Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Confetti tinted the agency’s office that for once wasn’t surrounded by tension and stress. Outside the door there was a festoon with crooked kanjis that said: “Happy agency’s rehab”; tables were full of pizza, sushi and every other kind of garbage food that they decided to eat that evening. They tried to lure Fukuzawa into it, but the president refused, saying that he had business to take care of: no one asked what it was, but it was obvious that the only work he had to do was buying dried sardines to feed cats in the sixth district. 

Not that they had the courage to tell him, he was very secretive about it. 

Everyone was chatting happily, Atsushi even volunteered to cook a cake or two and in fact, he was still with his gloves holding his last creation, showing it proudly to both Kyoka and Tanizaki. 

Sigma was sitting on the couch between Ranpo and Kenji. He held a bunch of cookies between his hands as he listened to the other two talking about random things: they switched from gardening to sweets and every time a brand of cookies was mentioned, Ranpo patted the newbie on the shoulder laughing aloud: “I will make you try them, Sigma-kun!” It was difficult to imagine how they were holding a conversation, yet it seemed possible for those three.

Sat at the buffet table, with his head on the palm of his hand, Kunikida observed the light-hearted atmosphere with a fond expression. It wasn’t often they got quiet days like this, especially after the whole terrorism fiasco. Nightmares haunted him, sometimes he woke up in the night, drenched in sweat and with flashes of his hands missing and his chest drenched in his own blood. He was sure the others felt the same way. Risking to lose their job, their home, their life, placed an amount of stress on their shoulders that was the heaviest since the agency was founded. 

Even the president opened up a bit and admitted he seriously considered they were done, the memory made Kunikida shiver. Knowing that even the president thought this time they couldn’t make it, shot a pang of anxiety in his chest. He frowned and turned his head to the side, to dismiss his thoughts: He shouldn’t think about sad things or what happened, the most important thing now was that they were all safe, they were all alive.

That’s why when the youngsters and Ranpo suggested throwing a party to celebrate the agency’s rehab of their reputation, Kunikida didn’t have the heart to say no. Instead, he was delighted at the idea of throwing a party in honor of the agency; it gave him a sense of normalcy that was missing during the last weeks. 

-C’mon, drink a little more, Kunikida. We have to party.

Kunikida answered with a groan as Yosano filled his glass again. He swallowed the cheap wine she bought with the agency’s budget again and his vision blurred: he was slowly losing consciousness. Next to him, there were two empty bottles of wine and one of sake. With his head slowly falling off his hand, he wondered how much his head was going to hurt in the morning. 

Yosano had that terrible habit of getting drunk during parties, and while Kunikida didn’t judge anyone who enjoyed drinking, he had a problem with Yosano. She didn’t like to drink alone and always asked someone to drink with her, and most of the time, the “someone” was Kunikida. Maybe because he wanted him to shut up, who knows. 

He told her one hundred times that he was a lightweight, and she ignored him all one hundred times.

That evening the story repeated itself. He was scolding Dazai for taking the agency’s couch all for himself to sleep, and they had been going on for fifteen minutes like that, with Kunikida that yelled “you can’t sleep in the middle of the party” and Dazai that whined back with his head on the arm of the couch. “But Kunikida-kun, I’m tired!”. He was about to throw him in front of the door when Yosano grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt and dragged him to the table where water, wine and soda laid there still untouched.

So, even if with reluctance he decided that he could allow himself to drink, after all, he wasn’t working. He just hoped Dazai wouldn’t try to sleep on the couch, with all that noise he was just going to get a headache. 

He let Yosano pour the wine in his glass. A drink or two weren’t going to hurt. 

Yes, a drink or two his ass.

About one hour later here he was, with his cheeks burning against his hands, eyes unfocused with all his glasses on and ears muffled because of how drunk he was. Yosano swayed from right to left with the bottle of wine between her hands. 

-She really has a huge nose, all pink; and look at her black spots, I’d like to get them off her. 

Yosano was rambling about how badly she wanted to vivisect Kenji’s pet cow that was now in the middle of the office. Kunikida considered Yosano may be even more drunk than him since she thought she was a vet instead of a doctor. Doctors didn’t vivisect cows, that was a vet’s job, right? Uh, he couldn’t focus on his thoughts. 

He blinked slowly, with his mouth agape as he swallowed another glass in only one go. His head spun a moment after and it slipped from his hand, falling with his forehead on the table.

That one was going to leave a mark.

Alright, that was enough for that evening. He should really stop before fainting: he knew the others wouldn’t have resisted the urge to draw on his face and he really didn’t want to spend the night in an attempt to clean his face from moustaches and dots drawn with black marker. 

He forced his head to rise from the table even if it felt heavy. The lights of the office came into view again as he searched the bottle of water on the table.

 Every part of his body felt sluggish, the vertebrae of his back popped one after another and he realized he spent too much time sitting in the same position. 

Yosano was about to fill his glass again but he stopped her, tearing his glass away and placing it at his left so she couldn’t pour wine in it anymore. Yosano shrugged and started drinking from the bottle as if nothing happened. 

Kunikida was surprised he still had the strength in himself to frown. Well, as long as she didn’t get him more drunk than how he already was, she could do what she wanted.

His hands grabbed the carafe of water on the table only to discover that it was empty. He glanced over from left to right to see who could have drunk it, when his poor eyesight distinguished Kenji pouring what remained of the other bottle in the cow’s bowl. 

Kunikida scowled but decided to say nothing: if he were to talk, he was sure that the only sounds he’d produce would be a string of incomprehensible words.

He tried to think about a solution with the little of lucidity that remained in himself: they always had spare bottles. It happened that Ranpo needed it after eating too many candies or that clients cried during interviews, so water was something that along with coffee, never lacked. Ah, right now he remembered. All the other bottles were in the kitchen. That meant he had to get up.

 Well, it couldn’t be helped, his thoughts dripped with resignation. 

With his legs feeling like jelly, he staggered with the floor that curved under his shoes until he reached the entrance of the kitchen: the sight of the mess already gave him a headache. 

Atsushi left the whole stove covered in cake dough and the oven open. Flour covered the floor and some footprints carried it around the room. He clicked his tongue: that kid was so happy to show the others the cakes he made that he left a disaster in the kitchen. There were still the bowls piled in the sink. 

On normal days, he would have already rolled his sleeves up and cleaned everything in seven minutes and thirty seconds (he’d spare the last thirty seconds to go and grab Atsushi to scold him), but right now he didn’t have the heart and the mind to go and reprimand him. He would have written that in his notebook and scolded him on Monday when they were really getting back to work.

When he would have found his notebook again, when he was capable of writing again. But he was going to do it. 

He looked back at the main room where Ranpo was trying to beat Kyoka at a contest where they had to swallow as many sour candies as possible. Everyone was cheering and clapping their hands. It brought a smile to his lips.

Well, maybe since it was an evening party, he could close an eye today. After all, Atsushi always worked hard. 

Staggering on his feet he left the corridor and entered the kitchen, catching his reflection in the mirror of the oven: his eyes were glistening and his cheeks were cherry red. Damn, it was all Yosano’s fault, she never knew when to stop.

He walked till the small fridge with the pavement sinking again under his feet: he grabbed a bottle of water and closed it when he heard the choir of voices cheering for Kyoka and Ranpo. It made him smile again.

-Kunikida-kun is smiling, should I be worried?

His heartbeat picked up. 

That voice, so carefree, so sudden, so familiar , made him flinch. He turned just to spot Dazai leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed and a knowing smile stretching his lips. The sight of his partner let comfort hit him like a wave of warmth.

He huffed and leaned with his back on the aisle as he opened the bottle of water.

-I smile on a daily basis, - he bit back with words merging together. – It’s just that you never see me because you always get on my nerves.

Dazai huffed in an exaggerated manner and walked till reaching the fridge. He leaned on the handle for a moment before opening it and grabbing a small bottle too. He sighed and swallowed all the water in one go. Then, he leaned over the table, or better, fell on it, placing his forearms and elbows on the surface. Kunikida followed his movements with his eyes: he didn’t need to be sober to understand that Dazai was as drunk as he was.

-We’re partying tonight, can you store the grumpy version of yourself for when we will be working again?

-Okay, okay. You’re right. – He replied with his eyes still traveling on his figure. -Done sleeping?

He asked with his voice barely louder than a whisper. 

Dazai frowned, resembling the expression of a pouting child and another wave of warmth hit Kunikida.

-I tried, but there’s too much noise. 

-I imagined it. 

A comfortable silence fell between them. Kunikida peeked at his partner with a fond look: they had been apart for weeks, he barely had any news about where he was, if he was alive, if he was able to escape. When he heard his voice again, he wanted to put his hands around his neck and choke him so hard to be sure that Dazai was right in front of him and he wasn’t hallucinating for the fourth time since that mess began. But he wasn’t going to tell him.

Despite getting annoyed most of the time with how disorganized and messy Dazai was, as days went by Kunikida started to find everything a bit monotonous without him disrupting his plans. 

He looked at him, his head spinning to the point that he thought he could see Dazai’s fluffy locks fluctuate like small snakes. But even so, he could clearly see his side profile, the little smile pulling his lips up and his eyes glistening under the warm lights of the kitchen. He was staring at the wall in front of him, lost in thought, or maybe he was just listening to the others cheering in the other room, Kunikida couldn’t tell; for once, his eyes didn’t hold any glint of mischievousness and he didn’t look like he was plotting something against him. He just looked calm, Kunikida swore he saw that expression twice in all his time knowing him. 

-It’s over.

Dazai said all of a sudden, with his eyes still lost in front of him. It was as if he was saying that to himself instead of Kunikida, to comfort himself, to tell him that maybe this time they were going to have a moment of peace.

His mouth moved on its own, his eyes stayed on Dazai’s profile. He didn’t know why he said what he said, but Dazai looked so small next to him and not because he was crouched on the table. 

He just wanted to answer him and not let the conversation die now.

-It is. I thought that this time everyone was going to die for real.

-You always worry too much.

Dazai elbowed Kunikida with his bandaged arm. It lasted just for a second but his touch made his skin tingle. He was warm, almost warm like the feeling spreading in his chest. 

-I knew my partner would handle things the right way while I wasn’t here.

Kunikida huffed and placed the bottle on the table to cross his arms. The word “partner” pronounced with such fondness turned his cheeks warm. 

-Oh, shut up. Don’t act like you always know everything.

He answered, elbowing him back. Dazai’s red on his cheek seemed to darken but probably it was just the light. He looked around, with his eyes drowsy and unfocused but definitely catching the important details of the room.

-I missed this place. When I saw it again, I felt my heart skipping a beat. I was starting to lose hope if I have to be honest.

Probably it was the alcohol flooding in his veins because if he were sober, he was sure he wasn’t going to open up with someone about that. He knew that it was normal to feel like that when you risked losing everything you had, but saying it aloud somehow embarrassed him.

On the other hand, it has been so long since he had someone to talk to, and it wasn’t like Dazai was a complete stranger, instead, of all those two years working together, he was sure they had never been as close as in that quiet moment. It's been a while since they’d been alone, just the two of them.

-I missed it too. 

Dazai’s answer came in a quiet tone, the one he used when he really meant something. Kunikida felt the vibrations of his voice reverb in his own chest: he turned to look at him and he found Dazai’s eyes on him already. For some reason, his stomach sank. 

They looked at each other without saying anything, just observing their faces as if the last time they saw each other was years ago, and effectively, it felt like that. Too many things happened and Kunikida felt as if he had lost track of the time.

As for Dazai, the sight of his grumpy partner with a slight smile on his face made his heartbeat quicken against his will. Since he entered the room, his heart kept beating so loud that if he’d been with his chest bare, his partner could have seen it go up and down. Kunikida smiling was a rare sight, but that was what made it so important and beautiful: it meant that he was happy about something for real, that it came from the depths of his heart. It was honest like everything he did because at the end of the day, that was what Kunikida was, a simple but honest man.

Kunikida was torn away from that peaceful atmosphere when applause exploded from the main room cheering Ranpo’s name. It looked like there was no match when it came to candies.

-Pfft, looks like they have a winner.

Dazai’s small laugh brought Kunikida’s attention back to him. He was staring at a blank point in the room with a little smile pulling his lips: his elbows and arms were still folded on the aisle. Kunikida's heart twirled at the sight. 

He tucked one of Dazai’s locks behind his ear, making the other turn to look at him. As soon as their eyes met, they both looked away. Dazai’s gaze wandered around the room while Kunikida looked down at the tip of his shoes, but it lasted nothing, because they found themselves peeking at each other with a timid smile all over again. 

Maybe it was the fact that they were both drunk or the fact that under the light of the kitchen Dazai looked so vulnerable, or even the fact that everything he said that evening was full of a fondness Kunikida never heard, but in that moment all he felt was the huge wanting for something, and the next thing he knew was that he was crouching to Dazai’s height to meet his lips.

It was a quick peck; their lips almost didn’t touch but it was all Dazai needed to cup Kunikida’s cheek and drag him close to him again.

A gasp escaped Kunikida when he pressed his lips on Dazai’s. His head spun, the feeling of their lips brushing against each other caused warmth to pool inside his stomach. 

He grabbed Dazai by his waist and closed the distance between them, earning a sigh from the other. 

Dazai’s mouth was sweet, probably because of the wine Yosano was selling to everyone who was legal in that office but Kunikida didn’t mind. After all, his lips must have been sweet too since he drank a lot too. For a second, the back of his mind screamed to him to get a grip, but he ignored it and grabbed Dazai’s head closer to kiss him for the third time.

His head was fuzzy and a lot of thoughts were merging together, he couldn’t distinguish them since they were all fragments, the only thing Kunikida knew was that he wanted to keep kissing him again and again. Dazai’s thumbs rubbed circles in his waist, making Kunikida sigh. 

It was messy, it was all a blur and probably tomorrow he wasn’t going to remember a thing about it, but at the moment Dazai’s skin was soft under his hands and he found himself thinking that he should have kissed him way before that evening.

They both parted, panting with their foreheads pressed together. They looked at each other, Kunikida’s head ran in circles, trying to find something to say but then he just smiled. He smiled so widely that the corner of his eyes wrinkled, bringing Dazai to smile too; a beautiful, genuine and honest smile. 

But all good things come to an end.

The sound of a whistle broke their bubble and Kunikida widened his eyes. His heartbeat quickened but this time wasn’t because of Dazai.

He turned his head and noticed that Ranpo and Atsushi were there. Atsushi with the baking tray empty between his hands and Ranpo clapping his hands slowly in their direction: he was staring at them with both his eyebrows raised and his lips pursed. Kunikida swore he could see Ranpo’s thoughts run through his head.

His blood ran cold.

Atsushi kept looking at them with his eyes widened and his mouth gasping for air. The boy was choking as he tried to articulate his thoughts. 

-I-uh, Kunikida-san and Dazai-san you…

Ranpo interrupted him with an amused laugh.

-Ah, I see. That’s how things are. – He patted Atsushi’s shoulder. – Well, I’ll go back to the others.

And with that, he sauntered towards the office room, screaming something about Kunikida and Dazai kissing. Atsushi hesitated, looking both at his superiors; then, he looked like he made a decision and threw the baking tray on the aisle before following Ranpo in an attempt to stop him.

In that moment it was as if the alcohol left Kunikida’s body and he sobered up in one second. He let go of Dazai immediately, the thoughts of warmth and kisses forgotten and he ran after Ranpo to the other room as he blabbered excuses about why it happened.

Dazai stood there in the kitchen, blinking in confusion. The room suddenly felt too big for him alone.

Kunikida sighed and stopped typing his report. He took a sip of his coffee and placed the cup next to his laptop. His temples were throbbing to the point he could barely distinguish the words on the monitor; if he were just a little lazier, he was sure he was going to call in sick. Not one of his best Mondays for sure.

Not to mention that his colleagues were shooting suspicious glances at him since he entered the office that morning. Alright, let’s be clear: they always observed everyone, they were a damned detective agency but he couldn’t say that it applied to colleagues too. During the mornings they were all too drowsy or tired to care about who they had around. Ranpo even used to sleep on his desk, yet, today he was observing him with a deep glare that was similar to the one he had on crime scenes.

“Kunikida, I didn’t know your ideal woman was a man.

That was the only thing Ranpo told him when he arrived at the office that morning. He shot him a confused look, and Ranpo opened his eyes just enough to show his green eyes glimmering with interest. 

What was all of that about?

Ranpo just stared at him motionless for a moment, before nodding to himself.

-Oh, I understand. Is that so? – He murmured with an astonished expression before leaning back on the office’s chair. – Well, nevermind. Forget what I said.

He looked him up and down, Ranpo’s words lingered in his head for an instant but the sharp pain throbbing at his temples held him back from arguing. In the end, he just shrugged and went to sit on his chair and started working.”

Just when his headache seemed to lessen, Tanizaki arrived with a pile of new paperwork about recent cases.

-Kunikida-san, where do I put these? – He asked without looking at him. – Uh, but if you’re busy I can come back later— 

-Over here, thanks.

He hissed in a murmur: his temples were throbbing so much as soon as he tried to think. He watched Tanizaki dump the reports on his desk before staring at him. Kunikida observed him back with a slight frown. Did he have something to say?

But as seconds passed Tanizaki said nothing, he came to the conclusion that Tanizaki was acting weird as well. He was about to tell him if something was wrong but the boy excused himself with a bow and walked away. 

Kunikida followed him with his eyes. Alright, something was seriously wrong. He stood there in silence, not really knowing what to do for the first time in his life. An uncomfortable feeling set in his chest as he felt the eyes of someone on him; he looked around but everyone seemed busy: Ranpo was sleeping, Kenji was away for a case, Yosano in her office, Tanizaki was back to his desk filing reports so the only one could be someone in front of him. He looked in Atsushi’s direction and in fact, there he was, the boy was peeking at him. However, as soon as they’re eyes met, Atsushi flinched and looked away. 

Kunikida lifted an eyebrow when Atsushi started typing faster just because he was staring at him. Honestly, what he was about to do was embarrassing: he wasn’t used to asking for help from someone younger than him but at that moment he thought he could make an exception. 

He clicked his tongue and shook his head in resignation before looking at Atsushi again. 

-Hey brat.

Atsushi stiffened and abruptly stopped the erratic typing on his laptop. Like a cat caught ripping curtains, he turned his head to meet Kunikida’s eyes with a guilty look. 

-K-Kunikida-san?

-Why is everyone acting weird? – Atsushi lifted an eyebrow and Kunikida tried to keep his cool just because throwing a tantrum for something so insignificant was unprofessional. – Everyone is staring at me, you were doing the same just a second ago. Why is that? What happened?

His voice resembled the one he used during interrogations, and Atsushi seemed to notice that because his hesitation didn’t last long before he forced an answer out of his mouth. 

-It’s because you and Dazai-san—

-Good morning, everyone.

Just then, Dazai opened the office door two hours late for his shift. 

The same eyes that were staring at him travelled on Dazai and then on him again. With the corner of his eyes, Kunikida noticed Atsushi resumed his work while peeking at both of them subtly and it clicked. 

Oh. So the problem was with both of them, whatever happened was probably something that had to do with them, together , which considering the list of weird things Dazai made him do, it wasn’t a novelty. What was new was their colleagues staring at them curiously. 

But when was the last time they were together and could have done something? They reunited with the rest of the agency only recently after the whole terrorism mess, and despite sharing the same room, they didn’t have the occasion to talk since the huge amount of backlog they had. 

The only moment that something could have barely happened was at the party yesterday evening, but he couldn’t recall anything out of the norm, so why was half of the agency looking at them?

Dazai flopped on his seat and only in that moment Kunikida realized his eyes followed him during all the path from the door to his desk. They exchanged glances: Dazai narrowed his eyes and Kunikida felt as if his partner was scanning all his thoughts, even the ones he didn’t know he had. After all, he surely noticed that something was wrong with him. Then, as if his seriousness was just a windblow, he resumed his mirthful expression and opened his laptop without saying anything. 

Kunikida stood there with an unpleasant feeling pooling in his chest: just what was that?

He hesitated and considered insisting, but in the end he resumed his work as well. If Dazai didn’t want to talk about it now, then maybe it wasn’t the moment. He just hoped that his presentiment was right. 

After all, they just reopened and they were full of work to do. His colleagues couldn’t keep staring at him all day. 

Right, if he ignored the others, they were going to stop. 

 They were going to stop his ass. 

For all morning he could feel the eyes of the others burning his skin. He tried to distract himself with reports, but to no avail since every time he got up to grab a document Ranpo’s eyes followed him, or when he yelled at Dazai to do his work the other’s ears perked up to hear what they were saying to each other. 

In fact, the interest was focused mostly on him and Dazai. 

Each time he and Dazai looked at each other, exchanged a word or simply discussed the details of a mission, the corners of the eyes of everyone were focused on them. Just what did happen? Why was everyone staring at them? Sure they bickered but it was never subject to the interest of the others. 

Could it be that Dazai wasn’t feeling well? He peeked at him from his laptop: he seemed fine. 

Kunikida mentally checked all the possible reasons his partner couldn’t be well that morning: well, he came to work two hours late, but he came. It meant that he had enough strength to get up and go through the workday. He had witnessed worse. Then, he didn’t look like he had eyebags under his eyes, so he slept. Did he eat? He made a mental note to ask him later. Was he sick? No, his nose wasn’t red and he didn’t sneeze or cough, his hair was unkempt as usual and the bandages were as white as a cloud so he changed them recently. 

To be brief, for Dazai’s standards, he looked decent. Kunikida didn’t sense anything worrisome about him. Instead, he looked quiet today, quieter than usual. His lips hinted at a smile and his eyebrows were relaxed. He wore the kind of look that someone had when they were experiencing the ease given from recalling a comforting memory. 

His eyes stood on Dazai longer than he meant, then, he shook his head and returned to his work. He had no reason to overthink that. Maybe it was really just in his head.

This atmosphere made of tension and doubts went on until the first hours of the afternoon where most of their colleagues were out on a break or immersed in activities that had little to do with work at all. But Kunikida was too absorbed in his thoughts to scold them. His head was full of background thoughts that made his head buzz annoyingly: he had the impression that he worked on autopilot for all the morning. 

However, things took an interesting turn when he already completed half of his daily work and caught a glimpse of Dazai and Atsushi’s conversation.  

Dazai kept insisting he wanted to teach Atsushi about his “seducing skills” to woo women, a thing that probably mattered less than zero to the boy. 

-Tigers reach sexual maturity at the age of five. You’re eighteen, Atsushi-kun, where is your tiger lady , mh? 

Atsushi sighed in annoyance.

-Dazai-san, -  Despite his cheeks tinted in red, his narrowed eyes showed all his suspicion. – I don’t think my tiger has anything to do with that. 

-Uh? Obviously it does. – Dazai lamented while leaning over the seat. – If your smell and sight are stronger than an average human being, your maturity probably came faster than other humans too.

That was enough. 

Kunikida threw him a highlighter to make him shut up and hit Dazai right on the forehead. His fluffy hair jumped like a wig. 

-Ouch. That hurt, you know? 

Dazai started massaging the sore spot with his hand.

-Leave the boy alone, freak. Keep those indecent topics outside of the office. 

-You’re mean, Kunikida-kun. 

-To be honest, Dazai-san, - Atsushi started with a timid voice. Both Dazai and Kunikida turned their heads to look at him. – I’m not sure if your uh, seducing skills work on women. I mean, the waitress at the café is still turning you down after months. 

Dazai groaned. He was about to add that the waitress was an exception but Atsushi wasn’t done talking yet and with a gentle smile he added:

-But with Kunikida-san is different, isn’t it? 

It was almost imperceptible, but Dazai’s hand twitched on the desk, confirming all Kunikida’s doubts: there was something going on. He couldn’t stand that mystery any longer, damn he was a detective he solved the issues of other people, why couldn’t he do that with his own problems too? 

He adjusted his glasses.  

 -Dazai. 

As if he saw it coming, Dazai turned his head before Kunikida finished talking.

-Mind a word? – He pointed at the door with his head. He saw Dazai following it with his eyes. – I have a few things to ask you.

Dazai took his time to observe him. Again, there was the same serious expression he made a few hours before. He looked as if he wanted to dig into his soul and touch it.

But just like before, that expression went away moments after and Dazai sighed in an exaggerated manner. 

-Well, lead the way, Kunikida-kun. 

They both got up under Atsushi’s surprised stare and left the office. Kunikida was sure he had never walked towards the entrance that fast, the nervousness pulled at his legs and made him walk faster than usual. Dazai on the other hand, looked as relaxed as he usually was, with his hands in the pockets of the trench coat and his half lidded eyes. But it was all pretend, because he was gripping the inside of his pockets so hard that he felt his nails digging into the fabric and leaving marks on it.

Kunikida closed the door behind him and looked at Dazai who was in front of him with both his eyebrows raised. He checked both right and left to be sure they were alone, and then crossed his arms. 

-Alright, why is everyone staring at us?

-At us?

-Tch, don’t give me that. – Kunikida frowned, -I know that you noticed everyone staring at us. Even Atsushi hinted about something between you and me, but I can’t wrap my head around it. 

Something he said? Something Dazai might have said? He didn’t know.

He waited for an answer but as minutes passed, he was met only with silence. Weird, considering that it was Dazai, the one he was talking to, the one who always had an answer ready for everything. He lifted his head to check if the other was still listening when he noticed Dazai looking at him emotionless with his eyes slightly widened: it was as if a sudden realization hit him, a kind of realization that he didn’t like at all.

Dazai leaned back on the wall with his hands in his trench coat. He rested his head on the green tiles and let out a sonorous sigh.

…Alright, Kunikida wasn’t expecting that reaction; he thought Dazai would laugh at him, maybe give him a pat on the shoulder, say “you worry too much” or every other stupid thing he used to say to lighten up the mood when nothing serious was going on.

But the fact that he didn't do that implied that there was a reason why they were given all those weird looks. The cold wind in the building cooled the atmosphere and he found himself shivering from anxiety and cold. 

-Kunikida-kun, you don’t remember?

The flat tone of voice left him even more confused. A shot of nervousness ran down his back making him tense. 

What did he have to remember?

-What?

-C’mon. Yesterday evening, during the party.

Dazai suggested, with his head turned on the opposite side.

Kunikida frowned and took a moment to think but a large part of the party was blurred. He recalled Yosano filling his glass with wine ten times at least, Kenji giving all the water to his pet cow, Atsushi baking the cakes and leaving a mess in the kitchen.

Nothing out of the norms for their standards. He licked his lips and looked at Dazai again, his eyes wandered on his figure in confusion. 

Dazai let out a sigh, emptying his lungs. 

-You were in the kitchen, with a bottle of water between your hands. I was there with you, we were alone.

Kunikida tried to dig into his memory and yes, he recalled he drunk water, Dazai arrived all of a sudden, they talked about something, there were the dim lights, Dazai smiled, he moved a lock of hair behind his ear and then—

He widened his eyes and looked at Dazai again. He was wearing a small smile as he studied his reaction with the corner of his eyes. 

-Looks like you remember now.

Kunikida froze on the spot. He felt his head spin once, twice, then the veins on his neck started to pulse and his heartbeat became the only audible thing in his ears. It was the same feeling he experienced when he got hit with a grenade.

He leaned against the wall behind him and covered his face with his hands.

-We kissed. – He just murmured: his cheeks warmed at the thought. – We kissed. We were drunk and I- you- us, I mean—

He looked at Dazai with his eyes widened: he wanted to smash his head on the ground and lose consciousness but it wouldn’t have changed the fact that it happened.

Dazai was observing him getting riled up by the news with an amused smile on his lips. That bastard.

-W-Why didn’t you say it sooner!

-Because I didn’t want you to panic! I thought you knew! 

-Oh fuck, - Kunikida sighed and shook his head. That was why he stared at him that morning. – Weren’t you drunk too? Why do you remember it?

Dazai chuckled. His carefreeness was getting on Kunikida’s nerves.

-I got drunk too many times to have my memory wiped from a few glasses of wine. I’m no lightweight. 

Kunikida returned with his back on the wall. He needed a moment to think, otherwise he was going to scream so loud that their colleagues were going to hear everything. He didn’t know how many ideals he just burnt with kissing Dazai, with kissing his fucking working partner. There was an entire chapter in his ideal ready to be ripped and thrown away, which wasn’t even the worst thing, since the worst was the fact that the others seemed to know what happened.

-Ranpo-san and Atsushi-kun saw us and Ranpo-san told everyone else. You tried to stop him but you fainted in the corridor.

Kunikida felt the despair take over him: the situation was worse than what he thought. They were curious, they were curious to know if their kiss was intentional, if it was just another of Dazai’s jokes or if it was something that happened in the heat of a moment. That’s why they were looking, it was all so clear now. 

What should he do? Should he tell the president about this? No, wait. It wasn’t the best idea, if he were going to do it, he was going to obviously explain the fact that he was drunk at the office and that he lost all control by kissing his partner that was drunk as well. His working career would be ruined. And after all, it wasn’t an issue regarding work, right? It was a matter between him and Dazai and he doubted that kisses were something that coworkers gave to each other. As always Dazai managed to disrupt both his working and private life, what a menace.

The other seemed to read his thoughts because he chuckled again and waved his hands.

-We were drunk c’mon, it can happen. It’s not a problem for me. – Kunikida peeked at him with his whole posture slouched and his cheeks still red from shame. He was right, it could happen, they certainly weren’t the first pair of people kissing because of alcohol and he should feel lucky that things didn’t go any further because he heard from Yosano worrying stories about people waking up naked in stranger’s beds after drinking too much. In bed with Dazai— he grimaced. No. – It’s not like you’re confessing eternal love to me, even if it’s a shame.

The last part, even if it was just part of his teasing, made Kunikida flinch.

-Wait a moment. – Kunikida massaged his temples: they were going nowhere if Dazai kept teasing him and he got embarrassed. They had to find a balance, after all, wasn’t he the one that always said that focusing on the past was useless? He cleared his voice and adjusted his glasses. – I suppose, uh, that if it isn’t a problem for you, then it is not for me. 

It was right. If Dazai wasn’t worried about it, Kunikida didn’t see the reason why he should keep thinking about it. Right, it wasn’t a problem.

-We can forget it happened and keep working as always. 

-Couldn’t agree more. 

The two exchanged a knowing look: it’s not like they needed a lot of words to understand each other. In fact, at that moment they were both thinking: “ I’m fine with that” . It didn’t matter that Dazai thought it like: “I’m fine with that!” while Kunikida’s one was more: “uh…I’m fine with that, I guess?”

With his face still burning and his heart still throbbing in his chest, Kunikida let out the kind of sigh that usually signaled the end of a conversation and reached the office door again. Dazai was a few meters from him but Kunikida had the impression he was way further.

Maybe it was just the embarrassment taking over him. He wasn’t thinking rationally. 

-Well, let’s get back to work then.

-Ugh and here I was thinking that this situation stressed you enough to allow me to take the day off.

-This is never happening to you. — Kunikida bit back as Dazai dragged his feet next to him. — Oh, and Dazai? Not a word with the others about this conversation. Let’s just tell them that we were drunk and it was all a mistake. 

Dazai smiled in a way Kunikida wasn’t able to define: it was as if he was both proud and sure that he wasn’t going to spill this conversation to anyone. He snapped his fingers and winked at him.

-Your secret is safe with me. 

Kunikida’s apprehension worsened.

He opened the door to enter the office again, Dazai followed his steps and returned to his desk. Kunikida shot a glance at him before returning to his paperwork. Most of their colleagues were still out and the few ones there were basically Naomi and Tanizaki, both busy discussing what to eat for dinner, and Yosano that was hidden in her infirmary waiting for someone to get hurt. At least there weren’t prying eyes anymore looking at him and Dazai.

When they were coming back from their break, he was going to talk with them.

Seriously, they had little to think of if they were so interested in them kissing.

He felt something in his stomach stir again and he tried to focus on work: he took a report from his right. Good, a murder case, really good. That was going to keep his mind off of the matter for a while. It wasn’t a big deal after all, right? It was just a kiss, as Dazai said.

Right, Dazai was right, it was just a drunken kiss, not them declaring eternal love to each other. 

Kunikida grimaced: which kind of fool declares eternal love to a person like Dazai? 

Well, they were going to forget it anyway.

His colleagues would have forgotten that in the matter of a few weeks and then he and Dazai could keep on living as if nothing happened, because for the record, nothing has happened and nothing was going to change.

Absolutely nothing. 

Chapter Text

A week later. 

After they cleared things up about the “kiss gate” (Ranpo decided to name it), Dazai and Kunikida's relationship took a weird turn. No one of the two knew when it started, but the vague feeling of embarrassment that grew during the first days after their discussion now just kept getting bigger to the point that they could barely look at each other in the face. 

-Dazai, did you fill the reports?

Kunikida didn’t even look at him. Dazai did the same. 

-No, I don’t want to. 

Now, it was the moment where Kunikida would get up and yell at Dazai for slacking off, being lazy and all those things that people in the office and Dazai himself learned by heart at that point. 

But this time, when Kunikida raised his head from his computer, the words died in his mouth. His throat closed and all he could do was frown and stare at him. 

When their eyes met, Kunikida averted his and returned to his reports. His heart was hammering in his chest and even if everyone was minding his business, he felt their stares on him.

