#it’s no wonder that dazai latched on so hard to kunikida

[rosalinesurvived]

Kunikidazai is a galaxy-brain ship obvs but but i need a fresh out of the PM Dazai viewing Kunikida as like the Ultimate CumulationTM of both Oda and Chuuya, the people who loved him, one Dazai left and the other who left first, I need Kunikida terrified of Dazai not because of any PM suspicions but because Dazai’s everything Kuni could be if he skewed to the right: the sucide obsession, the dangerous morality, the lost ideals, the general bizarreness–what puts Kuni off of Dazai is that he’s everything like Kuni and at the same time nothing like him, surely and that has to Fuck You Up, being stuck with your distorted image day in and day out.

“You are everything I could have had,” Dazai thinks towards Kunikida

“You are all of the horrors I could become,” Kunikida thinks of Dazai

[sirenascales]

-> double black [part four] 18+

-> Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai

-> Who knew getting fired from work could lead to this?

-> Content: SMUT, slight angst, violence, murder, swearing

The investigation continues, even if things aren't moving as smoothly as one would like. [Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai]

2,073 words

note: SMUT Like... this was an excuse to write smut with both of them okay, and totally i forgot to tag those who are on my taglist for the previous part and im so sorry lol but please enjoy!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Final || masterlist

Days have gone by and the investigation is still underway, but things weren't looking too great. There was still no confirmed DNA evidence, no weapon, not even a witness. Nothing to aid in the apprehension of Taichi's murderer.

"If only Ranpo were here," Atsushi sighed deeply, the snack loving detective out on another case that had popped up. "He would have solved this in a heartbeat."

I laughed softly, wringing my hands nervously. "It's too bad he isn't here," I said, trying to focus on the paperwork in front of me. "Surely it would make things easier for us..."

"But that'll just be boring!" Dazai exclaimed from his desk, leaning against Atsushi who just pushed him off.

"This isn't for your entertainment, Dazai! The killer could have fled the country by now," Kunikida argued, crossing his arms over his chest. "For now, we just have to stay focused and not waste time.

I nodded, slumping back in my chair and fiddling with my pen. "What the hell are we missing..."

We didn't dwell on it for much longer, since the shift ended. I sighed in relief, looking forward to just going home, eating dinner, and going to bed. The case was draining, the dead ends we kept running into just sending us back to square one. Now all I wanted was to rest for the night.

But of course, with a certain suicidal maniac, that was not happening.

"Isn't this cheating..." I gasped out softly, Dazai pressing his naked body against me from behind, his hard dick against my ass and his mouth on my neck.

"Maybe..." Dazai hummed, reaching around to grab my breasts, the soap in his hands making my skin slippery. "But there's no such thing as cheating in a fight."

I gasped sharply when Dazai pinched my nipples, eyes fluttering closed. "This isn't even a fight... you're the weirdo that wanted to turn this investigation into a game."

Leave it to Dazai to basically latch himself onto me as I made my way home. We ordered delivery, eating together on my couch and deciding to watch a movie. Before I knew it, we were making out on my couch, soon enough making our way to the shower.

The water was hot, steaming up the bathroom. Our wet hair stuck to our skin, Dazai holding onto my hips tightly as he fucked me from behind. He bit his lip in concentration, relishing in the sound of my cries echoing in the small room.

"Fuck... Osamu, you feel so good," I cried out, hands slipping on the tiled walls, trying to grab for something. Dazai just pressed his chest against my back, keeping up his rough pace as he chuckled in my ear.

"Do you like that?" "Yes!" "Of course you do, dirty little girl." Dazai reached around and grabbed my face, stuffing two fingers into my mouth. That had my eyes rolling back as I weakly sucked on his fingers, his other hand working on my clit. That finally sent me over the edge as I screamed around his fingers, body shaking as I reached my peak.

Dazai fucked me through my orgasm, ignoring my whines from the overstimulation until he quickly pulled his cock out, pumping himself a few more times before he hit his own orgasm, cumming right on my ass.

"Fuck, bella. You're so beautiful," he gasped, kissing me deeply while pulling us under the hot water.

We barely made it out of the bathroom before going at it again, Dazai fucking me against the wall in the hallway, one of my legs hooked around him while he wrapped a hand around my neck. His breath was hot against my neck, coming out in breathless pants while he continued to rail me.

"Incredible," he whispered in my ear, his hand still around my neck, keeping me in place. "And so pliable... you'll always be putty in my hands."

"Mmm!" I moaned almost pathetically. "Yes..."

"You're my pretty little subordinate?"

"Yes!"

Soon, we finally made it to my bed, where Dazai proceeded to make me ride him like my life depended on it. I was left shaking, the two of us very satisfied.

"So much for a quiet evening," I huffed a while later, the two of us finally getting clean before burying ourselves under my covers. "You are one horny bastard, Dazai."

"Says the equally horny bitch," Dazai retorted and I laughed, turning and pressing my face against the side of his neck.

It went silent, and thankfully it was a comfortable silence where we just lied there, holding onto each other. I sigh contently, fingers lazily trailing up and down his chest while I can feel the bandages on his arms against my skin.

"Dazai?"

"Hm."

"You know..." I started carefully, keeping my face pressed against him. "If you ever need to like... talk... when you're feeling... bad... I'm here for you." I bit my lip, hoping I wasn't overstepping. "I'm here. Even if it's just to listen..."

Dazai didn't say anything, and I was too freaked out to look at him. Though, after a moment, he pressed a kiss to the top of my head, giving me a nice squeeze.

"You are very kind, bella."

I frowned, cuddling up more against him. I blinked when he shifted, looking at him questionably as he set me down on the bed before he started to get up. "Where are you going?"

"To the bathroom," he grinned back at me. "I won't be long, bella. Don't miss me too much!"

I just scoffed and rolled my eyes, watching Dazai leave the bedroom before staring up at the ceiling. I waited, frown on my face growing deeper as the minutes went by, teeth chewing on my bottom lip nervously.

"Sorry, I went to get some water," Dazai then returned, quickly climbing into bed beside me. Immediately his arms are wrapped around me, holding me tight. "Let's go to sleep."

I smiled up at him, softly pressing a kiss to his lips before I settled against him, closing my eyes. "Goodnight."

Dazai watched me for a second, his lips curling up in an amused, knowing smile. "Goodnight, bella..."

"Ah... this is nerve-wracking..." Keiko mumbled softly, clinging onto my hand as we stepped up to the very familiar tall building. I gulped, nervous since the building was overrun with members of the Port Mafia.

It was the day after that night I spent with Dazai, and instead of being at work, I had received a call from an unknown number. That had turned out to be Chuuya, who ordered me to find Keiko and bring both of our asses to meet him in his office.

Chuuya wasn't just a member of the Port Mafia, but he was an executive, and he held great power. It was almost scary, especially as Keiko and I rode up the escalator to the right floor.

"I wonder what he wants..." Keiko says nervously, biting her lip as we approached the office. We finally made it and I knocked on it five times.

"Come in."

I gulped and we walked inside. Chuuya sat in his desk, and if I wasn't so nervous, I would have been drooling at how fucking fine he looked, sitting with his feet propped on the desk. He gestured to the chairs before his desk lazily. "Sit."

He mostly wanted to talk to Keiko, seeing as she was Taichi's boyfriend and to make sure she didn't tell too much info to the police or "those bastards at the ADA", as he said while shooting me a dirty look. I returned it.

"Of course not," Keiko said softly. "And I wanted to thank you for paying for his funeral. That was nice of you."

Chuuya waved her off. "It wasn't a problem. He was one of my best men." Keiko clenched her fists tightly in her lap as he said that.

"Did you find out anything? We're not having too much luck either," I spoke up, thoughtful look on my face. "Like how can you not find DNA when he was selling the drugs there? There had to have been other people." I looked over at Keiko, missing how Chuuya's eyes went wide before he narrowed them at me.

"It's pissing me off how hard this is," he said rather stiffly, still watching me. "At the end of the day, this might just end up closing as a cold case... but like hell will I forget this." Chuuya clenched his fists, a look of anger and determination on his face. "But we are done here. Well, I'm done with you, Keiko. I still need to speak with her." He was looking right at me.

Keiko gave me a knowing look and a wink and I just playfully shoved her towards the door. "I'll see you later, okay?" I said and she nodded before walking out. Turning back to Chuuya, I watched him get up from his desk. "So what else did you wanna talk about?" I asked, tilting my head as Chuuya walked around the desk and towards me, not answering.

"Um? Hel-mmph!"

Chuuya gripped the back of my neck, pulling me in for a deep, breathtaking kiss. I cupped his face, kissing him back just as deeply. He turned us around so as he walked me backwards with his lips still on mine, I bumped right against his desk, which he sat me on.

"You came in here in this sexy ass dress and expect me not to fuck you?" Chuuya growled, kissing down my neck as his hands moved up my dress. He smirked as he massaged my thighs, quickly finding my knife and removing it. "This is a beautiful knife," he hummed, inspecting it. I smiled softly, weakly reaching to grab it but Chuuya just flicked it, the blade neatly embedding itself right on his desk. "You take great care of it."

"Well, that was my first knife..." I said softly, desperately wanting my knife back, but that went out the window once Chuuya kissed me again.

My legs soon found themselves wrapped around Chuuya's hips. His pants were pushed down just enough to free his cock, my panties pushed to the side as he fucked me right on top of his desk.

"Fuck, dollface, you're even better than I fucking remembered," Chuuya hissed, pushing me on my back, on top of his messy papers. He tossed one of my legs over his shoulder, squeezing his gloved fingers into my flesh as I could only moan and whine in pleasure, his thrusts hitting hard and deep inside me, I was seeing stars.

"S-so much for... only one time, huh," I managed to choke out, my head tossing back as Chuuya hit that one spot. "Oh, fuck!"

"Yeah, shut up and take this cock," Chuuya hissed. His thumb pressed against my clit, and that was enough to have me squeezing him tight as I hit my orgasm, legs shaking and loud cries leaving my mouth.

That got him going and soon, Chuuya was pulling out and I was on my knees, fisting his cock and letting Chuuya cum in my mouth. Chuuya petted my hair, a blissed out look on his face. "Good girl. Now, bend yourself over the desk."

With shaking knees, I got myself up and bent over Chuuya's desk like he ordered, displayed all nice and pretty for him. I looked back over my shoulder, shuddering at how he looked at me, blue eyes full of hunger as he bit on his lower lip. His leather clad hands started to squeeze my ass, moving one hand up until he's pressing on the middle of my back, guiding his cock against my entrance with his other hand.

We borh groaned in pleasure as he started pushing himself in, Chuuya tossing his head back with a hiss. "Fuck, I'll never get tired of this." He starts thrusting his hips, moaning again at the feel of my walls around him. "Fuck, fuck..."

"It's all yours..." I could only babble out, the feel of him stretching me nice and good frying my brain. "Chuuya, please, oh my God..."

