#than the page is dazai knowing it all and having it all resolved since the beggining

[moniwaskaname]

I agree with your last post 10000% but if I may add: Fukuchi is way too overpowered and doesn't have any redeemable qualities. BSD is full of complex characters that make them loveable but Fukuchi... not so much. Fitzgerald was a pretty powerful opponent but his motivation, his back story made me interested in him and hell even love him later on. Fyodor proved to be the next level boss if you will. Had he not been arrested, by himself he proved to be an extreme threat and I would have love to see more of his back story and whatever the hell his ability is but nope. Now we're stuck with mary sue Fukuchi whose just an asshole who doesn't have a solid enough background for me to understand his actions. I love all the other new characters, don't get me wrong, but there was so much potential at the beginning of the arc and now it just seems... bland. Like where's the solid ADA/PM/Guild team up? That would've been so interesting to see and it could've explored the consequences of the Guild more in order to tie up loose ends. What about the rest of the Hunting Dogs? What if they had learned to truth early on and joined the fight? I was super excited for this arc, now I'm frustrated and confused.

I agree with you anon! I do think Fukuchi is overpowered with the whole “can cut through time and space” thingie. I’m not a fan of it tbh D:

And I believe characters don’t need to have these super ultra abilities to be powerful; like Mori. His ability is not exactly strong like Chuuya’s, but he’s a damn powerful character AND a great antagonist. And Fitzgerald... gosh, Fitzgerald was done so beautifully! His ability is strong but it depends on his economical power, meaning it has a weakness and it’s beatable. His motives were so well placed, like, he himself never “justified” himself and we learned about it until the last fight, and it was so beautiful ugh, I love Fitzgerald so much. And Fyodor, tho powerful and smart, it’s a weakling, he pretty much depends on his manipulation than his own strength. Fukuchi lacks what makes Mori, Fitzgerald and Fyodor great antagonists, at least to me. 

While I don’t think strong motives are necessary or a character to be evil and do evil things, Fukuchi lacks flaws and his conviction is not clear enough. And I think Fukuchi came up flat in terms that the arc set him up way too soon. 

I don’t think this arc should have gone farther than the ADA being set up and trying to prove they were innocent to be honest. I don’t think we should have learned that Fukuchi was an actual villain in this arc at all.

I think Fukuchi should have been built more as the Hunting Dog leader, as Fukuzawa’s ex-friend, and such before setting him up as the ultimate boss. It would have made more impact, because with all the new characters and things going on, it wasn’t impressive nor meaningful because we didn’t care about him at all. 

In fact, when the Hunting Dogs were introduced, everybody saw them as antagonist (not villains tho), nobody was really happy to see them, and with how little we still know about them, and how little they are developed (except Tachihara, maybe), it didn’t even feel like a plot twist lol.

I think this arc should have been about ADA searching for a way to prove their innocence and being chased by the Hunting Dogs only. No flying casino, no Fukuchi and Tachihara identities revealed, and no vampires. I would have kept Yosano’s plotline, Kunikida losing his hands, Lucy and Ango helping Atsushi, etc. I would have made the ADA find another solution to prove their innocence besides the page, to develop more ADA characters, to finally awaken Margaret and form an alliance with The Guild specially. I think it would have worked to give more time and depth to some characters AND future plotlines. If this arc had less things happening at the same time and it went slower, like the past arcs tbh, I feel like Fukuchi’s characters wouldn’t be so flat as it’s perceived. 

If Fukuchi had developed as a full character before his reveal, it would have been so much better, in my opinion. If we could actually cared about him before, or know about him or the Hunting Dogs it would have been such an amazing reveal. (i’ll go down with the hunting dog!kunikida ship until i die lol)

I believe Sigma and Bram Stoker could have been so amazing in future arcs instead of cramping them all in a single arc and it would have helped to develop Fukuchi as the powerful villain he’s supposed to be. And I’m convinced that no matter how it gets resolved, or how much it actually gets resolved, I won’t be satisfied because there are just so many things left hanging and unshown.

[patchwork-panda]

“I don’t want to be your... ‘ex.’”

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28870812

Genre: romance/angst Rating: 17+ for CW: subtle (non-graphic) mentions of depression, drinking, suicidal ideation, implied sex. Reader-insert has no description of gender/height/weight/race, etc Plot: You are Dazai Osamu's ex-lover. You run into him again one day at the Uzumaki Cafe, months after you've broken up. He says he missed you. Do you take him back?

Mini Fic is written in 2nd person. based off of Ailee’s cover of Ex by Kiana Lede: link here

There he is.

You nearly drop your cup when you turn around.

Like usual, he’s sitting there at the table in the corner. He’s got his coffee in front of him along with that little red book, the “masterpiece” he carries with him everywhere he goes, the bright, lurid text trailing down the center of the tome visible even from your place by the counter. His lashes twitch as his deep brown eyes skim the page, the subtle flicking of his irises going right to left telling you that while he only looks to be idly flipping through, he’s drinking in every word.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he had never read this book before.

But you know all too well how many times he’s read it, don’t you?

Pulled it out of his bandaged hands on more than one occasion, often late in the night, throwing it on the floor in frustration as you let your silent tears do the talking for you.

You bite your lip.

Why does he look so beautiful to you even now?

It’s been months since you threw that bouquet of stark-white lilies back in his face. Months since you threw him out of your apartment and told him never to come back. Months since you decided you could finally come back to the cafe where it all began...