He waited a few moments before peeking at Dazai again: he was back with his head on the desk, feigning to be asleep, probably to avoid Kunikida’s gaze. 

Kunikida redirected his eyes to the laptop and let the subject drop. 

Things went on like that until the day the president called them in his office. 

Dazai thought that nothing was better than a quiet morning disrupted by the thrill of a new case.   

-Did you call?

Kunikida opened the office’s door. Dazai stayed a few centimeters behind him: even if from outside they looked the same as usual, he couldn’t deny that every time they were together there was a weird energy around them, as if a light layer of awkwardness covered them both like sweat.

It pulled at his chest and he was sure that it pulled at Kunikida’s chest too. He didn’t know how to describe that though. 

Fukuzawa nodded, allowing both of them to enter. The light filtering from the windows tinted the office in a yellowish shade. Dazai peeked at his colleague but as soon as their eyes met, his chest tightened. 

He averted his stare and decided to look around, feigning interest in what was hung on the walls of that office despite having seen those pictures a lot of times.

Kunikida held his hands behind his back and stopped right in front of the desk, waiting for next orders.

The president shot a glance at both of them, both far from each other. Kunikida wore his usual stern expression, while Dazai had the usual messy and disheveled look. They looked the same as always, yet Fukuzawa could tell there was something off.

First of all, Kunikida’s frown was unfocused, his eyebrows twitched and his ponytail was loose, as if it was done in a hurry just to keep his hair out of his sight. It was as if he was struggling to keep his formal attire. 

Dazai never was the image of tidiness and formality but that day there was something in the way he held his hands firmly behind his back and how he was wandering around the office let Fukuzawa understand there was something going on. He knew they were polar opposites and bickered most of the time, but it was mostly harmless from both sides. In a way, their bickering was what helped them go through the most difficult cases sometimes. But this, this kind of tension was new.

-Something happened?

He asked with a pensive look.

-No.

-Absolutely not.

They answered at the same time, looking right at him.

The latter let his eyes run on their silhouettes before shrugging and deciding that at the moment he had more important matters. Whatever it was, he knew they were going to fix it. They were adults at the end of the day. 

-Alright, then let’s skip to the priorities: there’s a case. – He placed the dossier on the desk. – A school in the neighborhood around here requested our assistance. Basically, a group of teens disappeared without leaving any evidence behind. 

Kunikida frowned and glanced at the dossier: the thought of getting back on the field filled his chest with nervousness. It has been a while since they took cases. For a moment, he wondered if he was still able to solve cases but dismissed the thought after a second: he had been doing this for his whole life, it’s not like he could forget how to be a detective. 

-Uhh-uhh kind of weird.

Dazai sprouted out of nothing, making Kunikida flinch. His interest was suddenly renewed. He elbowed Kunikida, who answered with a scoff. 

-I’m sure you will solve it without any problem. 

While Kunikida answered with a bow and grabbed the dossier, Dazai just smiled and trotted towards the door, opening it for Kunikida. The other stopped to look at him with a slight frown. 

-Lead the way Kunikida-kun, after all you were a teacher. 

He could see on Kunikida’s face the beginning of a headache that he really loved to give him. 

Dazai glanced outside the window, watching the trees being reduced to a bundle of green shapes. His eyes tried to follow them but the car was going too fast, so he gave up. After all, he wasn’t really looking at them: the conversation from that morning was still running inside his head; the case, the president’s words, Kunikida’s distracted nod when he told him to lead the way. His stomach tied into a knot that was both nostalgia and melancholy. Normalcy, that’s what Meursault lacked. 

He snorted and rested his back on the car seat. 

It was a huge lie. Dazai shrugged and held back a snort. 

That was just the emotion of being back to the agency, just the time to get used to the routine again and the boredom he always felt was going to come back. It was always like that, nothing new. 

He glanced at his partner: Kunikida was focused on the street, his hands gripping the steering wheel and his eyebrows knitted just apparently. Apparently because if he squinted, he could notice that Kunikida’s eyebrows were knitted upwards, as if he was thinking intensely about something. He let his eyes wander on his figure, but he couldn’t distinguish what was on his mind: from what he could decipher, there were just a bunch of disconnected thoughts. 

The gaps of light coming from the trees touched Kunikida only in some spots. The blocks of the city were way less and the car was now hitting the dirt road: ah, were they going at the outskirts? They never took cases from that part of the city, this was the first time. 

He looked again in front of him: well, he couldn’t blame Kunikida; he supposed they both had a lot to think about, and not just about what happened between each other. After all, everyone had: he was sure that what they faced was one of the most difficult cases the agency ever handled since its foundation.

 They were alive right, everything was returning to normalcy, yet, a lot of things changed: their reputation was still ruined and the memories of what he had been through weren’t going to disappear like magic. Meursault still haunted him and he would have also in the near future, he knew that. 

For Kunikida there was no difference. 

He had the impression he was surrounded by familiar things that now looked foreign, like his relationship with Kunikida. They weren’t big on affection, especially in public, but they worked together and solved some of the hardest cases in Yokohama. He got on Kunikida’s nerves, but he knew there was a moment where he must he serious and Kunikida knew there was a moment when he must listen to his partner, it was their silent agreement, a silent cooperation. 

Yet, now they didn’t communicate at all, even if Kunikida didn’t say it out loud, it was obvious that Dazai’s presence made him feel uneasy, and this time not comically. He himself felt nervousness pool in his stomach whenever Kunikida was close to him. He couldn’t explain what it was, but he was sure there was something different in their relationship. A bomb made of tension that was ticking and waiting to explode. 

With the corner of his eye, he noticed Kunikida glancing at him and his body stiffened. 

-You’re quiet. I don’t like it when you’re quiet. 

-Eh?

-It means you’re plotting something. 

-Oh, c’mon. Can’t I just think for a bit? Do you prefer when I talk? I can talk if you want–

-That’s not, - Kunikida took a breath and he returned to look at the road. The city was far, all that was left was a small railway on the left and the parking lot of the school in front of them. – That’s not what I meant. 

He pulled to the right, in the parking lot and stopped the car. Everything was quiet around them. The voices of the students reached them muffled. 

-If you’re not plotting something, then why were you so quiet?

Dazai’s eyes widened: he felt himself shrink under the burning stare of the other, skeptic. He didn’t mean to be, when they left the president’s office he promised to himself to do everything in his mental power to hide the uneasiness that was going on between him and Kunikida. It wasn’t difficult after all, was it? All he needed to do was talk nonsense, use a loud voice and smile, smile, smile. But as soon as they got in the car, the heavy silence between them returned, the thoughts in the back of his mind absorbed him completely and he preferred to look outside.

The fact was, that Dazai himself didn’t know why he was quiet in the first place. 

Right, why was he being quiet? Maybe he had so much on his mind, maybe he was still trying to process all of the events that happened during the last year, maybe he was wondering if he and Kunikida were going to be the partners they’ve always been, because the people they were now weren’t the people they were when all that mess started.

Maybe his head was still stuck on their drunk kiss. Their drunk, passionate, reciprocated kiss. He was drunk, true, but not enough to not be conscious of what was happening. He could recall the feeling really well: the way his heart hammered in his chest, the way a wave of warmth covered his whole body, Kunikida’s lips were soft, his hands were soft, someone that handles guns on a daily basis can have soft hands? Knowing Kunikida, he must use some kind of hand cream to prevent calluses. 

Wait.

What he meant was that if he wanted to push him away, he could have done that, but no, he kissed him back and if he remembers well, he even pulled him closer. 

He told him to not think about it, that it wasn’t a big deal, but he was still dwelling on it. 

He swallowed and folded his hands on his lap. 

He couldn’t tell Kunikida. He couldn’t reopen the topic. He saw how much embarrassed he was when he discovered it and he didn’t want him to blush and stutter now that they had to work. More importantly, he literally told him to stop thinking about it since it was just a drunk kiss, he couldn’t mention it again as if he was bothered by it. That would just add to the pile of his worries.

He was just stressed, that’s it. 

Kunikida was still staring at him. Alright, he just had to tell a lie with the conviction he used daily. 

-Nothing. – No. That doesn’t work, add something. He cursed himself. – I was just thinking, you know? I think every now and then, Kunikida-kun. 

He used his high-pitched voice and this time, he thought he had done a good job. 

The two exchanged glances, disturbed only by the chatting of the students outside until Kunikida shook his head and looked away, not really interested in his answer. 

-Okay, great even. 

He got out of the car without waiting for him. It echoed with a loud thud. 

Dazai blinked, thinking that the car was too big for him, exactly like the kitchen at the agency that evening. 

He followed Kunikida outside. 

As they reached the entrance Dazai took a look at the school; after all, he had never been to one. The main had old bricks that got stained with humidity, the stairs were cracked on the edges and the fence on the perimeter looked nothing but a formality. Dazai imagined at least ten different ways to break into the school and do burglary. 

A class was running in the yard, probably it was their PE period. Various groups of teens were gathered here and there talking and laughing and a few teachers came and went from the main building. Some guys looked like they were still asleep, but Dazai understood them completely: he was awake only because otherwise Kunikida would have dragged him out of the bed by yelling. Seeing some of them having fun with their friends made him smile, considering that he just brushed that feeling with the tip of his fingers years ago. 

He kept walking before that painful pang in his chest grew stronger, making him spiral again. 

Well, he supposed that it was how things went: some at fifteen hold a pen, others a gun. He followed Kunikida inside. 

As he stared at his shoes getting hit by the light coming from the windows, he recalled that following the information given, they had to meet with the math teacher of the third year class in the teacher’s room. 

The problem was that he lacked the basic knowledge about how a school was built. 

His eyes turned towards Kunikida but he found the other staring, no, observing him already. Dazai stared back and his question died gradually in his throat.

He began to walk again; Dazai stared at him before his legs followed Kunikida on their own. 

After a few moments of silence the corner of his lips pulled up. A tinge of motivation hit his chest for an unknown reason. He peeked at Kunikida next to him: words came out of his mouth naturally, more similar to a thought than something he wanted to tell to his partner. 

-This is our first case together after so much time. 

He muttered as he looked around the corridor of the school. The big windows reflected the soft light of the morning, making his coat shine in a few spots. A cold breeze that tasted like ice and fried stuff blew from the window. 

-Aren’t you a bit excited?

Kunikida frowned in confusion, as expected. He shrugged and looked away. 

-It’s just work.

He muttered. 

They took the stairs and reached the common room. They were in the middle of the morning so probably there were going to be a lot of teachers in there, not exactly the right place to talk about missing people.

Kunikida knocked before opening the sliding door and being met with the chaos that the teacher’s room was in. Papers scattered on the desks, some tests with a bunch of red pen marks, others with barely any. A few desks were occupied by teachers that were busy making calls, others sipped coffee, others just chatted and gathered in small groups.  

Dazai thought that it was no different from the chaos of the agency’s office.

He was already starting to wonder where they had to look for their client, but fortunately, one person was waving at them from the desk at the end of the room. 

He and Kunikida exchanged glances before getting closer to him. 

-Armed detective agency, right?

The teacher greeted them even before they could take a seat. It was a middle-aged man with squared glasses and thin, black hair. He wore a frown but it was obvious from the light in his eyes that he was a good person.

He looked like the older version of someone that was standing at his left right now. 

They exchanged a formal handshake before the teacher motioned for them to sit in front of him where there were two chairs. Evidently he prepared everything.  

-It’s good to see that you’re back in action. I heard you solved some tough cases back in the days.

-I imagine it was you calling for the missing people, right uh – Kunikida asked while taking a seat, the compliment went ignored. His eyes looked over the desk where there was a small stand with his name on it. – Tanaka-sensei? 

The man in front of them nodded, resuming his serious expression. 

-It was me, yes. My first thought was to contact the police, but when I did it, they said that there was no evidence that the guys were missing and that I had to wait, because probably they were going to come back just like others do. – The small frown on his eyebrows deepened. – Yet, I don’t think they ran away, I feel it. 

-Let’s go with order. – Dazai interrupted Tanaka’s train of thoughts. – What precisely happened and when did things take a weird turn? 

The teacher adjusted the small wrinkles on his trousers to buy time to think.

-About five days ago, four students of the class where I teach math disappeared. They were all lazy and usually skipped school. Sometimes I had to drag them here with my hands. I always told them that this is their last year and they had to focus on studying for their finals, but they never listened to me. Since they were lazy, no one got alarmed when they disappeared. Even if I thought that it was weird I tried to hide the fact that I was worried at the time, because I was afraid they could say I was exaggerating. 

He tapped his fingers on the desk, leaving small fingerprints on it because of sweat.

While Kunikida was busy listening to Tanaka, Dazai looked around and noticed how the chatting of the other teachers made it impossible to hear what they were saying, that was the reason why Tanaka chose to talk there and not in an isolated place. Schools were really full of surprises. 

-Everyone started wondering where they were gone when also the bookworm of the class went missing too around the same time. The fact that also someone that didn’t miss one class disappeared made it clear to the others around me that something was happening. 

-What was his relationship with the other four?

-Uh, he got along with them I guess. He helped them study, they seemed to be friends. They were all friends. – Kunikida gestured for him to keep talking. – That was the moment where I decided to listen to my intuition and call the police. 

-But they told you that you had to wait because it was too early to file a complaint. 

-I…yes. I know it’s difficult but could you try to find them? I don’t know who to ask anymore. – The hand that was tapping on the desk stopped and he looked away. – It’s already been five days, if I called you earlier maybe they would have been easier to find. 

The last part of the sentence made Dazai stiffen and his hand seeked comfort in holding the fabric of his pockets: ah, regret. If he looked at it with honesty, it was the police's fault for overlooking the situation, Tanaka just listened to his intuition and acted following it. If something, it was thanks to him that now the students were being searched. And he was the only one that despite the fear, informed the agency. 

But a person that is worried about the disappearance of someone doesn’t want to listen to the logical reasoning of the situation. They needed reassurance that everything would have worked out, even if most of the times the possibilities to solve a case were below the average in these situations. 

-Don’t worry, we will find them. 

Kunikida’s voice interrupted his train of thoughts and his eyes fell on him again: he had placed a hand on Tanaka’s shoulder and despite the kind gestures, his voice was the one that didn’t admit any buts or ifs. 

Kunikida was already taking it on a personal level, he wondered if it was because it was children they were talking about or because the one asking for help was a teacher. He just hoped they were going to find them alive and Kunikida could get out of it without being hurt, some cases were painful to solve. But it was in Kunikida’s nature to help others. 

The honest smile on Tanaka’s lips just added to his doubts.

-Are you sure you can walk? 

Dazai could feel Kunikida’s judging look as he walked outside the hospital. Dazai tried to keep his back and shoulders up as always but it was difficult: the wound on his stomach was still fresh and even if the stitches didn’t hurt as before, each movement, even small, made him feel as if the skin was twisting and breaking. 

The stitches stung on his skin and all he wanted to do was to return to that hospital bed, lay on it and sleep until tomorrow. 

-Yes.

He answered his partner as he tried to put a shoe in front of the other to walk, but he was sure that despite his firm voice, his appearance showed completely how he couldn’t. It has been a lot since he got stitches; he didn’t miss them at all, he thought with a hint of sarcasm. 

-I’ve been through worse. 

The light hearted tone he used to speak broke into a grimace. The stitches felt like tearing his skin at every step he took. He forced a smile: the others needed him, time was against them, organisations were against them, the whole world felt like against them, he couldn’t let someone else handle this case. Not for justice or honour, but because he was the only one that could face him. 

Fyodor was going to win otherwise, and if he won, then they could say goodbye to the world they knew. So yes, he could walk, not because he could for real but because he had to. They had just a few hours left before the virus killed both the president and Mori. 

A warm hand pulled his arm while another encircled his waist. The spot got warm even with bandages on. Looking up he noticed that Kunikida had grabbed his arm and put it on his shoulder, holding it with his hand, while the other was keeping him still holding his waist. He relaxed himself in the embrace.

His heartbeat quickened for a moment before returning to its usual frequency. 

-You can walk my ass, idiot. – Kunikida wasn’t looking at him but Dazai could see the frown on his forehead. – I’ll help you and if you refuse, I’ll let you walk on your own till the rented truck and if your stitches open you can go back inside on your own and–

Kunikida’s insults were the background noise he had to tolerate until they reached Atsushi that was waiting in the truck. But he didn’t mind, honestly, he missed hearing Kunikida screaming at him. 

His heartbeat picked up again at the thought. Kunikida was probably already taking the incident personally. 

-What do you think of the situation?

Dazai looked outside the window. They left Tanaka and were walking through the corridor back to the car; the first thing they had to do was listen to the closest people of the victims: their families. The students outside in the yard were leaving, the bell signaling the end of the third period echoed through the building. 

He recalled what the teacher told them. 

-I’ll be honest, we have little to no information if not the fact that the students were all in the same class and were all of the same age. 

-And that they knew each other. 

-And that they knew each other, right. – He repeated after Kunikida. – While I don’t believe they all flew away or disappeared into thin air, I don’t know what to think for the moment. We should hear the families, but it’s all for the moment. 

Both of them just stared outside, lost in thought. The silence was interrupted by the birds resting on the trees, until Dazai’s eyes got dragged back to Kunikida’s figure: today his head kept running around Kunikida, not that usually it was different: he always came to the office with the thought of annoying him, teasing him, getting on his nerves, but now he just wanted to look at him. It was unintentional.

His hair glistened in the morning sun: did Kunikida’s hair grow since his absence? Or was it just his impression? 

He was about to start a ridiculous conversation about his hair growing, just to break that annoying silence when they both heard footsteps approaching behind their backs. 

They turned their heads, years of training coming at hand and they were ready to take action. Kunikida reacted first and grabbed the intruder by the hem of his shirt, lifting him a few centimeters off the ground. He was about to yell at him when Dazai interrupted him.

-Wait! Kunikida-kun this man—

The badge on his white shirt written in a simple black font, said “custodian”. 

It was Kunikida’s time to widen his eyes. Observing him better, he realized that it was an old man with a cap and a bunch of keys between his hands. He had his eyes widened and the keys fell from his hands, echoing on the pavement of the school. 

Kunikida let him go and the man stumbled on his feet. 

-So? Who are you?

Dazai asked calmly, leaning against the wall.

-I’m the custodian of the school, I didn’t want to eavesdrop on your conversation, I was just passing by. — he pointed at the restroom behind them. — Over there, there are my things. 

Dazai and Kunikida peeked to the door where the custodian was pointing at: inside of it there were a pair of brooms, a coffee machine and what seemed to be an old and ruined green couch. It looked more like a closet than a restroom but neither of them had the courage to say it. 

-Sorry, - Kunikida looked back at the man that was now staring at them half curious and half scared. He didn’t add anything, yet he didn’t look like he wanted to leave. Dazai shot a glance at him from the corner of his eyes: he spent enough time with Kunikida to know that it was the expression he made when he was pondering something. And in fact. – Wait. You said you are the custodian, right? 

The man nodded. 

-Recently some students in this school disappeared. 

He gestured for Dazai to come closer and showed to the custodian the photos of the five missing students. 

-Did you know these guys?

He saw the old man narrow his eyes, then lift his eyebrows and shook his head. 

-Only by sight. They were quite noisy, I always told them to not run in the corridor or skip classes but that’s all I remember. When they disappeared I was surprised how quiet this place could be. 

He looked around with a smile. He seemed a friendly old man, the kind of custodian that probably always stood by the students’ side and that told them where to throw the cigarettes they smoked because he cleaned the trash cans without teachers knowing. Even if smoking wasn’t allowed, a lot of teens did it. Dazai didn’t know much about schools, but he couldn’t imagine people following rules without breaking them every once in a while. 

-So someone has contacted detectives, it looks like the situation is getting serious.

-Yes, a teacher informed us of the problem. He taught in that class. 

-Ah Tanaka? Yes, he's a good teacher. He started this year but he already got known. He’s always worried about his students to the point he used to call home to check those five. 

He smiled again.

-Well, if it’s everything, I’ll go. 

Dazai kept his eyes on him, watching him go as Kunikida’s greeting reached his ears, muffled. The gears inside his head were already moving as he watched the old man waving at them and heading to the restroom and closing the door. 

-Well, let’s head to the car. 

Dazai heard Kunikida’s shoes tapping on the floor, then, after getting slightly far, they stopped; his colleague must have noticed his absence. And in fact, he was still stuck on the same spot as before, a few meters from him, with his eyes still focused on the door of the custodian’s restroom. He leaned on the wall,feeling the cold concrete meet his back: things were getting interesting for sure. 

Kunikida’s voice reached him muffled, but it was enough to tear him away from his thoughts. 

-Dazai? 

-Coming. 

He trotted towards Kunikida and followed him outside. 

-Tell me why we are doing this. 

Kunikida was sitting on a train directed to the neighborhood near the school. Next to him, Dazai was smiling brightly, just adding to his apprehension. 

He checked his watch: ten a.m.

They left the school about a quarter ago, and until then, nothing weird happened. As planned, they were going to listen to the families of the missing students and it seemed that Dazai, for once, agreed with him and for once, he didn’t sense any lie coming from him. 

However, just right after they left the school’s parking lot, Dazai spoke with his eyes focused on the outside. 

“ Kunikida-kun, let’s take the train”.

He just peeked at him with the corner of his eyes. 

“-Why?

-You do it.”

Kunikida hesitated, before giving up and driving to the nearest train station. On a normal occasion he would have complained, but there was a time for bantering and a time for being serious, Dazai knew that too, and that one was the moment to be serious.  

The only reason why he listened to him was because Dazai never said things like that so casually. If he were saying it to tease him, he’d made up an excuse, or pestered him but he didn’t. Dazai must have caught a glimpse of what was going on already. However, this time instead of feeling relieved with it, a vague sense of annoyance grew in his chest. There was something on his mind and it was linked to the case. But despite his curiosity, Kunikida knew that asking him was useless, because Dazai wasn’t going to tell him, not until he wanted to. He didn’t know what made him think that, but the thought of Dazai being unpredictable brought him back to the evening of the party. Even in that case, Dazai didn’t tell him anything until he asked. 

Since it happened his stomach was heavy and the memories of the party were still vivid inside his head. He had a few memories here and there, especially the ones Dazai told him. He knew the other didn’t lie because the way it felt was vivid in his mind; the hesitation, the way his desire to brush his lips against his pooled in his stomach to the point he just had to kiss him. And then, the satisfaction that spread in his chest when the other kissed back, the way he felt when Dazai smiled the moment they parted: that was the brightest smile he had ever seen. Had it just been curiosity? He never wondered about kissing him, why should he wonder about kissing him in the first place? It was all confused and blurred but he was sure that it happened and that it wasn’t something completely unsettling for him. And probably it was exactly that one thing that bothered him. 

“-It’s not like you’re confessing eternal love to me, even if it’s a shame”

He sighed. 

He should stay focused on work. 

The agency just reopened. The fact that they were taking cases already surprised even him; he hoped to be busy with the paperwork he left before the mess with the Hunting Dogs happened or with the papers for Sigma’s hiring. But then, the president dismissed them with this case, and he thought that after all, it was the right choice: the papers from a year ago were useless and most of the people that hired them had either died or had withdrawn their requests when the terrorism scandal came out. 

The agency’s reputation was terrible at the moment, and the only way they had to regain the client’s trust was to take cases, solve them and tell the press. But in order to do it, they had to effectively solve cases; well, that was the hard part since he didn’t know where to begin with this one. And his head was filled with other things that had nothing to do with work: ah, how he hated being distracted from work. 

He was forcing himself to stay focused but it was difficult since the source of his problems was next to him: well, he supposed that even if he wanted, he couldn’t have stayed away from Dazai forever. He was his partner after all, he had to work with him. 

He glanced at him from his seat.

The light was cutting his side profile just right, making his brown eyes glisten. Following the imaginary outline that the sun had drawn on his face, Kunikida’s eyes traveled down the bridge of his nose and fell unconsciously on his lips. 

His partner was right: it was just a kiss, but the thought that it happened made something move in his stomach. He wasn’t disgusted, and he wasn't disgusted by the fact that it was Dazai, he was just…he didn’t know. He didn’t know what to think or how to feel about it, since it was the least thing he thought could have ever happened. The thought of kissing him never crossed his mind, yet, the need he felt in that moment was real. 

He was trying to not think about it, but every time he looked at Dazai, he couldn’t stop going back to that night. The ideal should have been staying away from each other for a while, but firstly, it wasn’t possible and second, probably staying away would have only increased his doubts. Let’s be honest, he always worried about him, he didn’t hate Dazai for real, yet, his action was way far from being appropriate. He was a good colleague, but that’s all he was.  

Not to mention that they had been away from each other already for a while—

-Kunikida-kun?

-Uh?

-You’re staring. 

Kunikida flinched before clearing his voice. That was all Dazai needed to snicker and lean against him. 

-I know I look handsome but if you don’t tell me what you’re thinking, it’s not like I can read your mind. 

He adjusted his glasses that slipped too far on his nose.

-As if you really couldn’t. – He scoffed and ignored his teasing. – Anyway, I already told you. Why did we take the train?

-Remember what Tanaka told us about the students going to school?

Kunikida took a moment to think. 

“They usually came by train.”

-That they used the train to go to school?

-Exactly. So I thought that if we repeated what they did, we might have found something along the way while we’re heading to the families.

Kunikida nodded, looking around: the train by that hour was nearly empty, if excluded for a woman that was sleeping and a boy playing with his phone. 

The train was old, maybe too old with rusty windows and flickering lights. The seat where he was standing had some loose screws since he felt a weird screeching each time he moved. Did those students really take this train to go to school? He couldn’t even imagine how uncomfortable it must be when it’s crowded in the early morning, he was starting to understand why they skipped school. 

Then the lights went out and the train stopped abruptly on the railway. Kunikida grabbed Dazai’s arm unconsciously, looking at the ceiling. Just what happened? Used to the worst outcomes during missions, his head started considering what could have possibly gone wrong, when the voice at the intercom communicated the train was in failure and that all the passengers had to leave their seats and wait to the next station for the next train. 

Oh great, just great. If they went by car, now they wouldn’t have had such a problem. 

He observed around for a few moments until he felt warmth irradiating his hand and noticed that he still had his hand placed on Dazai’s arm. He tore it away and got up; in silent agreement the few passengers left the train. 

They ended up walking on the street that didn’t even have sidewalks,not that it was a major problem. 

-It’s the third time in a week. 

The woman muttered under her breath. Dazai walked faster and reached her. 

-Train damage happens usually? 

-Ugh, if not every day, almost. I’m tempted to buy a bike since I have to walk to work every day thanks to these trains. 

While the woman kept throwing insults to the train, the guy that was playing on his phone was begging a friend of his to pick him up where the train stopped. Kunikida wished he could do the same, but his car was kilometers away and among the ones that had a driver license at the agency, he was sure they were all busy. They had no other choice than walk till the families home. 

-Let’s go Dazai, we have a long walk ahead– Dazai?

He glanced around and spotted him still talking to the woman that now looked way more docile than before. He frowned, already imagining what was the reason and his stomach throbbed in annoyance. He stared at him for a moment before his legs moved on their own.

When he got closer, he was able to catch some fragments of Dazai’s words. 

“You’d make a beautiful suicide-bride, you know that?”

Kunikida’s frown deepened. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, he dragged Dazai with him. The latter started whining, begging Kunikida to let him go, but he didn’t answer him, neither did he let go of his collar. His heart throbbed in his ears: like hell he felt like talking. 

Dazai knocked on the door and waited hopefully for an answer: the neighborhood they were in was worn out and empty like no other district in the city. Pebble streets, puddles of water here and there, blocks with no more than two floors; it was probably one of the poorest areas of Yokohama. 

Kunikida glanced around, but nothing about the place revealed important details about why the students disappeared, except for the fact that they were in a poor area: if he didn’t know they went missing from one day to another, then he would have supposed they left school to work, but looking at the paper in his hand, no one of the boys in the near shops looked like them. 

Seemed it was going to be more difficult than what he thought. 

-Nothing here too. 

Dazai turned to look at him. 

-Looks like their families aren’t at home. 

Kunikida observed how his eyebrows furrowed just slightly. 

-What are you thinking about? 

-Nothing, - the other answered right after, but his eyes didn’t meet Kunikida’s. They stood on the ground in front of him, just adding to Kunikida’s apprehension and annoyance. He wandered with his eyes all over his figure. – At least not for the moment. 

His stomach got hit by a pang that he couldn’t decipher: why was Dazai this quiet? Why was he making that face? Why had his eyes been so distant since that morning? It wasn’t new that he hid the information from the others, but he was being quieter, and even before they started the case that morning. What was bothering him was that there was something else on his mind besides the case, and when Dazai kept hiding things that bothered him, he always ended up engaging in harmful actions, and that was the least thing he needed at the moment. 

He didn’t even meet his eyes.  

In the midst of his thoughts Dazai peeked at him, raising his eyebrows in surprise. However it was just for a second before a timid smile pulled his lips. 

-You’re staring again. 

He answered back with a small rise of his shoulders. Was he flattered? Idiot. Kunikida averted his eyes again to look at the list Tanaka gave them and kept his eyes glued on the paper until Dazai spoke again. 

-Probably they aren’t at home. Even if not finding any of the families is a little too convenient. 

-Are you thinking about a spy?

Dazai shrugged. 

-I don’t know, we should return tomorrow. Maybe we will be luckier. 

“I don’t know” and “luckier” were two expressions he never used. He was sure that there was nothing Dazai didn’t know, and he doubted that someone as rational as Dazai could believe in something as volatile as luck. He himself, an idealist, had a hard time believing in luck, let alone Dazai. 

Just what was on his mind today? Did he sleep? Did he eat? Maybe it was one of those days in which he didn’t feel like working? 

-Are you sure of what you’re saying? 

-Completely. But we have to hear them, because I doubt the students disappeared to go to work. I see little to no shops around here and considering how poor the area is, I believe no one could ever hire them because there is no money to pay employees. 

-It’s something that I noticed too. – He hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words to say. What he wanted to know wasn’t about the case, what he wanted to know was, - but are you sure that there is nothing else? 

It was an open question that left room for a lot of answers and Dazai knew that. Kunikida could see the little hesitation on his face just like a moment before, he put his hands out of his pockets and adjusted the sleeve of his trench coat. For a moment, it looked like he was checking all the words he could say because nothing he said was spontaneous even if it looked like that. 

Kunikida was already preparing mentally to answer each thing when the words that left Dazai’s lips disrupted all his projects. 

-And there he goes with his paranoes.

He sighed in a way that was exaggerated, leaving Kunikida speechless.

-C’mon, you worry too much. – He said waving his hands. – Trust my investigative powers, Kunikida-kun. 

In one second, Dazai answered each and no one of Kunikida’s questions hanging in the air. There was no way to understand what he was thinking and it only made the tinge of annoyance in his chest worsen. Why didn’t he say anything?

He let his eyes linger on him, but Dazai didn’t look like he wanted to add anything, he just stood there with a cheerful smile. Kunikida observed him but nothing seemed to come out of his mouth, so in the end he muttered an “let’s head to the train station again then”, and started walking because what else could he do? 

He hated when Dazai acted so distant, he had the impression that he raised walls around him in a way that allowed no one to see him and it was annoying: he was his partner, they worked alongside each other for two years and he still decided to act secretly around him? He thought they were beyond that point by now. He couldn’t, didn’t want to think that his permanence at Meursault was the reason for their tension, because let’s admit it, there was tension. If that were the case, then during the past two years all of their cooperation had been a charade, the nth of Dazai’s. He didn’t want to think that after all of that he still wanted to keep himself quiet when he had a problem. 

He didn’t even want to consider that. 

The thought of it shot a pang of pain in his stomach but he tried to ignore it. 

As if that day couldn’t get any worse, a car hit the puddle of water next to them and dirtied Kunikida’s trousers. 

The latter lowered his eyes on the beige trousers that were now stained in brown water and he exhaled through his nose. Today was one of his worst days since the Hunting Dogs fiasco. 

He heard a snort coming from his left. Immediately, he frowned and turned to look at Dazai next to him, who was trying to suppress the laughter. 

-If you laugh, I swear I’ll kick you so hard you will fly to the other part of the city. 

His low voice betrayed all the anger and annoyance he was experiencing at the moment. He shook his head and started walking towards the train station without waiting for him. 

The ride back at the school was quiet, Dazai stared out of the window for most of the time, while Kunikida watched the insides of the train so many times that he learned even how many screws there were on the seats. They stood like that, sat next to each other but with their heads turned in opposite ways. 

Kunikida wished they would arrive soon. He tapped his finger on the outline of the seat, watching how the afternoon was slowly turning into a dark evening. Days in winter were shorter. 

Fortunately this train didn’t have any kind of interruption or damage so they reached the train station in little to no time. They got out of the train and took the stairs. They reached the exit when they ran into the same person they met in the corridor back at the school. 

-Oh detectives, evening. 

Both of them stopped on their tracks and turned towards the figure. It was the custodian.

-Going home? 

-Ah, I wish we were. – Dazai took the word. He sighed looking around, - do you take the train frequently? 

-Every day I go to work. It’s close to where I live so it’s more convenient than a car. It’s what also the students do. 

