we had back there in the conference room?” Dazai asked, as I looked back up at him. “The one about the goodly apple? About whether or not the apple is still good when you finally learn the truth?”

I nodded.

“Well,” Dazai said, his deep brown eyes sparkling as he regarded me, “I think this is President Tanaka’s way of saying you were right. That Yamazaki Shuji was, in fact, a good person.”

He leaned forward, his expression gentle.

“While I was in Nagano, I got to talk to Shuji-san’s family,” he said. “Do you want to know the reason why he wanted to leave CORVID?”

He leaned forward and tapped the photo.

“I heard he left...”

The tip of his finger brushed Mrs. Yamazaki’s face. Dazai smiled.

“So that he could get married.”

I breathed in sharply.

As I stared at the photo in my hands, at Mrs. Yamazaki’s smiling face, Dazai stood.

“I have one more present for you. And before you say you don’t want it,” he said, waving me off as I opened my mouth to protest, “It’s not from me.”

He placed a second envelope in my hands. Inside was a short letter and a beautiful bookmark in the shape of a flowering tree branch.

“It’s from Tomie-san’s family,” he said as I took out the bookmark. “They wanted to say thank you for saving her.”

“But I...”

I swallowed thickly. A lump was forming in my throat.

“I didn’t...”

I heard my own voice crack as I spoke. I hung my head.

“I didn’t save her,” I whispered.

As I stared at the photograph in my left hand, Mrs. Yamazaki’s smiling face began to blur.

“She was still murdered a week later... How could they still think I saved her...?”

“Because you gave her an extra week.”

Something large and warm settled on my head. I felt Dazai’s fingers slipping through my hair as my eyes began to burn and sting.

“A full seven extra days that she was able to spend with the people she loved, who loved her in return.”

Dazai smiled, his expression tender.

“And those seven extra days may have meant more to them than you and I could ever know.”

** A single drop fell onto the photo, followed swiftly by another.

“See,” Dazai said, as one by one, the tears began to fall like spring rain onto Mr. and Mrs. Yamazaki’s smiling faces.

“I told you that you’d need the handkerchief later.”

Taking the photo from me, Dazai reached over and placed a comforting arm around my shoulders as I broke down at last.

“In the end you were right, Kusunoki-kun,” he whispered, gently rubbing my back as I cried into my hands. “I guess all a goodly apple needs to be a goodly apple... is someone to believe in it.”