You clutch the cup of coffee in your hands a little more tightly, barely feeling the burn of the paper hot against your skin.

Unable to let go.

It’s been nearly half a year.

So why do you still feel that subtle, familiar ache in your chest when you look at him?

At Dazai Osamu?

Your ex-boyfriend...?

It must be the light...

Yes. That has to be it.

Something about the time of day, the way the sunlight streams through those elegant stained glass windows at his side. Bathing his body in the colors of a time long since past...

Right here, right now, the Uzumaki Cafe looks exactly like the way it did on that fateful morning you met him for the very first time.

He’s still wearing that dusty old trench coat with the sleeves rolled up, that softly pressed jet-black vest and those long, white slacks. The gem of the bolo tie around that thin bandaged neck glows like polished tourmaline in the light and as he shifts a little to turn the page, you see a fresh scar arcing across the back of his spindly left hand. His eyes, beautiful and inscrutable beneath those dark, softly curling bangs, don’t leave the page.

As you silently watch from across the cafe, he raises his free hand towards the sugar bowl and picks up a single white cube with a pair of tongs. He drops it into his cup with practiced ease, all the while never looking up from his book.

He always did have such a sweet tooth...

A sweet tooth to go with that sweet smile.

A subtle, bittersweet twinge tugs at your heart, the ache coming from somewhere deeper than the organ beneath your ribs.

He looks exactly the same as he did back then.

Like the picture in your cell phone you couldn’t bear to delete.

Like the man you’d fallen in love with the moment he’d taken your hand with a smile and declared that you were the most beautiful person he had ever met.

Just looking at him brings the memories back...

The memories of the nights you spent at his apartment. The smell of his sweat, the feel of his body moving against yours, the look in his eyes, glowing like burnished gold as he took you in the privacy of his home...

Your heart beats faster.

He was always so good with his hands. Even better with his words.

He would always have a honeyed greeting on his tongue, pleasant words to soothe away your fears as you lay next to him in the twisted, tangled sheets, the air growing colder on your bare skin as the waning moon rose higher in the night sky.

You loved the way he stroked your hair. Loved the pet names he used when the two of you were alone. Loved the way he looked at you when you woke up in his arms in the morning.

The way he smiled when you finally called him, “Osamu.”

His eyes and skin glowed when you saw him then, his dark, tousled hair curling so perfectly about his flushed, sweaty cheekbones when he smiled that you wondered how someone so dazzling could possibly be real.

But he wasn’t, was he?

He drops another cube of sugar into his cup with a soundless splash.

The twinge in your chest grows sharp.

Oh, how he had you fooled.

How could you have known on that bright, promising day?

That he was no hopeless romantic, no light in the darkest of nights?

No.

The man who sat before you countless times in that seat in the corner with a smile on his face and a joke on his lips was nothing more than a jester wearing a mask. A sad, broken, lonely soul whose good humor ran no deeper than the bandages on his wrists. A man who’d jerked away from you the moment you’d asked to see his scars.

And that’s when the spell began to break.

You began to see it.

That he drank too much.

Stayed up too late.

Refused to care for his body and deprived himself of the things he needed in order to keep it going, whether that fuel was food or sleep.

Referred to it as a pretty, empty shell that he’d hoped to leave emptier than it was already.

But you wouldn’t let him.

You loved him too much to let him. Owed him too much to let him.

He was your savior. The man who came to your aid when no others did. The man who saw you when no others would and insisted you were worth more than you could possibly know.

And so you’d tried to take care of him. You did.

You’d sometimes iron his work clothes when he stayed at your place. Threw a blanket over him and kissed him on the cheek when he fell asleep on the couch. Pushed him to eat a proper meal whenever you could and left little memos for him to read so he would know how much he was loved.

But it wasn’t enough.

He still wanted to leave. Even with you in this world, loving him as hard as you could and straining to stay by his side, he still wanted to leave.

Leave and take you with him...

He turns the page of the little red book in his hands.

You bite your lips.

How can he just sit there like that? At the booth you always shared? On the same side he always sat down at, only after he’d seen you settle in across the table from him?

After everything you've been through?

After everything you've both been through?

You bite your lips.

Was he waiting for someone?

And if he was...

You turn away.

You should go before he sees you.

But just as the thought crosses your mind, his bright brown eyes flick upwards towards you, spotting you over the pages of his favorite book. They widen momentarily in recognition.

He drops the book and you turn.

You hear running footsteps. He’s at your side before you can reach the door.

So quick in his thoughts and his movements.

Long, familiar fingers wrap around your wrist. You try to jerk away but he turns you to face him and the moment you see the look in his eyes, you feel your resolve begin to crumble.

“So it was you,” Dazai says, his voice low, “watching me from the counter...”

Of course.

Of course he was aware that you were there. He was aware of everything, wasn’t he? He always was.

“You look well,” he says when you meet his eyes at last. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

A smile slowly creeps onto his face as he inclines his head back towards the booth he’d just vacated.

“You wanna come sit? I’m just taking a little break from work and I could use the company...”

He trails off when he realizes you’re not answering.

He sighs.

Rubs the back of his neck with that freshly scarred hand.

“Guess not, huh?” he mumbles, looking away slightly.

He drops the hand rubbing his neck but doesn’t let go of you.