A bunch of students passed by on the stairs at that moment. Kunikida observed them walk, wondering if also the victims walked home to their  families the day they disappeared without knowing that it was going to be the last time they did it.  

The intercom announced the train on the railway and Kunikida hinted at it with his head. 

-Well, we don’t want to keep you waiting. We will probably meet again at school.

The custodian reciprocated their wave and then left. 

When he disappeared from their sight, they resumed their steady walking; Kunikida, fished out of his pocket the keys for the car, and his eyes fell on the stain on his trousers that dried up, leaving them with a huge brown spot. He had to do the laundry when he got back home. 

If he ever got back home that evening. 

They got in the car and just when he was adjusting the seat belt, Dazai closed the car door and turned to face him. 

-Where are we going?

-Agency. Even if we have little information, we can already start adding the students to the reports. 

Dazai huffed and melted on the seat. 

He opened the door and noticed with a hint of relief that everyone left already: it had been a long and complicated day and the last thing he wanted was to deal with his colleagues trying to escape because they didn’t want to fill reports. If they didn’t finish their work, that was something that he was going to check tomorrow. 

The agency’s office was quiet during the evening, when no one was around. Kunikida found a strange form of pleasure and relaxation in observing all the chairs aligned to the desks and all the laptops closed: in the air lingered the smell of new furniture, the kind of smell that objects had before gaining an identity by getting the perfume of the place where they belonged.

Moving the chair from his desk he got ready to put the information about the case on the surface, that was when he noticed that Dazai had gone silent again. Not even a word since they entered the room. He lifted his eyes and he saw him standing in the middle of the office with his head up.

His partner gazed at the electric white lights, squinting his eyes: annoyance was pooling inside his chest and he felt his legs become restless. Even if he was an adult he didn’t understand the need for neon and strong electric light in general. It was horrendous and it made his limbs feel all tingly. 

While during the morning he could tolerate it since there was the sun, he preferred staying in the dark during the evening since electric light made him feel as if his whole body was stuffed with cotton. Living in a container for years didn’t help.

And then why white? Weren't the hospital's lights white? Why put a white light in a detective agency? 

But then, all the lights went out and all he could see a moment after was the small bulb on his desk being turned on. He looked up only to find Kunikida taking the seat in front of his desk. He blinked in confusion before adjusting on the chair: he felt Kunikida’s eyes follow his movements. 

-Since when do you have an aversion to electric light? 

Kunikida asked with his hands crossed. He sounded worried.

He shook his head and tried to ease the slight wave of embarrassment that hit him. He put up a casual smile and crossed his fingers on the desk. 

-Meursault. They constantly controlled us obviously and the lights were sooo bright it gave me dizziness.

He huffed in an exaggerated manner as to dismiss the topic but Kunikida just scowled, wary of the hasty answer he received. 

However, Dazai kept his casual smile on his lips; it wasn’t a lie or at least not completely: it worsened with Mersault, but it has always been there, maybe because all Mafia places were either dark or dim. 

Kunikida sighed, giving up. He opened his laptop and logged in and Dazai felt a wave of relief wash over him. 

-Let’s start with the general situation: any ideas about where the students could be? 

-At the moment no. – He answered back, happy that they were back in a field he was comfortable with. – For now, we spoke only with two people: Tanaka and the guardian. One knew the students well, the other barely, but he took the train with the students each day. 

He lifted his eyes and he met Kunikida’s that were staring at him from his glasses. He looked at Ranpo’s desk that for once, was tidy.

-The district where they come from is poor, so the possible explanation was that they left for work. But the shops in the area were too poor to hire someone so they might have left to go abroad? 

-Even though, I’m not sure if someone that leaves school in that case wants to go to work. Probably they just wandered around, met someone that wasn’t good and who knows where they are now. 

Kunikida leaned back and crossed his arms as he let his eyes linger on him. Dazai tried to ignore the slight twinge at his chest as he recalled his past memories. 

-Don’t be so quick to judge now. When I was fifteen I worked really hard. 

Kunikida just shot him a disappointed glare that deepened when he noticed the amused stare on Dazai’s face. Did he think it was funny? 

-Anyway, - he sighed, - the guardian said that Tanaka arrived at school this year and the students disappeared this year too. 

-Are you thinking he’s implied? 

-I don’t know. Maybe; he was the one calling for us, it’s common for criminals to inform authorities of crimes they’ve caused. They think it’ll help to cover it. And he was also the only one that decided to inform us despite there being seven different teachers in that class. 

Dazai just stared at him, nodding slowly as he was still deep in thought. 

-But the guardian took the train with the students every day, even if he claimed he didn’t know them. 

Dazai huffed and closed his eyes. It just seemed like a huge issue; he needn’t know everything about a case to understand if it was going to be a tough or an easy one. He leaned back on his chair, feeling the muscles of his back hurt: his head was heavy and he just wanted to go home, drink and then fall asleep until tomorrow. Each of his limbs felt like lead and he didn’t feel like he could hold a conversation, let alone analysing a case. 

His head ran into the same cyclical thoughts all day and he was growing restless, tapping his leg on the floor. He let his back rest on the chair and yawned. 

-It’s better if tomorrow we go to listen to the families. That way we can have a better idea of what’s happening. 

He said to close the conversation; his head wasn’t working since it was focused on something else. His legs tapped on the floor, his eyes flickered from a spot to another around the room, he tried to act as collected as always but it was difficult because every time his eyes landed on Kunikida his head returned to that evening and a wave of warmth hit him, reminding him how those lips that now were pressed into a thin line brushed his as the softest thing ever. 

He never considered kisses relevant. He thought they were just a weird way people used to show affection and he couldn’t care less about affection. It was a convention built by society:touching lips, huh? Why not an arm or the forehead? Maybe because you don’t put your lips everywhere, maybe it’s the intimacy of touching a part of your face that doesn’t do anything besides talking and eating. Or people were just extravagant and that was how it worked because it was just how things were. 

He decided that the third option was more likely the right one. It didn’t solve why he was stuck on it, but he already felt better. 

His eyes wandered on Kunikida’s face before looking away. 

The latter frowned and pooled inside his chest. It stung annoyingly, making his whole skin itch. It was since that morning that his relationship with Dazai had been tense: too much silence, subtle looks, words hanging in the air and then that tension that never left them since they got out of the president’s office. 

Kunikida had enough of Dazai’s faux smiles and absent eyes. 

No.

They couldn’t go on like that. 

-If you have a problem you could just say it. 

His voice came out harsher than he meant, but it was already too late to take his words back. All the tension from the day, his worries and the tiredness from the case added to the pile of things that have gone wrong up until that moment, and the weight on his chest became too heavy to shut up and swallow the sour bite like he did before. They always made their priorities straight, but now it seemed they didn’t have a plan, the cooperation, the intentions, anything. He wanted to say something to fix whatever was happening between them but he barely had any idea of what was going on. Damn, he just wanted to work and he wanted Dazai to stop making that absent expression, it got on his nerves. 

The latter looked up from the papers and their eyes met.

The silence in the room was heavier than usual, the light of Dazai’s desk made Kunikida’s eyes glimmer. Outside, a few cars went by, but they stood where they were: Dazai ran his eyes on Kunikida’s face, noticing for the first time the small wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and how the eyebrows were pushed upwards, as if he was deep in thought with something. 

He felt the breath getting stuck in his throat and he clenched his jaw. His heart picked up and he felt the sudden urge to stand up and leave the room using whatever justification came on his mind, yet, leaving would only have confirmed that he had something going on and he didn’t want Kunikida to ask him. 

His lips quivered before his throat allowed him to talk again.

-What do you mean? – He replied with an energetic smile that betrayed the way his voice trembled. – I’m fine ah, you’re such a worrywart, aren’t you? You’re going to get wrinkles from that. 

-Cut it!

Kunikida’s voice was louder this time. If that were a normal conversation, that kind of answer would have meant nothing: it was just the usual answer Kunikida gave to him when he was being annoying. Yet, during his years of their partnership, Dazai learned to distinguish when Kunikida was really mad and when he was just indulging him. And from the way his hands were clenching on the desk he was definitely furious now. 

-I said cut it. – He repeated with his eyes stuck on him, not even wavering once. They looked like flames. – I understand that I’m not the intuitive between the two of us, but I’m not stupid. 

-Kunikida-kun I’m sure there’s a misunderstanding–

-Oh, I’m sure there is!

He interrupted him sarcastically, agreeing with him but at the same time implying the opposite. 

-You’ve been like this all day. Since we left the office, you’ve been immersed in your thoughts: quiet, distracted, distant, don’t think I didn’t notice.There’s something on your mind and it’s not work.

Kunikida’s voice still echoed through the walls of the office, Dazai stood there looking at him right in his eyes: he seemed as calm as ever but in reality, he was desperately trying to gain time to make up a meaningful sentence, but his mind was filled with scattered thoughts that made really hard to talk. He knew he had to speak, otherwise silence would only have angered Kunikida more. Everything that came on his mind was either cheerful or stupid and too fake for Kunikida to lower his guard and believe him. A vague feeling of nausea hit his stomach and he felt himself spiral into self-loathing. 

If he spoke, he angered others, if he stayed silent, he angered others and he feared that if he opened about it, Kunikida would have just told him “stop playing the victim”. 

He swallowed the annoying lump in his throat and cleared his voice.

-I didn’t think you had a problem with me thinking, since our work revolves around thinking. 

-That’s not what I mean, you know that—

-And in all honesty, Kunikida-kun, - Dazai adjusted himself on the seat leaning his elbows on the desk. – It seems like you’re the one having a problem here. 

He was met with Kunikida’s confused stare: he ran his eyes on his face, trying to understand what he meant but Dazai knew it well that his expression was as blank as ever. There was no way Kunikida would really guess what he was thinking. 

Maybe if he pushed him away some more, he’d stop getting so worried about him; and Dazai might stop feeling so miserable, because how could he try to explain what was wrong if he didn’t know what it was?

-From the way you kept staring at me surely there’s something on your mind, right? 

The other’s frown deepened and he straightened his back on the seat: Kunikida was struggling, good. Just a little more, Dazai had to push him just a little more. 

-Is it because of the kiss? I thought we already talked about that–

A fist smacked on the desk in front of him made the papers tremble and the small bulb flicker, but Dazai didn’t move. His calm expression didn’t falter in front of Kunikida’s clenched hand. There it was, the anger he was looking for, the one that made others believe he was nothing but a nuisance, the one that kept everyone away from him. 

-It’s not about the kiss, don’t mention that fucking kiss.

He intoned slowly as the veins throbbed at his temples. 

-It happened, we said that we’d ignore the fact that it happened and that we would focus on work. Why are you mentioning it again?

-I know you well enough to be sure that you’re still thinking about it. 

-But it was you bringing it up again now. 

It was Dazai’s turn to stiffen on the seat. He hadn’t realized that he made a false move on that: he mentioned the kiss first, where there could have been also other reasons why Kunikida was staring at him. The fact that he spoke about it firstly left room for the other to consider that he was the one still thinking about it. 

Dazai swallowed and his hands twitched imperceptibly on the desk. Well, he should at least try to keep his charade as realistic as possible.

-It bothers you, from what I see. – He tried to keep his voice firm, but the last part of the sentence seemed strained. – Listen, I already said that–

-It doesn’t bother me! – Kunikida yelled back. – What bothers me is that you keep lying about everything. 

-That’s not true. 

-That’s another lie. – He stood up, shutting his laptop with a loud sound. – I just want to work, solve this case and find these students. That’s all, that’s what’s bothering me. Work.

He pushed the chair away and headed towards the office door. The words he said after were like shards of glass, something that he didn’t even think for real. 

-I can’t believe someone like you became my partner. – He muttered more to himself than to the other -I don’t want to speak, unless it's for work.

-Couldn’t agree more. 

Dazai had the impression that his own voice didn’t belong to him. 

Suddenly the office was dark, cold and Dazai shrunk in the empty place. When he heard the door being shut, his facade crumbled and he brought his hands to cover his face: the tiredness from the day pressed on his shoulders like a boulder and his head filled with disconnected thoughts. 

What had he done? What had he done? His head kept asking him the same question as he pressed his face harder in his hands in an attempt to make the voices shut up.

People came and went from his life. He was used to meeting new people, using them for what he needed, revealing how bastard and cunning he could be and making them hate him just to have an excuse to leave them before all the cycle repeated, adding to his despair. What he wasn’t used to was seeing the same people after a lot of time and working with them, still worth something to them. He knew his time at the agency wasn’t endless and for what he saw, he was even lasting more than he thought he could.

Kunikida was Kunikida, the same as always, but there were times in which he still had to remind himself that he was right in front of him and he wasn’t a hallucination, that the agency itself wasn’t a hallucination. 

His words stung, they stung so much that his stomach was revolting. They were sharp, probably the crudest thing Kunikida ever told to someone and what hurt them most was that he was right: how did someone like him become his partner? He was clever, he had a brilliant mind and everything but for most of the time he just annoyed him, told him that his sense of justice was over the top, criticised his morals, his ideals everything. Kunikida still cared for him, still called him to check if he was eating, sleeping, despite him being a huge problem in his life. Kunikida still cared and he couldn’t understand why, and what he didn’t understand sounded scary, so it must be as distant as possible from him. 

He crouched on himself, clenching his jaw: he swallowed the bitter taste that was bothering his throat; he couldn’t break completely, not now, Kunikida would be back and he had to focus on the case.

Dazai tried to convince himself that it was right that way. It would’ve been better for both of them; he knew that. 

What he couldn’t know was that a few meters away, sitting on the stairs of the building with his head between his hands, Kunikida was just as troubled as he was. 

Chapter Text

-Hey. 

Kunikida’s voice held a hint of uncertainty. He must have dwelled on his thoughts before calling for him. 

The evening lingered over Yokohama as they walked back from the deal with the Port Mafia: finally it looked like they found a common ground to defeat the Guild. Even if both parts didn’t look like they agreed, he had spent enough time in the Mafia to know that Mori never said “yes” directly but the fact that they didn’t end up with their throats sliced meant they had an oath. 

A warm wind moved their hair as the sunset coloured the sky in orange. 

He peeked at Kunikida with the corner of his eyes. 

-Mh? 

-Were you serious before? When you said you used to be in the mafia?

Dazai felt his blood run cold and stopped on his tracks; Kunikida slowed his steps too, until stopping next to him. A ship’s whistle echoed from the port, all that peaceful atmosphere in contrast with them.

They exchanged glances and Dazai’s breath hitched: for the first time in two years he couldn’t decipher what expression Kunikida was making: he was staring at him from head to toe with a frown, as if he didn’t recognize the person in front of him, as if they met for real now for the first time. 

He looked disgusted, afraid, mad, he couldn’t tell. 

He pressed his lips in a thin line and clenched his jaw; a sour taste took over his mouth. He knew that question was coming, it sounded weird that Kunikida let it slip like casual news. He waited for it with his chest clenching with anticipation. 

The annoying stomach ache from before felt like flames in his skin. 

His mind short circuited as he searched for something to say. What was he supposed to say? “Right, Kunikida, my righteous and idealistic partner worked with an ex-criminal for the past two years” or “yep, you’re responsible for an ex-mafia hiring at the agency Kunikida, not so wise of you” but they showed his anger towards himself too much and he didn’t want Kunikida to ask questions about why he was so upset. He tore the hangnails from the slides of his fingers until the skin turned red. 

Honestly, what was he thinking? That he could hide it forever? And why was he so mad it came out?

His lips quivered and he gripped the sleeve of his coat to keep himself grounded. He tried to remind himself that people were just useful for him, so why was he taking it personally that Kunikida might hate him because he used to be a mafioso? 

After all, it made sense: his partner had strong morals.

Then, his head acted on instinct: he decided that showing himself like the miserable man he was, was impossible, so lying became the only solution. 

He placed a hand on his shoulder and tried to ignore the way his whole body got goosebumps when his partner stiffened under his touch. His lips stretched in a cheerful smile and he answered with his usual faux high pitched voice. 

-Don’t worry Kunikida-kun, I’m done with those obscure and bloody affairs. 

Kunikida peeked at him with his head turned in the opposite direction, still skeptical, and Dazai really wished he could read his thoughts.

Since he didn’t add anything, Kunikida resumed his walking without talking anymore. They returned back to the agency without talking, Kunikida kept looking in front of him, still deep in thought, while he tried to act normal, observing whatever was around him, even things he didn’t care about. 

He didn’t want Kunikida to hate him. Kunikida cared for him, tolerated all his bullshit, he was the closest person he could label as friend. He didn’t want his partner to look at him as if he were a criminal they arrested together. He didn’t want Kunikida to hate him. 

For a second, he wanted to apologize for being the terrible person he had been but he knew that it was useless: nothing was going to change. What he did in the past was done. It sounded like something Kunikida would tell him: “the past is in the past, no need to think about it”. 

Yeah, right. Absolutely no need. He should stop thinking about it.

His stomach felt sick with the thought but he ignored it. Sometimes he wondered what Kunikida thought of him. 

His eyes shot open: it was morning. 

The first thing he felt was a terrible backache sending electric waves down his spine. He had his arms wrapped around his pillow while the blanket of the futon was scattered in a corner of the room, completely forgotten. His feet were freezing and the sunlight was piercing his eyes, forcing him to shut them when a sunray stronger than the others hit him. When the pain in his pupils dissipated, he opened them again with a bundle of annoyance growing in his chest: he just wanted to sleep, forever. 

He stood there and when the room gradually came into focus, he noticed that it was spinning: left to right and then all the way back. He tried to focus on the wooden wall in front of him, but his eyes kept following the dizziness of his head, making it worse. 

He grimaced when a faint smell of cheap sake and sweat reached his nose: the awful scent of a closed place and food came after, adding to his disgust but it couldn’t be helped: he didn’t really feel like opening the windows lately. 

The bone of his hip pressed on the floor sending an electric jolt to his leg. He huffed and turned on his back to stare at the ceiling. The room spun again and flashes of his nightmare haunted him again. 

A bad dream, that’s what it was. Thinking about it now, Kunikida probably didn’t even mean something bad, he was just curious, obviously he was curious, Dazai couldn’t blame him. He had worse dreams after all, he thought as he pushed his fringe away from his forehead.

Something was pooling inside his stomach but he took a deep breath and tried to ignore it. A wave of sweat came over him when fragments of the evening before reached his mind disconnected. 

“Honestly, I don’t know how someone like you ended up being my partner”. 

He huffed. 

After the “conversation” from the day before, both of them decided to call it a day and to continue to investigate the next morning, since it seemed they were “not thinking lucidly” as Kunikida said. But he just wanted an excuse to escape from that office as soon as possible and Dazai didn’t really blame him. Kunikida returned into the office after what could have been either ten or thirty minutes, Dazai couldn’t tell. He snatched his things from the desk letting pens fall a few times before muttering a subdued “see you tomorrow” without even looking at him. 

Dazai just nodded and stood there watching the light from his desk flicker when his partner closed the door. His stomach twisted with frustration: he couldn’t tell if it was his fault, Kunikida’s, or both. It was as if all day they acted like a bomb ticking and waiting to explode. Yet, even if it happened and he knew it was going to happen, frustration turned his cheeks warm and he stood there with his head stuck on what Kunikida said, his ears ringing and the dark growing too thick even for him as minutes passed. An hour went by, before his legs stood up and he walked outside still feeling like his body didn’t belong to him. 

The rest of the evening went like usual: he left the office, hid in the same worn-out bar, spiraled into his self-loathing thoughts, bought some cheap alcohol, headed home and drank until he lost consciousness. The epilogue was a tragedy: alcohol didn’t help at all, since it erased the last defences he had and allowed intrusive thoughts to take over his mind even more. Last thing he recalled before fainting was Kunikida’s disappointed expression. 

He wanted to stop thinking about their discussion: while he and Kunikida bickered all the time, it was rare for them to engage in real arguments. They were opposites, and they saw life under two different lenses but on the field they always understood each other, since the first day. That one from yesterday was probably their first big discussion and he didn’t find it funny or interesting: it just made his stomach churn. 

He couldn’t shake it off his mind, not even with all the alcohol in the world. 

Something bitter scratched his throat like a knife and reached his mouth. For a moment he thought it was blood, but then, the churning of his stomach told him exactly what it was. He gritted his teeth in annoyance. 

With his limbs still feeling weak and his mind still foggy, he managed to get up. He used a hand to hold himself up on the wall and waited for the colorful dots in front of him to disappear. 

He avoided the few bottles that were still scattered on the floor from the night before and reached the bathroom. 

He didn’t want to work, he didn’t want to see Kunikida, but at the same time he really wanted to work and he really wanted to see him. 

Out of the many things people didn’t get about him, there was the fact that he loved debates but disliked arguments: he dodged them like death did him; debates could go nowhere, but arguments implied confrontation, and he hated it.

While debates solicited his mind and feeded his need for mental stimulation, arguments felt unsettling, made of words that spiraled in his head and added to the pile of negative things he thought about himself.  He thanked his self control way too many times: he kept a straight face when in reality he just wanted to let those damn tears fall from his eyes and cry until he had no more breath. 

But his eyes stayed dry, and he even forgot how it was to wipe them.

He watched as the outskirts of the city went by from the car window and decided that staying silent was the best choice for both him and Kunikida. His heart wouldn’t stop hammering since he entered the car. He waited for Kunikida with his whole body covered in cold sweat; as minutes passed, his stomach tied into knots: what was he going to say? How was Kunikida going to act? He made up in his mind three hundred scenarios just to be prepared, yet when he arrived all his theories got tangled in the bundle of anxiety that his body turned into. 

“Morning.” 

Kunikida’s cold voice welcomed him, turning his stomach into a mess. and he tried to untie his tongue before answering him back. 

He closed the car door.

From that moment, no one of them spoke again. 

-Thank you for receiving us. 

Kunikida thanked the middle-aged couple as they exchanged handshakes. He sat on the couch of the worn out living room. Dazai followed suit and sat at the opposite edge. 

The woman had tired eyes with dark circles that Kunikida was sure were under his eyes too. She was smiling but it was forced, the kind of smile that someone does out of courtesy when they don’t want to be rude, but at the same time don’t have the energy to feel anything but despair for their loss. 

He was about to introduce the case, when the man spoke firstly. 

-So, they assigned the case to the detective agency, - the tone of the man held a hint of hesitation. – I hope you can help us. 

-Obviously, that’s why we’re here. We have solved a lot of cases in the past. 

-Well, before the law accused you of being terrorists. 

Her wife hushed him with a slap on his shoulder. The man shot both of them a glare before averting his eyes and glancing around the room. He shook his head. 

The woman turned to look at them with an apologetic expression, her cheeks turned slightly red for embarrassment. 

-Sorry it’s just that– 

-It’s okay. It’s understandable. 

It wasn’t, he thought. It wasn’t at all. Not after all the shit they went through, not after all the lives that were risked, he could have spent hours telling that idiot of a man that it was thanks to them if the neighbourhood where he lived hadn’t blown up weeks ago. But it was going to be useless, so he just took a moment to cool off his anger, until his temples stopped throbbing. 

-As my partner said, you’re in good hands. – Kunikida stiffened: he could feel Dazai’s smirk in his voice. He turned his head as fast as he could to look at him: Dazai had his eyes narrowed and his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Kunikida knew that expression: he was pissed. – And the government found proof of those allegations being untrue, I’m sure you can check it on the net, trust us. We just want to find your son, we want the same thing, right? Collaboration is important in this case.

The man crossed his arms but his expression wasn’t as angered as before, instead, he seemed embarrassed for his attitude from before. He pondered his position for a moment before realizing that he couldn’t have answered in any other way; he scratched the back of his head and exhaled a deep breath. 

-Alright detective, what do you want to know? 

-Right Kunikida-kun, what do we need to know?

Kunikida opened and closed his mouth a few times before clearing his voice. 

-V-very well. – He hoped no one would question the little falter in his voice. – We came yesterday but we couldn’t find you, however, know that your collaboration is essential since you’re the parents of the victim. 

-Ah, we were at work yesterday, you can ask our colleagues. Usually we’re at home by six, but there was a road interruption and we needed to take another path. 

-No problem. So, in the period before his disappearance, did you notice some weird behaviour of your son?

-Hiroshi never talked about wanting to leave school to work. Yes, his grades were low, we told him so many times but he always put effort in what he did. 

-He never mentioned wanting to leave school? Not even to his friends?

-No. – The woman shook her head. She held her hands together to contain her anxiety. – But a few days before disappearing he said that soon we wouldn’t have to be worried about his school anymore. 

Kunikida frowned: was that something that also the others thought? What did that even mean? If he were hinting at an attempt, they would have found the corpse. They would have found all five corpses but it wasn’t possible since there weren’t any. But it was also true that those guys weren’t anywhere to be seen. It felt as if they weren’t alive but neither dead. They were somehow divided between the two, floating in his supposition. 

He and Dazai exchanged a glance and Kunikida read in his eyes his exact same thoughts. 

-But he didn’t look like he wanted, you know? To…

They never look like they want to. 

Kunikida held it back: there was no need to explain to two civilians that were unaware of how suicide worked, how good people were at hiding their intentions. He sighed. 

-I’ll be honest: we don’t have a corpse, so for the moment he’s not dead. Neither his friends are, as I seem to understand. 

-Oh, we spoke with the parents of his friends, and they said that they told them the same thing. Those grades weren’t going to be a problem anymore. 

-Do you know if they met someone that could help them to study? 

Kunikida tried to brush the matter of a possible suicide off as soon as possible. 

-The new teacher, uh, how was it called? – The man spoke for the first time after the discussion. – Tonaka,Taneki no, wait. Tanaka. They always talked about him helping them at school. 

Oh. Well, that changed a lot of things. It could change a lot of things, even if it was just an hypothesis. 

 -I see. 

He just said, dry and short. He didn’t want to make assumptions, but the only one contacting the agency was the teacher, the only one knowing the children well was the teacher and the only one that could have cared about the grades of the students was, in fact, the teacher. Every question brought back to Tanaka; his figure was shaping into a culprit now, more than a simple civilian. 

He threw a look to Dazai but he was just staring in front of him at the empty wall, lost like yesterday. Kunikida focused again on the case. 

The rest of the visit went smoothly, and after another pair of other questions Dazai and Kunikida got up and decided that if they needed something, they could always visit them again. They shook hands and then left.

As they reached the car a few meters further, Kunikida stared at Dazai’s frame walking in front of him: he held his shoulders and back up like always but his presence was weaker than usual. Dazai was the kind of person that beamed confidence and eccentricity. It was impossible to miss him, even in a room full of people, but today he was lost in his own thoughts, his hand clutched the sleeve of his coat. 

He knew that Dazai had a lot to think about, he was sure that even if he acted like nothing had happened, his life had been turbulent enough to create a constant bundle in his head that buzzed like a broken television and left him tired. He didn’t want to think what place his mind was after Meursault, he didn’t know everything about it, but he heard the president say that he risked death multiple times and the situation was serious to the point that if he needed to, he could take a leave of absence.

His stomach hurt like the first time he heard it. It was a prison, there was Fyodor, he was with Sigma that at the time barely knew which side to take, obviously something was going to happen. But the possibility of something dangerous happening sounded less painful and frightening than hearing that it happened for real. 

It reminded him that his partner wasn’t invincible. He could get hurt, die even, like everyone else did. But he refused.

Dazai could have taken the leave of absence. Sometimes he wondered why he refused. After all, he was sure Dazai hated staying in the office or doing paperwork. 

Thinking of it, they never talked about what they did during the case. They hadn't had the occasion: after the party everything between each other kept getting worse and worse; it seemed that when things started going downhill, they just worsened the situation with their actions. 

He got his eyes back on the street in front of him: Dazai’s small frame was making him feel both angered and protective: he just wanted to place a hand on his shoulder and tell him to blurt out whatever was making him feel sad. 

How could a brilliant mind be trapped in a body that was so thin? 

They reached the car and got inside. 

There was so much he wanted to say to him, some things were desperate like “why can’t you tell me why you’re this upset?” and others were angrier like “look, the one reading minds here it’s you not me”, while others sounded apologetic like “sorry for yelling at you: I was worried about you but I have a terrible way of showing it”, but he was sure that no one of them conveyed the myriad of things he wished to tell him. 

He stared at the steering wheel in front of him: he knew Dazai could read the thoughts of everyone but wasn’t it nice to hear from time to time what others thought? Wasn’t it the same as when he wondered what happened to Dazai at Meursault?

He started the car but didn’t move: his eyes stood in front of him as he watched his own hands curl and his knuckles turning white; with the corner of his eye he could distinguish the brown and pink dot of Dazai’s head turn to look at him. 

He pondered his next words well and hoped that for the moment they would be enough. When there was too much to say, the words that came out of his mouth were always close to nothing. 

His trembling whisper matched the confusion inside his head. 

-Thank you, for before. 

If he squinted, he swore he saw Dazai stiffen before a hint of a smile was audible in his voice. He turned his head to the window again.

-It has been a while since I’ve seen you that pissed. 

-Oh, shut up. You get on my nerves every time, you always see me pissed. 

Shit. 

For a moment he wanted to bite his tongue. He didn’t mean that. Why did he look mad even when he was just trying to have a decent conversation with him?

He was already trying to find the right words to apologize, but when he turned with cheeks warm from shame, he just found Dazai with a gentle smile. He wasn’t looking at him. 

-I know that, Kunikida-kun.

His voice didn’t hold any sadness or any anger and for a moment, Kunikida felt normalcy envelope them like a warm blanket in winter.

Relief washed over him with a huge wave of warm sweat. He ran his eyes all over his figure; he wondered if he should add anything, but in the end he chose to be silent. 

He finally started the car. 

Kunikida drove outside the alleyway and then to the main road. 

Dazai’s smile gradually died down as he returned to stare at the outside with his elbow resting on the edge of it. The silence was heavy again and the warm atmosphere that lingered on them dissipated, making March’s coldness even worse. 

Discomfort engulfed his stomach and he had to force himself to admit that their normalcy was just an illusion.

Kunikida peeked at him with the corner of his eye. He had dark circles under his eyes and he was glad Dazai wasn't in the mood to tease: he didn’t sleep that much when he got back to his apartment. 

He fell asleep fully-clothed on his couch, dwelling on if he had to go and apologize for the harsh things he said or stay there. He knew Dazai was either strolling around the city or was fast asleep, so his words would have been useless in front of an empty room. And then, was he sure that Dazai wanted to listen to him? And even if that was the case, what was he supposed to say?

He redirected his eyes on the road in front of him, his fingers went to hold the steering wheel tight. 

Even if he regretted admitting it, what Dazai told him about the kiss was true, and it was the reason why he ended up glued to the couch instead of taking action. Still, the fact that it was the reason why Dazai went silent was rather odd. 

They needed to sit and talk but now it wasn’t the moment to speak with honesty and be sincere about what happened. Ignoring it didn't seem like a solution, since it worsened their relationship. 

There was a thing in particular that he wanted to take back, and it was what he yelled before leaving the office: "I don't know how someone like you ended up being my partner". They bickered true, but from that to openly admit that he hated him there was an abyss. He wondered if the other believed him for real or if he sensed he was just mad, but from his quietness Kunikida had reasons to believe that it was the latter. 

He got tempted by stopping the car and talking, but they were in the middle of the interviews.

He sighed. 

He saw the small house on the edge of an alleyway and stopped the car right next to the building: they got out of it and his mind switched to work immediately; he had to focus on work, otherwise Dazai was going to steal all the room inside his head. 

Next family was made up of a couple of elders that were way more sociable than the previous; Kunikida thought that he could finally take a breath and lower his guard a bit. 

Their house was also more colorful, one of them even wanted to offer them coffee but they refused: he didn’t know about Dazai, but his heart was already beating too fast lately, he was trying to avoid caffeine hoping it would stop eventually. 

-Sorry to keep you waiting. There was a road interruption and we had to take another path. 

The mother apologized when Kunikida hinted at trying to contact them yesterday but to no avail. He frowned.

-Sounds like streets get closed frequently these days, eh Kunikida?

Dazai elbowed him as he sat on the couch, he scoffed. The feeling of Dazai’s elbow on his skin lingered for minutes. 

He focused his attention on the pair. 

-Well, what was your daughter’s relationship with Hiroshi?

-Maya and Hiroshi had been friends since kindergarten. – The father took the word, sat on the worn out armchair in the living room. He looked tired, with wrinkles around his eyes and small marks on the forehead. – They used to study together since they’re grades had never been excellent, yet, even now they didn’t seem to improve. 

-Did they say something before they disappeared? 

This time the two of them took a moment to think. The mother lowered her head and frowned, probably she was trying to recall whatever Maya could have said. 

-The only thing I remember is that she found a way at school to not worry anymore about grades. 

The same identical thing. If the others said the same too, then, it could’ve been a pattern. Were they probably disappeared together, all the five of them? At this point it was possible, as it was possible that Tanaka was involved. It made sense, since he was the only one that cared about them and it made sense that he was the only one to contact the agency to hide the fact that he was the culprit. As twisted as it seemed, it wouldn’t be the first criminal to do it. But the question still stayed: why? They were teenagers, what could you possibly want from a teenager? And if it was a threat and the teens were used as hostages, the problem was the same: these families barely had any belongings. Kunikida wondered what you could want from a poor family. 