After two more soul shattering orgasms, I was finally allowed to leave... if I even could. There was a smug grin on Chuuya's face as he just stared at me. I sat in the chair across from him, the two of us dressed, but he looked like a damn model while I looked like I had a run in with the giant industrial fans they had in elementary school cafeterias during the warmer days.

"Get that dumb look off your face," I whined. "It's not fair. I looked like I got attacked."

Chuuya snickered. "I mean... that's not so far off."

I rolled my eyes. "Ugh, you and Dazai are so unbelievably horny, it's sad."

Chuuya growled. "First off, don't talk about him around me. And second, who was the one begging to titfuck my cock?"

I scoffed, face hot and I turned my nose up at him. "Shut up."

"Just go home."

"Fine. You guys are still cheaters anyway," I said before standing up. I walked over to him, leaning over his desk and I was happy when he met me halfway and gave me a kiss. "Call me again. Maybe when there isn't a weird investigation going on."

Chuuya rolled his eyes, shooing me away. "Just go."

I giggled softly before turning and walking out of the office. Chuuya sighed deeply, opening one of his desk drawers. He stared at the object inside of it for a moment, sighing again before grabbing his pack of cigarettes, taking one and lighting it up before taking a long drag.

-End

tags in replies!

[patchwork-panda]

Thirsty... (Kunikidazai smut)

Kunikida awoke to a hand slipping under his shirt. He stirred softly as that hand slowly glided up his abdomen, flitted over the contours of his ribs and stopped only when it reached his chest. He sighed as the hand began feeling up his muscles.

“Good morning, Dazai…”

The voice that responded was bright and clear, unlike Kunikida’s, which was nothing more than a low rumble, still thick from sleep.

Clearly Dazai had been awake for some time already.

“Good morning, Kunikiiiida-kun,” Dazai chirped, still feeling up his boyfriend’s chest like it was a favorite toy he liked to play with (which it kind of was).

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

He didn’t sound sorry in the least, Kunikida thought to himself with a frown.

Blearily, he reached over to grab his phone and his frown deepened into a scowl when he saw the time.

“There’s a little less than an hour before the alarm goes off,” Kunikida growled. “Go back to sleep, Dazai.”

“But I’m thirsty,” Dazai whined.

“There’s a full glass of water on your nightstand. Go drink it and go back to sleep.”

“Not that kind…”

And as Dazai’s voice dropped to a low, sultry whisper, two fingers found Kunikida’s nipple and pinched it just lightly enough to get his attention.

Kunikida stiffened.

“Dazai… we have work soon.”

“Two hours isn’t soon.” “The alarm’s going off in an hour,” Kunikida sighed, “Once it goes off, we need to shower, brush our teeth, get dressed, eat breakfast, make lunch--There’s simply not enough time--”

“Then why don’t we shower together,” Dazai pointed out, not pausing in his molestation of Kunikida’s chest, “ask Atsushi-kun to make a convenience store run for us, get lunch at Uzumaki later--”

“I will not have you bullying our junior like that,” Kunikida snapped, swatting Dazai’s hand away at last.

He rearranged his shirt and tried to shift himself in a way that Dazai couldn’t reach his chest. But with Dazai spooning him from behind like this and the man’s limbs being extraordinarily long and flexible, his efforts were proving futile.

He turned his face away as Dazai’s hand slipped back inside his shirt and began slowly slipping downwards towards his navel. His face warmed. He could feel his resolve crumbling as his body began responding to the man’s touch.

“In any case, the budget doesn’t allow for extra meal expense this month--”

“So we put it on next month’s tab…”

Dazai’s hand was traveling further south with each word.

“You’re going to get sleepy in the middle of the day,” Kunikida insisted, hating the way his breath hitched as Dazai’s hand finally found the waistband of his boxer-briefs.

A single long, thin finger dipped underneath the band and Kunikida nearly swore.

“Y-you’re going to fall asleep at your desk--or try to hog the couch in the client booth so you can take a nap--”

Kunikida swallowed, his protests sounding weaker and weaker even to his own ears.

“We simply don’t have the time --”

His sentence ended on a gasp. Dazai had found his boyfriend’s half-hard cock and was now squeezing it very, very tightly.

He shuddered as Dazai’s voice sounded low in his ear. The man’s own rock-hard erection was pressed into the small of his back like a steel pipe.

“I never said I was planning to take my time with you.”

He punctuated the statement with a bite and Kunikida hissed as Dazai’s teeth sank into his earlobe.

It wasn’t often that Dazai got like this. Just the other night, he was playing the part of a petulant child, draped all over Kunikida’s broad shoulders when the blonde was trying to read and whining about being neglected. He kept at it until Kunikida finally had enough and threw him onto the couch to give the man the kind of “attention” he wanted.

Dazai so rarely took what he wanted from Kunikida, generally preferring to be serviced or taken himself. But this morning…

Kunikida groaned as his boyfriend’s hand tightened further, almost painfully so, around his cock and began pumping.

While he didn’t get to see it very often, this side of Dazai was nice every once in a while. Kept him on his toes. Or more like his knees…

He shuddered as Dazai continued to mouth at his ear, nibbling and sucking at that sensitive bit of flesh like he was determined to leave it so red and raw that Kunikida might be forced to leave his hair down for once.

Yes, this was a reminder that while Dazai so often preferred to wear the mask of a clown in public and keep his cards close to his chest, just beneath the surface of that smiling, foolish facade was a mind so brilliant, it often seemed vicious in its cunning. And damn it if Kunikida didn’t find that hot as hell …

Another sharp nip at his badly smarting earlobe and Dazai moved on to Kunikida’s neck. The taller man shivered as Dazai swiftly brushed the long blonde hairs aside and yanked down the collar of his partner’s nightshirt to expose one sturdy well-muscled shoulder. He heard Dazai’s sharp intake of breath just before the brunette latched onto his neck.

Kunikida winced.

Indeed, Dazai could be downright sadistic when he wanted to be… How many times had he seen the man break an informant with words alone? How many times had he lobbed irritating comments in Kunikida’s direction just to see him squirm? And how many times had he tried to push Kunikida away before finally he accepted the blonde’s feelings as well as his own…?

He moaned--loudly--as Dazai found that one spot between the junction of his Kunikida’s neck and shoulder and immediately flushed as he heard--or rather, felt --the inevitable chuckle that followed immediately after.

“Mm… Kunikida-kun is getting so hard for me,” Dazai breathed, the subtle vibrations of his voice sending shivers down the taller man’s spine.

“ So hard .”

And as he spoke, Kunikida felt his body respond, his cock rising and swelling to fit the Dazai’s hand as if it knew exactly where it belonged. He bit back another moan as the hand relentlessly squeezing and pulling him grew steadily slicker from his own fluids.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to take your time with me?” Kunikida wondered aloud, gasping as Dazai’s teeth found that spot on his neck again.

“Oh, is that a request?”

Another bite.

“Am I going too slow for you, Kunikiiiiida-kunnn~?”

He gasped sharply as Dazai started pumping faster, doubling over as waves of pleasure coursed through him. Dazai’s chuckles echoed in his ear.

“There.” Dazai’s voice was low, husky, sweet.

“Is that better?”

Dazai’s fingers were squeezing him so tightly, their rhythm so steady and controlled. A stark contrast to the bites and nips that seemed to come out of nowhere and were steadily covering Kunikida’s upper body in angry red marks.

All the while, Dazai just kept pumping...

Kunikida let out another low moan.

His nightshirt had practically been torn off. He could see a couple of buttons lying on the sheets in front of him as Dazai’s free hand continued to caress his chest and abs. Pressure was building in his lower body and Kunikida’s breathing was starting to come in sharp, labored gasps.

But just when Kunikida thought he wasn’t going to last much longer, Dazai abruptly stopped. He pressed his thumb against the tip of Kunikida’s cock, squeezing just a tiny bit more liquid out of the slit, then slowly moved to rub that thumb over the head of Kunikida’s steadily dripping manhood.

“D-Dazai…”

His face felt hot. Why in God’s name did he sound so much like he was begging?

“What--”

“Shh…”

Dazai’s lips were soft as he pressed a kiss to Kunikida’s bite-riddled shoulder. The first kiss of the morning. His shoulders ached.

“Call me Osamu, my love.”

Another kiss. Another flick of his thumb. Kunikida moaned.

“You know you want to.”

“O-Osamu…” Kunikida gasped, burying his face completely into his pillow when he heard just how desperate he sounded.

“Mm. That’s a good man.”

And with that, Dazai took his free hand, yanked down the waistband of Kunikida’s underwear, followed shortly by his own, and carefully positioned himself against the entrance. Kunikida shot one look over his own bruised shoulder and nearly regretted it. In the weak light of early morning, the eyes of the man behind him looked pitch-black...

Dazai licked his lips.

“And you are such a good man.”

He started pushing himself in.

“ Doppo. ”

It hurt. Not a lot but it was just uncomfortable enough that Kunikida remembered Dazai hadn’t done a thing to prepare him this morning. Still, at least Dazai was giving him a chance to adjust before pushing further in and it wasn’t long until he was buried all the way inside.

Kunikida shuddered as Dazai began moving his hand--the hand that had never actually left Kunikida’s cock--again.

And then Dazai began moving as well.

A curse ripped its way out of his throat.

“ Fuck .”

Sweat beaded on his brow as Dazai’s movements slowly synchronized. The brunette’s free hand was once again ghosting up Kunikida’s chest, palming at his abdomen, feeling the way Kunikida’s muscles strained and flexed whenever he so much as took in a breath. His clothes and the thin blankets once covering them were long since gone. Strands of long blonde hair were falling into his open mouth. The light in the room was slowly growing brighter but without his glasses, Kunikida couldn’t properly see--he could only feel. And what he felt was full .

“ Fuck …!”

Dazai was hitting something deep inside him that so rarely got the attention it needed and he cursed again as Dazai bucked his hips in yet another sharp, powerful thrust.

Dazai’s voice was breathy, he was laughing or gasping or both.

He was loving this.

Kunikida had no idea where Dazai’s shirt had gone. Maybe he’d gone to sleep without it or maybe he’d taken it off while he was playing with Kunikida just minutes--or was it hours ago? He couldn’t remember. All he knew was that Dazai’s bare chest was sticking to his exposed back and he could hear skin slapping against skin in a hot, wet, lewd way that had no right sounding as loud as it did in the early hours before the sun came up.

And speaking of loud…

He had no idea he could make the kind of sounds that were echoing off the walls. The neighbors were sure to come knocking any minute-- how was Dazai forcing these kinds of noises out of his mouth?!

“You sound like you’re enjoying yourself,” Dazai panted, dark eyes glinting.

Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? Kunikida longed to say but all that came out of his mouth was another breathless moan.