“Not like I blame you.”

Dazai looks back at you and his smile grows wistful. The familiarity makes the ache in your chest return, sharper than ever.

“Hey...” he says. “I know you probably don't believe me, but I really am sorry about before. I shouldn’t have said all those things I said, or done the things I did. It... it wasn’t fair to you.”

He’s only saying this because he knows these are words you want to hear. Because he’s two steps ahead of you and everyone else in everything that he does.

Because he’s Dazai.

His smile tightens.

“I mean that, you know,” he says, a note of pain sneaking into his voice as those perceptive brown eyes meet yours. “Really, I do. And I’ve missed you.”

Fingers reach up and wind their way into your hair.

“So much.”

He falls silent. Those beautiful amber eyes are sweeping over your face, as if he’s reading you. Reading you the way he was reading his book not two minutes ago.

His lips part and he speaks.

“Hey...”

The fingers around your wrist tighten and twitch.

“Do you think we could try again?” he asks, his voice soft and sweet.

He smooths your hair away from your face and gently caresses your cheek. His eyes seem to sparkle in the light.

“I’ll do better this time. I will. So, please...”

He takes your hand in his and slowly raises it to his lips.

“Give me another chance?”

Presses a burning kiss to your fingers.

“Give us another chance?”

Smiles like he did before. Bright, happy, charming. Like a little lost puppy, begging for a treat.

“Please? I don’t want to be your..."

You hear a subtle break in his voice and you feel a part of you breaking along with it.

“Your ‘ex.’”

You want to shake your head.

You have to.

You know you have to...

It’s a matter of life and death. Literally.

But you can’t.

Just one look into the depths of those sparkling brown eyes, dark and warm--warm like the cup of coffee clutched in your trembling hands. One glance at those softly smiling lips, sweet with sugar and affection, the most endearing of expressions.

One moment to consider a softly spoken word...

Dazai quietly whispers your first name.

And his voice seems to echo in the silence of the empty cafe.

It’s over.

You can’t walk away from him again.

You sigh.

“I’ll think about it...”

[bungoblog]

Theories on BSD manga current arc

I know, I know, Dead Apple spoilers are the hot topic now, but I've got some thoughts on Bungou Stray Dogs manga that I’d like to share.

Spoilers for anime-only fans, spoilers for manga chapters 46+ (and even bigger ones for chapters 54+).

It is quite a long post, sorry!

First of all I have to admit, that I am losing a track of the plot. Too many new characters (shown and hinted), organizations, too many mysteries. Still BSD is rather conventional in terms of storytelling, so one can be sure, that ‘good guys’ will win. I.e. even though ADA is in dire situation now, they will find a solution somehow.

The question is how many chapters/volumes they will need and where do they find a solution.

Take Cannibalism arc (chapters 46-53). It had very strict time limit, so it was evident, that the conflict will be resolved fast, rather than dragged for 4-5 volumes. The outcome was easy to guess: either one of the bosses dies or the ADA and Mafia capture virus ability user. As you know, the latter had happened.

Now the situation looks much more complicated. The ADA were framed, the reality was rewritten, so even everyone memories were altered. The government wants them dead. Besides we don’t know the extent of the Book reality bending abilities. Had it affected Dazai, for example? I.e. if somebody asks Dazai (or checks his memories), whether the ADA had a plan to capture hostages, they would find a confirmation ‘Yes, it was ADA’s plan and the ADA is the "Decay of Angels” group’. Do Ango and Natsume also believe now, that ADA members are criminals? Ranpo is sure, that Taneda will testify on the ADA’s behalf.

So, suppose the ADA escapes their pursuers, rescue Ranpo and Dazai and then?.. How would they restore their good name? The obvious answer is ‘Cancel the reality altered by the Book page’. BUT! The Book cannot be affected by abilities (see chapter 28, Fitzgerald explains that to Atsushi). If this is valid for a single Book’s page (why not?), then Dazai cannot nullify what was written there, so the ADA won’t be able to go the simplest way.

Here goes Crazy Theory 1: Ango’s ability ‘Discourse on Decadence’ can somehow counteract Book’s altered reality. Not the Book itself, but the consequences.

Pro: It seems that Ango has non-combat ability. He is more a paperwork guy and doesn’t go into the battle. Other than that it is hard to make any guesses.

Contra: Having an ability that allows to resist altered reality (or something like that) is not that useful skill -- not so many users we’ve seen can deceive others perception of reality (eg. Tanizaki’s illusions, Oguri’s cleaning). So this kind of resisting ability would be too convenient to have in this arc. Also it is strange, that such ability wasn’t used to clear charges against Kunikida, when Oguri had destroyed the evidence.

Note: I think, Ango’s ability will be revealed soon anyway. Either this arc or the next big one.

Crazy Theory 2: The ADA will rescue Oguri and ask him to remove the evidence. However Oguri cannot change people’s memories, so the government still will be sure, that the ADA are criminals. It may be harder to condemn them without hard evidence, but they still aren’t seen innocent.

Pro: A character, that had appeared at the beginning of the arc is not forgotten and will play an important role!

Contra: That doesn’t resolve the conflict completely. Something else has to happen after.

Crazy Theory 3: Poe’s ability will be relevant for the resolution of this arc.

Pro: A book against the Book? Why not. Also, how is Chuuya?