-Do you know if she was close with one of the teachers? Or if she found extracurricular help from someone older? 

The mother took her time to think during which he and Dazai exchanged glances; however, while he was drowning in his doubts, Dazai had his usual expression of when he figured out most of the situation. With a bit of apprehension, Kunikida wished he could understand everything too. The sole sight of Dazai kept making his whole body twist with an unpleasant feeling of guilt and something else that made his skin crawl like goosebumps. What was? Ah, shame, that was the word. 

-Uhm, detective?

Kunikida turned to the client again. 

-Yes, - he stuttered as he fixed his glasses. – Sorry, where were we? 

-Now I remember. Maya said that the principal suggested they took some courses during the afternoon, instead of clubs that were going to be another distraction for them. 

-Do you remember who hosted these classes?

-Their math teacher if I remember well. 

Tanaka, again. Just how much was the teacher involved? Could he really be the one behind everything? Kunikida thought about his face: he looked like your average teacher, it wasn’t possible for him to be what? A trafficker? A killer? They barely knew where these boys were. 

He sighed and got up: they were done for now, there was nothing else they could ask and even if they did it, there was not that much these people could tell them that could be useful. They didn’t attend school with their children, after all. However, just when they were about to take their leave, a third figure walked from the corridor to the living room. It was a boy. 

His hair was the typical nest someone had when they just woke up. He stopped midway when he noticed two silhouettes that he didn’t know. 

-Uh, hi?

Kunikida felt his embarrassment on his own skin: he knew that feeling. When someone he didn’t know came into his house, he felt like a stranger. He greeted him with a hint of his head and a formal smile while his mother explained to him the situation. Turned out that he was the older brother of Maya. 

As soon as he got to know they were detectives, his lips stretched in a tired smile.

-Finally they’re investigating. I feel so relieved people won’t disappear anymore from that damned school.

-Anymore?

The boy blinked in confusion.

-Uh? Haven’t they told you? A lot of students disappeared during the past years, they’ve never been found. 

-So? Why did you say that joke before? 

-Ah, you noticed?

-C’mon, - Kunikida clicked his tongue. –What did you see? 

Dazai looked around, scanning the area.

-Remember what the first family told us? That there was a road interruption and they had to take another one. 

Kunikida frowned in confusion.

-I don’t see anything weird in that. They said that there was an interruption on the road, nothing that could be used as evidence. 

-It’s exactly why it’s an evidence. – Kunikida stared at him puzzled: there he went with his complex reasoning. – They said the same thing, in the same way and used it as the reason why they weren’t at home. 

-Are you saying that it’s an excuse and they’re implied?

Families murdering their children. As twisted as it seemed, it wasn’t the first time they could have found themselves in that situation. Kunikida had a shiver hitting him in the back: he hoped it wasn’t the case. 

He breathed in relief when Dazai shook his head. 

-No they’re not implied, at least not directly. – He suddenly changed the topic. –Did you notice it too inside the custodian’s office, what there was? 

Kunikida tried to recall the guardian’s office: a worn out sofa, a jacket and–

-Detectives, good morning!

A cheerful voice interrupted his thoughts and he turned so fast that his ponytail swung from left to right. When he saw him, what Dazai said rang inside his head like a bell. A few meters ahead there was the custodian: he was waving at them with a gentle smile. He had a flower pot between his hands. 

They exchanged a glance before waving back and walking closer to him. Dazai, who was the first to recover from the surprise, talked while Kunikida stood behind still deep in thought and with his hands in his pockets. 

-Good morning, - Dazai greeted back, - funny to meet again. 

-Oh, I live around here, and I have the day off, so I thought I could do some gardening. I noticed you from here, that’s why I waved. 

There were plants around the spot, but they all looked dead or thirsty. Kunikida observed him again. Something about the guardian’s outline turned sinister, almost scary. Up until that moment, Kunikida just saw him as a curious and kind person, but now these thoughts were morphing into something disturbing: he was curious, and while it could’ve been kindness, maybe it was also a way to know something more about the case. 

After all, what did they know about this person? Nothing, besides him being the guardian of the school. He was the person they had the least data about. They didn’t even know his name. And even if they wanted to drag him to the agency because they had doubts about him, what kind of permit did they have besides hypothesis? 

Kunikida came to the conclusion that he was exaggerating and the lack of sleep was turning him paranoid. 

-Working even today? How are things going?

Kunikida’s frown deepened and the custodian noticed it since he waved his hands with an apologetic smile. 

-My fault, I guess I forgot that detectives have confidential data to work with. 

-It’s nothing too confidential. – Dazai shrugged, catching Kunikida off guard. He turned to look at him in disbelief. How couldn’t it be confidential? They just listened to the families of the victims, of course it was confidential. – We just listened to what the families had to say about their missing children. 

The guardian lifted the eyebrows and breathed through his nose. 

-It must be difficult for them, isn’t it?

-It would be weird if it weren’t. – Dazai replied, copying the same thoughtful tone of voice of the guardian. – Well, we leave you at the garden. 

The questions hanging in the air were a lot but both of them were too lost replaying in their heads what happened to talk. 

A weird conversation, it sounded useless and forced even. All the conversations between adults were like that, but this one was completely on another level.  

When they were far enough, Kunikida couldn’t hold his doubts anymore and elbowed Dazai.

-Shouldn’t the custodian live next to the school since he’s the custodian ? 

Dazai shrugged but didn’t lose sight of the old man. 

-He should, yes. – He admitted with a voice that let Kunikida feel all the thoughts that were going through his head on a personal level. – But for some reason he leaves around the neighbourhood around the students and takes the train with the students. 

Kunikida could understand Dazai’s doubts: until now, the most suspected one was Tanaka, yet the fact that a lot of students disappeared before his arrival excluded him from students' direct disappearance though he could still be a complicit. This brought them to the guardian that looked closest to the students. But without any evidence their suspicions were useless. 

And yet, he worked in the same school as the students, it was normal for him to be close with them. 

He followed Dazai’s eyes and peeked at the guardian too before clicking his tongue and calling for Dazai’s attention with a hint of his head. 

-C’mon, let’s go. We still have a lot to do.

Dazai just followed him without saying anything. 

-We should finish the tour around the families and then we’ll go listen to the principal. I wonder why he never mentioned that some students went missing. 

As always, Dazai was right. He was fucking right. All five families confirmed that they found the same interruption at the same place on the same road. While it was possible that it was a coincidence, his years as a detective told him that it wasn’t a coincidence. 

All the five families worked in the same place? Impossible, and even if it was the case, the houses were fifteen, twenty minutes from each other, two of them saw the road interruption through the train, one with the bus and the other two by car. Also, being so far from one to another meant that the road they had to take to reach the workplace was significantly longer or shorter. To be brief, the interruption on the street was there for almost all day. 

Yet the case could wait, since his thoughts were occupied by something else at the moment. 

-Dazai, - he intoned deeply as he glared at the other. – You get paid monthly like every other member of the agency, right?

Dazai nodded, making his fringe bounce on his forehead. 

-Then where is your money!

A few people in the market turned their heads to look at Kunikida, who just yelled next to a bunch of vegetables. In the distance, two women were murmuring about them being two agents of the armed detective agency and that they looked “too noisy to be professional detectives”. Usually Kunikida let insults slide on him like water on plastic but in that moment he was too stressed, and those words hit him like a brick in the face. It reminded him why he didn’t go shopping at noon. 

They were at a supermarket near the neighborhood: Kunikida was driving to the school when Dazai started whining that he wanted to eat since it was “lunch time” or whatever he called it. There weren’t any restaurants so he stopped at the nearest market he spotted on the way. 

Obviously Dazai was going to use his money, because he was a menace and he was letting him do it because what else could he do? He did like that also back in the days, and Kunikida knew it so well that he would even bring extra money with him. However, this time he came unprepared: he completely forgot about this. 

Dazai huffed and hollowed his cheeks like a child. 

-I told you I forgot my wallet at home. 

-Then why did you say you wanted to stop for lunch!

-My mind can’t work if I don’t eat!

As if you eat on a daily basis. – Kunikida lifted an eyebrow and crossed his arms. – Whatever, grab what you need and hurry. We don’t have all day. 

Kunikida ignored Dazai’s high pitched: “alright!” and pushed the cart through the supermarket sections while the other muttered nonsense words under his breath as he threw a bunch of useless objects in the cart. 

He observed him in silence: Dazai was observing carefully two different brands of sandwiches with the expression of someone that knew how to buy groceries when he was, very clearly, incapable. His lips were pursed in a small pout, while his eyebrows frowned and distended rhythmically as if they followed his thoughts. Kunikida kept his eyes on him, feeling the tension of the day decrease. Maybe this break wasn’t that bad.  

About thirty minutes later Kunikida observed the cash register tape slide the items on, his thoughts were interrupted only by the “beep-beep” of the cash. 

A pair of chocolate bars, two packets of crisps, a sandwich pack (probably that was the only useful thing for lunch) and two bottles of ramune . It looked like a child that bought random things while the mom wasn’t looking, no– a child would have been more polite than Dazai. 

It sounded more like something Ranpo would buy, but that wasn’t the moment to dig in the situation. 

He took out of his pocket the wallet and waited for the cashier to tell him how much money that demon of his partner stole this time. In the midst of his thoughts he noticed Dazai leaning over the cash with his elbow and looking at the cashier who seemed like the most enthusiastic thing that ever happened in his life was gaze at blank spots on a wall. 

-It’s a relief, isn’t it? – The cashier moved his eyes up to him uninterested. Dazai continued to talk with his usual cheery voice. – I mean there was that huge interruption on the street yesterday, it’s a relief isn’t there anymore. 

This time, the cashier’s brows furrowed slightly and he stopped typing on the keyboard to look at both of them. 

-Uh? Sorry, but what are you talking about? There wasn't any interruption on that street yesterday. 

Kunikida lifted his eyes from the wallet and looked at Dazai.

-I even arrived early since there was no one. 

Only the “tick” of the receipt echoed in the half-empty market. 

-What do you want to ask the principal?

They were walking through the corridor of the school. During the afternoon most of the students were busy with their club activities so the school was half-empty, and whoever was still there was probably in class, focused on whatever they had to do. 

Dazai was still munching the last bit of his sandwich as he walked: in the end, he really ate the sandwich and he really bought the double portion for him and Kunikida. 

-Only the reason why he didn’t do anything since the students have been disappearing for years. 

-Do you have the impression he might be implied?

Dazai shrugged and kept walking. Kunikida assumed that even someone like Dazai could have doubts. As they reached the office, Dazai knocked: the teachers at the entrance told them that the principal was in today, fortunately. 

A muffled but firm voice called a loud “come in” before Dazai lowered the doorknob. 

-I don’t know, - he muttered while looking at Kunikida. He was still answering his question from before. – It just sounds weird that the principal doesn’t know what’s going on in his own school. 

He pushed the door and they entered the office. Kunikida’s head was still processing what Dazai said, but he supposed it made sense. It was as if their president didn’t know they were on a mission or disappeared somewhere else. Heartache took over him completely and he realized that it was impossible.

The principal was younger than they expected, probably the same age as Tanaka, with broad shoulders and sparse hair. He shook hands with them before sitting again behind his heavy desk and holding his hands together.

-Funny how they called the detective agency. I heard you just started the business again. – There was a tinge of skepticism in his voice, just like the father of the first family they visited. – I hope whatever you’re doing will rehab your name like it deserves. 

It looked like everything but a cheer; it sounded more like a hidden insult, Kunikida had the impression that it was the nth person doubting them. Sometimes he wanted to yell in their faces that what they heard wasn’t true, at all. But how do you convince someone that he saw a lie when the facts were right in front of his eyes? 

He forced a polite smile, and watched the man in front of them sighing and scratching his forehead. 

-Well, what can I do for you?

-We’re looking for missing students, – Dazai commented casually, - looks like five days ago a bunch of students went missing and they look like they dissolved into thin air, do you have a vague idea about what I’m talking about? 

While Kunikida wasn’t so sure about Dazai starting with a wary attitude wasn’t the best, he found himself stuck on the seat next to him unable to interrupt him. 

The principal’s eyebrows twitched before an embarrassed smile appeared on his face. 

-Missing students? Sorry, but what are you talking about?

-The teacher Tanaka told us that five students from his class went missing.

The old man lifted his eyebrows in front of Kunikida's statement. 

-Oh, so it was him calling you, heh? – He scratched his head, and waved his hand to dismiss his confusion. – Sorry, this school is huge and I barely know the faces of the teachers, let alone knowing if students disappeared. 

Kunikida frowned: it wasn’t wrong, after all if he spent all day inside his office, there was the possibility that he really didn’t know what was going on outside. 

-We asked Tanaka some questions and we discovered that the guys knew each other. 

Dazai showed the principal the photos, ignoring his previous apologies. As soon as he looked at the photos he widened his eyes and pointed at the students with his fingers. 

-Oh, I know them. They always got in trouble. 

-We spoke with the families and discovered in this school students have been disappearing for years, how come you didn’t know anything?

The principal stared at Kunikida surprised. Then, as if he understood his intentions, he took off his glasses and sighed: he intertwined his fingers on the desk and let his gaze wander from Dazai to Kunikida. Usually, when someone is guilty of something, they try taking time drinking or sighing or looking around, but in this case, the principal didn’t turn paler or fidgeted on his seat. He just stood there with both eyebrows raised and had the impression to ask them: “did you really say that?”

When he spoke again, Kunikida realized how many things they ignored and they went straight to doubting him. 

-Detective, this school is, let’s say, in a particular area. A lot of students come here, follow for a short while and then they leave to work and help their families. It’s a common phenomenon. 

-Yes, but in this case the families don’t know where the students are. 

The principal scratched his forehead as he looked again at the photos of the missing students: he was conflicted, the small wrinkles on his forehead tensed and he exhaled a sigh. He didn’t know anything and it was obvious he wanted them out of his office as soon as possible. 

-Look, I can try to ask other students or the teachers if they know anything but I can barely imagine what happened. If anything, I’m more surprised that Tanaka didn’t tell me anything and called you on his own. 

Kunikida mentally added another suspicious aspect of Tanaka to the list. Honestly, there was no one being innocent: families should have checked  their children, the students should have told their families their programmes, the principal should have been more careful towards what concerned his own school, Tanaka should have informed the principal immediately that he hired two detectives and the custodian should have well, looked after the students better. There was a hole in each story, even in the victims' situation. He was slowly coming to the conclusion that everyone was involved in the case but on different levels and with different crimes. 

-One last thing, - Kunikida pressed with one last question. – The last thing they said was that they found a way to solve the issue with their bad grades. Is it true that Tanaka hosted afternoon classes that helped the students with math?

-Oh, yes it’s true. It happened that he did it, but there were also other students from other classes that didn’t get good grades and I saw them today at school, so I assure you they’re not disappeared. 

Heartache hit Kunikida like cold rain on dry clothes: he was seconds away from throwing everything in the air and giving up. It was absurd. Either there was still something they didn’t know, or he didn’t know a thing about kidnappings, which was, at that point of his career, impossible. He glanced at Dazai who, as always, hid his thoughts behind a blank expression. However, the micro movements of his jaw and hands were clear cues that he was feeling his same annoyance.

Some days were endless. Others brought only bad news. Today was both endless and bearer of bad news. 

Drenched in anguish, they got up. After an awkward handshake and a formal “thank you for your time” plus some stereotypical sentences that were directly from their detective manual like: “we’ll be in touch” and “let us know if you notice anything weird”, they opened the office door and let the rain of bad news follow them outside.  

During his career as a detective, Kunikida experienced a wide range of feelings that went from simple frustration to pure anger. He was sure that either would have been better than the far feeling of annoyance and shame that was twirling in his chest: he couldn’t decipher what was going on inside of him, he just knew that their only guess dissipated into thin air. 

As their last resolution, Dazai suggested to ask Tanaka why he didn’t mention those maths classes when they first met, but when they reached the teachers’ room they just ran into bad news again. 

-The teacher Tanaka?

The other teacher in front of them thought for a moment, placing her chin between her index finger and his thumb. When she shook her head, Kunikida was hit with a bad feeling of having missed the opportunity to talk to Tanaka. He dismissed it though. He could always meet him tomorrow. 

-Oh, it left about five minutes ago. Do I have to tell him that you were looking for him?

-No thanks, - Dazai dismissed the question with a tired smile and thanked the woman with a slight hint of his head. – We will be back tomorrow. 

Kunikida thanked with a polite smile, before following Dazai outside. His head was still stuck to their conversation with the principal when he noticed Dazai staring at something on the ceiling. 

Dazai squeezed his eyes shut a few times in front of the electric lights of the corridor. He didn’t know which was more annoying: if the white lights in contrast with the black outside or the buzzing of people from the various rooms. He was getting tired and his tolerance for noises, lights and smells was decreasing. Did they wash the floor? There was a faint scent of bleach that was making his nose tingle. Came to think, that was the same smell there was in the mafia’s underground when they cleaned torture tools— 

Someone nudged him by the shoulder. He jumped on the spot, feeling each centimeter of his skin crawl in anxiety, a feeling that got away only when he was met with the green eyes of his partner. 

His mind was back in the corridor of that school, with its white lights and buzzing of people. He was sure Kunikida noticed that something wasn’t right with him: it was brief, but his lips twitched as if he wanted to say something. Then, as if he remembered that what was going on between them couldn’t be solved with just one question, he straightened his back and began to walk again. 

-C’mon, let’s go out. 

Words died in his throat and he could do nothing but follow him outside. 

When they left the school the sky already turned black, a cold breeze hushed the trees and hit them right in the face before they got to the car. Kunikida shut the car door carrying with him the smell of cold and rain. Dazai followed suit, entering in the car as well.  

They stood there in silence with their eyes focused on the pitch black scenery in front of them: it was as if they were looking at the situation, staggering in the dark without a direction. Kunikida grimaced at the awful comparison and sighed. His eyes were dry from exhaustion: if he closed them, he was sure he was going to tear up. 

He started the car and reached the main street to go back to Yokohama center. During the first kilometers neither of them said a word. He was tired to the point that he couldn’t distinguish if the silence between them was the one between two people that were too tired to talk, or if it was the usual awkward one that kept them company since that case started. Reality was blending with his thoughts, really. 

At his left, Dazai was rubbing his hands together as he glued himself to the warm air of the car. Kunikida frowned: it was obvious that he was going to freeze. It was March damn, his trench was too thin for early spring. At that rate he was going to get sick, and when Dazai got sick, it was the equivalent of dealing with a five year old with a fever. But that's another story. 

He turned to the right at the crossroad and he was met with a huge column of cars and buses that were merging on the main road together. Avoiding incidents was going to be a challenge, let alone reaching their district. 

 Saying that his mood was terrible would be an understatement. 

He gripped the steering wheel and squinted his eyes: his temples were throbbing. 

He stopped there in the traffic, waiting for someone that was so kind to let him pass and groaned. Those were the moments he hated living in a big city. Dazai hadn’t said a word since they left the school, that was enough for him to shift his attention from the traffic to his partner. 

Dazai was resting his head on the cold window, his fluffy hair pressed against the glass as he stared at the cars in front of him with a void expression. Came to think that the first of the axioms of communication that he learned during his detective training quoted that it was “impossible to not communicate”, even if someone didn’t want to. He wondered if it was possible to have exceptions here and there, because at that moment Dazai’s face was empty, just empty. He couldn’t tell if he was frustrated, annoyed or bored, since it seemed both all and nothing at once. It was rare to see him making that face, all of his eccentricities and loudness dissipated and he looked like a different person: more mature but also like a pouting child, Kunikida couldn’t tell. What was obvious was that he had no energy left to feign that he was confident in solving the case. 

Kunikida wondered if that was the face he made when no one was around. When he didn’t have to pretend. 

But it was understandable, they barely had any time to breathe before stepping into work again: he knew that they handled worse if compared to this case, but the fact they were so annoyed and impatient was a clear signal that they were still mentally exhausted from what happened previously. 

The need to talk grew louder in his chest, words in his throat were pressing to come out but he didn’t know what to say. His brain kept telling him “say something, say something” as if the occasion to talk with Dazai was something he shouldn’t miss at all costs.They had so much to talk about, probably that was the reason why he didn’t have anything to say. 

He wanted that silence between them to stop and his mind went to work-related stuff as if it was on autopilot. That was the only common ground they had and the only way he could oblige the other to talk. 

-Okay, I’m going to be honest: I don’t understand a thing about this case.

-It’s simpler than what you think, in reality. – Dazai answered with an audible sigh in his voice. – Someone is trying to delay our investigation and deceiving all our plans. We wanted to hear the families and we didn’t find them. The principal didn’t know about the disappearances,Tanaka left early. I don’t know you but I have the impression that someone is spying on us. They all seem a coincidence but they aren’t. 

Kunikida held back himself from rolling his eyes. Not again. Why did every criminal have a passion for observing him and Dazai from afar? Were they that funny to watch? Or were all the criminals voyeurs and the manuals of criminology had been palming off on them wrong profiling insights for years? 

-The custodian seems to be always around us. Yet all the suspects are on Tanaka: he’s the one that hosted the afternoon’s classes, the one that called us for their disappearance and also the one that knew the students the best. The students disappeared five days ago and Tanaka arrived at this school this year. 

-But other students disappeared also the previous years. 

-That could be a separate case, you know it’s not a rule. – The fact that other people went missing could simply be for another reason, as long as they didn’t find any link with those student’s disappearance and their case, that observation was useless. It could just be like the principal said: they left to work or whatever. –We should search for the former students but it would require a lot of time and we don’t have it. Plus, if we search back ten years in this school we’d barely find anything since to the present state of affairs, it means that now those teens are in their twenties and don’t live with their parents anymore. 

Kunikida turned around the corner and he met another column of cars: evening was the worst time to drive, everyone left work to go home and streets flooded with cars, buses or everything had wheels and occupied the road. There were even bikes at the sides of the street. The cold from the March evening misted up the glass of the car, making the red stopping lights all stirred and unshaped. 

Previous words of the case hung in the air and even after that fast exchange of words, they came up with nothing and silence returned heavy in the car. But for the moment, Kunikida thought they could leave it at that, they weren’t making any progress and his temples were hurting more than before.

They waited for the cars in front of them to move, the engine was the only thing that echoed in the car. Kunikida tried to ignore the stirring in his stomach that grew stronger when he realized that it has been a while since they’ve been alone like that. 

Despite the trust in his partner after their first case together, Kunikida accepted the next mission outside Yokohama with apprehension. It was the first time he and Dazai were going to be completely alone without the agency’s members surrounding themselves: on one side, Kunikida thought it could be an occasion to observe how Dazai moved outside the office context, but on the other, he was just worried about how they could get along. Dazai was a handful during the day, but if he felt his nerves twitch, he could always go talking to someone else, like Ranpo or Yosano. However, now they were going to be completely alone, and arguing with him could ruin their mission.

 But orders were orders, so he just took the files and arranged the hotel. 

When he told Dazai, his partner just cheered, screaming: “roadtrip with Kunikida-kun!” Further worsening his apprehension. 

The trip to Tokyo was filled with Dazai talking nonsense to the point that when they arrived at eleven in the morning Kunikida’s temples were already throbbing. He hoped evening would arrive soon, and even if tediously, hours passed, and they finally reached the hotel where they were going to stay. 

To save the agency's budget, which was still recovering from the Blue Apostle’s case (fixing the company car, the disguises for the embassy and the many coffees they took at the bar were expensive), they were going to stay in the same room with two beds. 

As soon as they entered the room, Dazai flung on the bed next to the window, face on the mattress. Kunikida wanted to yell, but after being around the city all day, he couldn’t really blame him. 

The evening went oddly well, with Dazai behaving during dinner and also later when they were getting ready to go to bed. He was quiet, uncharacteristically so, but he considered that even someone as loud as him could get tired and decided not to press. 

There was an abysmal difference between his perfectly ironed pajamas and Dazai’s stained shirt and chipped pants but as long as he didn’t stink, Kunikida was fine. He was about to lay down and go to sleep, when he noticed his partner sitting still on the bed, blanket on his knees and fingers digging in the fabric of it. 

Dazai was observing the city from the hotel window, street and car lights reflected on his pale skin, making it look now red, now green. His eyes glistened but Kunikida doubted it was curiosity: after all, a metropolis was a metropolis, there was nothing different from where they came from. All cities looked the same once you lived in a city as big as Yokohama. 

Yet, the hard expression on Dazai’s face made him understand that he was thinking intensely about something. 

Kunikida fixed the glasses on his nose, not sure of what to say. What was on his mind? The case? Impossible. Dazai wasn’t a workaholic, he never was and will never be. If something, he was the one always thinking about work. Suicide wasn’t an option either: he was always loud when he tried to off himself and while he was a nuisance, he never tried to do it in serious or quiet moments like that. 

Erasing these two options, what remained was— Kunikida found himself at a loss of words. 

…What else did Dazai do besides thinking about suicide or working? Did he have hobbies like normal hobbies? Or just spent time doing nothing? 

He pushed his ponytail on the back and tried to come up with a decent conversation that could avoid pulling an all nighter to both of them. After all, they were still on a mission. 

-It’s lively outside, isn’t it? 

Not his greatest try, but Dazai nodded immediately, as if he was waiting for Kunikida to say something. 

-It’s like a bigger version of Yokohama. We might even get lost. 

-This is the first time you’re away from Yokohama?

-Let’s put it this way.

He answered with his head turned towards the window: Kunikida couldn’t see his expression. 

He still wondered what Dazai did before being hired by the agency, it’s not like he forgot. Sometimes he thought about it just out of curiosity, because he didn’t believe he was an idiot that wandered around the city for twenty years before seeking employment. Or maybe he could’ve really wandered around like a homeless person, for someone with his mind, it wouldn’t be difficult to make a living in that way, but that way of life just didn’t sound right for someone like Dazai that got bored easily. The discourse contradicted itself. 

However, whatever he could have done before didn’t imply traveling, because his fingers tracing the outlines of the blankets and all that noise from before were evident signs that he didn’t like being there. 

Dazai wasn’t someone vocal about what he felt for real, he could say that after a few months of working together. But his words from before were enough for him to understand. 

A new city, for someone so vigilant like Dazai must’ve been a threat more than a place to explore: people he didn’t know in streets that he didn’t know in a city that he didn’t know. Sounded like hell on Earth. 

He shot him one last glance, before getting up and heading towards the desk of the room. He turned on the small light bulb that tinted the room in a warm yellow and grabbed the kettle from the corner. He filled it with water and turned it on. 

Shifting his attention to the tea bags next to a brochure he started discarding the ones that were just tea and could have worsened the situation. Tea, tea, tea, just how much tea did they think clients drank? What were they? Monks? 

-I have to tell you, these things are disgusting and taste like shit and dirty flower water, but they’re useful when you can’t sleep. 

He turned, only to find Dazai staring at him. His curious eyes went from Kunikida to the bags.Then, as if he wanted a confirmation of what he supposed he asked:

-What are you doing? 

-Herbal tea.You have insomnia, right? – Dazai just held the blankets tighter. Kunikida turned towards the kettle again, as if he didn’t notice it. – The ones that hotels sell are cheap and full of industrial things that are not herbs. I can’t make one, because my ability would be nullified by yours, so we have to go with this one. 

He nodded to himself as he opened a tea bag and turned the kettle off when it whistled. 

-You’re also a tea expert? 

Dazai teased but it made Kunikida smile. He put the herbal tea bag in the mug and waited. For a moment, no one of them talked, a comfortable silence lingered between them: it was good that Dazai wanted to joke, at least he looked more like someone he knew and not a complete stranger version of himself. 

-Can’t I have other interests besides ideals and justice? 

-I was more impressed by the fact that you were willing to rip a sheet of paper out of your beloved ideal to make a herbal tea bag. Didn’t you use it for emergencies?

-It is an emergency. If you don’t sleep, tomorrow I'll have to do all the work. 

-Aw you’re worried for me. 

Kunikida felt embarrassment go through his whole body in waves.

-This is just basic human decency, you dumbass.

He turned with the mug in his hand and walked till Dazai’s bed. His partner accepted it with reluctance, but that could have also been hesitation: Dazai stared at the liquid as if he realized at that moment that Kunikida really did herbal tea for him. 

Kunikida was taken aback when he noticed the way Dazai’s shoulders hunched over as to shield himself: it was the first time he saw him make such a vulnerable move. He clenched his jaw and looked away: he wasn’t the best with words, neither at comforting the others; he could provide thirty different reports in thirty minutes, showing up to a meeting right on clock, but sweet words and caring smiles weren’t something he could do. 

Or at least, idealistically speaking, he was gentle. He thought a lot of gentle things about the people around him, but instead of a “I care about you” what came out of his mouth was always “shut up or I’ll kick you”. What did his students call it? A tsundere? He’d never been good with jargon, even when he was a teen himself. 

Besides, it would have just made Dazai laugh. 

Knowing that Dazai, since he was Dazai, would never say “thank you” he returned to the desk, closed the bottle of water and placed the kettle in its spot again. Only then, he shut the lightbulb and returned to bed. The room was swallowed by darkness. 

In the meanwhile, Dazai drank most of the herbal tea, and now he was holding the mug between his hands to warm them. When Kunikida pulled the blanket over his legs, Dazai spoke again in a quiet tone. 

-Kunikida-kun said it was terrible, but it’s not that bad. 

“What kind of tea did you ever drink to think so highly of something as cheap as this?” Kunikida stopped himself in time.

-I can almost imagine you making tea for the others in the office.You should ask to be transferred to the reception. 

-It happened only this time. – Kunikida snarled. – What do you think I am? A waitress? You try to be gentle and that’s how you get repaid. If you ever get a subordinate, maybe you’ll understand why I did it. 

A long silence followed. 

Dazai stared at the liquid in the hotel mug: he was gazing at something distant, a glimpse of memory that made his lips twitch in a slight grimace that was similar to a smile but with the corners downwards. 

Kunikida stared at him from his bed. 

-What?

When Dazai stiffened, he noticed that maybe he touched a nerve or better, he asked a simple question that required an answer that was too complex to give, now. He held the bedsheets between his hands as he wondered if he should apologise or not, when Dazai shook his head. 

-Nothing, don’t worry Kunikida-kun. 

His voice was quieter than usual: it was gentle, soft, as if he barely used any air to pronounce those words, yet Kunikida felt it linger in the room and then in his head longer than he expected. He didn’t know Dazai was capable of using such a tone. 

-Thank you. 

He added, hinting at the mug. The bitter smile from before disappeared, replaced with a weak one that just curved his lips a bit. However, Kunikida found himself thinking that he preferred that weak one, instead of the cheerful and forced smiles he made every day in front of the others. He looked younger, as if he was acting like himself and not like someone he had to be: the annoying partner, someone that was always vigilant about his surroundings, a cunning individual. Probably, in that hotel room, miles from home, in the middle of the night, he was seeing Dazai for the first time. 

His heart felt as if he got pricked by a pin. 

-I-it’s nothing. 

He stuttered as he noticed that he was still staring at him. For a moment, he expected Dazai to tease him: “Kunikida-kun is staring at me? Oh, I’m flattered he thinks I’m handsome to look at!” He could hear his voice say it. 

But that teasing never came. Dazai just widened his smile slightly, before placing the mug on the nightstand and turning to the opposite side, covering himself up until his head with the blankets. 

Kunikida stood there: observing his partner’s back rising and falling rhythmically. Seemed the herbal tea made its work, or maybe it was just Dazai avoiding him because of embarrassment— no, impossible. Dazai wasn’t the kind of person that got embarrassed but again, what kind of person was Dazai? What he saw that evening was far different from what he was used to seeing. 

Sighing, he took off his glasses, untied his hair and laid down on the bed: even if everything turned blurred, his thoughts were still clear. He stared at the ceiling with the images of that evening still running through his head. Maybe being alone with Dazai wasn’t that bad, even if it wasn’t about work. 

There were still a lot of things he didn’t know about that man, that’s what he thought. 

He wondered if there was something else, what other things Dazai locked away from the others and if he was the only one witnessing them. 

A horn brought him back inside the car, two years later. He noticed that cars started moving again. He hurried and advanced, filling the spot that there was in the traffic, before stopping in front of another column of vehicles. 

Embarrassment grew in his chest as soon as he realized he got caught up in past memories, a feeling that worsened when he noticed that he was being observed: with the corner of his eye, he noticed that Dazai was looking at him with a grin. He wondered if he knew what he was thinking. He decided that the best solution for calming his heart that seemed to race in his chest was to focus on the road. 

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and tried to make conversation again, just because silence didn’t help his mind to replay that memory from before on loop inside his head. 

-I knew you weren’t hungry this afternoon. You just wanted to verify if the road interruption was real, or if it was part of the case. 

Dazai sighed dramatically. 

-That’s why you indulged me? Oh and here I thought you really wanted to pay for me. 

Kunikida shook his head and caught a glimpse of Dazai’s smile. He nudged him.

-As If I don’t do it on a daily basis. I’ve been paying for you since we first met. 

-Right, right. My partner is a true gentleman, I should reward you with a kiss. 

The car stopped at the traffic light and a shadow fell on it. The light atmosphere from a few seconds ago dissipated immediately. 