Dazai laughed again. Breathier this time, less controlled. They were getting close, Kunikida could feel it. Pressure was steadily building in his cock again--enough to make him burst--and Dazai’s pace was growing oddly frenzied. Without warning, Dazai suddenly let out a shout. Heat exploded deep inside his body and with one last, final tug, Kunikida came shortly after, spilling all over Dazai’s hand and onto the bedsheets with a low, heady groan.

His energy spent, Kunikida strained to look at the man clinging tightly to his back. Brown, tousled, sweaty bangs fell against Kunikida’s reddened shoulder, the bite marks more evident than ever in the light of the steadily rising sun. He could hear Dazai still straining to catch his breath and his lips twitched upwards in a half-smile at the thought of his boyfriend spending all of what little physical stamina he had just to satisfy this one impulsive need.

He felt Dazai peel himself away and shuddered as the man slowly took out his steadily deflating rod, leaving a trail of sticky, pungent, white all over Kunikida’s backside and the short stretch of sweaty sheets between them. Mumbling something unintelligible under his breath, Dazai reached over and tugged the taller man onto his back. Kunikida grimaced; the sheets were cold and wet and were sticking unpleasantly to his backside.

He let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

“Satisfied?” he asked, turning to the brunette now happily resting a hot, flushed cheek against his broad, bare chest.

Yawning, Dazai wrapped his arms around Kunikida’s shoulders and nodded.

“Good.”

And as Dazai’s breathing slowly settled into a slow, steady rhythm, a small, secretive smile crossed Kunikida’s face. He pressed a kiss to Dazai’s forehead, settled his head back onto the pillows and closed his eyes.

But just as Kunikida was drifting off to sleep at last, the alarm went off.

He groaned.

Laughing, Dazai drew Kunikida a little bit closer and nestled his head a little more comfortably in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck.

“Looks like we had enough time after all.”

[rokutouxei]

in a way that would make you proud

bungou stray dogs dazai osamu (& oda sakunosuke) | T | 2913 | [ao3]

warnings: post-canon, alcohol, dazai-typical suicide references, implied/referenced self-harm, oda is still dead, also everything is in lowercase. spoilers for dark era / 黒の時代.

notes: this was supposed to be for dazai’s birthday, but i started it way too late. i didn’t want to rush it, so i took a week to write it and now it’s just a long angsty love letter from me to him (in a way.) + first bsd fic so i wanted to make a good impression LOL

summary:

dazai didn’t think he’d live up to the age of 23. hell, he didn’t think he’d make it to 18. he was sure, at 10, that he would be dead by 15. everyday he would wake up wondering (hoping? believing?) that he’d be dead the next day. he never really does. alternatively: june 19th, every year, just feels like a long, long night.

-

(midnight.)

dazai doesn’t celebrate his birthdays, at least in his head. it’s just another likely-humid day in the country’s short rainy season. every birthday is just another reminder, no, a testament to a year of failed attempts to take his own life. it’s miserable at the worst. today, it’s just numb. he doesn’t even wake up feeling any different.

but he doesn’t let that train of thought stop everyone around him for celebrating for him.

dazai considers, for the first few minutes after waking up, skipping work altogether. it’s not going to be surprising, or anything new from him, really. and an earful from kunikida is just going to be cheap fun for the next day. but as dawn slowly gave way to the sun, he figured dealing with the pleasantries (as in, the “surprise” party that had stopped being a surprise a week ago) and sitting in his office chair would make him feel a little more put-together, at least more than just lying in his futon with his new roommate, a growing stack of empty cans of ready-to-eat crab.

dazai sighs, shuffles out of his bed, hearing the imaginary shackles that bind him there clink around.

(one o’clock am)

besides, the members of the armed detective agency think of themselves a small family at best, and for families, birthdays are special. (dazai hums this to himself on his way to work, like it’s a fact he’s learned, not a lived experience.) he’s spent the past two years carving himself a spot in this mismatched little group, and even if his space feels just as impermanent as anything he’s ever wanted, it’s still a place. he isn’t going to lose all that hard work over a random day.

budget is tight this quarter, but when he gets to the office, he’s welcomed with, salad, karaage… and even crab! there’s no alcohol because kunikida is too strait-laced for that and he insists there’s still work to be done. dazai whines and makes complaints, as everyone expects him to.

most of his colleagues have small gifts for him, like an orange from kenji, a candy from ranpo (quickly taken back), his favorite bandages from yosano… nothing really spectacular. kunikida gets him nothing, but the wordless glance they share with each other says otherwise.

atsushi feels indebted to his mentor, so he splurges to get him something nice: a scarf. which is hilarious, to say the least, considering it’s basically summer, but since scarves are off-season they are cheaper, and that’s the only way atsushi can afford something as stunning and high-quality as this—a nice thick cotton one in a deep blue shade. he passes the credit to kyouka for choosing which to get and for wrapping it nicely.

dazai’s eyes flicker with something for a moment before it’s gone. he thanks them with as much heart as he can muster, then does his usual dramatics. asks if the scarf is sturdy enough to hang himself with.

atsushi begs him please don’t and dazai feels something squeeze in his heart.

after the feast, the rest of the day goes as it usually does: dazai smiles and makes jokes and laughs and drives kunikida batshit insane. it’s just a normal day at the armed detective agency office.

just not for dazai.

(two o’clock am)

a work day is still a work day, though, and there’s no getting away from kunikida even on “personal holidays.” there are reports to be written and things to be followed up. dazai isn’t being efficient about it, but he still does his share—at least enough so that it’s even a bit fair for his begrudging partner, who is always gentler to him on this particular day.

an extra serving of patience—that’s what kunikida always gives him on his birthday. and even on this year, dazai’s quick to claim it; two hours before the work day officially ends, he’s already packing up to leave.

not that kunikida’s screaming will really stop him, but it feels a little better when dazai can afford to leave a little early with permission.

atsushi’s a little surprised no one stops dazai from leaving, but he asks no more questions when kyouka shushes him. kunikida only tsks when dazai is out of the building.

(three o’clock am)

out of the office and back into the rush of the city, dazai’s feet bring him to a beeline to that place, like on autopilot. he’s humming all the way there but his brain’s only echoing a sort of static. that is, until the imagery of sitting next to empty seats begins to burrow into the haze of his mind—and it hurts. numbness is okay, but pain? it hurts the same way squeezing into old shoes that no longer fit you does.

and dazai hates it.

so he steels himself, says, no one’s there anymore, insists, there is nothing to come back to.

even if he knows he will find himself there again one day. he always, inevitably does.

but not today. that’s not where he feels safe enough to break.

this time, dazai’s a little more purposeful, a little more awake.

he drops by a liquor store to get whiskey. just goes up the aisle and picks up the first one he finds. it’s not like he’ll remember what it tastes, anyway. the cashier doesn’t make small talk. dazai smiles at them anyway.

he contemplates buying flowers, but he feels a pang of pain at gifting something that’ll die before he does.

and so he begins the long, slow walk to the seaside.

(yesterday, today, and tomorrow)

yokohama is too familiar to him now. he’s lived here too long.

every street bears his secrets. every crosswalk has a memory.

every inch of the city has a weight.

when he was still learning to maneuver the ins and outs of the city, a little boy barely filling in the hollow of his new uniform, there was darkness everywhere. everywhere he entered, everywhere he left. dazai was sure the darkness would quickly consume him.

dazai didn’t think he’d live up to the age of 22.

hell, he didn’t think he’d make it to 18. he was sure, at 10, that he would be dead by 15.

every day he wakes up wondering (hoping? believing?) if he’d be dead the next day.

today, he’s 23.

odasaku died at 23.

dazai should have died at 15.

or better yet, it should have been him who died at the hands of mimic.

he’s sure.

(four o’clock am)

even if odasaku had acted of his own accord, he was still given a mafia’s burial. the details, of course, were hushed: it didn’t matter that mori had orchestrated the entire deal with gide. what mattered is that odasaku’s death had led to the granting of their prized business permit.

a piece of paper in a stupid black envelope.

in the months between the port mafia and the armed detective agency, dazai struggled to find a way to put into words what the experience left in him. it was like it was him who was shot clean through the chest. he was walking down the path the end of odasaku’s life had pointed him towards, but then what? at what cost? to what end?

his friend’s death left no trace of him, his private files burnt, the ones still useful to the mafia kept in confidential locations. (dazai knows where everything is.) to the outside world, all that was left of the man named oda sakunosuke was a headstone, on a rather beautiful gravesite on a fancy cemetery overlooking the sea.

it was dazai who overlooked all these tiny details, even while on the run, in hiding.

honor the dead, they said.

he figured it was the least he could do.

dazai always felt like he could offer too little to the only man who ever really knew him.

so now he offers it all, stumbling along the unfinished path of a dead man, even if he didn’t know where was he going with it.

“ya, odasaku.”

(ten minutes past four)

not much of anyone comes to visit this grave, really. ango, maybe, dazai bitterly thinks, but he’s gladly never had the chance to see the man here. (he hopes he never gets to.)

because this is the only place dazai truly feels quiet.

he doesn’t really stop thinking. he doesn’t know how to. there’s always too many things to consider, so much going on, and even when his brain lets go of the tangible, of the here and now, there are other things for thoughts to latch on to, like old wounds that suddenly seem fresh if dazai closes his eyes hard enough, or the phantom sensation of a noose, or the sudden realization that he’s drowning, just not in water.

dazai’s long mastered the art of keeping his forever-rushing thoughts in neat compartments. he doesn’t usually lose track of his spirals, except when he’s here.

here he counts down, 18, goodbye, 17, 16, 15, hello, he is young again, he isn’t wounded in the places that hurt when he’s alone, he is meeting odasaku for the first time. (he’s walking down the port mafia headquarters and he sees him, and something deep within him, six years away from the future, shouts: don’t! spare him! meeting you is a death sentence!)

and then he is meeting him for the last time.

like freshly pumped from a weakened heart, stuttering, begging to live, the spurting red blood is still warm. it sends those in dazai’s veins boiling. there is no rationalizing here—no amount of reason brings the dead back.

he knows that.

but dazai breathes easier when the lines are less muddled, and he can point the criminal to the judge and sentence them to death.

it was mori ougai, sir.

it was gide, sir.

it was me, sir.

it was him—it was oda sakunosuke’s fault, sir.

(it was him who pulled me out of the dark, sir. who forced me to deal with the mess we made, sir. who told me i belonged here, sir.

i don’t want to be here, sir.)

it is only here where dazai’s mask really breaks.

shatters cleanly in half, then falls down with a thump on sacred ground.