Contra: His ability was brought up during Cannibalism arc and at the beginning of this arc. That’s quite a lot for non-ADA and even non-Mafia character. As much as I am happy to see Poe, I want others to shine too.

Crazy Theory 4: There is a loophole, that allows Dazai to nullify the Book’s effect.

Pro: We know, that Dazai always knows, how get the upper hand.

Contra: Please, no. Just no. This is way too simple.

Crazy Theory 5: The ADA will escape, reunite with other members and then go underground, because they cannot proof the truth right now. [How about joining forces with Steinbeck?]

Pro: Not a Deus ex Machina move. It offers an interesting development. Also Kunikida is definitely leaning to the darker side.

Contra: Asagiri doesn’t like to change status quo in BSD world. There is a high possibility, that the ADA will return to normal operations despite everything.

Crazy Theory 6: Something happens, so either everyone forgets about the ADA or/and the ADA save the say and become heroes.

Pro: We don’t know, what exactly Fyodor and the Decay of Angels are trying to achieve right now. Was it just destroying the ADA or something bigger? Also could Agatha finally make a move?

Contra: That will make an already messy arc even a bigger mess. Honestly I would prefer a proper arc finale before the further development.

Crazy Theory 7: The fifth member of the Hunting Dogs (see recent chapter 60) finds out the truth, as he/she was researching the Rats of the real Decay of Angels.

Pro: Not quite Deus ex Machina move, since we have a foreshadowing here.

Contra: This could be any other organization: Port Mafia, Clock Tower etc.

Side Note: Why we don’t see Port Mafia around? 

Better ask, why would they be involved? Mori isn’t an altruist, he won’t move a finger for the ADA, unless there is also a great danger for Yokohama.There isn’t one, yet. Port Mafia is also unaffected. So they doesn’t have any reason to help ADA.

I also have a feeling that Chuuya had escaped Poe’s book long time ago. It happened behind the scenes, as Asagiri thought, that it is evident enough and not so important.We’ll see...

Scans used: Dazai Scans.

[the-landmine-is-me]

Never the Blood, Chapter 1 (Original)

So small. How could something so small exist in a world so big? Tiny, infant digits reached out to the boy, tangling with bandages loose from his clumsy, untrained application. His first instinct was to separate, afraid and almost repulsed by this little thing. But even as he tried to step away, he was followed, the big blue eyes staring up not from the baby, but from the sibling holding her in his arms.

“Don’t be a wuss! Hold her!” The high pitched outrage hit the boy’s ears as the weight of a wriggling human was plopped into his arms. He almost dropped the thing, partially out of surprise, partially out of spite.

The bigger but still comparably small brother of this mass of arms and legs and squirms huffed, his hands adjusting his ponytail. “See? It’s not so bad.”

The bandaged boy sat, and for a moment he thought the thing was going to start crying. But, on the contrary, it was settling down, eyes looking like a weighted blind shuttering closed…

He didn’t move. He just stared at the pink thing in his arms, its stomach rising and falling, its breath coming noisily from its tiny pink nose. His one unbandaged eye followed the slowing movements before raising to the door slightly ajar before them. He could spy a white lab coat, wiggling and pacing about as his sing-song voice hushed to a soft tone. He was speaking to Ane-san. They were talking about what to do with the infant. In moments, the skinny bandaged boy knew, they’d come and pull her from his arms, and take her somewhere he’d unlikely see her again. This was no place for a child.

And Dazai didn’t qualify as one anymore.

On paper, the Armed Detective Agency’s dorms were all the same. One room, plus a kitchen, neatly stocked upon arrival. All identical, and yet Dazai found himself inexplicably drawn to Kunikida’s all the same. There were, of course, various possible reasons for it, one of those being that there was a distinct lack of empty sake bottles and dirty plates everywhere, in contrast of Dazai’s own dorm. Alternatively, Kunikida had full sake bottles safely tucked into various hiding places (and wasn’t it sweet of him to keep a stash just for Dazai?), as well as a consistently refilled cupboard of snacks, albeit drab and low carb nonsense--they did in a pinch.

For these reasons, Dazai might slink into the man’s quarters, uninvited and unannounced, and sometimes, like today, without Kunikida’s presence at all. With fond reflection, Dazai recalled just how many picked locks and scares at three in the morning he’d needed to incite before, with extreme reluctance, a spare key was finally delivered to him.

There was also, of course, the matter of a budding relationship. And while Dazai might have listed it on the very tail end of the bonuses of Kunikida’s dorm, and Kunikida himself would tell you that it was nothing but a huge inconvenience to be consistently bothered by a would-be freeloader’s presence, mornings in which they awoke embraced in each other’s arms were becoming steadily more frequent.

Thus, after a long day, the bandaged detective could often be found deposited on his stomach against the futon, feet kicked up and toes bouncing from cushion to air, whether the owner was there or not. This was that sort of day.

Admittedly, the day at the office had been one of his less productive ones, at least by his standards. His schemes weren’t often foiled, but foiled them Kunikida had. Even the Master Carlisle, a man so frequently praised by Kunikida that Dazai had been positive he would be a powerful enough presence to break his resolve, had not been enough to hinder the carefully set schedule.

Still… a fond smile crossed Dazai’s cheeks as he flipped the pages of the newspaper, reading the same sentence over and over again without processing it as he thought back to the late afternoon at the office. He had gotten to brag a little.

President Kunikida.