Kunikida’s mind went back to the night they kissed and he stiffened. Dazai was just teasing obviously but the hazy memories of that evening just made his stomach sick. And then, a gentleman? No, he wasn’t anything like that. He was far from being a gentleman, idealistically speaking. 

The traffic light turned blue and he went straight, heading to the agency’s dorms. 

He shouldn’t have kissed him. He knew he was drunk, but that wasn’t a justification for what he did. It has been a while since he started wondering: what if Dazai was uncomfortable and didn’t tell him? It would be very Dazai-like to do. He was sure he didn’t distinguish very well that enduring something and being okay with something were two opposite concepts. He felt sick to his stomach: what had he done? A man of ideals that believed in mutual respect, drunkenly kissed his also drunk coworker. He wanted to cry. 

The atmosphere in the car turned heavier. Dazai sighed. 

-Bad wording, I know. 

-N-no it’s fine, I just–

-No I get it. 

They both looked in front of them, Kunikida’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. 

-A-About the case. 

-Yeah the case. 

Replied Dazai with no real thought behind his words. 

The memories of the evening before were still hunting his head: despite the light moments they shared today, he couldn’t say things were alright between each other, Dazai had been loyal to what he told him: speak only if we have to work. 

He frowned as he slowed the car down. They finally reached the dorms. Dazai never followed rules, never followed orders and lived to bother him, yet, now he just obeyed. It was possible that it was the nth wall Dazai was rising around him, pushing him away because he was annoyed? Upset? Afraid? He couldn’t tell, he couldn’t even tell if Dazai ever got afraid. 

A punch hit him right in his stomach when he realized that he barely knew the person sat next to him. 

Sure, he could understand a few things that went unsaid, like the fact that he wasn’t as happy as he feigned to be, and that the brain he owned caused him more pain than benefits, but if he tried to outline Dazai, well, Dazai was just a closed off person. That’s what he was. His weird and unreadable partner. 

He didn’t even know why he was putting so much thought into it, after all, they had been coworkers for two years. He never considered it a problem. 

Why did he have the impression that they had been close to “being friends but not close enough to be friends” kind of relationship? Why were there moments in which they felt close, and others in which they were so apart they seemed strangers? 

He was tired, maybe that was the reason why he was overthinking. 

Tearing his gaze away from his hands, Kunikida turned his head to look at Dazai, noticing that he was still staring in front of him. 

-It’s better if we wait until tomorrow, I mean it’s too late now to talk. 

-You’re right. 

-Well. 

-Right, so see you tomorrow?

Kunikida just nodded, and waited until Dazai closed the car door to exhale until his lungs emptied. His whole body curled in embarrassment as he rested his forehead on the steering wheel. 

Dazai, on his part, walked without turning back: he tried to keep his steps steady but he was sure that from the outside he just gave the impression of being stiff, he knew his shoulders were too rigid and that his back was too straightened up to be natural. He literally looked like someone that knew he was about to get shot in instants. He tried to focus on his shoes hitting the ground but when he did it, he felt like his foot was bare on the sidewalk and it annoyed him even further than the fabric of his shirt clinging around his elbows. 

He closed the door of his apartment and leaned against it: his whole body felt weak and he could finally show it: let go of his stiffness, reveal how much his legs hurt, how much his head throbbed from exhaustion. He closed his eyes and shook the coat off his shoulders, letting it fall on the floor with a rustling sound that brought relief to his own ears and then to his whole body. He unbuttoned the first button of his first and finally discarded his bolo tie, feeling his blood circulation go up his neck. 

The relief of being finally free from the constriction of his clothes allowed him to breath fresh air. 

Then, the self-loathing hit him like a cold shower: he and Kunikida had been alone for most of the time, he could have said a lot of things. Idealistically speaking, it was easy to apologize: “hey look I’m sorry I acted like an asshole yesterday”, but the words died in his mouth each time he tried. His chest felt constricted as if he had something in his throat that blocked him from talking, like a giant piece of food stuck in his gut that made his breath short. He snorted and curled his lips in a self-mocking smile. If he hadn’t provoked Kunikida, he wouldn’t have reacted that way. He made Kunikida, the most altruistic and idealistic individual on Earth, mad at him. The guilt he felt was something well deserved.

He told him to not think about the kiss but then he was the one still thinking about it; he told him he was fine with talking only for work, but here he was crumbling under all this tension he held inside of himself all day. Huge liar, that’s what he was, only that this time it didn’t make him proud. He pushed his fringe away, realising only now that he had been sweating. His hair was damp, causing him to grimace in disgust. 

He had no reason to act like that. Probably he was just doing that because it was convenient for him to be pushed away instead of pushing away for once. He could justify himself and say “oh it’s not my fault, it’s Kunikida’s” and feel less guilty for losing another person in his life. 

He wasn’t exaggerating if he compared how he felt, to the take away resting on his floor for two weeks. 

He hoped he still had some bottle of whisky hidden in the kitchen. 

Dazai clutched at his coat as he walked through the corridor of the school: his stomach was twirling in disgust and he was sure that there weren’t three Kunikida in front of him, that it was just him sleeping two hours that night and lying awake with his mind running in circles, switching from Fyodor’s face to Kunikida’s. He even thought he could see his hands wrapped in handcuffs at a certain point. 

He tried to wash the frustration away with frozen water but the feeling of his skin turning warm again when water dripped in the sink just made him angrier. 

It had been one of those nights where he just wanted to rip his head open and throw his brain in a trashcan. It wasn’t poetic, it wasn’t the heartbreaking poem that some  poet could write in the midst of his pain, because his pain wasn’t aesthetically beautiful. It was just ugly and chaotic. Or at least, that was the impression he had when he tried to name the bundle of thoughts that buzzed in his head. He had a broken television in his head and sometimes it was loud to the point he could hear it even in his ears. 

Ah, he could win against a lot of things, but himself wasn’t one of them. 

But he couldn’t leave the case like that, he couldn’t leave Kunikida again, that would have just made him feel worse. 

Kunikida walked ahead, feeling lightheaded: he wasn’t in any better condition than his colleague, but he didn’t drink, and the few hours of sleep he had made the difference. However, all his tiredness vanished when he noticed Dazai’s tired expression. He tried to hide it, but he had dark under his eyes and he barely greeted him that morning. 

He didn’t like when he got like that. 

He slowed his steps and waited for Dazai to reach him and eyed him from the side. 

-You’re pale, what did you do?

-Kunikida-kun, why so skeptic. – Dazai tried to sound natural but his voice became strained and forced to his ears. – I spent the night in a bar, and there was this lady that I was chatting with and then I looked at the watch and ops! I didn’t realize it was morning already. 

Kunikida held himself back from clicking his tongue. 

Garbage. Absolute garbage. Every single sentence of his was fake and Kunikida could feel his ears hurt as Dazai kept talking nonsense. Maybe the only true part was the fact that he didn’t sleep. Anger tugged at his chest like flames and he frowned in disappointment. 

-Idiot. You could have asked for the day off, you know? 

-And leaving Kunikida-kun in the middle of this mess? I’m not that mean. 

Kunikida was about to insist, but in the end he shook his head and let the subject drop. Dazai didn’t want to talk about it at all. 

He didn’t like when he acted like that: he knew he didn’t look like a good listener, his anger hid a lot of his good qualities. Most of the time he looked like he couldn’t care less about the others but he did; he lost sleep to it. It was difficult to understand his way of loving people, yet he wished Dazai could see through his anger and know that he was worried about him. He could have told him yes, but his answer would be something along the lines of: “Oh, Thank you Kunikida-kun. You’re always ready to help others, mh?” Before closing up even more and not daring to speak about that ever again. Every now and then he wondered if Dazai would open up with him if he were less harsh. 

The sound of his shoes hitting the neat floor of the school reached his ears muffled. He was dwelling on it too much. Dazai wasn’t obliged to talk about things that bothered him if he didn’t want to, if they weren’t work related. Yet, was it stupid to wish for him to talk? 

His face hit something warm and soft making his steps stop abruptly. His shoes screeched on the floor. 

What?

He took two steps back and then opened his eyes again: Dazai was standing still in the middle of the corridor with his back to him. 

Well, that was weird. 

Kunikida ran his eyes over his silhouette: initially he thought about a joke, but then dismissed the thought: the particularity of Dazai’s jokes was that he didn’t do them out of the blue, there was always a trigger behind that. That wasn’t the case since the school was still half closed and there were barely any teachers and the principal inside the building, so it must have been something serious. 

His heartbeat spiked up and a bad feeling started to bubble in his chest. He reached Dazai and crouched to look at his face, hoping to see his eyes, but as soon as he did, he noticed that his gaze was glued on something in front of them. 

Kunikida followed the trail with his own eyes and saw it. The bad feeling inside his chest took the best of him and his breath hitched in his throat. His whole body shook with a shiver. 

A few meters ahead, in front of them there was Tanaka, smiling. 

He wanted to throw up, to yell, to run, anything. But instead, he stood there with his shoes planted on the floor as if he could carve holes into it.

There were scenes he was sure he was never going to get used to. 

Dazai walked in front of him, reaching for Tanaka first. Kunikida’s legs moved on their own, following the tracks of his colleague. 

Tanaka was in fact smiling widely; his lips had been sewed together in a gentle smile as dried blood drew the outlines of a deep cut around his throat. He looked like he wasn’t killed not much ago, probably this morning when school opened he was still alive. 

It meant that he had to be killed at school or probably he arrived here already wounded and lost his life there. They stood there, in front of the dead body. Kunikida felt his stomach being punched. 

-Kunikida-

-I know. 

-No. – Dazai shook his head and leaned forward, grabbing a paper folded next to Tanaka’s body. - There’s a message, and–

For a moment Kunikida saw Dazai’s eyebrows lift in astonishment before he returned to his usual controlled expression.

-It looks like it’s for us. 

He showed it to Kunikida. It read:

“Now ask him as many questions as you want, detective agency”.

Kunikida observed the message, then, he crumpled it in his hand and clenched his jaw. Something was pressing in his throat and his breath became unsteady: he couldn’t break, not now. 

He didn’t say anything; he just reached for the window in the corridor and slid it open wide to fill his lungs with the cold air, hoping that it could stop his throat from burning his insides. 

He rested his elbows on the railing and closed his eyes. It was the same story. over and over again. Another person, maybe innocent, died. What were the journals going to say? Were they just going to worsen the already terrible agency’s reputation?

A hand went to rub his shoulder. He just closed his eyes and let himself lull into the warmth of Dazai’s hand, feeling as if the warmth just went through his clothes and then to his skin. Somehow, it kept him more grounded than the cold air. For a moment, the weird thought of leaning on Dazai’s shoulder flashed through his mind, but it went away as soon as it came. 

Dazai kept an eye on him for the following minutes, knowing that after the loathing that was filling Kunikida’s chest, what followed was nothing but a burning anger that resembled the flames that were turning his insides into ashes right now. 

But for the moment, there was just a loud silence.

Chapter Text

When the forensic team came to remove the body from the corridor, Kunikida’s head was still stuck on the message they found on Tanaka’s body. He exchanged a few words with the agents but he couldn’t remember what he said. The voices came strained to his ears as if he were inside an aquarium. He answered each of their questions but his voice didn’t feel like it belonged to him. 

Outside he seemed the same as always, being known for his stern expression,  but his body was moving on its own because he wasn’t capable of doing anything: all his movements were out of habit and even the words. 

His mind kept telling him to run, to go away from that place but he knew that he couldn’t, not without understanding what was going on. 

Just who was the person behind it all? Did they already meet them, or was there another person implied they didn’t know about?

The hand that was on his shoulder left him a while ago, leaving the spot empty and cold. Kunikida still felt Dazai’s touch linger on his skin. Under his state of shock he wished for that hand to hold his shoulder through the fabric a bit longer. He brushed the thought aside with a wave of embarrassment. 

The whole floor was being closed and people were moved below, some curious ones tried to take a peek of what was happening but the teachers hushed them towards the stairs before they could even ask what was going on. Fortunately the school was still half-closed, so evacuating the civilians wasn’t going to be a problem. 

Kunikida watched them go, staring at their faces without much interest. He must have had an expression harsher than usual because as soon as they met his eyes, the students avoided it and looked somewhere else as if caught doing something they shouldn’t. He couldn’t tell, he didn’t know what expression he was making. He couldn’t bother to care though. 

As soon as the students left the floor, Kunikida’s eyes searched for Dazai just to find him crouched on the floor with the card between his hands. His eyebrows were furrowed in a serious expression, as he held his chin between his index finger and his thumb.

Ah, Kunikida knew that expression: he was connecting the dots inside his head. It was scary but also comforting to know that at some point Dazai figured out most of the scheme they were after. He wondered if the other felt that responsibility on his shoulders sometimes. If having to be the one who always knew everything at some point weighed on his shoulders. It wasn’t less stressful than his own responsibilities, he thought. 

He ran his eyes on his figure: the sight of someone familiar in all that chaos slowed down his heartbeat just right. 

Dazai’s eyes met his and for a second, the floor turned smaller, composed only by the tiles where his colleague was crouched. He stared back at him, his eyes didn’t falter. 

-What are you doing?

He’s checking the card, Doppo, really. Couldn’t you think about something clever to fill the silence?

-It’s interesting. No one ever left cards for the agency on a murder scene. I’m flattered. 

He got up and stepped closer to Kunikida with his eyes still glued on it. 

-Shouldn’t they have taken that?

-I asked permission to keep it, in whichever situation I think we need it more than them. It was addressed to us, after all. – He nudged Kunikida with a smirk. – The agent was really cute, she didn’t even try to oppose me.

-Get to the point. 

Kunikida interrupted him with a stern voice. A pang of annoyance hit his chest: he didn’t have time for his stupid jokes at the moment. 

-I was wondering, if we can find who wrote it, maybe we’d be a step closer to who killed Tanaka. 

-It could work, - Kunikida started cautiously, - but we’d need a graphologist and if you suspect someone, we’d also need a sample of the person you think it’s the culprit. Otherwise it is useless.  

Kunikida crossed his arms and stared at his shoes on the lucid floor, the possibility that the solution Dazai suggested could work, was disappearing behind the huge amount of obstacles that it held. This case had been against them from the beginning. 

-Despite the large number of acquaintances I have in the police, I don’t know any graphologist. As long as you don’t know one, then this plan can’t work. 

-Heh, heh. 

Dazai’s small laugh interrupted his train of thoughts. 

-I already thought about that. – Really? Kunikida turned his head. – Who are our suspects now? 

The question seemed easy. And if you found it easy to answer, it was because the answer was wrong. Understanding the criminal behind something was always hard. 

Kunikida took a moment to think. Were there suspects for real? Or were they just witnesses? The line was thin but it existed, and it was also true that sometimes suspects were also witnesses, and that victims could be criminals. Or that criminals could be victims of other criminals. The number of dynamics that could be hidden in a case were beyond endless, but he should focus on the situation at hand now. 

He thought that at that point, whoever had a contact close to the students was, in a way or another, a culprit. With time he learned that when everyone was innocent then the culprit was exactly between the innocents. 

He looked at Dazai again, who had a smirk on his face. It was as if he was thinking: “I know what you’re thinking, because that’s what I’m thinking too”.

-Basically the principal, the guardian, the families and Tanaka, and I’d exclude a suicide. So let’s not count him. 

-Exactly. Just one thing, Kunikida. I’d also exclude the families. 

What?

-They don’t gain anything from their children being disappeared. Also, the issue happened here at school and it’s impossible that all five families agreed to lie in the same exact way to us. They were telling the truth. 

-So that would narrow our net to the principal and the custodian. 

Dazai nodded. 

-Also, they’re the only ones that know it was Tanaka who hired us. 

-So probably it was one of them to write the message. 

He already knew what Dazai was hinting at. They had to get a sample of the custodian and the principal’s handwriting. The problem was: how? Even if they asked them to sign anything, they had to return to the agency, make up a plan, create a fake document for whatever reason they needed and return to the school hoping to find the two of them and hoping they would fall in their trap. There were too many factors that could go wrong, and the whole plan could require them time that they didn’t have. A person was killed, the students were still missing and they barely had a clue about where they could possibly be. 

All of that wasn’t going to change and it wasn’t going to change the fact that they were disadvantaged if compared to the one behind everything. 

He leaned against the wall behind him, from the window a cold breeze brushed behind his back, making him shiver. His stomach plunged weirdly before he talked. 

-We should split. 

The silence that followed his answer let him understand that Dazai was just a bit surprised. An unusual note of uncertainty was evident in his voice. He didn’t expect him to agree, and neither Kunikida saw that coming, however, what other possibility did they have?

-You know stolen things don’t count as evidence, right? 

Kunikida’s crossed arms tightened. 

-Since when did we worry about what is right and what is wrong? We’re the detective agency, not the metropolitan police. – Dazai’s eyes widened slightly at Kunikida’s answer. He hunched shoulders as the vague feeling of anxiety from before returned in his chest. – The end justifies the means. A person died and you’re telling me the protocol? This case lasted too long already if you ask me. We’re going to do it. 

That outburst made him feel, if possible, even worse: he was tired. His head hurt and the shock of that morning mixed with the lack of sleep was making it hard to focus. He spent the whole night staring at the wall, tossing from his right to his left side. His head ran in circles, switching from the case to Dazai and then from Dazai to the case. He kept asking himself “What have I done?” “Why did I say that?” Before slapping himself: he was acting like a schoolgirl that had an argument with her best friend and ran off crying. He fell asleep eventually, but when the alarm rang, his eyes opened, dry and tired and he had the impression his mind didn’t stop thinking.

He looked at his partner next to him, who was immersed in his thoughts. For a moment, he felt grateful for the fact that he didn’t read his thoughts. He should really stop taking his anger out on him. 

When the third freezing wind blew through the open window, Dazai spoke again. He ignored Kunikida’s enraged answer from before. 

-Alright, I’ll go to the principal’s office, you should go to the custodian’s one!

He affirmed, patting his shoulder. His lips were spread in a cheerful smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

Kunikida opened his mouth to say something, but Dazai turned and let his coat fly with the wind before trotting towards the principal’s office. 

Kunikida stared at him until the tail of his coat disappeared behind the corner: he was left alone in the corridor. Dazai took action before even setting up a plan, as if he were waiting to say those words. Apprehension made it difficult to swallow. 

He lowered his hand and let his arm go limp on his side again as he kept staring to the spot where Dazai was just istants before. He lost count of the times he told Dazai to stop being secretive about plans. It was difficult to understand his intentions on a daily basis, let alone when he didn’t say anything. 

The silence around him grew louder: was it so stupid wishing his partner were honest, at least with him? He was his partner, right? They were still partners, right? Not just two colleagues working together. An unpleasant feeling, similar to dizziness when outside it’s too warm took over his head and a languor plunged in his stomach as if he was hungry, only that outside wasn’t warm and he wasn’t hungry. 

An imaginary layer of sweat covered his face and he tried to get rid of that stupid thought. The lack of sleep was getting to his head, making him think absurd things. Dazai had always been secretive, so why was it a problem now? 

He headed towards the guardian’s office as he shook his head. However, the unpleasant feeling didn’t leave his chest. 

Shouldn’t I give the orders to him? Isn’t he my subordinate? 

He mumbled in his mind, wondering why even if aggressively, his thoughts were still focused on Dazai. 

Dazai walked through the stairs of the school, recalling where he had been with Kunikida yesterday. His legs were on autopilot, dragging him through the corridor. Tiredness was making him feel dizzy, his vision blurred every step. At some point he stepped on what he thought was a step but instead it was just his eyes making jokes, and his legs stepped in the air. No wonder why he risked tripping on his own feet. 

He let his tired mind relax at the sound of his shoes hitting the floor in the empty school. It was the beginning of the third period, whatever it meant, but the building was half-empty because of the murder that happened on the second floor. So he didn’t risk running into anyone. 

He headed towards the third floor when his head spun and he lost his balance: he leaned over the handrail to avoid falling on the ground. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

Everything spun so much even with his eyes closed, he didn’t think it could be possible for darkness to spin. 

Ah, he should stop sleeping so little, if he only could. He didn't know if it was stress, lack of sleep or the alcohol he drank too much last evening. 

He hid it well from Kunikida, distracting himself with the mission but now that he was alone, oh, how shitty was he feeling? he didn’t even know when it was the last time he ate. He grimaced. He was getting old. Back in the mafia he could go days without eating. It wasn't even cooking the problem, he knew how to do it, but all the process of getting up, walking to the kitchen, extending an arm to grab a pot, opening the bag of bread, seemed exhausting and in the end skipping sounded more convenient.   

He should have told Kunikida, but after all the mess that happened between each other he didn’t expect the other to care. He didn’t blame him, he had his reasons to be mad, especially after what he told him the other day; he could also get madder at him, and he already was upset enough. The tension between them grew as they spent more moments together, not that their partnership was being damaged by that, they were mostly working like always, but usually they worked faster. By now on a daily basis, their cases would’ve been solved and closed. 

He reached the principal’s door and knocked. When he received no answer, he pushed the doorknob to check if there was someone inside, but the door was locked. A classic. A wave of relief and excitement ran down his back when he realized that he was going to do it the same way as always: by forcing the door. 

He grabbed a hair pin he had in the pocket of his coat and after a pair of twists in the lock the door opened itself. If the principal found it broken, well, it wasn’t going to be his problem since he will be long gone. Checking the whole room, he looked around to spot something with the principal’s signature on it, but everything was tidy, almost aseptic. 

Moving a few steps in the room, he headed towards the desk where there was a pen holder, some white sheets and the diplomas for the students. The school year was already approaching its end? 

He got closer to the diplomas and observed them. Despite the doodles and the elegant kanjis written on it, what really caught Dazai’s eye was the fact that on the diplomas there was the principal’s signature. Clean and evident, and there were also the names of the students and the date. 

If they could make a copy of it, they could return it to the office before someone noticed its absence. That was the evidence he was looking for! He grabbed it, but as soon as he touched the paper, it vanished as if it never existed. 

Dazai stood there, blinking in confusion. 

What the—?

He stared at the wall in front of him, then, his confusion decreased until it disappeared and his eyebrows frowned. Discomfort took over his chest, and suddenly, all the tiredness he experienced during the day came back at him stronger than before. It was obvious, so obvious he felt stupid and he never felt stupid. The solution was the most obvious one and he cursed himself for not noticing before. 

An ability user.

Great. Just great. Now he was starting to understand why they couldn’t find the students anywhere, no matter how much they searched around the neighbourhood. But then it came the doubts: 

Why the diplomas? Why the students? What was the meaning of all that? 

What could they possibly obtain from students and fake diplomas? 

Deciding that he couldn’t lose time thinking in an enemy territory, he gave a quick look around the room to see if there was something else with the principal’s handwriting and when he noticed nothing, the last idea he had was to take a photo of the diplomas and head towards the exit. He closed the door without making a sound, and checked from left to right before walking again. 

The corridor was still quiet: he wondered if it was like this every day or if everyone was being quiet because of what happened. The few students that witnessed the arrival of forensic just gazed at them with curiosity, they didn’t look afraid at all. Ah, kids nowadays, finding a corpse curious and interesting. He didn’t know if he was going to have a lot of colleagues in a few years, or if he was going to arrest a lot of them. Going on like that, he and Kunikida were going to have a lot of work to do. 

He smiled. 

He hoped that Kunikida took the custodian’s signature too: that case was absorbing him. Usually it happened that a case took them more than usual but he was always capable of keeping his routine. This time, however, it looked like it wasn’t possible. He doubted if after everything that happened they still had a routine, if they could still distinguish what was normal from what wasn’t. 

He wondered if it had something to do with their situation too. He should have said something yesterday in the car, but he couldn’t find the words to start a conversation, or better, he tried, but as soon as he tried to bring them into a well known ground by teasing him, he just recalled the main cause of their tension. 

He didn’t even know why they were putting so much thought on it, it was a kiss, a drunken one even, he swore it was no big deal yet there he was almost a week later, still dwelling on it. 

In a way, it was all his fault: he brushed the matter away as if nothing had happened. He was so annoyed it happened, that he just wished to forget it instead of admitting it happened. His partner was embarrassed and he selfishly brushed it away, as he always did when something uncomfortable happened. Running away from the problem seemed the most convenient solution, but it provoked a bunch of other problems. 

He stopped near the stairs that brought to the lower floor, still deep in thought his eyes were stuck on the bluish wall in front of him, but instead they were replaying the night of the party.

There it went. 

-Sorry, detective. 

A voice, one that he and Kunikida got to know during the past days reached him from his back. His lips pulled in a grin, a wave of cold and adrenaline shook his body. His skin tingled in anticipation, as if an imaginary wind blow predicted what was about to happen. 

Something hit him right in the back of his head. His teeth rattled and his brain hit his forehead before going back at full speed and hitting also the back. His vision blurred and he saw black for a second. He tried to keep the balance but the dizziness made it difficult. Someone pushed him on the ground: his sight returned but the edges of the objects were blurred. He wanted to get up but his tiredness was making it difficult to move. Facing an opponent with his stomach empty was foolish, alright, he admitted it. 

He heard steps getting away from him, he opened his eyes just to see a slim figure walk away with a broom and a bucket. When he noticed, he smiled. 

His eyelids closed again and he found himself unable to open them. Well, he thought, at least he was going to have some sleep. 

As he lost consciousness, his last thought went to Kunikida, hoping that he was doing fine. 

The feeling that something wasn’t working didn’t leave Kunikida’s mind. Even if he tried to focus on the mission, his head went back to Dazai’s happy smile and to his figure disappearing behind the corner. His frown deepened as he walked through the corridor. 

Oh, why was he so worried?

It wasn’t as if Dazai wasn’t prepared, even if something bad was going to happen, he could defend himself, he saw him doing it a lot of times. He tried to relax his jaw that had been clenched until now, the feeling of the teeth crushing one upon another hung in his mouth for moments, leaving him with a slight headache. 

But no, that feeling of discomfort was still there in his chest, similar to guilt, it hit him in waves. Right, Dazai was capable of defending himself when he was in shape to do that, but that pale face, the unfocused eyes he had that morning, he didn’t look well, as if he had a long night. 

Dazai tended to forget that but he was human, and a bad night could make it hard even for him to defend himself. Dazai might ignore that, but Kunikida no, he never did. It was the reason why he called him every morning, ensured he ate and sometimes (just sometimes, okay?), he turned a blind eye when he didn’t submit the reports at the end of the day. He didn’t call him yesterday, neither he did that morning, and really, last night his thumb was about to click on his number several times, but then something held him back, froze his whole body and his thumb stood there until he locked the phone and threw it on the small table before going to sleep with an heavy weight on his chest and the burning feeling that he was doing something wrong. 

Reaching the same spot where he left him, Kunikida looked around and for a moment he thought about some stupid prank. Dazai was nowhere to be seen. He sighed in annoyance, trying to dismiss the way his chest tightened in anxiety: surely he was hiding somewhere only to jump out and scare him. He pocketed his hands and sighed.

-C’mon Dazai, come out. We don’t have time to play jokes. 

No answer. The cold breeze outside the window kept blowing. 

The unsettling feeling that something was wrong worsened and his whole body tensed: the scenery around him changed. Somehow that school wasn’t safe anymore and now those colorful walls turned into something sinister, the silence felt uneasy, and his legs didn’t move, there was concrete around his ankles. 

He swallowed air since his mouth was dry. He didn’t want to assume the worst already, that it would just be catastrophic and there was no reason to be such, obviously there was a logical reason why Dazai wasn’t in the spot they had to meet, even if something in the back of his mind was whispering that there was something wrong. 

His fingers trembled when dialed Dazai’s number: he better tell him where he was, surely he flew away as soon as he saw an open door. Right, probably now he was in some pub in the neighbourhood drinking and chatting with people around, he could already hear his annoying and loud voice calling him from the other end of the phone “ hey Kunikida-kun, i finished my task and I was bored so I left, you should join me!” Ah, when he caught him. He was already thinking about what to yell at him—

“we’re sorry to inform you that the number you called is momentarily unreachable”.

The phone rang a few times, then, the cold and mechanic voice of the answering machine replied. 

Kunikida lowered the phone and looked at the screen with slight confusion. A shiver went down his back as his thumb stood above the green button, as he hesitantly pressed it again. He placed it on his ear and waited for an answer as if he had to convince himself that maybe Dazai didn’t hear the phone, despite having it in his pocket, despite him being always methodical and calculative, maybe he didn’t hear it. But then the same cold voice from before said the same exact words as before and his stomach dropped. 

The realization that something must have happened took over him and his legs moved on their own as he kept calling on his phone. 

He scanned the walls, the doors, the corridors as the same annoying voice kept reminding him that Dazai’s phone was unavailable. He gripped it so tight he thought he was going to shatter it. What happened? Did Dazai meet someone? Was he being held captive somewhere? No that was impossible, Dazai didn’t let others capture him if he didn’t see something worthy of being captured– 

On the tenth call, Kunikida reached the stairs of the second floor, and he heard Dazai’s phone ringing. Not his own waiting for the other to answer, but Dazai’s phone exactly. 

He must have been close. Nervousness made his hands slippery and he almost let the phone fall from his hand. A lot of disconnected thoughts ran through his head as he looked from left to right, but still, he didn’t see anything. 

Then, he understood that the sound came from behind his shoulders. He turned and when he saw him, his whole body froze, the school around him didn’t exist anymore. 

Dazai lied at the top of the stairs, with his eyes closed and a tired expression on his face. Kunikida sprinted up three steps at a time, the only audible sound was his heart hammering in his ears. When he grabbed him he noticed how much his hands were trembling. Dazai was lighter than he remembered, but that was a problem for when he would have opened his eyes again. 

He just hoped it was going to be soon. 

The first thing he saw were the white lights of the agency infirmary, the smell of alcohol and disinfectant made his nose sting; a sluggish feeling of nausea went through his body, but, it was gone before it could reach his mouth. 

-He’s awake. 

The well-known voice spoke with a worry that didn’t suit him. That was enough for Dazai to try to move his eyes, but as soon as he did it, a sharp pain in the back of his head hit his pupils and he decided to not move. He heard a chair next to his bed move and another voice answering. Wait. Was he at the agency? He was at that school before, he left the principal’s office, and he was about to walk down the stairs— Oh. If he was in the infirmary, and if he remembered well he was alone when he was attacked, then it meant that Kunikida-

Ignoring the soreness of his limbs, he got on his elbows. His head spun so fast he saw black for a second, then his eyesight returned in dots and the first thing he saw was Kunikida standing in front of the bed with his eyebrows knitted together. Their eyes met and something plunged in his stomach.

-You should stay down. – Yosano’s heels clicked on the floor, and only in that moment Dazai realized that she was standing next to Kunikida. – How are you feeling? Do you know where you are or what happened? 

She asked casually as she neared him and checked his eyes with a torch. 

Dazai blinked, and when he tried to talk his mouth felt glued like when he drank too much and woke up with a sour taste in his cheeks and tongue. 

-I’ve been hit with something. I don’t know, maybe a broomstick. 

Yosano sighed, turning off the torch. When she stopped touching him, he held back a sigh of relief. Her touch was annoying. The white lights made his eyes sting and the sound of Yosano’s breath was making his body itch with anger. 

Everything felt too loud or bright. He got hit pretty bad, didn’t he? 

-Fortunately you don’t seem to have serious damage or concussion. You’re lucky, a hit on the back of the head can be life-threatening. – He knew that. Yosano hinted at Kunikida, whose eyes never stopped looking at him. – He found you on the stairs of the school you were investigating. 

Their eyes met again. In Kunikida’s eyes there was something Dazai couldn’t decipher: was it disappointment? Worry? Delusion? When silence kept going on for minutes, Yosano eyed them both and took the medical record to check a few things. 

-However, you were already weak, it was just a matter of time before you fainted. 

In the back, the slight stiffness of Kunikida didn’t go unnoticed by Dazai, whose eyes never left him. 

Now he got it, the look in Kunikida’s eyes. As he thought, it was disappointment, but he knew his partner well enough to know that it was disappointment towards himself , for letting that teacher die and for not noticing that he wasn’t in shape to work. 

A warm feeling filled his chest and brought him to shake his head. He wanted to tell him that he was again worrying about something he couldn’t control but moving his mouth was difficult.

Kunikida averted his eyes, looking at the IV drip that was placed next to him. It wasn’t his fault, if something, it was his own, for not telling him anything. Again, Kunikida was taking faults that he didn’t deserve, like two evenings ago, like the evening when they kissed. 

He stood there, wondering what to do. He wanted to crack a joke to ease the atmosphere because that frown on Kunikida’s face was too marked to be his typical one, and Dazai didn’t like it at all, as he didn’t like that he was blaming himself for things that he didn’t do.  

But the words died in his hoarse throat, his mouth didn’t want to collaborate and all his good intentions remain just that: intentions. Dazai was always full of good intentions, only that when he applied them, the intentions didn’t look so good anymore. His decision of not telling him that he wasn’t feeling well was a good intention in his head, his intention of leaving the car early yesterday was a good intention and the decision to brush their kiss away as a matter of nothing for him, well for him it was a good intention. Yet, he just kept making the situation worse, he didn’t know how to handle Kunikida, how to handle their relationship. 