(twenty minutes past four)

dazai rests his back against the headstone, staring out at the ocean, the sunset dyeing yokohama bay a lovely vermillion. the tendrils of loneliness cling to his limbs like they’ve sprouted out of the ground, when really it’s from deep inside his heart.

only here does dazai really feel seen: his transparency only to a man buried six feet under.

dazai’s given up on it, now. it doesn’t matter that people don’t “get” him, as long as he’s able to do what he has to do. this is a luxury is long past him, now that he’s slipped into someone else’s unfulfilled dream. he’s trying to be what odasaku would have wanted himself to be.

if there’s one thing, one thing he would ask for, it’s faith: and with his subordinates’ faith comes success—and that’s all he needs.

just bargaining chips he’s collecting under his pillow as he says, “look, odasaku, i’m doing good, look, cruel god, this duty’s given my life meaning, forgive me, forgive him.”

meaning?

no, there is no meaning here, no metaphor, no hope.

just a gaping void.

(four thirty am)

the sun slips under the bay and the sky is a beautiful lavender-violet; the sea breeze makes him chill. rainclouds have begun to crawl over the horizon, hiding the moon.

dazai feels old. too old. he feels too old for someone in a body that’s only twenty-three. he never expected this body to last as long as it has. he was ready to retire at ages much younger than this. his hands crave death with the same vigor his mind races to write strategies for situations where he survives. now, he lives in a world he never expected or planned to be a part of.

he wonders if odasaku felt this exhausted when he was at this age.

all dazai does here is think. until the thoughts stop.

the cap of the whiskey bottle is screwed on tight but when it opens, the smell takes him back to bar lupin so fast that his head spins. dazai takes a swig of the whiskey straight from the bottle.

and he was right. he can’t taste it.

only blood. the blood in his hands, the way it stained his bandages, odasaku’s dead weight, the red pooling on the floor. dazai only tastes blood in his mouth.

blood’s always been the only thing that’s filled him.

and he hated it. felt it thrumming underneath his wrist, his jugular, blood that said try as you might, you insolent mortal, you can’t die, that so many times he’s tried to wring himself dry of it.

he never does.

because if he loses his blood what else would be left in him?

odasaku once told him that the emptiness inside of him will never be filled, not by anything that he’ll ever find in this world. and odasaku was right—dazai knew. dazai knew long before he was told. no amount of money, no amount of power, no amount of whatever will get him out of the edge of the cliff he was dangling on.

for a moment, dazai wonders if odasaku knew and was so sure of it because odasaku was aware he was taking it away with him.

whatever “it” was.

(the sun begins to paint the sky violet)

dazai remembers an afternoon a million years ago when the hollow in his heart didn’t have the shape of oda sakunosuke’s hands. ozaki kouyou was teaching two jittery fifteen-year-olds about literature.

well, just one, but dazai’s really only there because he wanted to mess with chuuya, and kouyou spotted him first.

with not a single year of formal education on chuuya’s back, kouyou’s work with him was nearly tenfold. she was tasked not only to refine his abilities (he’s good, but he can be better, a touch of elegance will not hurt), but also teach him other valuable skills.

being part of the organization, after all, was not just about violence and murder.

dazai knew that. chuuya was yet to learn it.

arithmetic and history and science—the redhead had tutors for that. but literature, kouyou had taken into her hands.

it’s not the text itself, or the language and vocabulary, she said, what we’re honing here is critical thinking, and the bits of philosophical thought to be picked up that’ll shape you into a brilliant mafioso in the future. pretty words, dazai thought. she sipped tea while chuuya read. she tapped his back with a fan when his posture broke and he began to slouch.

chuuya read the books religiously, without complaint (at least not in front of kouyou). dazai never really understood all this. he let his mind wander. why didn’t she just let the boy read war strategy books—the kind mori made him devour? oh, but chuuya wasn’t really a strategist, and well, he’s obedient, that’s why he’s a dog—

the silence of the afternoon was broken by chuuya getting up to ask about a phrase he didn’t understand. kouyou smiled in a way that left dazai unsettled. and somehow, that afternoon was burned into dazai’s memory like it was something he mustn’t forget.

the phrase was 無我夢中.

to be totally absorbed in something, you lose yourself in it.

that is, dazai’s long known what he’s doing, he just doesn’t want to admit it.

(the sky is a weak light blue, giving way to an inevitable morning)

the whiskey bottle is empty now. dazai shifts to stuff it into his little paper bag of gifts when his fingers graze the soft cotton of his new scarf, deep blue.

save the weak, protect the orphans, he was told.

he pulls the scarf out and clutches it in his hands.

feels its weight. imagines rope.

please don’t, atsushi said earlier.

and dazai is trying, and trying, and trying, and—

is it enough?

is he enough?

will he be enough?

“odasaku,” dazai says, hums it under his breath like the wind will take it, bring it where he needs it to go, “would i have made you proud?”

(dawn)

fat droplets begin to pour out of the dark clouds. there are no stars out. yokohama glimmers under the thin sheen of rain.

nearby, a child hurriedly grasps his father’s free hand as he digs into his bag for an umbrella, and the little boy goes, “papa, the sky is crying!”

and maybe the sky is. maybe the man sitting behind the gravestone is.

but there are two sure things about rain:

one, that it washes away any and all things if you let it.

two, that it will always, somehow, at some point, stop.

(morning’s just beginning)

dazai gets up on his feet, with just a little sway from all the alcohol. but the night’s still young, and there are better stuff to drink than whiskey out of a bottle. he looks back at the grave with eyes promising he’ll be back soon, a little better, a little wiser than he is, and then off he goes, into the city he far-too-well knows.

maybe he can bother someone into treating him to some good, expensive, old-fashioned wine.

[aiupenn]

Hungry Like the Wolf

Osamu and Ranpo go to get some pastries after a mission together. Ranpo shows some unexpected kindness and Osamu comes up with a rather childish plan. [read it on ao3]

"Dazai... I want some of that."

Osamu comes to a sudden stop as Ranpo latches onto his jacket sleeve. The detective's eyes are closed, but Osamu doesn't have to see what he's looking at to know what he's talking about. They'd just passed a pastry shop and if he knew Ranpo (and he did) that would be what he was eyeing.

He had not intention of indulging Ranpo's habit. As much of a fondness he held for the man, his wallet didn't love his obsession with sugar. It was always difficult to say 'no', though, when he looked so innocent and sweet. He practically glowed as he studied the array of tarts, donuts, and cream puffs. Osamu felt his resolve for his wallet falter.

But that was only for a moment. The temptation of eating food other than instant ramen this month was too strong. He looks to Ranpo, who in turn looks to him expectantly. Osamu gives a thoughtful hum, as if he's really considering it. Ranpo's grasp on his sleeve tightens.

And then Osamu takes a decisive step in the other direction. Ranpo lets out a cry of distress, but he feels the other man stumble after him, still clinging to his sleeve. After a moment, he even lets go of that with a huff. Osamu wouldn't care to say out loud that he felt a stab of guilt.

Still, he's disappointed with himself that he's not willing to go and stop his friend(?) when he clearly starts sneaking back to the pastry shop. He really is going too soft...

He stops for a minute to feign interest in a street artist before turning to go after him. Osamu glances through the front window to see Ranpo chatting it up with the store clerk, a paper bag full of pastries overflowing in his arms. This man may be the end of me... he thinks, sadly not very regretfully. Starvation wouldn't be his chosen end, but perhaps ending his life in defense of Ranpo (or rather, his love of sweets) wouldn't be so bad. It would be nice if he cried if he died...

He shook his head, embarrassed by his own fanciful line of thinking. If he's this desperate for attention from the detective, he'll end up just as praise-hungry as Ranpo.

He walks in to disrupt the conversation between Ranpo and the clerk, much to the clerk's relief it seems. She looks terribly annoyed with the man, which is not all that surprising. Despite his rather astounding intelligence, social situations never went well with him. He always ended up bragging, going on for too long about the most recent case he'd solved.

Ranpo doesn't turn to acknowledge his partner(?) until he slides up next to him at the counter. "Ah! Dazai!" He beams briefly, but turns away immediately to scurry off to a table with an armful of his goodies.

Osamu tries to hold in a sigh as he looks to the clerk with the sweetest face he could muster. She was a beauty, certainly (in his opinion, most people were), but it was difficult finding the enthusiasm to flirt with her when he'd much rather flirt with the man sitting without him. All the same, he rummages through his wallet while looking up to the clerk through his eyelashes, "Ah... Pardon him, ma'am. I'll be paying the bill," he fishes out the yen and looks her in the eyes, "I hope he wasn't causing you any sort of trouble? I don't want to imagine a lady as pretty as you inconvenienced by someone such as him." The 'him' in question, wasn't giving Osamu so much a second glance from the table he'd sat at. It would be nice if he at least thanked him for paying. Although, he knew better than to expect as much from Ranpo at this point. Osamu wants to keep looking at him and study every feature to see if he has any sort of reaction from his next actions, but that's just the hopelessly in love (hmm... he didn't like that word.) hopelessly infatuated side of him.

He hands the woman the yen, but before her hand leaves the counter, he takes it lightly in his. "Ma'am, i have to admit that I've been waiting for this moment alone with you..." he looks up with a earnestness he doesn't really buy himself, "You see, I have an important question to ask you," he sucks in a breath, "Would you commit--"

"Dazai!" Ranpo's voice reaches his ears from the other end of the shop. It's got a whine to it that Osamu kind of likes, "I got us poison-filled jelly donuts!"

Osamu can't help but feel his heart leap for two reasons. 1) Ranpo had called to him right as things were going to get romantic. Not that he believed the detective really had feelings for him (Osamu was fairly certain he'd know if he did with how ridiculously often he studied the man). 2) Poison-filled jelly donuts were a delicious way to die.

His attention was very efficiently diverted and he abandoned his conversation immediately to glide into the seat across from Ranpo. "Edogawa! You'd commit double suicide with me? And for something so small as buying you pastries?" He made his eyes shine with excitement as he looked for the promised donuts.

"I lied," Ranpo said in monotone before taking a bite from a cream puff.

Osamu deflated immediately, laying his cheek on the table, "Your so cruel to me, Edogawa."

Ranpo ignored his comment completely. Something warm pushed against Osamu's hair. "Will coffee do?" Ranpo asked.

Osamu shot up from the table. Genuine surprise and delight crossed his face for just a moment (Smother that, he reminds himself). He'd never go so far as to say Ranpo didn't care for others--he'd seen him go out of his way to solve little mysteries too many times to believe that--but, Ranpo wasn't exactly... 'kind'. Osamu suspected it was very much a front, the same way his over-exaggerated nature was. Ranpo wasn't the type to be giving, although sometimes it was very clear he wanted to. He wanted to be smart and feel above others, and kindness wasn't how you got there. Osamu knew that well.

"Ah~~ For me~~?" he puts on the most delighted face he can manage, although it's not difficult. The joy is mostly genuine. He flicks his gaze up to Ranpo's closed eyes, "Do--Do I dare dream that you bought me a cup of detergent as well?"

"Of course not." Ranpo starts eating a lemon tart.

Now be disappointed, Osamu. "For a moment I thought you cared, Ranpo..." he slumped again against the table.