It had a nice ring to it.

A glance at the clock. Kunikida was late. On top of not returning to the office, per the schedule, Dazai was getting a little envious of whatever might be keeping him. And impatient. It wasn’t until he was broken down to rolling on the floor, scattering once carefully folded newspaper pages in the process, that the door finally opened.

“Dazai.”

Finally.

Dazai flew up, arms stretching out with a big, cheerful grin. “Kunikida-kun!” he cried with a roar of success, as if he had conjured the man’s presence himself. The newcomer limped inside, clearly exhausted but retaining the kind of dignity expected of someone like him. Dazai didn’t think anything of the door being left hung open a crack as he slid to his side. “How was your busy day?”

Kunikida dropped his keys on the counter, toeing his shoes off. “Were you rude to Master Carlisle. Did you send him away properly.” Straight to business, eyes piercing towards Dazai, as suspicious as he was expectant of the worst.

“Of course,” Dazai said with hands raised in innocence. “I gave him your message, though he was as put out as I was that you didn’t come back. And I…” He hadn’t noticed it before, but suddenly, he caught the scrutiny of two eyes peeking at him from the doorway. He blinked back at them, and pointed. “What’s that.”

Kunikida looked back at the young girl waiting for him at the door, and sighed. “She got caught up in the crime today.”

Ah, right. They’d gotten a call that Kunikida had taken care of a bomber or something or other, which had accounted for his lateness. Still, there’d been no mention of a child. Kunikida gave him an exasperated look. “She followed me home.”

The girl in question, a small redheaded thing that looked a little worse for wear between her ripped stockings and dirty cheeks, put her hands on her hips with an accusatory glare. “Ohhh, I see why you rejected me.” She pointed to Dazai. “You have a man at home.”

Dazai, in turn, ignored her completely. “You can always call her a cab, Kunikida-kun.” He huffed, sliding his phone out of his pocket to start dialing. “I swear, I have to keep everything in order, don’t I?”

“It’s not an issue,” Kunikida countered, also ignoring the girl for the moment. “And it’s late. It could be too dangerous for her, after the day she had.”

Now the child stamped her foot. “Hey, I helped Kunikida today--!”

“Kunikida-san,” was the immediate snap back at her from the blonde.

“--You can’t just kick me out, you fool!”

That, if nothing else, gave Dazai pause, finally glancing at the child with a raised eyebrow. She wore a little coat, but beneath it was a yellow dress, a dress that had a familiarity that for a moment, Dazai couldn’t place. That, coupled with the way her cheeks puffed up, her eyes narrowed with a distinct “who are you to tell me what to do” expression, and her voice… He soon stilled completely, as a realization struck him.

��...What’s your name.”

“Aya-kun,” she huffed, crossing her arms with a little pout, looking up at the tall noodle man. “And what’s your name? Mister Kick-People-Rudely?” She skipped right past him, clinging to Kunikida’s side with an air of superiority.

There was no mistaking it.

“She can’t stay, Kunikida-kun.”

“Dazai,” Kunikida was successfully irked by now. “It’s late. I’m tired. I’ll take her back home tomorrow, but it’s better she stay here tonight.” He managed to scoot over to the couch, even with Aya clinging to him, dropping onto it with a groan and pulling his notebook from his breast pocket, regarding it with a mournful glance. His poor, poor schedule…

Well, Dazai could only make a loud, pointed hum at that, his arms stretching behind his head. “Fine, fine,” he dropped casually. “So long as you’re comfortable with a Port Mafia member knocking down your door at God knows what hour.”

“...Excuse me?” Now, Kunikida had his attention, his brows furrowed.

Aya, on the other hand, swung her legs about. “Noooo, that’s not true, Onii-chan wouldn’t--” But she stopped herself, suddenly glaring at the tall detective. “How do you know about that.”

Dazai only smirked, tilting his head to eye the little girl. “Because, I’m Dazai.” And he had no doubt she’d recognize that name.

And, indeed, there was recognition in her features. But, more than that, there was a smirk. “Ohh, so you’re Dazai.”

In turn, a bandaged hand rested on his chest, as he offered a bow. “How nice to meet you. I haven’t seen you since you were an infant.”

“Must’ve been a long time ago, then.” She let her head drop back against the cushions, smirk still in place.

Kunikida, who had been slowly lowering his book as the exchange went on, was finally ogling between them. “...Dazai, what is going on.”

“Kunikida-kun,” Dazai returned, “meet Aya Nakahara, Chuuya Nakahara’s sister.”

Well, the poor man continued to eyeball back and forth between them, and Aya looked a little distressed the longer the silence dragged out. “D-don’t worry, Kunikida! I’m not part of Port Mafia or anything! I’m still a warrior of Justice, like you! Promise!” Her hands fell to her lap with some despair.

Dazai could confirm, of course, his hands folding over his chest. “She’s right. She was given amnesty by Port Mafia. Family of members often are, especially considering she has no ability.”

Though still considerably flabbergasted, Kunikida shook his head. “Wait wait wait, hold on. If you really are related to a Port Mafia executive--”

But she beat him to his own inquiry, raising a hand to count down each of the following points on her fingers. One finger up. “No, I can’t tell you any secrets.” Two. “No, they can’t find me here, the only one that has a tracker on me is Onii-chan.” Three. “No, I don’t have a past record. He made sure of that.” Four. “And no, I can’t tell you their main base of operations. That’s grounds for punishment.” Her points made, she let the hand fall, resting against her lap again, this time politely.