Yosano glanced at both of them, unaware of what was going on, but something in her slight frown gave off the idea that she noticed that something was off. However, she didn’t press and even if it was unwanted, Dazai was relieved she didn’t ask anything. 

-Weeell, finish the IV drip and rest. You should be fine if you don’t make any physical effort. 

She crossed her arms and returned to her desk. Dazai noticed she was checking his data and slabs of his limbs, but it was obvious that she just wanted to give them a moment. 

His eyes returned to Kunikida that was still lost in thought. He was quiet; since he couldn’t make him feel better, since he was just as terrible as he was at helping people, he decided it was time to unravel what he noticed about the case. 

It wasn’t the best solution, but it was his only one. 

-Kunikida-kun. 

The latter looked at him with wide eyes, as if he had been woken up abruptly. Dazai patted the spot next to him with his hand and stretched his lips in what he hoped was a comforting smile. 

He tried to ignore the way he felt that honorifics was out of place if compared to the mood, but calling him simply “Kunikida” felt weird and gave off the feeling that something was going on. He should have tried to stay as normal as possible.

Kunikida hesitated, shifting his eyes from his hand to his face. After several minutes of pondering if making up an excuse and leaving (Dazai could sense that) he moved closer. 

He sat on the chair, and Dazai tried to brush away the stupid thought in the back of his mind that wanted Kunikida to sit on the bed next to him. Silence went on and since Kunikida didn’t look like he wanted to start a conversation, Dazai braced himself and talked first. 

-Kunikida-kun I discovered something. 

-It can wait. – His quiet tone hit Dazai right in his stomach: it was as if he had the confirmation of how disheartened he was. His eyes ran all over his face, but it was partly hidden by his hair. He brushed it aside: Kunikida was staring at his own hands on his lap. He seemed to hesitate, but in the end he added: - how are you feeling? 

-Well, I’m well, - Dazai frowned. – But it doesn’t matter now. It’s about the case. I understood who’s behind everything, we need to return there. 

This time Kunikida looked at him in the face and the room turned colder. His eyes were the sharpest and his voice was so close to an order that Dazai almost didn’t feel like replying. Almost.

-I won’t allow you to go out in this condition. This is out of the question. 

-It’s not about me, it’s about the case. Listen, we’re short on time, this thing that happened to me was just a warning, a threat, call it what you want, who hit me will return and it will try to injure you too.

-Then let them come. – He raised his voice. – It’s not like it’s the first time I fight someone. 

He crossed his arms and looked away. Dazai was sure that if he were standing, Kunikida would have grabbed him by the hem of his shirt only to shove him away aggressively. 

-Why haven’t you told me that you weren’t feeling well? 

Kunikida returned his eyes to him. His leg was bouncing on the floor. 

Dazai had the impression that lying wasn’t an option.

-It’s not like I could leave you alone on the case. 

He murmured, cursing himself. What he had to murmur about? Speak louder, idiot. What he wanted to say was that he didn’t feel like leaving him at all, that after being apart for months, leaving him alone, especially if it was for work, made his head run in circles about the possible negative things that could happen and in the end, he got up and faced the day. 

-Yes that you could. – Kunikida’s answer reached his ears immediately after. – As if you don’t leave work on a daily basis. 

-You know it’s different. 

His voice hardened too. Kunikida wasn’t lucid, it wasn’t like him to overlook things like that: he knew he skipped work, as he knew he acted like an idiot, he acted like he understood nothing, but that was it: acting. He acted like that, but he wasn’t. And Kunikida knew. The fact that he went straight to insults meant that his head wasn’t working. 

-I can’t always read minds, Dazai, and I am tired now. 

Kunikida massaged his face. His glasses slid on his nose and he didn’t do anything to push them up. The bags under his eyes had darkened and that his ponytail was loose, probably from dragging him from the school to the car and then to the agency. 

 His eyes softened. 

“Be honest, because this time I’m too upset to understand”.

That’s what he meant. 

Dazai pushed his glasses up for him. 

-The reason is that I had a feeling. — he said vaguely, with his voice quiet. — And I had to see it myself because I couldn’t understand clearly. 

They exchanged a glance, and Dazai saw Kunikida’s head trying to understand what he just said.

He hadn’t been honest, not completely, but the core of the story was that, even if for him it was difficult to admit: he didn’t want Kunikida to face all the hurdles of the case alone, he didn’t want him to risk death again. Why that? He didn’t know. The stirring in his stomach was getting stronger but he couldn’t afford it, so he shoved it down and ignored it. 

He already caused enough problems during the past days. 

-Alright, what did you predict? 

Kunikda sighed, finally giving into the conversation. 

The infirmary bed shrieked under his weight when he shifted to look better at his colleague. The IV drip swung slightly and it reminded Kunikida to check it: it was almost done.

-To begin with, I always doubted the custodian, but I didn’t have any evidence to confirm that he knew something. Kunikida-kun, do you remember what he told us when we first met him? 

Kunikida tried to recall the conversation they had with the custodian just a few days ago, that now felt like months because of all the events they went through. 

So someone has contacted detectives.  

-Yes, a teacher informed us of the problem, he taught in that class. 

-Ah Tanaka? Yes, he's a good teacher. He started this year but he already got known. 

Kunikida widened his eyes. 

-We told him a teacher was searching for the missing students. But we never told him it was Tanaka. 

-Exactly. — Dazai nodded. — That’s what I thought when I heard that. We never mentioned Tanaka, yet he knew who hired us. Yet, I thought it was early to assume anything, since he could've heard of students missing in a class, he could’ve known that Tanaka was invested in his work, it was early to say anything. 

 A sharp pain hit his temples and reminded him that he was still semiconscious. He massaged his temples and gritted his teeth. 

-You should rest. 

-I’m fine. — He hurried when Kunikida’s voice sounded like he wanted to drop the conversation. – It comes and goes but it’s bearable. 

Kunikida didn’t look so convinced but fortunately he didn’t say anything after. 

-He said he didn’t know the students that went missing, but it’s likely that it was a lie. When we met him back at the train station he said that he took the train with the students each day, so it was weird that he didn’t notice them missing. That school is not that big, and every person we talked with said that a lot of teens stop attending it since it’s a poor area. 

Another coincidence: even if they believed that he hadn't seen them, it was also true that this small coincidence, added with the previous one, sounded suspicious. 

-And then there were a lot of convenient coincidences: we told him we had to met the families of the victims and the families weren’t at home, we took the train and then we met him at the train station, next day we listened to the families and he called for us, saying he lived in the neighbourhood. I had the impression he was following us. 

-Back then you asked me what was in his restroom at school. – Kunikida looked at his hands and spoke cautiously. – But he interrupted us. It was when we were listening to the families. Inside his restroom there were stopping signs and stuff for construction sites. All the families said that they met an interruption on the road, but when we asked the cashier of the supermarket he said that he didn’t see anything. 

Warmth grew from Dazai’s chest and slowly reached his cheeks. Yes, he told him he noticed that. 

-Right. – He said and took a moment to think because his thoughts faltered for a moment, and he got stuck on the notice that his partner almost knew him better than himself. – The interruption was caused by the guardian that set it on the street before we arrived and slowed down all the families. Then, he dismantled it the evening before the supermarket opened the next morning. He delayed us.

-But he was at school— Kunikida interrupted himself. Dizziness hit him. His head spun. – The car. The one that hit me with mud and dirtied my clothes. 

It was the custodian all along: as soon as he knew they were going to the families of the victims he took the car, set the charade and returned back to school as if nothing happened. Another thought hit him; he looked at Dazai who had a knowing smile on his lips. 

-You already saw the signals in his restroom. You wanted to take the train and asked that woman if problems with the railway happened on a daily basis because you already suspected he would do something with those construction site signals. 

-Trains on the outskirts are usually slow and have a lot of problems. – Dazai shrugged. – And then, Kunikida-kun, I said that him not knowing the students was a lie, right? If he took the train with them each day and each day trains had issues like the one we had, then he mostly walked with the students till the school several times. He must have seen them. I don’t assume he was friends with them, but he must have seen them every once in a while. 

He rested his back on the pillow of the bed and squinted. His eyes burned and his arms still felt sore from the fall. 

-The suspects fell on Tanaka because everyone said that students took lessons with him to improve grades, but people disappeared also the previous years, so it couldn’t be him. Instead, he was just another victim since he got killed. – He sighed. – I suppose it was either the principal or the custodian, I don’t think there’s a third one; the principal sounded annoyed that Tanaka informed us of the situation. He didn’t think about the consequences, though. 

Dazai saw him clenching his fists, and his own jaw contracted. Kunikida was still blaming himself for what happened. He tapped with his fingers on his blanket and swallowed, trying to find something to say. He knew Kunikida would get over it but until he did, pain was going to be written all over his face, it would have clouded his mind, it would have added to the pile of things he thought he wasn’t able to prevent.

 Dazai always thought that Kunikida underestimated himself, sure, not on Atsushi’s levels, but he did. He always thought he didn’t do enough when in reality his backbone was broken in two by responsibilities and work. 

And he wasn’t even able to tell him something to make him feel better. 

-Kunikida-kun-

-In any case, - the other interrupted him, and even if he hated being interrupted, for this time he allowed it. The relief that hit him increased his frustration. – The main issue now is the card that was left for us. I got the sample from a list the custodian made, it was lying on the desk and I grabbed it before he could return. What happened to you? 

Dazai explained the way he broke into the office and touched the fake diplomas, before being hit by someone. Kunikida’s eyes widened. 

-An ability user. 

-Yes, an ability user. I don’t know precisely what the fake diplomas are for, but I can make up a theory: we’re talking about students with bad grades, what if the principal suggested diplomas behind remuneration? And when they couldn’t give him what he wanted, he made them disappear? After all, students said to their families that they didn’t have to worry about grades anymore. 

Kunikida nodded.

-So the principal is an ability user.

-No. 

He frowned in confusion. 

-The ability user is the custodian. I shook hands with everyone: families, Tanaka and the principal, my ability nullifies other abilities, so if the culprit was someone between them, I would have nullified their ability as if nothing happened. But it didn’t. The only one I’ve never touched was the guardian. The first time we met him, it was you shoving him on the floor for self-defence. 

That just increased his confusion.

-I don’t know why they’re working together, if that’s what you’re wondering. 

He closed his eyes and he realized that he had been more tired than what he thought. His eyelids were heavy despite the IV and lying in bed. Maybe Kunikida was right, he couldn’t get out of that bed, not today at least. 

-If we can at least understand who 's behind the card, then we could understand who killed Tanaka and who has to be charged with homicide and who is just an accomplice. 

-I already told you that we have a solution, only that this person we know is not easy to convince to help us since he is too famous to be bothered with us.

Kunikida’s mind went back to when Dazai bought the ramune and all that garbage food: it was to corrupt Ranpo, the kiss-gate creator. But his face didn’t look like he was relieved, instead, he looked just weary and Dazai understood him. He understood how he just wanted to call it a day and go home. 

-We can ask Ranpo to check who wrote it, giving him the two samples. You can just print mine and give it to him, I’m sure that will be enough. 

Kunikida nodded out of habit, his heavy stare stood on his own hands for all the time he talked. 

-Hey, did you predict that? 

His voice was feeble. 

-Us needing Ranpo or the custodian being an ability user? 

-I guess both. 

Dazai sighed and joined his hands. 

-The case was already intricate, and I had the impression that in a moment or another we might have needed Ranpo’s help. About the guardian being an ability user, if the students were nowhere to be found, there had to be an ability user hidden somewhere, only that I didn’t know it was the guardian until I realized that I’ve never touched him and he fit all the suspicions.

Kunikida sighed and rubbed his eyes: that was the best reaction he could obtain. He kept staring at his hands and avoiding his eyes. 

Dazai felt a tinge of frustration grow in his chest: that went beyond his comprehension; they were about to solve the case, the path was right, why did he still look disappointed?

-You don’t seem happy. 

He suggested, hoping that Kunikida would finally say what he was on his mind. The first evening when they discussed the case he said that all he wanted to do was find the students and solve the case and now that they were about to do it, he didn’t look pleased as he expected. Sure, Kunikida wasn’t the person that jumped in the air out of joy or laughed out loud, but that expression he had on his face was far from being one of relief. 

-You went to the principal’s office knowing that someone would hit you. You wanted to see if the one behind was just the principal or also the guardian. – Kunikida looked at him: a troubled expression was painted on his face. – You went there knowing that something might have happened to you- no. That something was going to happen to you. 

-I also knew that you’d find me. 

-It doesn’t make me feel any better. 

“Explain things before they happen, you can’t always do it by yourself”, those were the words that lingered in the room: Dazai learned them by heart during the past years, he lost count of the times Kunikida told him them. But even if he explained what was going to happen, what could have Kunikida done? Go with him? So instead of one person injured there would have been two? Hitting the guardian and causing a fuss, drawing the attention of the already curious students? Moving around the school together could have slowed down their tasks since it meant moving together. But in front of Kunikida’s tired eyes all that reasoning died in his mouth: even if they weren’t exactly on good terms at the moment, adding other tension didn’t seem convenient.

After all, if he tried to look at it from his point of view, Kunikida was just worried. His partner was just well, afraid. 

He sighed. 

-See it this way: I’m fine now, nothing serious happened. 

-This doesn’t exclude the fact that it happened!

-It could’ve been worse. 

Kunikida’s scowl was a clear signal that he wasn’t enjoying Dazai’s attempt to joke about the incident. Wrong strategy, alright. 

-Kunikida-kun, I knew that it wouldn’t have killed me. I’m not that easy to kill. You should know that. – He kept his voice light to avoid making the atmosphere even heavier. – Besides, I said I wasn’t going to leave you alone on this, did I? 

Kunikida stood there with his eyes staring at the ground. It was a surprise seeing him so guilty for allowing him to be injured and it left him surprised. He didn’t consider himself prideful but when Kunikida told him that he didn’t know why they were partners, he had to admit that his pride had been touched. Kunikida was mad, and he didn’t believe in the common sense bullshit that spread: “people don’t mean what they say when they are mad”. He learned from experience that it was when people got close to primordial feelings that he could see their true nature: fear, anger, lust, they all were core emotions that showed people at their most honest stages. On those occasions, they were honest the most. 

That’s why his words hurt, because they came from someone mad. And that someone was his partner, the one he worked side by side with, they were labeled as “the best investigative duo in Yokohama”. And his stupid sentimentality that literally came out of nowhere told him that in some moments he had the impression they really worked well together. 

With those words Kunikida dismissed their whole partnership, and erased all those situations where he really thought they were something more than partners, friends even, and he didn’t use such words lightly. 

So when he headed to the principal’s office he didn’t even consider that Kunikida could get worried about him. He was confused: he admitted he couldn’t care less about him but now he was as pale as if he had seen a ghost. 

Kunikida’s sigh pulled him out of his thoughts: he took off his glasses and massaged his eyes before looking at him again: his eyes were slightly red, and it was obvious he was struggling to stay awake. 

-Are you calmer now? 

He asked. His head tilted towards him unconsciously.  

-I don’t like when you put yourself in dangerous situations. That’s all. – Kunikida muttered, his face was red, probably because he kept rubbing it. – If you keep getting hurt, you will make me work twice more. 

Dazai’s brain short circuited in front of Kunikida’s soft voice. Embarrassment spread all over his body, making him feel put in awe in front of his partner’s eyes. People being kind to him were already his soft spot, yet with Kunikida the feeling was stronger: he tried to hold his stare and forced his own hands together on the blanket to suppress the turmoil that was going on inside himself. 

He gaped a few times before his brain recollected his skill of answering with charisma every time someone asked him a question. He went on autopilot, deciding that the most convenient way to fight the bundle that was moving from his stomach to his chest was to joke about it.  

-In that case, I’ll keep doing it, so you will have to work and work and work, just because I like getting on your nerves. – his cheeks turned warmer, because his words didn’t sound so sweet in his head. He leaned over him, drawn to his warmth. - I prefer Kunikida-kun when he is yelling at me instead of staying quiet like an old man sitting on an armchair and complaining about children making noises. 

The other rolled his eyes. 

-You’re lucky you’re injured. 

Kunikida’s lips distended into a small smile, a rare one. The bundle in Dazai’s chest grew louder. 

A sharper pain hit the back of his head and he closed his eyes again. This time the spot throbbed, a sign that he was still far from being well. He felt hands guide him back and only when he hit the pillow, he reopened them.

-You should rest. 

Dazai just nodded, his eyes never leaving Kunikida’s. 

Kunikida glanced down, his hand on Dazai’s. 

He removed it slowly, brushing his fingers on his knuckles in the motion. 

-Well, I’ll arrange the details then. 

He said, before standing up and leaving. Dazai stared at the door until Kunikida’s steps were no longer audible. Then, not having anything else to do, he looked up at the white ceiling of the infirmary: words from before still ran in his head, the only audible sound was the buzz of his heart in his ears. 

Squinting his eyes, Kunikida turned on the printer and waited for the documents that he had to submit to Ranpo to be ready. When he saw the papers enter into the printer, he finally sighed in relief, as if a large part of what he had to do was finally coming to an end. He shifted his weight on the other leg and his talon sank into the floor, making him aware of how sore the muscles of his legs were. The lack of sleep was making itself present, and staying focused was becoming difficult. 

He brought a hand to massage the shoulder where he draped Dazai. It was starting to hurt, and if he tried to curl the fingers of his left hand, they stung like when he carried a grocery bag that was too heavy. 

When people said that Dazai was light and thin, well, it was evident they never carried him. That man was heavier than it seemed. Anyway, everything went well for the moment, so complaining about his colleague’s weight was the last thing he wanted to do. 

He hoped to close that case as soon as possible, go home and drink a warm cup of tea while submerged under ten blankets. The thought sounded so comforting that it shot a pang of motivation in his body. Him refusing work, what was he becoming? Dazai had a bad influence on him, like always. 

-You don’t seem happy, Kunikida-kun.

A womanish voice parroted Dazai’s lower one. A gloved hand touched his shoulder and Kunikida flinched. Oh no, he knew who it belonged to. 

He turned his head just to spot a butterfly pin and a black fringe. 

-Yosano-sensei. 

-Say, Kunikida, what is going on between you and Dazai? 

Yosano lifted an eyebrow and hoovered to look at him. Even if she was shorter than him, her eyes shot a shiver down his back. 

He ran his eyes on her face in confusion: He cringed when the back of his mind suggested something. He pushed the glasses on his nose to take time to think about an answer. 

-You were there? 

He dodged the question, but at the same time he realized that he completely forgot about Yosano being in the infirmary with them, he didn’t even hear her following him now: he was so focused on Dazai and how he was feeling that he had the impression even to forget where he was. 

He turned his head to look at the infirmary and Yosano followed the trail with her eyes. She scoffed. 

-Don’t worry, he’s probably asleep now, but I’ll check on him if it makes you feel calmer. 

Her voice hinted at something that made him flinch. 

-Anyway, don’t dodge my questions. – She elbowed him. – What was that? 

-What? 

Yosano rolled her eyes. 

-That conversation from before. Don’t tell me that you didn’t notice all the tension between you two, it looked like you two were flirting. 

Kunikida widened his eyes and looked away: it looked like that? They were just settling the details for the mission. Dazai was injured, he was checking if he was alive and capable of speaking, nothing more. 

If she saw it that way, probably no one ever cared for her, because that was not the point of his conversation with Dazai. Maybe the tension was there, but not for the reasons she thought. 

He cleared his voice and tried to maintain his composure, even if it was becoming difficult. He felt judged but he didn’t know why. 

-W-we weren’t flirting. – He protested. The way his voice strained turned his cheeks slightly red. What was he stuttering for? – We were just talking about the mission.

-Well, - Yosano crossed her arms. – When I told you, you could leave him to me, you had a crisis and dragged a chair next to his bed, affirming that you would have waited until he was going to wake up. Then you started asking questions about the medical nature of topics you can’t even comprehend and don’t think I haven’t seen you taking notes about concussions in that notebook of yours. 

Kunikida unconsciously stared at the ideal he held between his hands. Sometimes he forgot even his colleagues were detectives: good when it came to having problems, bad when you wanted to keep those problems hidden. 

He cleared his voice. 

-That’s just basic human decency, you know? 

-No it’s not. – She shook her head. – Listen, it’s not my business I know, but if I see a colleague struggling with something I want to help. That’s what the agency is for, right? 

Kunikida relaxed his posture. Yosano wasn’t there to tease him and what she said was true. He lost count of the times in which they helped each other even outside work related things: bad days, errands, even problems with their own friends. They didn’t go around calling themselves “friends” because that would have been too much; they rarely met outside work but it wasn't like they didn’t talk when they were at the office. They were somewhat halfway between good colleagues and friends, how was it called? Acquaintances? No, probably even that was too generous as a term. 

Well, it’s not like he needed an answer now. 

The “beep” of the printer announced that the sheets were ready, and Kunikida turned to grab them. 

-I’m sure Ranpo-san told you what happened that evening. 

He didn’t need to specify the evening he was talking about. 

-Ah yes, you two kissed.

-We talked about it, we said that it didn’t matter but I’m starting to think that we were both wrong. – He stared at the sheets between his hands just because looking at Yosano didn’t seem possible: his whole skin was burning under her stare. – Our relationship has become…tense. I don’t know how to put it, but I can’t talk with him without having this feeling of “weird”. 

-Did you tell him?

Kunikida shook his head. 

-We don’t talk much besides work. I told him some things, bad things and I exaggerated. 

This time Yosano stood there in silence, Kunikida couldn’t see her face, but probably she was just trying to process what he said. Then, she sighed. 

-Whatever may have happened, you should talk, but probably you already know that—

-We did it and it didn’t work. 

-No, you didn’t. You said you’re faking it didn’t happen, that’s what is giving you so many problems. – Kunikida lifted his head and finally looked her in the eyes. She wore a frown on her face. – You have to be honest with the way it made you feel and with what you think about it. Whatever could be worrying you. 

Kunikida’s heartbeat quickened, but on the outside he just frowned. 

-It didn’t make me feel anything. 

-You’re a terrible liar. 

Kunikida sighed: his patience was wearing thin, but not towards Yosano, instead, towards himself. His thoughts didn’t match what was going on inside himself, he knew that, but he couldn’t bring himself to voice it. The problem was, that it made him feel something, the “weird” he said before, but he didn’t know how to name it besides: “weird”. It wasn’t unpleasant. That’s what he could say. 

And he disliked the fact that it hadn’t been unpleasant. 

-I’m not sure. That’s it. 

-And you’re sure he feels the same way? What if you saw this only from your perspective? 

-From my perspective?

-What if he likes you? 

Kunikida's anger faltered. He didn’t consider how Dazai might have felt, but then the small tinge of guilt that was tucking at his heart died gradually when he thought that it was Dazai the one he was talking about. Dazai is not someone to get attached to a kiss, probably he lost count of the people he seduced, kissed or simply indulged in filthy things. He brushed off the vague sense of annoyance that crossed his chest: he didn’t judge him, after he was an adult. But for him kisses were nothing but “a human way to show affection” and all those “mental things” he told to the others. They were drunk, that’s why it happened, not because Dazai wanted to kiss him for real. He doubted Dazai ever wanted to do anything like that with a man, let alone with him.  

They argued most of the time, their personalities were the perfect opposites of the same spectrum and he loved pissing him off. It could never work, not even if Dazai was serious.

Dazai wasn’t interested in love,he didn’t seem the type at all, and then he was always there telling him that his ideals were “unrealistic” or “inflated”. Why should someone that talked like that be interested in him? 

He cringed. 

-I’m sure it’s not like that. There’s no way it can be like that. 

-How can you be so sure if you didn’t talk? 

-Dazai is always criticising me for how I live, how my ideals are, how I am. Do you really think that someone that likes someone else talks this way about them?

-So the problem is that you think you won’t be his type?

Kunikida didn’t answer. He just shook his head and headed towards the door of the room: he had work to do, he couldn’t lose time with those useless suppositions. But Yosano called for him again. His heart was hammering in his chest, making his limbs feel weak. 

-Kunikida, things like that happen when you have mixed feelings for someone. You’re fond of them but you don’t know if you just care about them a lot or if you’re crushing on them. Things like that, if not faced, ruin relationships, of all kinds. 

Kunikida stopped in his tracks and turned to her again. 

She lifted an eyebrow. 

-And let me tell you, you’re confused. 

-I’m not confused, there’s nothing to be confused about. – He opened his arms. –I’m just pissed it happened. I have fifty six ideal points for my ideal wife, Dazai doesn’t fit more than half of them. 

-Well, love is not always ideal. 

-I’ll make it ideal then. And to make it ideal, I assure you that Dazai is the least of my considerations. I’m a man, he’s a man I – The anger in his chest left a feeling of pain and warmth. He cleared his voice again. – He’s a good partner, he’s my partner, but that’s all he is. What you have seen before was just a colleague worried for another colleague, there weren’t any romantic feelings implied. 

The frown on Yosano’s face let him understand that she was having a hard time believing him. She shook her head and avoided his eyes.

 Kunikida felt a wave of affection for her. She didn’t deserve his anger and she didn’t deserve the harsh way he was talking with her. 

He fixed his glasses and placed a hand on her shoulder. 

-I appreciate that you’re worried. – His voice was softer now, - but I assure you that it’s not like that. We will find a way to get along again, the office won’t turn into a living hell just because of the two of us.  

-I just hope that your relationship won’t turn into a living hell too. 

She muttered. 

-It won’t, I assure you. – He patted her shoulder. – Make sure he recovers, even without your ability, it shouldn’t be a problem for you.  

And with that, he walked away. Hoping that his steps sounded steady enough to hide his desire to run away and bury himself alive. 

He walked through the corridor to reach the main room as held the papers between his hands so hard that they were crumpling: Yosano’s words brought even more chaos in his head, he had the impression that the bundle of disconnected thoughts grew bigger: ah, like hell he was going to drink at another party, he wasn’t going to drink ever again. 

He groaned as he opened the door and got hit by the noise of all the typing on the keyboards. The muttering of his colleagues and the rustling of candies that Ranpo was eating pierced his ears. His temples already throbbed. 

-Oh, Kunikida! What’s with that sulking face? 

Speaking of Ranpo. He turned his head and there he was, staring at him with his chin resting on the palm of his hand. His other one was immersed in the pack of sour candies up to his wrist. 

-Ranpo-san, I was just looking for you. — Ranpo rolled his eyes as if to say “I knew that”. —  It’s about a case Dazai and I are following. 

He headed towards Dazai’s desk, where he told him that the stuff he bought was hidden, when Ranpo’s words made his hand come to a halt. 

-Ugh, and here I was, thinking that you finally wanted to tell me that I was right about your ideal woman being a man. You know, the kiss-gate . 

Kunikida’s eyes searched Ranpo’s face on instinct, and he found him lying with his elbows behind his head. It was almost a funny coincidence that Ranpo was implying the same things Yosano said to him just minutes ago, the only two problems were that it wasn’t funny and it wasn’t a coincidence. With Ranpo coincidences didn’t exist. There were only logical deductions. Those two talked and came to the same conclusion, a conclusion that could’ve never been more wrong. Maybe Ranpo thought it was fun or entertaining, but all he could feel was a pain in the stomach that sent jolts of warmth through his body. 

Deciding that he didn’t want to have that conversation again and especially in the office, he sighed, grabbed the candies and got up. 

-My ideal woman is a woman, Ranpo-san, - he walked to his desk and deposited the candies on it. – I have a whole chapter about her here. 

He pointed at his notebook to which Ranpo only turned his head and blew raspberries. 

-Kunikida is really oblivious. 

He muttered under Kunikida’s frown. 

The latter sighed, choosing to stay silent: it was useless to argue with Ranpo and he didn’t have the strength to face another discussion now. He just shot a glance to his trustful ideal placed on the surface too. He didn’t know what had gotten into his colleagues: they were never interested in love affairs, especially Ranpo who considered them “an illogical stupidity and a waste of time”. His ideal woman was a woman, end of the story. He didn’t have problems with gay couples, hell, as long as someone was happy, where was the problem? But him? No, he was straight, thanks.  

He doubted Dazai could be someone’s ideal type. He didn’t want to be mean, but honestly, who could handle him all day?

And then, seeing how popular he was among women, he doubted he could stay with the same person for a long time. Dazai was someone that could have thirty different lovers at the same time, because he was a menace and because he needed constant mental stimuli. If he doesn’t obtain it, he gets annoyed and loses interest. And considering how clever he was, keeping his mind interested must be a constant challenge lost in the beginning, since there was no way to entertain that man forever. Whoever was going to be with him, would end up with their heart shattered, that’s the sole consideration he could provide. It would be one-sided from the start. 

He teared his eyes away from his ideal and looked at Ranpo again. 

-Anyway I need you to decipher a card found at a crime scene. We don’t know who wrote it, but we got samples of the two suspects. 

 He showed Ranpo both the evidence and the samples. 

-Since it’s about missing people, we’re short on time, that’s why we’re asking for your help. – He pointed at the candies on his desk. – Hope those can help with bothering you, we all know you’re busy. 

Ranpo looked at Kunikida’s face, then his gaze shifted to the candies and then to Kunikida again. Then, his lips stretched into a cheerful smile. 

He bragged about himself being “the best detective ever” and the “backbone of the agency” before pulling out his dark glasses and putting them on. It seemed that he kept doing it out of habitude, or maybe, even now that he knew he wasn’t an ability user he used them to feel more confident. After all, each one of them had their own ways to face anxiety and doubts. For Yosano was acting as if she enjoyed violence, for Kunikida was the tidiness and schedules, maybe for Dazai was attempting suicide on a daily basis (despite its twisted behavior, it was likely). 

Ranpo, despite his genius, was no exception. 

He looked at all three pieces of paper, the evidence and the samples, which for Kunikida looked all the same. He muttered under his breath before pointing at the writing on the left. 

-They’re similar, but I assure you that these are two different people. The one who wrote the card was this one. 

Kunikida felt his stomach churn: that was his evidence, the one he took from the custodian’s restroom. His head filled with Dazai’s observations and he realized that they had the killer under their nose for most of the time. If digital fingertips on Tanaka’s body matched, half of the case could be considered solved, he just had to wait for the forensic to inform him. Yet, he couldn’t feel satisfied. They barely knew where the students were, even now, they let a teacher lose his life, worsened their already terrible communication, and Dazai got hit and almost had a concussion. Failures outnumbered the success, that’s why he felt they lost even if they were close to winning. 

His chest ached, and a shiver went down his back: he didn’t know if he failed Tanaka or Dazai. If he failed his profession as a detective or if he failed as a person to begin with. 

The ongoing noises in the crowded office made him aware that he was still at work, still in the office and still with Ranpo in front of him. His mind went on autopilot and he tried to ignore the way everything was blurred and why his ears were stuffed with cotton. 

-I see. Thank you. 

Ranpo probably answered him, but he didn’t hear him. He just grabbed all the evidence again and walked away. He shot a glance to his desk: he considered sitting and filling reports until fainting, but then he realized that now that they knew the killer, they had to set up a plan and take action, otherwise the situation would have kept worsening, so he headed towards the infirmary. 

He felt annoyance decrease in his chest as soon as he left the main room with all the voices and typing of laptops got further: his shoes clicked on the tiles, the empty echo of them made him feel even more melancholic than before. 

When he placed the hand on the doorknob his chest got hit by a wave of anxiety. He recalled Yosano’s words from before: he hoped she didn’t want to re-open the conversation or to talk about it with Dazai. 

He entered the room with his heart heavier than before when he noticed that there was too much silence. He looked around to spot the doctor when he noticed a billet on the desk. 

“Went shopping, dunno when I’ll return”.  

Kunikida stood there with the card between his fingers: he was so absorbed that he didn’t even hear her going out. He sighed, placing it back on the desk. Well, at least he could talk with Dazai without risking that Yosano brought the conversation from before up again. 

-Dazai, Ranpo-san discovered who’s the person who left the card— 

He stopped mid sentence when he heard the soft snores coming from the bed. Leaning over, he noticed that Dazai was asleep. This time it wasn’t to tease him, not as a joke, or out of boredom. He was sleeping for real. 

He bit his lower lip when he realized he was relieved he didn’t have to think about a plan at that moment. The desire to return to his desk to work non-stop sounded tempting, but what if Dazai woke up and wasn’t feeling well? What if he threw up? What if Yosano left knowing that there would be him there? 

Embarrassment and guilt turned his body sluggish. His own eyes were judging him for what happened and he couldn’t leave Dazai again alone as if it was nothing. He decided: he was staying. He walked back to the bed and sat next to him again. In the room there was no sound except for electric current that buzzed like rats squeaking. Kunikida crossed his hands and stared at his colleague who was snoring softly, when a sense of melancholia and dread took over him: he wanted to cry, but he felt like he didn’t deserve it. 

He gritted his teeth and did everything he could to avoid his closed throat to let out any sound. His wet eyes didn’t shed any tears and he didn’t know if he felt worse or better than before. 

His head started running in circles, and like every time someone gives too much thought to something, the problems started to appear impossible to solve. 

However the weight on his stomach, as much as the dread he was feeling, wasn’t connected to the case. 