It was nice to think that Ranpo had consciously decided to pick up a drink for him. Ranpo probably didn't think much of it himself, though. Osamu's desperate heart is getting itself into trouble now with all this hopeful thoughts. Much longer, and he'd be head over heels in love. He tried to hide his sigh as he picked up the cup of coffee, the warmth spreading quickly through his fingers.

He hadn't realized he'd been smiling. "Ah~" Can you imagine how mad Kunikida will be that we took this detour and made him late..." He excuses away the pleasent expression with such a comment and looks over the top of his drink at Ranpo.

His coworker(?) had a strange expression on his face, a lot like the one he had when he was considering a very fascinating murder. His eyes were closed, but it was fairly clear that his full attention was on Osamu and his coffee. It made his heart flutter, although he'd be loath to admit it. What was Ranpo so fascinated by? Is he... worried I won't like it? he wonders.

It's unusually difficult for him to force down the heat rising to his cheeks. Osamu Dazai is most certainly not someone who gets flustered when his crush (hmm... it's a bit of a stronger emotion than that) gives him their full attention, even when their full attention is hard to get if you're not a slowly rotting corpse, and he especially doesn't get flustered when this is happening seconds after said crush was doing something uncharacteristically kind.

Ahh~ He's almost certainly lying to himself if his heartbeat is anything to go by. Osamu Dazai is definitely flustered. Who knew such an aloof, arrogant detective would be the one to make him feel that way?

Lucky for him, it seems like he might not be the only flustered one because Ranpo pointedly turns away to take a bite of his tart as soon as he notices Osamu's eyes on him. Osamu can't help but smile a little at this, although somewhere deep down he knows he's reading too much into it. In either case, he finally tips the cup back to take a sip.

And immediately has to stifle a choke.

After a brief moment of struggle, he forces it down. "Is--is that black?" he tries to sound inquisitive, but knows he's failing miserably. He feels his heart sinking by the moment.

He had tried to tell himself he was getting too hopeful. After all that daydreaming, Ranpo had only given it to him as a prank after all. It's his own fault in the end; he should have known better than to get so wishful.

Ranpo turns to look at him with a satisfied smirk, "I was right, wasn't I?" Osamu tries to hide his confusion, "That's the way you like it. A good detective will always know the way his partner likes his coffee!"

Osamu's entire face flushes and he knows that Ranpo can see. He wasn't able to smother it before it happened. Ranpo had been wrong, but he hadconsciously paid attention and bought the coffee black just for him. God, his heart just wouldn’t stop pounding. This was ridiculous. When exactly had he fallen so in love like with this man?

He lets his eyes sparkle with real glee as he got another sip. “Edogawa~ You are a genius!”

Ranpo takes the compliment in his usual way: looking annoyingly smug.

By the time Ranpo reached into his bag to get a donut, Osamu was already devising a plan to make his partner (that was the right word. for now at least) just a flustered as he was. After all, Osamu might enjoy the attention, but he most certainly didn’t enjoy the removal of his mask. It made everything unreasonably complicated.

Now, he’d never truly grown out of being childish (quite obviously), but even he had to admit that the plan he was hatching was childish. It reminded him vaguely of the indirect kisses middle schoolers got so embarrassed over. It made him question if he was throwing his pride out of the window just for some simple payback.

But, he was also nothing if not impulsive.

”Hey, Edogawa. I want some of that,” Osamu said, pointing to Ranpo’s donut.

Just as planned, the other man went on the defensive immediately. He tried to eat the rest of the donut as he shook his head. Osamu would have none of that this time around.

He stood and leaned over the table, his hand only narrowly escaping knocking over the cup of coffee. Ranpo looked slightly alarmed. Osamu smirked.

He placed his index finger lightly under Ranpo’s chin to get him to face his direction. Then, he leaned in close, tilting his head ever so slightly so he won’t run into his partner’s nose. Ranpo doesn’t immediately jerk away, which makes a small part of Osamu excited, but also doubtful. Perhaps this is just a truly terrible idea. Ah. No chance to think of that now, though.

Their lips brush lightly as Osamu takes a bite of the donut sticking out of Ranpo’s mouth. He knew he was imagining it again, but he felt the other man suck in a breath of shock as their lips touch. The touch is lighter than two feathers, but Osamu’s heart flutters involuntarily, even though he’d planned this exact moment all along. Damn. He’s so terribly hopeless.

He sits back in his seat, acting as if nothing unusual had happened. ”Mmmm~ That was delicious! Thank you for sharing, Edogawa~!” Osamu wipes away the glaze from the corner of his mouth with his thumb, brushing the finger along his lips as well. His lips feel almost like they're burning, vibrating with some sort of excitement. He wants to keep the feeling there, and somehow the obvious answer to that is put your hands over the top of it. That will definitely keep the feeling in. Childish.

He makes as subtle of eye contact possible with Ranpo, although he'd like it if he could watch him like a wolf watches it's prey without making his true motives even more obvious. Osamu sticks out his tongue, and licks the glaze off his thumb, licking from his knuckle to the tip. He sucks on the nail for just a moment, getting rid of the rest of sugar before humming in satisfaction.

Ranpo was definitely staring, but he wasn’t showing any of his other feelings on the entire encounter. What a pity Osamu had found himself with a man who rivaled him in his ability to hide his feelings.

After an embarrassingly long pause, Ranpo did betray some emotion, although Osamu had to admit he had no clue what it meant. His green eyes opened to just a slit and leveled a glare at him. It was impossible to tell, but Osamu hoped that it had a bit of playfulness to it, because if Ranpo was well and truly pissed… Well, the only benefit would be that it would be interesting.

There was a moment a little like a standoff where neither moved until Ranpo closed his eyes once more and stood, taking his bag of treats with him. He had the briefest of words with the clerk (who—if the color of her ears were anything to go by—had witnessed their exchange) and got a box full of donuts. He doesn’t look to Osamu again, only tilts his head in his direction for a moment and skips out the door.

The clerk panics a bit, “Wait! You have to pay for that, sir!” Osamu lets a sigh, but he’s not sure if he’s annoyed by Ranpo’s behavior or lack of reaction.

He grabs the terrible black coffee off the table and walks to the counter. “I’ve got it,” he told her with a smile, handing over the yen, “I apologize once again for his behavior.” A wink, and he’s followed Ranpo out the door. His partner is leaning against the wall just outside, enjoying a donut.

”You’re going to make poor me broke, Edogawa…” he says, “I needed some of that money to buy some proper cyanide capsules…”

”Don’t steal my donuts and you won’t have to pay extra,” Ranpo responds, pursing his lips

Immediately, Osamu grabs one from the box. Ranpo makes a noise of protest, but he—taking advantage of his slightly taller height—holds it high above his head. “Don’t make me buy them and I won’t steal them~” Ranpo makes a jump for his pastry, but Osamu is one step ahead as he takes a bite.

Ranpo huffs. “Mmm~ Delicious~” Osamu says, smiling.

He’s unprepared for the lips that brush along his fingers as Ranpo takes the donut from his hand with his mouth. Osamu draws back in shock as his partner finishes it off. Once again, he’s unable to hide the blush. His fingers feel numb where he felt Ranpo’s breath on his fingertips.

Apparently, accidental flirtation on Ranpo’s end was his downfall. After all that effort, he was still the only one flustered in the end.

He lets out a silent shaky breath before humming in a (hopefully) disinterested way. “Let’s hope Kunikida isn’t too mad at me, hmm, Edogawa?”

Ranpo: 1, Osamu: 0.

[linkspooky]

COPS AND ROBBERS: JOUNO AND DAZAI

Ever since Jouno was the one to arrest Dazai, there's several parallels set up between them with Dazai's role in the detective agency, and Jouno's role in the stray dogs. They are both reformed crimminals, they both are disliked by other more righteous members of their agency (Kunikida with Dazai, Tecchou with Jouno), but most of all they share the same character flaw in common. They are what I call "hypocritical altruists." They are characters whose goal it is to do good, but for primarily selfish reasons.

1. Help the Innocent

Dazai and Jouno are characters who are both intensely self aware about their darker natures. In the second light novel, Dazai tells Odasaku his reason for joining the mafia was because he thought he might see himself and find himself in all of that death and destruction.

"Hey, Odasaku, do you know why I joined the Mafia? I joined the Mafia because of an expectation I had. I thought if I was close to death and violence—close to people giving in to their urges and desires, then I would be able to see the inner nature of humankind up close. I thought if I did that… I would be able to find something—a reason to live."

Jouno admits that his reason for following the Law is because it allows him to express the more sadistic side of himself. Jouno's scenes are also set up as deliberate parallels to some of the darker things Dazai has done. When Jouno shows up in the hospital to taunt Kunikida over his loss and his missing hands, it's a deliberate parallel to when Dazai deliberately caused a car accident where Ango's airbag was the only one that didn't go off in order to force his cooperation.

Dazai and Jouno also show similiar behavior of taking an interest in more morally upright people, because they do not consider themselves good people. Dazai latched onto Oda, and Jouno's fascination with Kunikida is a parallel to this. They themselves are not righteous people, but they know that righteousness exists, they can see it in others, and seek it out.

This isn't me calling Dazai a sociopath or anything like that, it's a character trait he has, as commented on by Oda the person who knew him best.

"Listen. You told me if you put yourself in a world of violence and bloodshed, you might be ale to find a reson to live. You won't find it. You should know that. Whether you're on the side that takes lives or the side that saves them, nothing beyond your own expectations will happen. Nothing in this world can fill the hole that is your loneliness. you will wander the darkness for eternity.

Oda's famous dying words to Dazai says that to whit, that for Dazai, doing good or doing evil doesn't make a difference to him. He's so distant to his emotions, and far away from other people that he's kind of cold those feelings. However, Dazai being naturally low-empathy doesn't really matter in regards to whether he's a good or a bad person.

"Be on the side that saves people. If both sides are the same, then choose to become a good person. Save the weak, protect the orphaned. You might not see a great difference between right and wrong, but... saving others is something just a bit wonderful.

What matters ultimately is his actions, or rather what he chooses. Which is what Oda says, if both sides feel the same to you, then just choose good arbitrarily. Oda's first push to set Dazai on the path to becoming a good person was to change his focus, before Dazai judged everything on how he internally felt about it, whereas Oda told him to look outside at how his actions affect others. Dazai knows goodness exists, but Dazai can't see himself as good no matter how hard he tries, so Oda's way of attacking that was to tell him to forget about whether he's good or not and be good to others instead.

Which is why Dazai became a hypocrtical altruist like Jouno, someone who does good to others, for less than good reasons. Dazai is like Jouno, manipulative, childish, with a sadistic streak to his actions. He likes to play around with others. He often manipulates his own allies, not telling them about his plans ahead of times, and preferring to control them and set up the situations like he's moving them as pieces on a gameboard rather than working with them as people. Jouno shows the same behavior, but because he's an antagonist to the main characters, his cruel streak is much more obivous.