Dazai only shrugged. “I know all of that, anyway.” Still, he was back to pulling out his phone. “But you are going home tonight.”

“Hey, I’m not some lost cat. I know how to get home! I just don’t want to right now!” Aya was jumping to her feet, swiping to try to grab the phone away from the detective, which Dazai kept easily out of reach.

“If you don’t go to Chuuya,” he said with narrowed eyes, “Chuuya’s going to come to you. I don’t want Chuuya here.”

“Why are you so mean to Onii-chan? He could come in here and kick your ass for being rude!” Her puffy, indignant face had returned, hands flailing about wildly.

“He could.” Dazai smirked as he dangled the phone purposely close to her hands, only to pull it right back just as her fingers were about to close in.

Well, her face scrunched in fury at that, and in that moment--Dazai remarked to himself just as she started slapping at his thighs--she was the spitting image of her brother.

“You’re… such a bastard! Everything he said about you was right!”

Kunikida was just left to watch the scene, blinking with abstract perplexity.

“Kunikda-kun!” Dazai called with a gasp, pointing. “Did you hear that filthy word?”

“Don’t try to sway him to your side!” Aya cried in return. “He loves me!”

“Excu--Is that right?”

“He does he just doesn’t want to admit it yet!”

From the couch, Kunikida was rubbing at his face, clearly experiencing some sort of brief existential crisis. Dazai only smirked. “Well, I have some unfortunate news for you.”

Aya blinked at that, decidedly flabbergasted as she watched the former executive wander over to where Kunikida was steaming. Said spectacled man looked up at him with a glare. “What.”

“What do you mean what, Kunikida-kun?” Dazai had an air of dramatized hurt in his gasp. “Did you not tell her you were spoken for?”

Instantly, Kunikida flushed, a tingle in the back of his neck as his partner was suddenly plopped beside him, wrapping arms around his waist. “She’s a child, Dazai.”

“I don’t think you were clear enough, Kunikida-kun.”

“She asked to be my wife! I told her that was an unacceptable venture for her!”

Aya, for her part, didn’t quite look betrayed, but there was certainly a shock. She seemed especially childlike in that moment, gaze darting between the two without comprehension. Then, she returned to her put out expression. “You didn’t tell me it was because you had a man at home!” She echoed an earlier, if then hollow, sentiment.

Dazai was huffing, poking at the other man’s cheeks. “After all the things I did for you today! The calls I made! I got Master Carlisle and everything, and this is how you treat me.”

“...You said he just happened to stop by.” Golden orbs behind shining glass widened. “W...were you lying to get me to come back to the office again!?”

Whooops. Dazai immediately detangled from his partner, sliding to the other end of the couch with a tiny smile and raised shoulders.

Kunikida was askanced. “Y-you mean you called him all the way here and I missed--” There was a moment of silence, a moment where Dazai could see the clear inner turmoil to drop the matter for more pressing ones. “She did not meet the standards, Dazai! This I told her!”

Aya stamped her foot again for attention. “Why are you screwing around with a former member of Port Mafia, anyway? He’s nothing but trouble.”

“Former is better than current.” But Dazai was growing increasingly bored, rubbing his face. “Kunikida-kun, all fun aside, she needs to go home now.”

There was no helping that point, and Kunikida could see the seriousness in Dazai’s demeanor. He sighed. “Aya, I’m sorry. I can’t have someone from Port Mafia knowing where I live.”

She waved her hands about, urgency new in her tone. “He won't tell, I swear! If I ask, he won’t say…!”

“Oh, please.” Dazai’s eyes rolled.

“He won’t. You don’t know him like I do, Mister!”

“Trust me,” his head rested against the cushions of the couch. “I know everything about him.”

“How could you know everything about him?” Her hands were back to her hips.

“Because he was my partner.” Dazai’s nose was upturned, as if that was all that needed to be said regarding the matter. As if the statement was its own irrefutable proof.

“I know that,” Aya said. “And I know he hated it.”

Dazai only shrugged. ���As his partner, it was my job to know everything about him. And trust me, I was thorough.” He pointed a finger at her. “You have a tomato allergy. Your favorite movie was Kiki’s Delivery Service. And you couldn’t sleep at night unless Chuuya sang you a lullaby.”

Well, if that didn’t make the girl’s eyes bulge, her face redden with a sense of violation. She stuttered a bit, and Dazai’s gaze drifted from her to Kunikida, who seemed to be trying to imagine a feared Mafia member singing to a child every night by the way he squinted into the distance. Aya soon found her voice. “B-but, you couldn’t know that just being some business partner! Chuuya doesn’t trust people that easily!”

“No,” Dazai crooned, chin resting on his palm. “I suppose he doesn’t.” He couldn’t have seemed more smug.

Her stare remained fixed, but that satisfied look already was familiar enough to her. After all, he’d looked at Kunikida exactly the same way… “ Ew!” she cried suddenly. “Ew ew! You didn’t--!”

“Oh, I did.” Brown eyes sparkled with mischief. “Many, many times.”

While she sputtered out her disgust, Dazai finally rose to his feet with a sense of finality, hands sliding into his pockets. “This is all to say, he will absolutely tell.”