He loosened his ponytail and let out a sigh: Mixed feelings. That’s what Yosano said. That he had mixed feelings about his partner, and the more he thought about it the more it sounded absurd. 

It was surprising how much Yosano could fantasize when she was bored. Thinking about it, they worked well as colleagues but there was no way they could work as a couple. He could only imagine the number of arguments over every aspect of their life: routine, beliefs, coping mechanisms, alimentation, what they could talk about besides work? Nothing. Because Dazai didn’t open up and Kunikida wasn’t good at making conversation with someone that lacked common sense like that loggerhead. They were just going to stare at each other, which could be unsettling. 

And then, he already said it. Dazai wasn’t interested in romance at all. It would be one-sided from the start, and he wasn’t the type that liked to suffer when it came to romance. 

But it was normal, a lot of people had great cooperation at work or got along as friends but romantically they were the worst someone could imagine. Love has its limits, after all. 

And then came the most important part: he was straight, so if it was going to be one-sided, then it was because he couldn’t be interested in men, let alone Dazai. 

He rubbed his face: he was giving too much thought to that. He had to remind himself that those were all Yosano’s conjectures, and probably neither was real. And it was better that way.

His eyes fell on the bundle of sheets that Dazai became: he looked like a worm, wrapped completely in the blankets. The bandages around his neck were loose but didn’t show the skin, Kunikida couldn’t tell if it was Yosano who did it to check on him, or if it was just the twisting in the bed: whatever it could be, they looked uncomfortable. Some curls of his fringe glued on the skin, because of sweat and Kunikida brushed them away with his hand, deepening the touch when he noticed that it was warm and soft. 

Dazai frowned slightly before adjusting himself on the pillow and exhaling a long sigh. 

Kunikida stood there with his hand in his hair hoping that he didn’t wake him up, but when he heard the soft snores again, he relaxed and a faint smile pulled his lips up: fortunately, he seemed fast asleep. 

For someone always on alert, he was completely harmless now; he should’ve really felt tired. As he observed him, the soft smile faded, and his expression turned serious, the remote feeling of guilt returned on his chest, heavy. He was careless, what he did was careless, and Kunikida hoped that he didn’t send him to the guardian’s office just because he already had a feeling that there could be someone hiding in the principal’s office. Because if that was the case—

His mind trailed off. He wasn’t capable of harming Dazai for real and not because he lacked the skills to do it. 

The weird feeling made himself present again when before letting go, he ruffled his hair. Dazai leaned in his touch unconsciously and his heart ached. He stiffened and curled his fingers as if he got burnt by a boiling pot. 

He pressed his back on the chair again as if he wanted to get as far as possible from him. There it was, the “weird” feeling that he felt lately.

Mixed feelings. Yosano’s words from before echoed in his head and he took out his notebook to find an anchor in that situation. He opened it and started to read every page, feeling that sensation leave him gradually as he convinced himself of what he wrote, and that every other thought should be discarded. Right, His principles weren’t something that he built in one night, it took years to write all those beliefs and to make himself worthy of them. He constantly tried to improve himself through them, and he shouldn’t let others influence what he thought or wanted. 

Firm on what he believed, wary on what he doubted. That’s what he thought. 

He flipped the next page and he found the chapter about his ideal woman. His breath hitched as he read through the ideal points of his joggle list: he built it with care through months, making statistics about which kind of personality would fit him and how someone should be to make a relationship last all life. It was perfection, and he didn’t aspire to anything else. 

When he arrived at the third point, Dazai exhaled a sigh, and Kunikida moved his eyes to look at him again. He wrapped himself even more and now only the nose was outside the blankets. Seeing him being so comfortable made him feel tired too. Kunikida’s eyes got heavier, and he decided to shut his ideal and take off his glasses just to rest his eyes for a moment. It was just a moment after all. 

He fell asleep a few minutes later, with his head on the mattress and close to Dazai’s stomach. His warmth lingered over his head making him feel even more peaceful than before. How could someone so focused on suicide be this warm? 

His head jumped from Yosano’s words, to Ranpo’s to Dazai’s face before sleep took over him. 

When Yosano came back from her shopping session, she opened the office door and came to a halt when she noticed the way the two were sleeping. She blinked twice, then, with a knowing smile, she went to the wardrobe at the bottom of the room, grabbed a blanket and draped it on Kunikida. 

She shot one last satisfied glance at them before returning to her work: it was better to enjoy the tranquillity before the storm between the two of them would have caused other problems. The smile on her lips died down gradually.  

She hoped they would find a way to solve everything sooner or later. 

Chapter Text

Two years before 

-Are you sure he will wake up? 

Yosano shrugged and shot a look to the figure that was lying on the bed: brown curls were glued on the pale skin, stained bandages hugged his neck, eyebrows relaxed with not even the slightest hint of wrinkles. He looked asleep, but he wasn’t. For once, that stupid mouth wasn’t uttering anything obnoxious, but Kunikida never wished so much to hear idiot words come out from those purple lips. 

-He’s lost a lot of blood. I’ve done what I could, but I can’t assure you it will work. If he wants to wake up, it’s up to him. 

Kunikida clenched his teeth. During the last mission Dazai had the audacity to get shot because according to him that was the: “only logical way to find the enemy’s hideout” and he bled until losing consciousness. He shook him by his shoulders while throwing insults: “if you close your eyes, I swear I’ll be the first thing you will see when you reopen them and you’ll wish you’d never open them again!” That’s what he told him, but it had been useless, Dazai fainted and Kunikida didn’t remember what happened after he went limp in his arms, his trembling hands were the only thing he could recall. 

Yosano gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and told him something about letting him rest, but it arrived muffled to his ears. He was still staring at the figure of his partner. 

His whole body stiffened and he had to breathe several minutes before thanking the doctor. 

Her indifference was given by the many years of witnessing people die, but it didn’t stop Kunikida from feeling annoyed. He wanted to tell her: “If it really is up to him, why did you give him surgery? What’s the point of those drips? Why didn’t we bring him to the hospital?” But he knew that the first question wasn’t his business, the second either while the third could question her abilities as a doctor and having a discussion with Yosano was the last thing he wanted. 

He nodded to her and leaned against the wall, letting himself fall on the chair next to the door. 

…What if Dazai didn’t wake up? What if he was in a coma? His last memory of Kunikida would be him yelling. 

He tapped his foot on the floor and crossed his arms tight.

He could feel a veil of sweat cover his face but he didn’t have the strength to wipe it. He just stood there with his face getting warmer in front of the white neons of the infirmary. 

He sighed: Dazai wasn’t someone that acted on impulse, he planned that move, and Kunikida didn’t know if he was upset because his partner hadn’t told him anything or because he didn’t let himself be helped by someone that should have his ass at work. He couldn’t do everything by himself, he already told him. 

They worked together damn, but every time Dazai ended up doing something alone and Kunikida felt he was still a newbie. He admired his partner’s cleverness, but he wanted to be involved in his plans too, especially if there was the high risk one of them could get hurt. 

But he didn’t have time to explain all of that while the other passed out, and he ended up yelling and shaking him. Great Doppo, you’re always good with words. 

“Finally I can sleep in peace”. That’s what Dazai said before passing out. 

Truly idiotic, a complete idiocy— but was it really idiotic? 

He shot a glance to the body in front of him: lifeless like before. Up until that moment Kunikida didn’t consider Dazai’s love for suicide something important, but now he wondered if that was what Dazai truly wanted: to fall asleep and never wake up again, to become a lifeless body that felt nothing, ashes, to be dramatic. He was aware of his attempts, but he never considered them serious, or better, he never thought they could actually work. Dazai always had a weird way of acting, he was loud and told everyone that he was about to kill himself jumping from a skyscraper or drowning in the city river, so it was difficult to take him seriously. 

Kunikida always saw it as some kind of joke he used to drag the attention towards himself, like when the children fainted or faked having a fever because they seeked their parents’ attention. That’s what Dazai’s attempts were for him, he even told him last time he fished him out of the river: “stop acting like a child that wants attention, you’re making everyone worried!” And Dazai just laughed. But now, Kunikida was starting to think that the sound of that laugh appeared forced.

Why was he realizing it just now?

This time, seeing him unconscious and with his skin paler than Yosano’s shirt, made him come to a painful realization. Dazai wanted all of that, he seriously wanted all of that: he was okay with leaving the agency, his work, the others, to never laugh, work, or walk or eat ever again. 

He was fine with stopping to exist, to sleep and never wake up again. Maybe he was going to wish he hadn’t opened his eyes for real. 

Maybe he wasn’t seeking attention, maybe he wanted to die for real.

His head spun when he realized for the first time that Dazai could really no longer be there with him: his suicidal tendencies were real , and that he was acting on them with the same easiness someone used to buy groceries. Probably that was the reason why he didn’t think twice before being shot. That was why he was always careless, forgot that pain existed and that he could, in fact, get hurt. 

Suicide wasn’t only jumping off a skyscraper, it wasn’t only drowning in Yokohama’s river, it was also not caring for his safety, accepting bleeding out on a mission, driving like shit like he used to. 

Kunikida joined his hands and rested his forehead on them: he thought about the evening in the hotel and the timid “thank you” whispered just because he helped him sleep. That was only four days ago, but the memory felt so far and it clenched his chest.The vulnerable side of him, the one that closed his shoulders, turned to the other side of the bed and hid his expression. It was the same person that pestered him and disrupted his schedule, and it was the same person that wanted to stop breathing forever. 

His head spun as the figure before him didn’t even blink. 

He wondered what other sides Dazai had, if he was the only one witnessing them, and well, he was. Only that he never noticed before, because he was stuck thinking about what was easy to see. 

Dazai wasn’t only a cunning individual, he wasn’t only a fanatic of suicide. He wasn’t a bidimensional being like the characters of those terrible comics that Katai read when they were teens. 

Dazai was a person, exactly like him. 

He swallowed and opened his notebook. With his wrist not feeling like it belonged to him he wrote on a clean page: “check on Dazai every morning”. 

His eyes returned to the unconscious person in front of him. 

He just hoped that tomorrow it’d be morning for Dazai too. 

Kunikida woke up drenched in sweat. His chest was raising and falling rhythmically, inflating and deflating the shirt he used to sleep. The fabric of the shirt had a darker spot on the chest and around the collarbone, probably he sweated all night. 

He panted as if he’d been underwater for too long and focused on the ceiling in front of him. His mind took a while, but eventually he realized that it was just a bad dream or better, an unpleasant memory that he wanted to forget. 

He was still ashamed for thinking that way. 

Ah, he acted carelessly back then, and he did the same now at the school. 

If he trusted his sixth sense more, then Dazai wouldn’t have fainted on the top of the stairs— No wait. He should have forced Dazai to talk in the first place, because the idiot knew well what was going to happen, he just hadn't told him. Two years and the story repeated itself: they hadn’t improved at all, as partners; they just kept getting worse. 

He sat on the futon and looked around: his bed was a mess.The blankets were scattered half on his legs and half on the floor; his pants were twisted on his knees and the hair at his nape was glued on his neck. Looked like he had a terrible night, like every kind of night he was having since the agency reopened.

Thinking that he was so happy the evening of the party. 

Squinting his eyes, he tried to focus on the room around him, but without his glasses, the objects were blurred. 

His phone started to ring. He picked it up. 

-Hello? Yes, it’s me. 

It was the forensic team. They knew whose fingerprints were on Tanaka’s body. 

He clocked into work two hours late. It never happened before. He felt terrible, and when he discovered that Naomi started a fanfiction about the “kiss-gate”, he wished he called in sick and sunk in his blankets all day. 

…Should he tell the president about that? What if the president read it already? Wait. Did the president know what fanfictions were? 

-Sigma-san, I bet you’re the type that enjoys romance. 

She said as she handled him the copy of her first draft. It was at least one-hundred pages long. The man stared at the paper with an eyebrow raised. 

-Not really— 

-C’mon. – She interrupted him, – read it, you won’t regret it. 

And then she went on a long explanation about what fanfictions were and Kunikida seriously thought that he was lucky fanfictions weren’t popular when he was younger. 

He hated his colleagues.

(He had to write down what “pre-slash” meant, though).

However, that was not important. What was important was that Dazai the idiot, now Dazai-the-sick-idiot was sitting in front of him and Kunikida felt the headache of the previous nightmare lessen. But that solace lasted only for a brief moment, because Dazai talked again and Kunikida seriously thought that the previous incident made him lose the little sanity that was left in him. 

-Like hell I’d let you do that!

Kunikida’s voice echoed in the half-empty office. 

In front of him, a still-head-bandaged Dazai stared at him with a frown that was both annoying and irritating. 

-But, Kunikida-kun. This is the only solution we have. 

The latter sighed and fixed the glasses on his nose. 

The light filtered from the windows, tinting the office in light blue tones: a brisk windblow cooled the office, carrying with it some petals of sakura. Come to think of it, April was close. 

Dazai had been bedridden for days, stuck in an endless circle of eating and sleeping, and then sleeping and eating again. Sometimes, nausea would get so bad that he had to throw up and Yosano lost count of the drips he had given to him to make him stop vomiting. Checks happened each morning, and even if they were just basic formalities to see if he was healing properly, Kunikida still visited him before starting to work. He’d placed his back on the cold wall behind his back, crossed his arms, and swallowed in silence as he prayed that Yosano would tell him that he was alright. His jaw unclenched only then.

It wasn’t like he thought Dazai could get severely injured, or even die. That man was a cockroach, there was no way of killing him. But he had to admit that the guilt of what happened between them, mixed with the fact that he somehow felt responsible for his situation made him leave that infirmary with his heart heavier each time. 

Besides, each time Yosano looked at him he had the impression of replaying their conversation in his head. He still had to talk with him. The occasions in which he could have done it were a lot: moments during which they were alone weren’t rare, the agency was still trying to start the business again and all the others were busy with other cases; during those days he exchanged just a few words with his colleagues, he barely noticed that Atsushi caught flu and went absent for two days straight. He supposed there was a lot on everyone’s minds, he could see it in their eye bags and hear it in their heavy sighs. So, it happened that sometimes he and Dazai ended up alone. 

“Keep an eye on him, when you can”. That’s what Yosano said, Kunikida even created space in his schedule, instead of recycling the one he already had at the voice of: check on Dazai. After all, he wasn’t going to need this one, once he was healed. 

So he worked as he usually did, teaching Sigma how to type reports and correcting the ones of the others that still struggled with typos. During breaks or when Yosano went out shopping, he headed to the infirmary, dragged a chair next to his bed and kept him company. Sometimes, Kenji brought them cow stuff, Naomi something homemade and even Ranpo brought candies to Dazai: he never saw it coming. 

But again, even if this sounded like a warm atmosphere, it didn’t mean that Kunikida felt warm. Instead, the way he felt days ago didn’t change. The embarrassment and guilt were still there. The tension that surrounded him and Dazai was still there, their discussion and the words he said were still there, hanging in the air. Even if he pretended they were fine. 

But the truth was painfully obvious, since even if he kept Dazai company physically, it wasn’t like they talked much. Most of their breaks went with him reading his ideal and Dazai reading his idiotic book about suicide. Sometimes they exchanged a few words but were similar to when a hairdresser asks: “how’s the weather?” to his clients. 

That’s why he didn’t say anything. He wanted to, but words died in his mouth each time he saw bandages around Dazai’s head, every time he laid his eyes on him and saw the tired stare he had and every time they were alone because he couldn’t help but to feel at least the tiny bit responsible for what happened. 

Today was the first day Dazai could stand on his own legs without tripping, that’s why he was sitting at his desk. If it weren’t for the bandages on his forehead, Kunikida could swear he looked the same as always. 

The clock struck midday and half of the others were on lunch break, leaving both Dazai and him alone again. 

Everything was quiet and Kunikida thought that it didn’t match at all the broken sentences in his head that sounded too much like bees flying in a hive. He opened the office door that day with a clear thought in his mind: if Dazai couldn’t walk or even if he could, like hell Kunikida was allowing him to go and arrest the principal and the custodian with him. 

And that was where the problem came. Not only did Dazai want to take part in the final act of the mission, he wanted to play the diversion in the plan, alias, the one that was going to face danger and that was going to, very likely, end up injured (again). 

-We barely have a plan, so no, this isn’t the only solution we have. We just have to think about something else. 

-Kunikida-kun. – The latter had the impression that he was about to understand why that was their only resolve. – We both know who’s stronger in combat between each other. As we both know who has the best acting skills. It wouldn’t make any sense to switch parts. 

 As logical as ever, Dazai’s reasonment wasn’t wrong. Yet, Kunikida clenched his hands on the desk and shook his head. 

-If I get injured, Yosano-sensei can heal me, something that she can’t do to you, not if it’s critical. 

-Everything has its pros and cons. 

Dazai shrugged and Kunikida had to repress the instinct to throw him to the other side of the room: weren’t they saying the same thing?! 

At that point, the principal and the custodian were probably aware that they were close to solving the case. They weren’t waiting for them with bare hands, they had to have a plan. The best idea would have been to arrest them right away and then press them in the interrogation room to make them spill the truth, but they didn’t have any tangible evidence to proceed to the arrest, and they had also to consider that one of them wasn’t like going to cover his partner in crime and get away? 

This case required action on the field, and Dazai, with his legs barely working, was definitely a “con” more than a “pro”, to quote him. 

-I’ll go with someone else, Atsushi has good combat ability or even Kenji would be useful. 

-Are you relieving me of duty without even asking me? 

Kunikida felt a needle prick his stomach: that conversation was morphing into a discussion. Again. Lately he and Dazai did just that: discuss. It seemed that tension built other tension and they always ended up having arguments.

What really bothered Kunikida, was the mocking smile on Dazai’s face that was hiding how frustrated he felt. Sure, he disliked paperwork, but strategies? Mission on the field? Dazai was always the first in line, along with Ranpo. However, he didn’t understand his reaction now: was it because he didn’t want to do paperwork? Or because he thought he couldn’t be of any use? Kunikida gave it a bit of thought but he found it impossible that Dazai ever felt such things. He was the head strategist inside the agency, there was no way that he felt useless. And he didn’t want to male him feel that way, but he was injured. How could he go through a mission that way? Even a child would have understood. 

Yet, that was before the mess happened. Before their lives became even more complicated than they already were, before the agency was dismantled and built again. And Kunikida knew from experience that even if a house could be built again,the walls were different from the first time. It was the same with people. Relationships change because people change, circumstances change, viewpoints on life change. People were the same outside, but their thoughts tended to morph through time. 

It happened to him and Dazai too. Dazai was his partner, they had excellent cooperation, Dazai was the best at strategies and plans, but now? What were they now if not just two colleagues that argued?  Kunikida had the impression that they were copying out of habit what they were, and only the superficial part of their relationship stayed: the one that made the others outside think that they hated each other. 

Kunikida didn’t know how to cooperate with him anymore, but the first time he didn’t need to learn, right? It just happened, so why now he was having problems? 

His stomach hurt when he understood Dazai’s question from before: if he added it to their previous discussion, to that “you’re a terrible partner”, what he said, his answer, was simple. 

Basically, his words were the confirmation that he didn’t want him as a partner. He just kept worsening the situation. The problem was, that when things went bad, even good intentions weren’t good anymore. Ah, in some moments he wanted to have Atsushi’s sensitivity: that boy didn’t think twice before speaking and even when he did, he was honest to the bone. 

Like that, if he were to be like that, he could simply say “I’m hell worried about you and I don’t want you to get injured further. Ah, what I said about you being a bad partner it’s not true, it’s just that I have anger issues and I’m terrible at showing that I care in normal ways”. 

But it was also true that Atsushi had another relationship with Dazai and Dazai with him too. He was gentler with the boy, instead than with him, whom he pestered continuously. 

And not even that much lately, they just ignored each other.  

When exactly did he start to be jealous of an eighteen year old orphan-brat that didn’t even know what arriving on time was?

He swallowed.  

-I don’t want to, I was just supposing. – He just said, leaving all the rest of the things he wanted to say hanging in the air. If Dazai wanted to be on the mission, then alright. Better not have other discussions. – What’s the plan? 

He leaned back on the chair and crossed his hands. 

-Easy but also not. We have to press them after gaining their trust. – Dazai came to the same conclusion that they needed action on the field. – Since we don’t know where the principal lives, we’ll have to act inside the school. 

-With the students in it?

-That’s where the unpredictable part arrives. We’re going on saturday. 

Kunikida lifted an eyebrow. 

-You really expect the principal to be at school on Saturday? He barely is in on regular days, let alone on weekends. 

Dazai’s eyes narrowed and he grinned teasingly. 

-Ah here it is, the teacher in you is talking. — Kunikida gritted his teeth. Forget all his worries: Dazai could go and let himself be killed. — Kunikida-kun. 

Dazai’s serious voice sent a shiver down his back. 

-What you say is true. But only if it was a normal occasion. In this case, we’re talking about a criminal that knows he’s doing something wrong and knows that we could find out his deeds. He’s at school, because he knows he has to hide his evidence and wants to be the one to do it. 

-Because he’s the culprit. 

-Exactly. 

Kunikida nodded. If Dazai wanted to do it that way, then he could do nothing but follow. The abyss between them hadn't in  any way disappeared, but he still thought he could trust him about work, the only common ground that they had left. 

-So, what is it? I can see that you want to tell me something since this conversation started. 

Kunikida fixed his glasses. A weird heat was taking over his cheeks and he seriously hoped it wasn’t going to show: it wasn’t even that warm yet, but every time Dazai placed his eyes on him and looked at him with that annoying look of “I know everything you’re thinking”, Kunikida felt as if he put himself under the August sun without sunscreen. 

He cleared his voice: right, what he wanted to say? 

-The forensic doctor called me this morning. He said that the fingertips on Tanaka’s body didn’t match the message: the fingertips were of another person, so the custodian isn’t the killer.  

-Is it the principal, right? 

-Not only. There were two types of fingertips on the neck: they matched the victim. The principal was helped by Tanaka to kill himself. It was a murder-suicide. 

In a way or another, they settled the plan. It wasn’t difficult, honestly it was the easiest they ever thought out: one of them got into the school, forced the two to talk and when they were going to try and fight, the diversion (read:Dazai) was going to bring them outside where the other would catch and arrest them. 

Plain, simple and obvious. That’s what made Kunikida shiver with nervousness. Dazai’s plans were always simple, because he kept to himself a lot of details that would reveal how really difficult and dangerous the plan was. And if he weren’t to do that, half of the time they weren’t going to work out. After all, life was better when you lived without knowing certain things. Yet, when simplicity touched such high levels, it was because the mission was going to be hard and full of uncertainty. 

Well, it wasn’t like he had better ideas, so he just followed him. Like he always did, after all. 

According to Dazai, Saturday was the best day since there weren’t any lessons. However, Kunikida didn’t argue because he knew way too well that even when students weren’t in the school, the personnel always had something to do. There were some of his colleagues back in the days that came to work even when they didn’t have anything to do. 

He wasn’t talking about himself. Obviously. 

He stopped the car in the parking lot and sighed. A stupid tingle of nervousness tied his stomach as if it was the first time he did something like that. He turned towards his partner that wore a calm expression on his face: as always, he didn’t display any of his thoughts. Was he nervous? Was he worried? He couldn’t tell. 

-Are you sure you want to do it? 

Dazai shrugged and turned to look at him.

-I just have to get through the part where they will want to prove their absolute innocence before they will get angry and finally say the truth. That’s the part that I dislike the most, nowadays everyone lies in the same way. 

He winked and Kunikida shook his head: he really wanted to throw himself in the face of danger. But if he gave it some thought, that was their best solution. It has always been like that: Kunikida posed clear questions and Dazai answered them in an enigmatic way that left all the interpretation up to Kunikida.  

Yet, he couldn’t stop swallowing the air in his dry mouth since they got out of the office that morning. There was something pulling at his stomach that was making him more nervous than he needed, and it wasn’t the mission. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel: they were still in time to retreat and think of a better plan. 

-How is it? The wounds I mean. 

He asked without looking at him. Dazai looked at himself as if his scars were visible under the thick layer of bandages. 

-Uh? Fine. I mean, my right leg hurts a little but it’s fine— 

-Dazai, - his hand instinctively searched for Dazai’s arm, placing his fingers around his wrist. He didn’t tighten his grip, but he held it enough to make the other turn to look at him. – Be careful. 

Dazai’s eyes widened slightly. Kunikida could swear he felt his pulse quicken under his grip, but it was only an instant, since minutes after Dazai snickered and straightened his posture. 

-Kunikida-kun is worried. I knew it. 

Kunikida frowned and clicked his tongue, because that’s what his whole brain was capable of making as an answer. 

-There’s no need to doubt my super detective skills. I won’t even gain a scratch. 

If that was Dazai’s stupid way to reassure him, Kunikida was sure that he felt even more worried than before. He let go of his wrist as if he got burnt and fixed his glasses. 

-Whatever you say. Just don’t–

Don’t die. 

—Get into more trouble. This case is a mess already. 

-Roger that. 

Dazai chirped as he got out of the car and trotted towards the principal’s office. Kunikida watched him go, their conversation from before was still running in his head. 

You know, living as a fugitive for two years toughened up his perceptiveness. He could sense if something bad was about to happen, if someone in the room was lying, if people were waiting for him. That’s why when he entered the office and saw the principal talking with the custodian under their breaths he knew they knew that he knew. 

Well, he hoped it would be quick. 

-Good morning everyone. — He waved his hand energetically. — I hope I’m not interrupting anything? 

The principal and the custodian exchanged a glance. Then the principal smiled. 

-Oh no, at all. Please detective, come and take a seat. I bet you didn’t come here without a reason, right? 

And you bet right. 

Dazai just smiled. A cold, measured smile. If the principal was clever enough, he would understand what that smile meant.

But if Dazai played dumb, the principal played dumber: he smiled back at him, waiting for an answer. The custodian did the same, standing right where he was, behind the desk, like an obedient dog.

The clock ticked the time passing and with each tick the atmosphere grew heavier much as Dazai’s impatience. He felt his chest tighten in frustration, and came to the conclusion that if he didn’t push, then they weren’t going anywhere. 

He sighed; he hoped Kunikida didn’t fall asleep in the meanwhile. 

He resumed his cheerful attitude and straightened on the chair. 

-I have to thank you, principal. – Dazai said with a carefree tone. – Tanaka was exactly the man we were looking for. In fact, we found out that he was charged guilty for the missing students. 

The principal smirked and Dazai felt his limbs become restless. He knew what the man was thinking: he did it, he managed to fool everyone with his charade of clumsy and forgetful principal. All the suspicions fell on Tanaka, a teacher that, according to the evidence, abused his students and that was now dead. The case was going to be solved that way and he could keep committing crimes undisturbed. 

Riiight, no way they were going to let them do that. He appreciated their plan and the teamwork he carried out with the custodian. Well, he still came from a place where criminality was the norm, he could allow himself to appreciate criminals that used their minds. But Kunikida wasn’t going to know. 

-Told you detective. — the principal said, laying back on the chair with eyebrows raised. He opened his arms to highlight his point. — That man was the worst. I’m sorry for his fate, really unfortunate, but I’m a bit happy that he isn’t with us anymore. 

So you find joy in people dying? The one here that is the worst is you. 

Dazai tightened the grip of his crossed fingers. He changed his mind: this man in front of him was just an idiot that thought “killing” and “blood” were synonyms of being “bad” and “evil”. Ah, the world today. There were no more criminals like there used to be.

The principal laughed at his joke from before and Dazai decided to humor him with a smile. He waited until the principal stopped laughing and then dropped the bomb. 

-There’s one thing though, I didn’t understand. – Dazai leaned over the desk and stared at the principal with a sinister glint in his eyes. His whole body thrilled with anticipation. – My partner and I found a message next to Tanaka’s dead body. If he were really the culprit, then why did the forensic confirm that it was written by this quiet colleague of yours?

He pointed his index finger to the custodian that was still next to the principal. 

The latter lifted his eyebrows and stiffened on the seat as his words seemed to create a crack into his perfect and measured gestures. He had beamed confidence until five seconds before, but now a slight veil of nervousness laid on his expression. He didn’t say anything because he got interrupted by the custodian’s voice. 

-What makes you think that? 

-Well, we got a sample of your writing and it resulted in yours. I suggest you do not question forensic, they are not some amatorial investigators, they know what they do. And if they said that it was your handwriting, then it’s true. 

-I don’t recall giving you anything. Stolen things don’t count as evidence. 

The friendly person that he was days ago was gone, replaced by a cold voice and a face void of any expression, yet Dazai didn’t let himself be intimidated. 

-Oh I know that. But we’re not the police, we’re the detective agency and our rules are a little more permissive. 

Both the principal and the custodian looked taken aback by his answer. It was right, the agency wasn’t inherently good or bad, and while the terrorism gossip was a lie, they weren’t saints either. 

-I think there’s a misunderstanding I—

-You exaggerated when you killed Tanaka. – Dazai interrupted the principal with a grin. – We just finished talking to you that evening and surprisingly enough, Tanaka was found dead the day after at school. You wanted to get off your chest our suspicions so bad that you ended up revealing your crimes. There was no need to leave the card teasing us either. What did you expect us to think? That sealing his mouth was going to save you? That we wouldn’t come up with the fact that it was you all along? Or you wanted to trap us the whole time? I’m listening. 

At a loss of words, the principal and the custodian exchanged a look that could’ve been both shame and fear, but it was gone quickly, because after a moment the principal smiled and leaned over the desk. He crossed his arms and looked again as if he gained control of the situation. 

Dazai held his hands on his lap tighter. A shot of adrenaline ran down his back and he braced himself: from that moment on, all he could do was keep his guard high. 

-Let’s make a deal, detective. What do you say? – He cooed in a convincing tone. Dazai’s expression didn’t change. – You’re the sharpest in the duo, I noticed it the first time we met. I wouldn’t mind working with someone like you. 

He shook his head as a wicked smile made his way on his face. 

-See? That’s the reason why I came here instead of you, Kunikida. – He told himself as if Kunikida was there to listen. – If this person asked you to join them, you would have already thrown everything in the air, screaming in the name of justice. 

The principal and the custodian exchanged looks again, this time confused. Probably they were thinking Dazai had gone crazy or something. 

When he was done laughing, he shot a look at the two. 

-Listen, things will go this way: I’ll make a deal with you. You will tell me how the ability of your friend works and I’ll arrest you. What do you say?

-That I can’t accept. 

That’s all the principal said, while he smiled back. The next moment all Dazai knew was that something threw him over the wall of the room.

His ears rang and he had the feeling of losing his senses. He could only see black and white dots, like when he got up too fast from a seat; the two figures before him were talking but he couldn’t catch a word. 

When he regained a bit of consciousness, he felt something warm roll down his cheek. He touched the spot with two fingers only to find his hands stained with red: blood was pouring down from a fresh scar on his skin. His temples were throbbing. 

He frowned imperceptibly when he noticed white paint surrounding him: a crack was visible in the wall. It started with a circle where Dazai’s head landed and kept going up and up until the ceiling. 

He widened his eyes. Who had—? 

Lifting his head to look at the two people in front of him, he noticed that the principal, who had been in silence for several minutes by now, was massaging his knuckles, so it had to be him to throw him. 

He sneered. 

Nice aim, for being a mere principal of a school. That’s what he thought as he watched the blood on his fingers. He was bleeding again, Kunikida was going to get mad for sure. 

Sorry Kunikida, but I can’t keep my promise of not getting hurt. 

His heart faltered but on the outside he remained as calm as ever, only a sheer grin painted his lips. 

He sat on the floor and the debris clanked under his shoes. Dusting off his shoulders, he tried to appear decent enough to keep the upper hand in the conversation. He coughed. 

-There’s always two ways people react when they are caught doing illegal stuff. – His voice appeared calm despite the bobbing of his neck. – The first one is confessing and throwing themselves at our feet. The second one is trying to kill us to get away. 

He lifted his eyes and noticed that the principal hadn’t moved, but that his posture stiffened: his knuckles turned white and his expression froze with eyebrows raised. 

-I bet you’re choosing the second. 

-As I said before, - the principal bent over to grab him by the wrist. He lifted him in the air. – You're a clever detective. 

A second passed without anyone moving, then, with a swift gesture of his wrist Dazai threw the small light bulb that was on the desk right at the principal. If the custodian was the ability user, he was likely not going to fight for the moment, so he had to worry about the principal that had to protect him. 

If he could defeat the principal, he could get to the custodian. 

The principal dodged the lamp that ended up being shattered on the wall behind. Then, still holding Dazai by his wrist, he lifted him slightly and slammed him on the desk. 

Dazai felt his back collide with the hard surface and his backbone sent electric jolts to his legs. The wounds that were freshly closed threatened to open again. 

He gritted his teeth and tried to free himself with a tug of his arm, but the principal’s grip stood tight on him. Why the hell was a principal that spent all day on a chair so strong? 

As the said man blocked him with the pins of a stapler. It wasn’t a small one though. It looked like the kind of staples that someone in an office would use. To be brief, it was bigger than a normal one. He pinned his coat to a book that was on the desk. It wasn’t going to block him, but it was going to cause him problems with his movements, which was possibly worse than being constricted completely.

 Dazai had to admit to himself that not only he had never been great at combat, but that he was half-recovering and he hadn’t eaten a decent meal for weeks. So probably he sucked, more than usual. 