Dazai and Jouno however, both commit these less than stellar means to try to achieve good ends. Jouno admits freely that he likes to use the power he's given as an officer of the law as a bludgeoning stick to hurt others, but at the same time his central motivation is to help innocent people with his actions.

Jouno and Dazai do not consider themselves good people, and even act out the part of the 'bad guy' while technically being on the side of good, but at the same time both of them desire to be seen as good people. Dazai wants to strive to become the kind of good man Oda believes him as. When he's given the opportunity to betray everyone, Jouno doesn't take it, because he believes most important of all is protecting innocents. They are hypocritical altruists both of them, because their reasons for doing good deeds is because they gain something out of it. For Dazai he gains a reason to live, for Jouno he gains praise. It's not something that makes them good or bad people, just you know, human. However, this behavior is still flawed.

I say that Jouno and Dazai are both self-aware, but that's only to a certain point. While they oftentimes know their behavior is wrong, they often don't address the wrongs they do to others.

Dazai and Jouno are also characters who are defined as all-seeing, that is they are so smart they can both see several steps ahead and even read into and manipulate the actions of others. However, they are at the same time blind, Jouno physically, Dazai metaphorically.

Jouno is quite literally caught off guard by Akutagawa. Not only that but Dazai's plan to stop the Decay of Angels in the first place, began to fall apart because Dazai failed to address the elephant in the room that is his unhealthy relationship with Akutagawa, and his inability to do anything to address 1) the way he treated Akutagawa in the past while he was still in the mafia, and 2) try to build something more constructive of their relationship.

Dazai raised Akutagawa to live off of his praise, and keeps him on a short leash, because that makes him easier to manipulate. It's more convenient for his plans. Dazai's greatest flaw is that he manipulates his own allies too, and Akutagawa is the dark side of that behavior he has let to address. Dazai's treatment of Akutagawa like a pawn causes Akutagawa to see himself as a pawn, and sacrifice himself.

Akutagawa died, because he considered himself more worthless in comparison to Atsushi and therefore saw that as a practical and acceptable sacrifice. On the chess board he traded a pawn for a knight. Akutagawa believes that in part, because Dazai has intentionally led him to believe that in order to stoke the rivalry between the two of them and make them fight to push them against their limits, because for Dazai manipulation is just easier. It's what he knows. This is also a recurring theme this arc, stated first by Dazai, and repeated by Jouno later. That the most important people, and the people who move the world, aren't the masterminds and the manipulators who sit outside the board and watch everything like their god, but rather ordinary people who get up and fight and take risks. Of course realizing this is only half the answer, for Dazai the full answer would be to notice that he's not a player in the game, he's a piece as well. His actions have consequences and affect people the way that they've affected Akutagawa. Until Dazai realizes that he'll always be distant from others, and he won't be able to get into the middle of things.

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment Is All We Are (29/?)

AO3 link HERE

“Combat training?” I repeated as Kunikida nodded.

“Yeah. I heard about your last run-in with Akutagawa and well...”

He rubbed his neck again, looking awkward.

“Honestly, I’m relieved,” he said, “that you made it out alive. There are few who’ve met him and escaped and now you’ve done so twice. That was impressive. However...”

His jaw tensed and I instantly felt my heart sink as I recalled the words I’d said to Akutagawa back in the flaming wreckage of the garage.

“I’d rather die than be captured by the likes of you.”

I bit my lip.

Kunikida must’ve read the report, which meant he knew what I’d almost done. That was probably why he wanted to wait until we were alone to talk about it...

“And if I’m going down...”

I could still see Akutagawa’s steely gray eyes narrowing, still sense the smooth plastic of the car ignition underneath my index finger... still feel the cold, hard determination coursing through my veins as I lay in the wreckage of President Tanaka’s car, prepared to blow us both up.

“...I’m taking you with me.”

Kunikida looked up and without meaning to, I drew back.

“You were still seriously hurt,” he said at last, his voice low. “And if Dazai-san hadn’t brought you back to see Yosano-sensei in time...”

His expression grew solemn.

“You would have died...”

He grew quiet and as the silence filled the room, I felt a sudden flush of shame and embarrassment creep up the back of my neck.

Idiot.

I was a fool to think for even a moment that Kunikida had called me here to deliver the confession I’d been wanting to give him several years down the line.

What was I thinking?

It was such a far-fetched fantasy. There was no way Kunikida would confess to me first, much less reciprocate my feelings...

Kunikida sighed.

“I understand running into Akutagawa was...”

He paused to think.

“Unexpected,” he said at last. “But that’s why I wanted to talk to you about combat training.”

Kunikida’s gray-green eyes swept over me.

“I read your report, so I know you were trying to be careful. I know you only ran off to catch the bomber because your Ability had shown you exactly where she was going to be and that you worked carefully to avoid injury.”

His expression softened.

“I’m... glad. That you listened to me. I’m glad you took me seriously when I told you to take better care of yourself. I really can’t say it was entirely your fault you ran into trouble back there, but I do think it would’ve been a good idea to tell someone in the Agency, like your case partner, of your plans. Which brings me to my point...”

He gestured to the folders I’d been putting away at my work station.

“You’re going to be getting more and more solo assignments in the future,” he said, taking out his pen as well. “I trust you’ll call for backup in the future, should you need it—”

I felt a sudden stab of guilt.

“—but there will be moments where you’ll inevitably need to fend for yourself. And we won’t know when those moments will occur.”

Kunikida smiled at me then and I felt my heart flutter in my chest.

“Well, I suppose you might, if you’re anything like Atsushi-kun and your Ability ends up becoming more and more powerful. But let’s say it doesn’t happen very quickly or at all.”

I nodded, wondering if someday I really would have such power.

“I think it would be a good idea for you to learn some basic self-defense or martial arts skills.”

He got into a sort of kung fu stance that I thought I’d seen in a movie once and glanced back at me as he demonstrated. I tried to keep my eyes on his face instead of the way his clothes stretched over his musculature. My heart kept beating faster.

He has really nice arms...

“We can start with teaching you how to properly dodge, throw a punch or get out of a choke hold. You know, that sort of thing.”

He glanced back at me and I tore my eyes away from his biceps.

“President Fukuzawa was the one who taught me martial arts,” he said, a note of pride sneaking into his voice. “And I passed down what he taught me to Atsushi when he first joined. If you’re interested in learning from me as well...”

Kunikida’s smile shone bright.

“I would be happy to train you. One-on-one.”

His smile suddenly faltered a little and at once, he looked away. His cheeks were tinged with pink.

“I-if you’re okay with it, that is.”

I brought my fingers up to my lips.

“Kunikida-san...”

One-on-one training with my tall, handsome mentor?

How could I possibly say no?!

“I mean, we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it,” he elaborated, looking oddly flustered. “I could ask President Fukuzawa to train you instead if you’d rather have someone better--”

“I’d love to.”

He stopped talking immediately. He blinked.

“Huh...?”

“I’d love to have you as my teacher,” I replied, warmth flooding into my chest.

I smiled and bowed low.

“Please take care of me, Kunikida-san...”

“O-of course.”

When I straightened back up, I saw that he was adjusting his glasses, his face hidden by the pages of his olive-green notebook. He looked like he was rapidly flipping through the pages.

“In that case, do you think you’d be able to start tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

I pulled out my phone to check my schedule. Not much on there, but even if I did have a meeting or two, I’d move everything around just to be able to spend a little more time with Kunikida.

“Yes, I think so,” I said, putting it down. “What time?”

“Come to the training room at seven,” Kunikida answered, jotting the lesson down in his schedule.

He put the notebook back into his vest and smiled.

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

***

Training with Kunikida...!

I could hardly keep the smile off my face.

And from the sound of it, this was only going to be the first of many sessions...

I let out a long, drawn-out sigh, feeling like I was floating three feet off the ground as I drifted through the hallway.

Okay, sure. So neither of us had confessed our feelings to the other in the soft orange glow of the Agency office at sunset, but I was going to be getting training from Kunikida Doppo, the man who was both my mentor and my crush!

“I would be happy to train you. One-on-one.”

I barely managed to stifle an excited squeal.

Alone time with Kunikida...! He would be the first person I saw when I came to the office tomorrow morning and he’d be the first person I interacted with every other morning I had a training session as well.

I let out another happy sigh as I pictured us growing closer together over the course of the next several weeks, or however long these training sessions were going to last. Would we become close enough to the point where he’d one day feel comfortable calling me “Kyou?”

“Kyou...”

My cheeks grew warm as I imagined his deep, resonant voice calling out my first name, the look in his gray-green eyes as he turned his handsome face towards me, the way he would smile when he heard me calling him by his first name as well.

Ahh... if only that day could come soon...!

Even though I didn’t have my earbuds in, it felt like there was music playing all around me. I started humming under my breath as I reached into my bag and flipped out my phone.

I’d be meeting Kunikida at the training room on the first floor at seven. That meant I’d have to set my alarm so I could get up an hour earlier than usual...

Wait.

I stopped short and stared at the open memo on my phone.

Would I have enough time to make myself look decently presentable with only an extra hour to prepare? And what was I supposed to wear when I got there? It didn’t make sense to show up in my work clothes when he was going to be teaching me how to fight, so should I be wearing gym clothes and carry my work clothes in a bag?

And what about makeup? I wanted to make myself look cute for him (I always wanted to look my best around him!) but would he see it as appropriate for me to be wearing my usual light makeup? Or would he see it as me being frivolous and impractical when I was probably going to sweat it all off?

I felt the smile slowly sliding off my face as I thought about all the things I needed to do tonight to get ready for tomorrow.

I’d have to stop by a clothing store to get some new gym clothes (my old ones were really ratty and probably smelled bad), maybe go by a convenience store so I could buy some breakfast for tomorrow morning—oh, I should probably buy Kunikida some coffee too, to help wake him up and to thank him for doing all this extra work for me—

“Kusunoki-kuuuun—!”

I let out a shriek as someone suddenly popped out of a doorway on my left. That shriek immediately turned into a cry of frustration when I saw who it was.

Of course it would be Dazai. Who else?

“I was wondering why I hadn’t seen you leaving earlier,” I mumbled under my breath. “What are you doing here? Why were you hiding behind that door?”

“You were thinking about me?” Dazai gasped, ignoring everything else I’d said and latching onto that one statement. “Ahh~ I was thinking about you too, Kusunoki-kun! Were you waiting long for me? Did you want to go out for dinner perhaps? Or drinks? Or maybe we could—”

“If I said no to dinner with Yosano-sensei,” I deadpanned, side-stepping him before he could reach out and grab my hand, “what makes you think I’d say yes to you? And before you finish that sentence, the answer is no. I’m not joining you in a double suicide.”

His face fell.