“I think it’s much better if we escort you someplace your brother can pick you up.” Kunikida raised a hand when he caught the still red but crestfallen stare from the child. “I cannot have a Port Mafia executive know where I live under any circumstances. You may trust your brother, but I cannot. However, if you really are keen on being a warrior of Justice…” His glasses flashed. “We can work something out at the Agency.”

That gave Dazai pause. “...Kunikida-kun, ah…” He didn’t fear Chuuya often, if at all, but if he dragged his sister to the enemy… “That may not the best laid plan.”

“Yes, Dazai? Something you are concerned about?” His face was stone.

“Do you really intend to bring an underage family member of Port Mafia into the Agency?”

“We brought Kyouka in as per Atsushi’s request.”

“Kyouka,” Dazai countered calmly, “had no blood relatives, and she cut ties with the Mafia.” Not unlike himself.

“I understand your concern. But the thought that her blood is Mafia black solely as a Nakahara is grossly ignorant and unfair. Besides…” Dazai, amidst his scoff, caught the golden eyes take on a softness as he glanced at Aya once again. “She passed her test to become a member. Down in the subway, she was willing to sacrifice herself to save a train full of people. She looked death straight in the face to protect those that needed it.”

He hated it when Kunikida got like this. Wrapped up in those ideals, he’d be near impossible to tear back into the real world. In that moment, he wasn’t looking at Aya. He was looking at the grown girl she could be, she might be, strong and brave and far, far away from the Mafia and the underground. Few things could be done when Kunikida settled into that state.

From the window, a street light was flickering, pulsing its dying white gleam on and off the apartment floor.

Dazai turned to regard the girl, crouching so they were level. He didn’t look at her like a child this time. “Would you leave your brother forever?” he asked. “Would you make him your enemy?”

Would you make the only world you once knew despise you? Would you treat the place you’d called home like it was beneath you? Would you toss away all remorse, because you had to? Would you look those you once trusted in the eye and watch the hatred bloom within them, just for you? Would you smile at the sight, relish in the sight, because it was the only vindication you had?

With a flinch, Aya stepped back and away. “W-why would I do that? I’m not a fighter yet!”

And that was that.

Dazai rose back to his feet, staring brazenly on Kunikida. “She’s not ready for what you’re asking, Kunikida-kun. She may not be Mafia, but she never was. It changes nothing.”

He wanted to say more, to caution Kunikida to be mindful what he assumed about unfairness when Port Mafia was involved, what being Mafia blooded really meant, but instead he turned back on his heel, back to his phone, this time with no intention of interruption. He held the phone screen to her face. “Is this still Chuuya’s number?”

Aya’s glare of indignation hadn’t left her, but it had extinguished some as she nodded in affirmation. Then she looked down.

Dazai glanced at Kunikida, even as his thumbs tacked away. “Stay here,” he said, slipping his shoes back on. “I’ll be back.”

The soft night air greeted him with a gentle wind brushing his face, his hair. He stared out into it, squinting past the yard.

He didn’t find neutral ground for them to meet.

Instead, he turned to his own apartment, left the door unlocked, and took his place on his futon with a sigh. Rested on his side, he propped himself on one palm with a deep and long-suffering sigh as he waited for his visitor, the same one that would know exactly where he was, not from a tracking device or anything so mysterious, but from memory.

What a pain.

Behind closed eyelids, he could picture the figure approaching the complex, hat brimmed over his eyes and coat fluttering behind as he walked up the stairs. Dripping with attitude, of course. He hadn’t been messaged in ages, he’d be as annoyed by the message as he would be suspicious. Yet, he’d come. He always came.

“Still sleeping on that old futon, I see.”

One brown eye peeked open, and another sigh released before Dazai responded. “Of course. It’s as reliable as it memorable.” Then he was sitting up, palms propping him up behind as he sat up. “We have a problem.”

“And what is that?” Chuuya asked with a sneer as he planted himself down on a chair. “I’m pretty sure any problems with your little friends doesn’t concern me.”

“I wouldn’t bother you about that.” His hum was soft, letting it settle for just a moment. “You know your sister is with a member of your enemy. Why aren’t you more concerned?”

“Because my sister is very headstrong. Telling her to do anything is beyond my control at this point.” His eyes rolled. “Besides, there are worse people she could be in the company of. Your idealistic partner is completely harmless, and even you wouldn’t hurt her.”

“She’s already attached. She even has a crush on him.” Dazai side-eyed the other with a hint of amusement. Not that anyone would blame the girl, of course.

Chuuya’s nose instantly wrinkled. “Does she now.”

“She’s changed a lot since I last saw her.” That did give Dazai a chuckle, strangely fond. There was a feeling equally strange and fond when the words caused Chuuya’s chest to rise with pride.

“Of course she has. I did attempt to raise her well, after all.” And they both knew Ozaki would have killed him if he’d done anything less.

“I can tell.” She was so like the little boy that Dazai had once met. A brush of affection touched his chest, before he shooed it away. “Anyway, she’s going to want to see Kunikida again, you know.”

Chuuya looked up at him, the soft expression that had danced in the orbs a moment ago gone now. “I’m sure she will, if she’s already attached to him.”

“No one can know about it.”

“That’s not exactly a secret I can keep, you know. I’m not the only one keeping eyes on her.” It was a warning, and yet… “Exactly how attached is she.”

Dazai shrugged. “She’s your sister.”

“You know her well enough, too.” The brim of the hat tilted up. “When she was a baby, I remember she would sit in your lap until she fell asleep. You wouldn’t move.”

Dazai caught the smirk on Chuuya’s face, and couldn’t help but look away in turn, almost embarrassed, if such a term could even be described for one as shameless as he. “So I held her before she could crawl. I hardly know her nuances. What I do know comes from you.”

Even what he’d used to quiet Aya down had been a direct result of Chuuya. The tomato allergy because he would insist on stopping at places for her dinner, her favorite movie because he’d often catch Chuuya buying toys to bring her home. The lullabies because, well, even if they were in the middle of a mission, he wouldn’t miss an evening to call her and help her sleep.

For once, it was Chuuya that was reading him, because his smirk retained its knowing nature. “And you know quite a bit, don’t you? There’s not much difference between the two of us, I’m sure she’s made that very clear.” He sat back, crossing one leg over the other. “If anything, she’s worse. She’s far too trusting, thinks her bite is worse than her bark, and clings like no one’s business.”

“I don’t know, Chuuya! It still sounds like you to me.” He perked up. “She even goes home with strange men!”

The executive was silent, his eyebrow twitching. “I will throw you across this room.”

“You won’t, though.” Dazai eased back down onto the futon, stretching out. “Kunikida-kun almost tried to get her to join the Agency. I quickly squelched that for you. You’re welcome.”

Dazai could sense the suppressed shiver. After all, the sister of a feared Port Mafia executive, a detective? How undignified. “I guess I’ll thank you for that,” Chuuya muttered, reluctantly, before glancing around. “Where is she now?”

“With him.”

“...Alright. I’ll take her home, then. If she insists on following him around like a puppy, mum’s the word with me.” That would involve lying to Ane-chan, but then, they’d told worse lies.

“Why don’t you let her stay the night. I’ll have him bring her to the extraction point in the morning. Apparently she’s had a frightening day.”

Well, that made Chuuya perk. Like a wolf perked for an oncoming, unexpected storm. “A frightening day? Explain.”

“I thought you had your eye on her.”

“I had a recon mission in the train station today. I couldn’t exactly keep a close eye on her.” Dazai squinted at him slightly. If he knew Chuuya, the sole purpose of the mission would have been to keep an eye on her. But that was neither here nor there, apparently, as he continued. “Her signal died underground and reappeared after thirty minutes. I assumed she took the train.”

“I don’t know all the details,” he said, “but she very nearly died.”

It wasn’t common to see Chuuya frightened. Dazai could count on fingers the times he’d spotted it. This was one of those times. Color drained from his face, even as his eyes shifted from side to side as he fit the pieces together. “So that… bomb scare…” Then the heated glare returned. “You’d better be joking me.”

But it was a weak threat, one tainted with guilt. After all, he was the one that had neglected his sibling, and if Kunikida hadn’t been there… Dazai’s faces suddenly lit up with delight. “Oh-ho! It looks like Chuuya owes the Agency!”

Chuuya didn’t look so amused. “...Did he protect her. Is that why she’s attached to him?”

“Of course. It’s what he does.”

Gloved fingers clenched a little, and the cloaked man was already starting to rise. “I need to see her.”

“Chuuya,” Dazai’s voice was calm, looking him in the eye. “Let her rest.”

“Dazai, don’t separate me from her…” There was a growl beneath his voice.

“No one is separating you from anything. But she wants to be near him. She feels safe near him.”

“She’s my--!” But he huffed, and for a moment he paced about in a circle. The actions of the helpless. “Fine. Fine, damn you. Tomorrow morning at nine. Where are we meeting.”

“The park at the end of the street will do fine, I’m sure.” It was far enough away that Kunikida wouldn’t suspect Chuuya having any knowledge of the Agency’s apartments.

“Fine.” It was an unspoken testament of trust, that he wasn’t knocking down the door he knew full well his sister would be behind. This wasn’t lost on either of them. “If you’re late, I’ll punch your face in.”

“You won’t, though.” Dazai smirked as he watched the other near the door, pulling out his phone once again to tell Kunikida that everything was taken care of, but he’d be retiring to his own quarters for the night. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Chuuya?”

“What?” He turned about slowly to glare at him. Dazai’s phone buzzed, Kunikida’s quick reply of affirmation.

“You did a good job, raising her. She’s something special, even without her powers.” Even he could admit, not many would have braved what she had.

The compliment caught him off-guard, but he didn’t seem to doubt Dazai’s sincerity. “...Well, she means a lot to me. It’s easier to do a job when you feel like that.”

“I know.” He nodded, then hummed. “But thank goodness she didn’t develop your fashion sense!”

The soft look was gone from Chuuya as soon as it had come, and with one hand, he reached out to touch a dirty plate, enveloping it in red and whirling it straight toward Dazai’s face, an attempt ultimately foiled by a well timed duck from the detective.

“The next one won’t miss, you asshole!” Chuuya glared but moved to adjust his coat on his shoulders, indignant.

“You didn’t have to break a lamp to make a point!” He smirked, though, as he watched Chuuya turn and finally tear open the door to leave. “And don’t forget, you owe us now!”

“I don’t owe you for anything! It’s your job to help people, you self-righteous, useless mackerel!”

But even when he slammed the door, Dazai was smirking.

No, he owed them.

And he knew it.