“Always so cold, Kusunoki-kun!” he whined, looking injured as I brushed past him without so much as a second glance. “I was just asking if you wanted to spend some time together. I mean...”

He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked alongside me as I made my way to the stairs, easily keeping up with my hurried pace because of his long strides.

“You’re going to be spending plenty of time together with Kunikiiiida-kun in the future,” he said, stopping me in my tracks.

I turned to face him.

Dazai smiled.

“So why not spend a little time with me as well? I mean, I’m your mentor too, right?”

“You were listening in?” I asked, gripping my bag. “Again?”

“No, it was just a guess,” Dazai said, his grin widening as I scowled at him. “But I was right, wasn’t I?”

He scooted closer, looking for all intents and purposes like an overly excited puppy.

“So, so? Did you confess?” he asked, his brown eyes sparkling with excitement. “No, wait! Don’t tell me.”

He gasped dramatically, covering his mouth with his hands.

“Did Kunikida-kun confess to you? I mean, he’s the one who called you to the office after work when nobody else was going to be around right??”

“That’s not what happened!” I exclaimed, shoving my hands over his mouth. “And you need to stop talking so loudly! Kunikida-san is still here, you know! He stayed behind at the office to finish up some work so if you could just—”

“Oh, ish he mow?”

Peeling my hands away, Dazai walked past me, making a beeline for the office.

“Perfect. Thanks, I actually wanted to talk to him about something.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” I cried, going after him. “He’s busy right now! And it’s after hours. Can’t you do this some other—?”

“I mean, if you’ve changed your mind and you’d rather go get dinner with me—”

“That’s not what I said.”

I stopped walking and sighed.

“Oh, never mind. Just go.”

I brought my hands up to my head and started rubbing my temples to stave off an oncoming headache.

They’re partners, so Kunikida’s probably used to this by now...

“Just go, huh?”

Dazai’s voice was quiet. Uncharacteristically so.

I let my hands drop away from my head and looked up to see Dazai standing there before me, in the middle of the hallway with his half-bandaged hands tucked into the pockets of his sand colored trench coat. For a moment, he was still and stood there studying me with an unreadable look in his deep brown eyes. He cocked his head to the side a little as he looked at me, his bangs falling just so about his eyes.

And as I watched, the corners of his lips twitched upwards into a smile... a smile that looked oddly wistful for the perpetually grinning Dazai.

“Sure thing,” he said quietly, his smile growing slowly wider.

“Kusunoki-kun.”

I fell silent.

“Dazai-san...?”

What... what was that...?

He laughed a little, a bright and happy sound that didn’t quite fit the look in his eyes earlier.

“Why don’t you go home now?” he asked, turning his back to me and heading for the main office. “You’ve got a long day coming up tomorrow and I think you could use the rest.”

He waved to me as he continued walking away.

“I’ll see you around.”

And with that, he opened the door to the Agency office and went in without giving me a second glance. The sound of the door shutting behind him seemed oddly final.

For a moment, I just stood there, staring down the hall at the spot where he’d just been as the light slowly and surely faded away from the fourth floor.

“Dazai...?”

As the sound of muffled voices floated towards me from behind the closed door, I gripped my bag and turned to go. I wasn’t like Dazai, so it wasn’t like I was going to stay and listen in. Whatever business they had with each other was none of my concern...

But as I reached the stairwell, I stopped short and shot one last glance down the hall towards the office.

Why was Dazai looking at me like that earlier?

“Is everything alright?”

The empty, darkened hallway did not respond.

***

Okay... Five minutes to seven...

Taking a deep breath in, I tucked my cell phone back into my pocket and knocked on the door. The reply came immediately.

“Come in.”

Warmth flooded into my chest at the sound of that familiar deep voice, my pulse already racing as I thought about what lay ahead.

Calm down, Kyou.

Kunikida said he was going to be here waiting for me and he was. There was nothing to get excited over, he was just keeping a promise he’d made to me yesterday and he was here early because he was a professional.

It wasn’t because he was looking forward to this as much as I was...

But my heart only beat faster as I gripped the knob and turned it, carefully pushing my way into the room past a surprisingly heavy door.

There was no reason for me to worry about oversleeping and missing the training session. I’d been so excited about this morning that I’d practically jumped out of bed the instant my alarm went off. I was so energized by the thought of spending almost a full hour alone with Kunikida that I hardly needed the can of coffee I’d bought at the convenience store this morning.

Trying (and failing) to keep the stupid grin off my face, I headed into the room, taking a brief moment to look around at the polished wooden floors and freshly painted walls. I never would’ve guessed that just opposite the Uzumaki Cafe, with its pretty stained glass windows and warm, comforting atmosphere, was a fully furnished training room.

I passed a stack of gym mats and a collection of wing chun dummies and headed for the front of the room, which was marked by a large, framed piece of calligraphy. Pitch-black ink curled and looped across the parchment to form a single phrase: “If you have an honest mind, everywhere is a dojo.”

And sitting quietly, just below that sign... was a tall, seated figure.

I felt my heart literally skip a beat.

Kunikida-san...

He was wearing a plain white martial arts gi, with a black cloth belt tied loosely around his waist and no shoes on his feet. As usual, his long blonde hair was tied back into a low ponytail at the base of his neck and it wound down his back between his shoulder blades like a thin river of gold. Bright morning sunlight streamed in all around us and I realized that the closer I got to him, the more it felt like I was holding my breath.

He looked so dignified sitting there like that, with eyes closed and legs crossed, his palms resting gently on the tops of his thighs. I watched as he took a deep breath in, his broad chest rising and then falling slightly as he exhaled, his glasses slipping just a fraction down the bridge of his nose.

I felt a small smile tugging at my cheeks as I saw that, wanting nothing more than to push those glasses back up for him—

“Kusunoki.”

I jumped. The contents of the plastic bag in my hand jangled noisily as I moved and I suddenly wished I hadn’t chosen canned coffee to bring to Kunikida this morning.

He’d spoken without opening his eyes.

“Y-yes?” I squeaked.

“Put that down.”

I dropped the bag.

“And come here.”

I swallowed.

“Okay.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I bowed slightly, forgetting that he couldn’t see me and shuffled forward.

“Closer.”

A flush crept up the back of my neck and I shuffled forward a little more.

“Closer.”

I obeyed and kept moving forward until I was standing right next to him.

“Good. Now sit.”

I sat.

A tiny smile crossed Kunikida’s face and seeing it, I felt my heart skip another beat.

“I want you to close your eyes,” he said, “and take a deep breath in. Slowly... good... Hold it for four seconds and slowly breathe back out, counting four seconds again.”

He was meditating, I realized as I closed my eyes and did what I was told.

That’s why he was here earlier. Did he start every morning with meditation?

Or...

“Keep going,” he said gently. “Focus on your breathing and just your breathing, okay? We’re going to do this for five minutes.”

Was he doing this because he could tell I was a little nervous?

Warmth flowed through me and I felt my smile returning as I settled in next to him and tried to focus on my breathing. Silence settled in around us like a soft, comforting blanket and I could feel myself nodding off, my tiredness from the night before finally starting to catch up with me. My head dropped lower and lower towards my chest, a jumble of memories and sensations rising to the surface of my mind into the beginnings of a waking dream...

“Just go, huh?”

I jerked up, my head snapping back harder than I expected and I winced as I heard Kunikida stir next to me. One gray-green eye opened and peered out at me from behind those thin, rectangular frames.

“Falling asleep?”

“N-no!” I lied, flushing in shame. “I mean... yes. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. One minute left, okay?”

I nodded, realizing a little too late that he’d closed his eyes again and couldn’t see me any more.

“Okay.”

I closed my eyes too and tried to clear my head, but it wasn’t working any more.

I just kept seeing Dazai’s tall, trench-coat clad figure strolling down that empty, darkened hallway... alone.

I sighed.

The truth was, I felt kind of uneasy after my encounter with Dazai last night. Although I tried to put it out of my head as much as I could, I couldn’t help but wonder what it was he wanted to talk to Kunikida about. Why did he want to wait until everyone had left the office to talk? And why wouldn’t he look at me as he left?

Was I just being paranoid...?

Or...

Was I missing something? Something important?

Next to me, Kunikida sighed. I jerked my head towards him, another apology ready to go when I realized he was just breathing out, releasing one last long, steady stream of air between his lips as the meditation session came to an end. I shut my mouth and stayed quiet, suddenly feeling strangely guilty as I looked at him.

“There. That was pretty relaxing, wasn’t it?” Kunikida asked, turning to me with a soft smile.

“Y-yes,” I stammered, my heart pounding just a little faster at the sight of that smile. “It was...”

He nodded slightly, looking pleased, and slowly got to his feet.

“Thanks for coming early,” Kunikida said, his gray-green eyes warm. “It’s always nice to have an enthusiastic pupil to teach. Really nice, considering how things at the Agency usually are...”

“O-of course,” I stammered, my tongue suddenly feeling thick and clumsy in my mouth. “Thank you for offering to train me. I—I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, it’s really nothing,” Kunikida replied, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. “I just thought, as your mentor, I should...”

He cleared his throat abruptly and trailed off.

“A-anyway, have you ever taken any self-defense classes before, Kusunoki-kun?”

I shook my head and my neck cracked a little as I moved.

Apparently, I was in worse shape than I thought...

Not hearing the cracking noise, Kunikida nodded a little, seemingly deep in thought.

“I see...”

His gray-green eyes swept over me, his eyebrows knitting together as he spoke.

“Your Ability isn’t very useful for combat but unfortunately, like many others who possess information-gathering Abilities, you’ve had to defend yourself from being kidnapped or attacked. Based on what happened after your last encounter with Aktuagawa, I suspect the Port Mafia won’t go after you in the near future. However...”

His jaw tightened and I saw his expression darken in the bright morning light.

“There’s no telling who might target you in the future if your Ability grows more and more powerful. In fact, we should probably consider issuing you a gun in the near future, before you start taking any assignments that may require you to go out at night—”

“A gun?!” I squawked, backing away from him abruptly. “W-wait a minute, Kunikida-san! I thought today was—”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Kunikida said in a rush. “That’s not going to be happening right away. Like I said before, today we’re just going to go over some basics! However, please keep in mind that we are the Armed Detective Agency. In our line of work, combat seems almost unavoidable at times and so most of our members carry a weapon of some kind; there’s no reason why you shouldn’t have one as well.”

He grew quiet, his gray-green eyes downcast.

“Besides... I’d hate for something to happen to you when I could’ve...”

His lips were moving but I couldn’t hear what he was saying.

My breath hitched in my throat.

“...Kunikida-san?”

At the sound of my voice, he twitched—jerking up so that his back was ramrod straight and I took another step back away from him as he turned around and let out what sounded like a violent series of coughs. He looked really red and I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears as he turned back around. He was standing there with the most flustered look on his face I’d ever seen...

“Um...?”

I could barely hear myself talking over the sound of my heart beating in my ears.

What was he going to say?!

“A-Are you okay—?”

“L-let’s get started, shall we?” Kunikida exclaimed, his voice strangely loud.

His face was still very red.

“Why don’t we work on dodging first? I think that’s a good place to start!”

“That sounds good!” I agreed, nodding vigorously. “How should we do this?”

“Ah, well, I can’t expect you to know how to dodge properly unless I show you first,” Kunikida said, the color not fading from his cheeks in the least. “So why don’t you throw a punch at me first and I’ll explain what I’m doing as we go?”

My jaw dropped.

“Hit you?!”

I waved my hands in front of me and shook my head.

“N-no!! I can’t hit you! Kunikida-san, you’re my—my—”

Oh God.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to calm myself down.

What was I getting all tongue-tied for now?! And why did I have to blush?!

“You’re my mentor,” I choked out at last as Kunikida somehow flushed darker, “I can’t just—!”

“Please don’t worry about that, Kusunoki-kun!” Kunikida said in a rush, “I can take it. I mean—! I don’t think you’re going to be able to land a hit on me. Wait, no that’s not what I meant—!”

He slapped a hand over his face and groaned as I suddenly felt the strongest urge to grab one of the canned coffees I’d gotten at the convenience store and knock myself out with it.

“I know you know how to dodge,” Kunikida said at last, his voice muffled.

He still hadn’t taken his hands away from his face. His ears were now the color of fresh beets.

“If you didn’t, Akutagawa would have captured you the first time for sure. The fact that you were able to evade him twice means that you have good instincts and on some level, you knew exactly what you were doing when you avoided his attacks.”

The color fading from his ears, he took his hands away from his face at last and finally glanced back over at me.

“We’re just going to take what you know already and refine it a little. Hopefully, if this goes well, you’ll leave here after a few sessions being able to dodge anything that comes your way. So...”

He took a deep breath, then stepped back and got into a fighting stance.

“If you’re ready, I want you to try to hit me.”

Swallowing a little, I mirrored his stance.

“O-okay. Then...”

I drew back my fist, intending to copy a move I’d seen in a ninja anime recently.

“Here I go.”

For the next few minutes, I tried to hit Kunikida. Either punching or kicking or swiping at him, whatever I could think of. At first it was a little hard trying to get close to him (I did still have a massive crush on him, after all) but as he calmly side-stepped hit after hit, not dropping his guard for even the briefest of moments, I started to relax. Soon, I’d gotten used to the idea of just being that close to him and the heat building in my face had less to do with embarrassment or flustered and more with the amount of exercise I was getting.

“Okay, and we’re going to stop there.”

The color had faded a little from Kunikida’s face and he was smiling slightly as he dropped his fists and addressed me.

“We’ll work on your attacks later but for now, I want you to try doing what I was doing. Let’s switch places and this time, I’ll try to hit you. Don’t worry, I’ll go slow.”

And as promised, he did.

I managed to avoid the first few hits but as the lesson dragged on, I found myself getting tired, sloppy. Without the added boost of adrenaline that came with the threat of death or capture, I wasn’t moving as quickly as I could and it wasn’t long before Kunikida raised his hand to indicate we should stop.

I was so out of shape...

“Okay, not bad,” he said, tapping his chin. “But I think I can give you a few pointers...”

I saw his smile widen just a fraction as I took my phone out of my pocket and opened up a fresh memo and warmth flooded through me as I saw the look in his sage-colored eyes. His expression was almost... affectionate?

“You’ve got the right idea,” he said, “and you’re pretty good at keeping your distance, which is key to keeping yourself safe if you want to avoid being hit. But, you have a tendency to turn your back on your opponent and I want to train you away from that. You see...”

He put his hand on my shoulder and slowly walked around me so that now I was no longer facing him. He swept one leg out so that his foot was touching the back of my shoe and positioned me so that I would lose my balance if he let go of my shoulder.

“When you can’t see your opponent, you can’t see them telegraphing an attack. If you can’t see where the attack is coming from, you won’t be able to get away.”

He moved his leg back and took his hand off my shoulder as I turned to face him.

“Remember to keep your eyes on your opponent whenever possible. Both so you can avoid those attacks and so you can counter attack. Now let’s try that again.”

Time passed quickly. To my surprise (and Kunikida’s), I picked up on what he said very quickly and as the pseudo-sparring session continued, I was able to avoid every attack with ease.

“Good.”

His fist came towards me, a little faster this time. I took a step to the left.

“Very good.”

Kunikida began picking up the pace and as I kept dodging his attacks, making sure to keep my eyes on him and his movements whenever possible, I saw a smile blooming on his face. After about ten minutes of these rounds, Kunikida clapped his hands together and nodded, looking very satisfied.

“Kusunoki-kun, I’m impressed,” he declared, beaming. “You picked that up pretty fast.”

“Ah, well, I have a pretty great teacher,” I said shyly, twisting a lock of hair between my fingers.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen Kunikida looking so happy. Knowing that he was smiling because of something I’d done... I couldn’t help it if I was smiling as widely as he was.

“Since you’ve pretty much gotten the hang of dodging, let’s move on to counter attacks. There’s a whole range of techniques for countering grabs or holds of different kinds, so let’s do that next.”

He pointed at the fabric of his gi.

“We’ll do the exact same thing as before. I want you to grab the lapels of my clothes and I’ll demonstrate how to get out of it.”

His brows twitched together.

“Would you like me to put on gloves for this? Or are you comfortable enough with your Ability that skin contact won’t be a problem?”

“S-skin contact?”

What were we going to be doing?

“I think...” I decided slowly, “I want to try it without.”

I looked up at him, a strange sense of determination flowing through me.

“I... I don’t want to be wearing gloves all the time,” I said, my hands balling into fists.

I want my life back.

“I want to live like an ordinary person, as much as possible, and if I want to do that, I have to work to control my Ability.”

And I want to move forward.

“If President’s Fukuzawa’s Ability itself is not enough then...”

I looked up at him, my body tensing, resolve burning deep inside my chest.

“I’ll have to make up the difference.”

So that one day, I can finally stand beside you... beside all of you.

As your equals.

For a moment, Kunikida’s beautiful sage-green eyes widened.

“Kusunoki-kun...”

His mouth set into a line and his eyebrows slowly furrowed further. He studied me.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded.

“Okay, then.”

He patted his chest. “Grab hold.”

But as I reached my hands out towards Kunikida’s chest and gripped the lapels of his gi between my fingers, I came to the abrupt realization that he wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath... and by grabbing on to the fabric of his clothing, I was opening his gi and pulling it away from his chest.

Smooth, glowing skin glistened up on me, the thinnest sheen of workout sweat condensing on Kunikida’s toned, well-muscled chest and I felt my grip faltering as I stared straight ahead of me. I suddenly couldn’t talk.

“Uh, Kusunoki-kun?”

Oblivious to my current predicament, Kunikida tapped my hand.

“I’m gonna need you to actually grab me if I’m going to show you how to break free of an actual grab...”

My tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth. I could barely breathe. I swallowed thickly and tried to tighten my grip, praying he wouldn’t notice how much sweatier I’d just become.

“L-like... like this?”

“A little tighter.”

Oh God, my face was burning—burning!!

“How’s that?”

“Great.”

In one smooth motion, Kunikida moved his left hand across his chest and gripped my trembling right hand in his left. His hand was so large, it almost completely enveloped mine. He gripped my hand tightly and plowed on, completely unaware of how our positioning and overall height difference was causing me to literally tug his clothing off of his body.

“So this is going to sound counter-intuitive, but if you want to break free of a hold like this,” he said, gesturing at our positions with his free hand, “what you want to do is first trap your opponent.”

He pulled his arm down—the arm that had crossed over mine to grab my hand—and as he did so, both my arms folded downwards at the joint and I was pulled forward. My nose was now right up against his bare chest.

Heat exploded in my face.

I could feel the pull of my Ability but it was nothing next to the overpowering rush of sensations that flooded into my body as I tried to keep my face as far away from Kunikida’s chest as possible. I couldn’t hear anything above the pounding of my heart as Kunikida slowly and patiently explained the technique he was teaching me.

I was going to die... Die! But at least I was going to die a happy woman...!

“...Are you listening, Kusunoki-kun?”

My voice came out as a tiny squeak.

“Hm?”

“I asked if you were listening,” Kunikida rumbled and I bit back a groan as I saw a droplet of sweat slide down between his pecs. “I was talking about—oh.”

And for the second time this morning, he went completely red.

Kunikida let go of me at once. As we each backed several steps away from each other, I spun around and covered my face. I thought I heard him swearing softly under his breath.

“I-I’m so sorry, Kusunoki-kun,” he stammered, his voice sounding strangely muffled—like he was covering his face with his hands again.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I—”

“No, it’s okay!” I squeaked, not daring to turn around and look at him again.

I could still see that drop of sweat trickling down his chest...

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for!”

Absolutely nothing.

“You were just trying to show me something—!”

And as I stood there, several meters away from him, babbling like an absolute idiot in the middle of the training room, I heard a set of familiar voices carrying into the room from outside. It sounded like Yosano and Edogawa. If they were here, then it was almost eight...

“Ah!”

Kunikida let out a sigh of relief.

“It looks like it’s time to head up to work. Why don’t we pick this up another time and go upstairs with them?”

“Sounds good to me. Oh, wait!”

Suddenly remembering, I rushed towards the front of the room, where I’d left the plastic bag full of snacks and drinks I’d gotten at the convenience store this morning. Grabbing the bag, I plunged my hand into the middle and fished out a black canned coffee and croissant in a plastic bag.

“Here!”

I shoved both at him, my head inclined in a bow half out of respect, half so I wouldn’t have to look him in the face.

“I—I got you breakfast. I wanted to say thank you. For taking time out of your busy schedule to train me. I... really appreciate it.”

“Oh—!”

Kunikida sounded surprised. I risked a quick glance up and saw that he’d fixed his shirt. I tried not to think about whether I was relieved or disappointed.

“Thank you, Kusunoki-kun. That’s very thoughtful of you...”

“It’s really nothing!!” I exclaimed. “A-anyway, did you want to go upstairs together?”

“Oh, um...”

He trailed off and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I should stay here and clean up,” he said quietly, his eyes focused on something I couldn’t see. “Why don’t you go on ahead?”

He glanced back at me, a sort of half-smile tugging at his lips. His cheeks were still just a little pink.

“I’ll catch up with you later.”

I nodded.

“Okay, then. I’ll see you soon, Kunikida-san.”

As he nodded and turned away from me, I was struck with a sudden urge to ask another question.

“Kunikida-san?”

He glanced over his shoulder at me. I stopped chewing my lip and steeled my nerves.

“Same time tomorrow?”

There was a pause. Then he nodded.

My heart soared.

“Sure,” he said, his half-smile turning into a full one.

“Same time tomorrow.”