Kunikida was going to be furious, not that he usually wasn’t. But lately he seemed to have harbored a sincere hatred towards him: he knew the difference between harmless banter and hate, and he could see his dynamic with Kunikida shifting from that to the other. So yes, he was going to be furious but not in a “I’ll kick you if you get hurt because I care about you” rather in a “I told you to not get into troubles and you still did because you’re terrible” way. 

The heavy breath of the principal brought him back in focus and he found the man standing a few centimeters away from his face. He smelled of sweat and food, similar to when someone doesn’t brush their teeth. It was disgusting. 

-Don’t worry, I’ll be quick so you won’t suffer. – He fished out of his pocket a pair of scissors. Dazai narrowed his eyes: small blades were the worst; swift and sharp, blocking them was impossible. – Even though, I wonder if you’re here. Where’s your partner? The blond one that looks like he’s always having a terrible day. 

Dazai ignored the faint feeling of anger that tightened his chest. The principal kept pressing. 

-You’re always together. 

-You saw us once and you think we’re always together?

The principal smirked back. 

-It’s not necessary to see you twice to notice that you two share a particular connection. – The grip on his wrist tightened. – If you get what I mean. 

Dazai frowned and the anger turned his face warm: no, he didn’t get it and he didn’t want to. That scum thought he could make him talk about the plan they settled before killing him, sly but not enough to fool him. 

His voice was strained, as if he was making a huge effort to keep it steady.

-Why did Tanaka ask you to kill him? 

-Kill him? Oh no detective, that’s not how it went. He died himself, I just made his suffering less painful. 

Dazai felt the corner of his lips twitch downwards and he had the impression he was about to discover something disgusting. 

The principal ran the tip of the scissors on the bandages of his neck but Dazai’s serious expression didn’t falter. 

-Honestly, it’s funny. – The principal laughed and Dazai’s skin crawled. What was funny about someone’s death? – He came running to me clutching his throat because he was choking on a snack, can you imagine it? A fucking snack. 

…Dazai was speechless. It may seem funny, but he himself tried to die of choking and it didn’t work, such a hassle when it came to breathing again, his throat burned as if he swallowed fire. So no, even if it sounded funny, it was a painful and long death. 

The principal kept talking. 

-I could have handed water to him, looked for help, but I preferred letting him choke. He was the one who called you after all. 

Dazai was speechless. Again. 

Faced with silence, the principal lifted his head and hinted at the custodian with his eyes. He changed his mind on killing him evidently. He put the scissors back into his pocket. The other man didn’t need to think twice: he grabbed a cloth from his trousers and gave it to the principal, it was the kind of cloth that was used to clean objects so it wasn’t weird that he was carrying it around. 

His vision was suddenly obscured: he couldn’t move and he couldn’t see so he trusted his ears. A flacon of liquid was being poured onto something. Dazai’s stomach hurt but outside his lips didn’t twitch: he already knew where this was going, so he didn’t even try to squirm his legs and escape.

Kunikida-kun, you’ll never hear me saying it, but I kind of regret not informing you of all the details of this plan. 

Something pressed on his nose and his consciousness left him. 

He happened to make a miscalculation about something. He hated to admit it, but also Oda’s death was a bit of his miscalculation, bad timing and his inability to keep others close to him. 

But aside from that, he never got something wrong like now. Underestimating the power of an enemy. But again, it wasn’t like he underestimated the principal and the custodian, he already noticed how sly the two were, the issue laid in the fact that they were surprisingly good at fighting and strategy. 

He’d never seen civilians this good at combat. 

Regaining consciousness from chloroform wasn’t like in the movies, where you get flashes of people in front of you with a tense music in the background, Hollywood lied to you kids. 

What you really get is a terrible headache that makes you feel feverish and an annoying buzz in the ears that covers all the other noises. 

Dazai tried to open his eyes but he was met with dizziness so he closed them again: everything spun painfully and the nausea that finally left him after weeks of being bedridden, came back in waves making him feel possibly worse. 

He  tried to open his eyes again and this time the white neon of the room pierced his eyes. He tried to move but his limbs felt stuck: he looked down and saw that he was tied with jump ropes. He grimaced: he didn’t know it was possible to tie someone with those. 

-Well detective, you’re finally up. – Dazai noticed the heels of the shoes getting closer to him. – Pretty bad situation you’re in, isn’t it? 

Dazai frowned and lifted his head; the principal was smirking with his eyebrows raised. His expression looked like the one of someone convinced of having won. 

Glancing around, Dazai looked at the room: it was huge, the walls scrapped and surrounded by objects for P.E. like basketball balls, volleyball balls, rackets and mats of every size, hence why he was tied with jump ropes. 

Could they be in the school’s basement? Alright, alright, he could get out of there, he just had to find a way. 

-Where’s the guardian? 

-None of your business. – Replied the principal crouching to his height. – As for you, we’ll stay here and have a little chat. What do you say, mh?

Dazai sighed inwardly. He knew what the principal wanted to do: he was using him to drag Kunikida there too and trap them together. Probably the custodian was hidden somewhere, ready to pounce on Kunikida. 

-Well, it’s not like I can refuse. 

The principal smirked. 

-I suppose you want to know why I’m doing all of this, right? 

-Why would you even tell me? 

-Because I’m tired, and it’s been a while since someone listened to me. 

A wave of sympathy went through Dazai’s chest. He couldn’t deny that he knew how it felt. Criminals weren’t just “bad people”, sometimes they had a life outside their crimes, he himself when he was an executive in the Port Mafia took his time to read a book or have a chat with his uh, friends. 

Friends. 

Just how much time has passed since he had someone to talk to?

He looked at the person in front of him: was his title as detective all that differentiated him from this person? Without it, wasn’t he just someone who committed the same crimes? 

Kunikida even told him he was a terrible partner. Had he really succeeded in being a good person? Was he a good person now? Or he was just ignoring his instincts and he was as bad as he was four years ago? 

Had he changed in the slightest? 

He swallowed, but his posture didn’t show any hints of his thoughts. 

-We have to wait for your colleague anyway. – Dazai tensed a bit. – School is difficult. I wasn’t great when I was younger, and my classmates weren’t either, but even if they failed at something, there was something else they were capable of doing. I wasn’t. It seemed that everything I did, I remained useless. 

Dazai rolled his eyes: oh, the criminal with a dramatic backstory. He listened to dozens of them, but he kept silent. 

-I struggled with marks and with making friends. But despite all the problems, I kept dreaming about the day I’ll have stopped feeling like a failure. 

Dazai glanced around the room and after some moments he asked:

-And now? Do you think you are worth something?

-Probably not. But I’m respected. You cannot disrespect the principal when you’re a teacher, otherwise you lose your job. – He laughed alone in that basement, Dazai just stared at him. – Since I struggled at school, I wanted to help the students that had problems, but I didn’t know what to do since at the time I wasn’t yet a principal. Then I met the custodian, and he offered me a deal. 

Dazai narrowed his eyes and used the moment the principal was lost in thought to slide on the left  where the basket with the sports item was. 

-I thought I could really do something worth notice, so I agreed. 

Dazai had already unfastened the jump rope. Being made of elastic material, if he expanded it enough with his arms, he could easily slip his limbs out of it and reach for the knot. He untied it without any problem. 

-Tell me detective, am I really in the wrong for wanting to help them?

The principal looked for him around the room and he noticed Dazai was standing untied with a basketball in his right hand. 

-You may have noble reasons, but you still kidnapped the students.

-I didn't! – The principal raised his voice. – I didn’t. 

His voice was barely a whisper the second time. 

Dazai lifted an eyebrow. 

-Those children were consenting to having their lives stolen. They were alright with that. 

-No they weren’t. They may have been lazy, - and Dazai understood them. School looked monotonous and boring. He couldn’t bring himself to think about walking through those corridors six times a week. — But they weren’t giving their life away for a diploma. 

At that, Dazai threw the basketball right in his face, sending him on the ground. 

His head was still dizzy from the drug and the punch, but he fought back the desire to throw up and headed towards the door while the principal was still crouched with his nose bleeding. 

He reached for the doorknob, but it was locked. Ah, obvious. 

He rustled in his pocket and pulled out a hairpin. His hands trembled slightly and he struggled to stay still. He closed his eyes and rested his hand on the back of the door and waited for vertigos to go away. 

When he felt better, someone grabbed his left ankle: Dazai’s body was hit with a cold shiver. 

He looked down and he found the principal clutching at his legs: his eyes were wide open and his nose stained in red. Dazai was surprised he still had strength to move, basketballs were pretty solid. 

-Ah, where are you going? We aren’t done talking. 

Dazai clenched his teeth and thought that he even lost too much time inside that basement. 

Kicking the man in the face, he freed himself from his grip. Forcing the lock with the hairpin, he opened the door and the first person he saw was the custodian that was standing guard in front of the door. 

As soon as they exchanged a look, the principal grabbed Dazai’s wrist and dragged him closer to him. 

-Run! Don’t let him even lay a finger on you! 

He yelled to the custodian who started climbing the stairs. 

-Hey you! Stop right here!

Dazai yelled, but it was useless.

The custodian ran away. He couldn’t do anything but watch him go and follow him with his eyes. He twisted his wrist in the grip of the other man and he literally felt the joints of his bones pop painfully; he could feel the rotation of his bones up until his elbow, but in the end his wrist was finally free. 

Tearing himself from the pins he got up from the desk and kicked the principal in the guts. When he released the grip, he took a moment to breathe and moved towards the corridor: he had to get out of there. He was about to reach the stairs when something hit him in the spot on the head that just healed. He staggered and moved two steps backwards to lean against the wall: whatever was going to happen, he mustn’t lose consciousness, otherwise they could say goodbye to their plan. 

Just as he gained a bit of balance back, something hit him on his left side of the waist. It stung, like the needle of a syringe, but it was bigger. 

His vision blurred for a second and he felt the spot getting warmer and warmer. He looked down and as he predicted, a red stain was coloring the shirt. A pair of scissors had been planted in his flesh. 

His skin teared, the previous wound under it opened again and this time Dazai couldn’t help but to let out a groan. It stung, it stung, it stung . That’s all he could think. 

It hurt. It hurt. It hurt so much. His legs temporarily lost sensibility before it all came back together with a stinging pain that throbbed from the spot he had been stabbed. He gritted his teeth to avoid screaming, but he felt as if he was going on fire. 

A thick layer of sweat damped his hair on the forehead and he crouched to wait patiently for the pain to decrease, but it didn't matter how much he waited, the pain kept coming in waves. He lost count of the times he got stabbed since he was fourteen but each time it was as if it was the first: he recognized the pain, but he could do nothing to lessen it. 

Quiet steps came from his back. 

-Armed detective Agency. You became famous after the terrorist theory, I still remember the day when I heard the news. I couldn’t believe that someone like you could do something so terrible. – The principal kept talking as he neared him slowly. No doubt it was him planting the scissors in his waist. – Fortunately it was all a lie. But in the midst, I studied the abilities of each one of you. 

After the agency had been taken down, all their abilities were made public, so it wasn’t difficult to obtain information about them. However, the principal wasn’t bragging about his knowledge of the agency’s members just because he was arrogant. What that criminal was telling him, was that basically he knew Dazai possessed an anti-ability, so as long as he didn’t touch the custodian and he got hit by normal things, he could get hurt easily. 

Damned ability. It was always more a problem than a solution in those situations. 

He had to counter attack, he had to resist.

 With his blurred vision he looked around to see if there was anything that could be used as a weapon but there was nothing: just walls, doors, and stairs— wait. There was a broom resting on a wall. 

Dodging a fist of the principal that just landed on the wall behind him, Dazai made an effort and dragged himself to the broomstick that was probably used to hit him in the head before. 

He used it to throw a hit to his head but the man dodged, grabbing him by the lapels of the coat and lifting him from the ground. A punch hit Dazai right in his face. 

-You want to know how this ability works? Then I'll gladly tell you. – Dazai’s breath hitched when another fist hit him and he saw the corridor spinning. – He’s like a parasite. His ability doesn’t work on his own and he needs a partner to accomplish it. 

“He” was obviously the custodian. 

There was only a reason why the criminal gave in with their monologue about how their crimes worked: they weren’t going to let the victim live. He swallowed the groan that was about to come out of his mouth as the pressure on his former wound got heavier. 

-Once he establishes a relationship with the guest, his ability can finally take action and he creates this space that is not in this world but not even in the realm of the dead. It’s more like an empty space that works like a limbo where he can trap people. 

-And he needs an object to establish contact with the empty space, right? – Dazai coughed. A light layer of sweat covered his forehead, the bandages were sticking on his skin like glue on paper. – H-Hence why the fake diplomas. 

The principal smiled, but it was wicked and twisted. Dazai’s vision started to blur. 

-Despite the strong ability, the object that establishes contact is linked with a peculiarity of the guest, since I run this school, my peculiarity are the diplomas. And can you believe me? Those children really believed that I could make them graduate without studying. 

Dazai gritted his teeth. Just a bit more, he had to endure just a bit more. They weren’t outside yet, but how could he bring him into the courtyard? Where was the custodian? How could he find him?

-This is a difficult area to live in but I don’t expect a detective to understand it. I grew up here, I was raised here. – His voice became louder again, almost hysterical this time. – I saw my peers perish, while others made me perish. Is it really wrong for me to wish for who came after me to avoid the struggles that I faced? 

How? Trapping them? Tricking them? By tearing them away from the world they know? Just because this world doesn’t sit right with you, it doesn’t mean that for others it’s the same. 

-That’s insane. 

And he meant it. Out of all the criminals he met during the past years, he couldn’t think of a single one that met this percentage of twisted, sick and sadistic altogether. 

He was about to lose consciousness when a ringing sound came from the corridor.

A ringing sound? Wait, he recognized that. It was the sound of Kunikida’s grenades—

The principal covered his ears because of the strong sound when a hand grabbed him and sent him flying into the air. 

Kunikida adjusted his vest and looked for Dazai around the corridor. When he spotted him leaning on a wall his breath hitched. 

-Dazai!

He rushed towards him and crouched to his height. He knew he should have waited outside, but noticing how things went last time, he placed a tracker in Dazai’s coat back in the car when they were talking. 

His whole chest tightened with anxiety all the time since he left and when he noticed Dazai was taking too long to come back he rushed to the floor where the signal of the tracker came from. And he did well. 

It could have been a trap, Kunikida was’t stupid, but trap or not, he couldn’t let Dazai get hurt like that: it was going to be a hassle, dragging him back to the office all alone, what if he fainted again? 

Rational and practical as always. 

He furrowed his brows when he noticed the scars on Dazai’s face. He prodded a hand to cup his cheek and lift his head, but just when he was about to touch his face, Dazai lifted it on his own and Kunikida teared his hand away as if he got burnt. 

Their eyes met and Kunikida had the impression the turmoil inside him calmed down a little.

Dazai coughed. 

-Dazai. – This time he lifted Dazai’s chin and turned his head from right to left. –Are you hurt? Can you hear me? 

Then, he saw the scissors and his eyes widened. He reacted on instinct: cupping his face, he shook his head. 

-The hell happened here!?

-Kunikida-kun. 

-Just answer me!

This time Dazai said nothing but grabbed him by the lapels of his gilet and rolled to the other side of the floor with him. Right after, the broomstick cracked on the ground, thrown by the principal. 

They rolled off a few meters away, hitting the wall on the other side of the corridor. Dazai crouched on him, feeling his insides rattle for the nth time that morning: why was the principal of a school so difficult to defeat? 

A trickle of blood trailed down the side of his mouth and fell on the ground dirting the tiles. He was losing a lot of blood today. A wave of dizziness hit him in the back of his head when someone straddled him and obliged him to sit flush on the wall. 

He turned his head only to see Kunikida with a deep frown on his face. His hair was flying in every direction and his glasses had some cracks to the sides. Looks like the explosion had its effect on him too. 

-I told you it was dangerous. 

-Well, do you see other solutions?

They stared at each other, panting because of the fight. Kunikida wanted to say something, but he noticed there wasn’t the time. He breathed through his nose and got up, lifting him too. His hands didn’t leave his arms until Dazai stood on his legs. 

-Run. We’re not done yet. 

Dazai rolled his eyes but said nothing: it was true. Now it was the moment to close the case for real. 

However, it was difficult to run when a pair of scissors were stuck in your abdomen, so he barely got up when he fell on the ground again. 

Kunikida stopped on his tracks and cursed. 

-Damn it. – He ran back to him and lifted him by an arm, draping him on his shoulder. – Don’t you dare to faint here. 

The quiver in his voice made Dazai smirk despite the pain. He turned his head and their noses almost bumped into each other. 

-Have I ever left you alone in these situations? 

Kunikida looked in front of him. 

-Run. 

That’s all he said. 

They hurried outside, reaching the yard where they saw the students training the first time they came to the school, only that now it was about to become a battlefield thanks to Kunikida’s ability. 

He leaned Dazai against the fence and opened his notebook. He wrote in crooked kanjis and threw the sheet of paper in the air that immediately shaped into a blinding grenade. 

-Cover your eyes!

He yelled to Dazai before throwing the grenade and making it explode in the air. Immediately a white light coloured the yard, forcing the principal to stop on his tracks and crouch on the ground.

As soon as the light decreased, Kunikida went to handcuff him but he was thrown away from the man that got up and sent him flying on the back of a tree. Kunikida hit the wood and slipped on the ground, coughing. 

Dazai widened his eyes and rushed to help him. Rushed, that for someone wounded like him was like saying that a slug is fast. His whole body ached, at that point all the old wounds opened and were bleeding, adding to his dizziness: he was sweating but he could feel nothing but cold around him; he pushed his fringe away from his forehead and reached for his partner. 

He helped Kunikida to get up, holding him from his shoulders. He ignored the way the scissors pushed into him, tearing the flesh. Since Kunikida could have asked him about it, he quickly asked an obvious question. 

-Did you set up the traps?

-You will see. 

Kunikida fixed his glasses and looked at the man in front of them. 

The principal ran towards them but he never made it, because he got stuck into a bunch of wires that were settled in every direction from the trees of the yard to the fence, and his body got covered into cuts that would have stung for days. He tripped and fell on the ground, but that didn’t stop him. He freed himself and threw them what remained of the brook stick. 

This time it hit Dazai right on the cheek. The latter felt his teeth rattle as he staggered again: that one was going to leave marks on his face for sure. 

At that moment Kunikida threw him another grenade and the principal covered his ears again to avoid the piercing sound. He could have thrown the tear gas one, but they were in an open area and the gas was going to dissipate too fast. 

He turned and saw Dazai holding himself up, his breath was heavy and he hoped the arm he was holding with his hand wasn’t as dislodged as he thought. Something in his chest burned and anger fueled his body. He decided that he had enough of this piece of shit messing with them. 

-Dazai. – His partner turned to look at him. He was paler than a second before: Kunikida’s hands itched. – Let’s finish this. 

He nodded. 

The principal was back in action. However, little to no energy remained in his body because he staggered and his eyes were unfocused. He still walked towards them with pebbles of something between his hands, but at that point, he was like a child learning how to walk. 

Kunikida dodged a piece of tile that was thrown to him. 

-Did he confess?

Dazai placed a leg between the principal’s legs and let him trip. 

-Yes. – The man fell and Kunikida held him still in his arms. Dazai used his last strength to punch him. – But then he wanted to kill me. 

Kunikida let him fall on the ground. 

-Typical. 

They both watched the principal on the ground, beaten and on the verge of losing consciousness: if he were to pass out, then it would've been the best. Less fuss to drag him to the police. 

Kunikida sighed and glanced again at Dazai: he looked terrible. A scratch on the left cheek was bleeding and some red droplets ended up on the shirt. Another wound on the mouth was staining his chin and the bandages were loose against the neck, revealing the pale skin underneath. He looked away. 

-Are you fine? 

He asked, staring at an empty spot on the ground. The cracks of his glasses were making his eyes see as if the outline of the objects doubled. 

He couldn’t see the face Dazai was making, but he had the impression that the other was hesitating to answer him. Maybe he didn’t want to, and it was understandable, considering that if he said fine, Kunikida could say “you’re lying” and if he said that he felt like shit, he was going to get scolded.

Kunikida cursed himself internally, he just wanted to know how he was. 

But before he could find a way to make Dazai answer to him, he heard a few steps behind their backs. It seemed that someone was getting further from the school. Shit. In the midst of the fight he forgot that the criminals were two. The principal was in front of them, so of course those steps belonged to the custodian. 

-He’s getting away!

Dazai’s voice tore him away from his thoughts. 

The custodian was running towards the fence and Kunikida felt his blood run cold: if he were to get away, then all they could do was to archive the case as unsolved and confirm the agency’s already terrible reputation. 

Kunikida clicked his tongue and was about to rush towards him, when Dazai, despite his terrible state, grabbed the handcuffs from Kunikida’s hands and high on adrenaline, ran after the man. 

-Handcuff the principal, I’ll get him. 

He told Kunikida as he followed the other criminal. 

The custodian had been hidden the whole time of the fight, since he didn’t look hurt in the slightest. He was only covered in sweat, a hint that he probably had been running for a while. It meant that he wasn’t suited for fights, besides the fact that he had to be aware of the agency’s abilities too, since he didn’t dare to touch Dazai either.

But that situation lasted even too long: he forced his legs to walk faster to close the distance between him and the other man.

The custodian was about to reach the sidewalk outside the fence of the school when Dazai grabbed him by the lapel of the uniform and slammed him back in place. He wanted to find some cool thing to say, but his mind was too cloudy to think of anything that made sense, let alone something cool. 

The man said something, tried to argue, Dazai couldn’t recall: at that point he was beyond exasperated and just punched him in the face until he lost consciousness. Sighing, he handcuffed the criminal to a tube of the fence: that way, he wasn’t going to escape. The big part of the case was closed.  

The punch nullified his ability and a white light riverbed in the school’s yard. In a flash, all the five victims reappeared. They had messy hairs and bags under their eyes. Some of them kept repeating the same sentence over and over while others kept tangling and untangling their hair, visibly in shock. Probably they tried to get out of that limbo in every way without any progress, but it was fine, at least they were alive. 

A sharp pain hit him right at his temple: he supposed it was some side-effect of the ability but then he recalled that one, abilities didn’t have any effect on him and two, he still had a pair of scissors stuck in him. 

He looked down and the stain of red got at that point, wider and darker. His sight blurred and he couldn’t distinguish if the ringing in his ears was something real or if it was in his head.

Kunikida had just finished pushing the principal on the ground to handcuff him when he noticed Dazai staggering. He became paler, almost white like Atsushi’s tiger fur and he kept squinting as if he had a hard time focusing. 

-Dazai— 

The latter took a step forward but tripped. Kunikida neared him and caught him by his arms before he could hit the ground. Dazai’s head collided with Kunikida’s shoulder, not his softest spot. 

He stared at the fluffy wig draped on his shoulder: it was soft and warm. His heartbeat picked up and Kunikida grabbed his colleague by the forearms to push him as far as he could from him. Dazai still staggered, but he looked more focused than a few moments before. 

Keeping him still with his thumbs on his arms, Kunikida observed Dazai. 

-Can you walk? 

Dazai smirked and Kunikida’s anxiety seemed to calm down a bit. But when he let go of him, Dazai started to swing back and forth like he was drunk. He was about to call for him again, but Dazai talked first. 

-Told you, it would work. 

That was the last thing Dazai muttered before passing out, face on the ground. 

Kunikida blinked, still trying to process what happened. Then, after a few minutes panic settled in his stomach and he crouched to grab him by his shoulders and shake him like an old televisor. 

Words flooded out of his mouth like a river. 

-Dazai? Dazai! Wake up you absurd piece of shit. You can’t leave me with two criminals, I’m not dragging them to the police on my own. It would work my ass, you promised to not get hurt and now here you are!

-You seem to care a lot about him. 

Commented the custodian handcuffed on the fence. 

-You shut up!

This time his voice was louder. That criminal had just been arrested and he was still testing his fortune? Maybe he punched him too softly.

Noticing that Dazai didn’t react to his insults, he let go of the lapels of his trench coat and let him flop on the ground with a thud.

– You don’t want to wake up? Perfect. I’ll let others wake you up and then I’ll— 

Flashes of the nightmare he had that night dried his throat. He gritted his teeth. His grip on the unconscious body tightened to the point the clothes crumpled in his hands. 

-Idiot. I can’t stand you. 

He snarled, but the way his fingers trembled on the keypad when he dialed the numbers of police and the nearest hospital told a whole different story.

Chapter Text

The sun was setting on Yokohama. Shades of orange and yellow colored the city but on the horizon, the faint blue announcing the evening was already visible. 

Atsushi stared at it with tired eyes, his face was covered with cuts and his shirt tattered. Adrenaline was still running high in his limbs but he was sure that the moment it ran out, he was going to collapse on the ground. 

The faint feeling of fever was still there, and he felt lightheaded. That ability gave him a hard time. Thinking back at their previous fight, Atsushi didn’t know how he found the strength to resist Fyodor’s subordinate. Ivan, was it? 

Either way, what was important was that they defeated the virus and now the President was safe. Pushkin was no longer a problem. 

His legs wobbled and he found himself leaning against a street lamp that was next to him. 

He sighed: well, he just hoped that the moment he fainted someone would pick him up and drag him back to the agency, but at the moment there was no one around, so he had to endure it and try to stay awake. 

Akutagawa left a few moments before, muttering a grumble that had to resemble a “see you next time, weretiger”. But even if he stayed, like hell Atsushi was going to trust he would bring him back to his colleagues. 

Well, if he mentioned Dazai maybe– 

-Atsushi-kun!

Atsushi turned his head and saw his mentor approaching him as he waved. Immediately, the man walked up to him with a smile: he seemed to be fine, his face didn’t have any wounds and his clothes weren’t ripped. Yet, the light layer of sweat that stuck his fringe on his forehead gave away the fact that he didn’t laze around while Atsushi and Akutagawa were busy fighting. 

But no matter what, the sight of his mentor always made Atsushi feel at ease, a bit like a child that ran toward his father when he got home from work. The only difference was that he was eighteen, his legs were about to give out and Dazai was probably the worst parental figure someone could ever ask for. 

But Atsushi never had a dad, so he wasn’t in the position to judge. And Dazai bought him food the first time they met so that was enough for him to classify Dazai in the list of non-threatening people.

He frowned slightly: more than a tiger, he looked like a dog, it was a bit humbling. 

A hand went to ruffle his hair and brought him back to reality. 

-Let’s go back? 

He asked with a smile that he immediately mirrored. He nodded.

They started walking to leave the woods. After a few steps, in the distance, Atsushi could distinguish the silhouettes of the rest of the agency that were leaning against a car, and the ones of the criminals leaning on the ground. The Port Mafia members probably left along with Akutagawa. Atsushi’s chest eased a bit when he realized he didn’t have to meet them.

A doubt arose in his head, when a well-known tall figure with a blond ponytail checked the wrist, right where probably was the watch.

-Dazi-san, why is Kunikida-san waiting for us all?

-He said he was going to drag us back to the office. – Dazai slumped his shoulders and sighed. – This time the president was targeted and wounded, so you can imagine how much he wants to have reports ready as soon as possible. 

Atsushi sighed: he should have seen this coming. Kunikida really looked up to the president, knowing him, he was boiling inside because of all that happened. He wasn’t going to blame him. But his hurry was understandable this time: the faster they finished writing the reports, the sooner they could have a moment to breathe. Yet, all he wanted to do at the moment, was to drag himself to his apartment, help Kyoka to make dinner and slump half-dead on the futon. 

He uncombed his hairs with his hands and huffed. 

-Ah, my fingers already hurt just thinking about the paperwork about this case. 

Dazai shrieked and made a face. 

-Ugh. Don’t look at me, as if I’m going to do it. 

-Dazai-san. – Atsushi’s voice held a hint of annoyance, like a mother scolding a child. –Kunikida-san is going to be mad at you. 

He knew he wasn’t going to accomplish anything even with pointing it out, but he blurted out those words out of habit nonetheless. 

Atsushi expected Dazai to huff and say something like “Atsushi-kun but it’s too much work!” or “do mine too, so he won’t be mad, please?” But Dazai didn’t say any of that. He stopped on his tracks and shot a glance at Kunikida who was talking with the others. Atsushi stopped, a bit confused and looked between Dazai and the others: what— 

Just then, Dazai crossed his arms and teared his eyes away. 

-Kunikida-kun knows how I am. – He huffed and kept talking with the same dramatic tone as before. – He’ll scream and yell, but he won’t force me to do them for real. 

Atsushi wanted to protest: he lost count of the times Kunikida yelled at him to do his reports, and he lost count of the times Kunikida ended up doing Dazai’s reports. It was a bit weird, honestly. He had the impression that Kunikida just told him to do his work because he wanted to avoid having problems with deadlines, not because he really wanted to force Dazai to do it. 

Like, the insults were there, but the intention to act on them was often absent. 

There were a lot of different relationships inside the agency, Kunikida and the president that very much looked like a more dignified and decent version of him and Dazai, Yosano and Ranpo that were like best friends, Kenji and his cow that were like cousins (he didn’t have the impression Kenji treated Hanako II like an animal, at that point, she was more like a younger sibling), and then there were him and Kyoka that were like brother and sister. 

Each one of them had a place in someone else’s life. But when it came to Dazai and Kunikida, Atsushi didn’t know what to think. On a superficial level, one could easily say they hated each other, one couldn’t stand the other, and they got along just because they had to. 

But there were little, imperceptible, insignificant actions that let him doubt that there was actually more than what meets the eye. 

He chuckled nervously, hoping that Dazai was tired enough to not notice his thoughts. 

-Right, you’ve been knowing each other for a while. – He just decided the only thing he could do was to indulge him, - he should be used to it. 

-Well, it’s been two years now. 

It could have been the light, but Atsushi could swear that the light in Dazai’s eyes flickered. He widened his own eyes but decided to not comment on that. Instead, he smiled gently as he looked at him. 

They started walking again. After a few meters, Atsushi talked again. 

-Dazai-san.

-Mh?

-The first time I met you and Kunikida-san, I thought you two hated each other. – He thought about their first encounter and scratched his cheek. It was obvious how they cared for each other, otherwise, Kunikida wouldn't have run to rescue Dazai near the river, andDazai wouldn’t have informed Kunikida and kept him away from the warehouse when he accidentally transformed into a tiger that same night. Thinking about it now, he felt embarrassed for assuming things before knowing them. – But I’m relieved that it’s not like that. 

Dazai chuckled. It wasn’t the dramatic laugh he usually used, neither he did drape himself over Atsushi to annoy him, nor did he try to change the subject with a joke. 

-Kunikida-kun is just terrible at showing that he cares. The only time he’s sincere is when he speaks about his schedules. – He sighed, and for a moment Atsushi could swear he saw a shadow cast on his mentor’s eyes. It was as if he was intensely thinking about something, but his brown curls hid his already measured expression. It was gone in an instant, replaced with a blank expression. – But I’m sure that Kunikida-kun doesn’t hate anyone. Not even the ones he should hate. 

Although his voice was gentle, his serious expression didn’t soften as much. Atsushi knew what Dazai meant: Kunikida with his strong sense of justice was an easy target for everyone. Mostly for the criminals that he arrested: they teased him, spat on him, ridiculed his ideals, and he had all the rights to be mad and hate them. 

But he never did. 

He always tried to reach the core of a person, the reason behind every twisted action. Atsushi knew that, because in the end, Kunikida wasn’t that different from him. 

He didn’t think Dazai thought so intensely about his partner, nor that he did understand him that well. He trusted them, and he was obviously grateful to Dazai for hiring him and to Kunikida for filling his stomach that evening, but even after watching them in action, he had a hard time figuring out their relationship. They cared for each other, but it was only in the matter of work? Did they actually get along or was it all about plans and missions? Because if that was the case, then why did they go out drinking that often? Why did he see Kunikida snorting imperceptibly at something stupid Dazai said? Why did Dazai let himself be thrown over a wall? He used to be in the mafia, probably his skin could sense someone coming at him.

What were they when no one was looking? 

Why was he so interested? Well because Atsushi overheard Naomi and Haruno talking about his two seniors using a bunch of questionable words like “office love” and “colleagues to lovers”. 

He didn’t know what it meant, so he got curious. 

-So you don’t hate him, either?

Dazai kept looking in front of him as they walked but his shoulders tensed imperceptibly. He took his time to answer and Atsushi almost got worried that deep down Dazai felt hatred towards his partner. Then, the corner of Dazai’s eyes softened and there was even a trace of a smile on his face. But again, it was gone in the matter of a few moments, replaced with his usual exaggerated pout.

-Kunikida-kun is boring, but is not that bad.  

His childish voice was usually the one he used to pester the others, yet, his eyes flickered again, and Atsushi had the impression that his stomach fell from a sudden realization. 

Atsushi wasn’t a pro when it came to love affairs and relationships, he spent most of his years secluded in an orphanage where other children hit and insulted him.The first sincere relationships were the ones he was building now, with his colleagues, so he barely understood how friendships worked, let alone love. He still struggled with asking for help, and in his worst moments he even thought his friends didn’t want him with them. It was a long road, but he was working on it. 

Yet, he wasn’t stupid and he read a lot. That’s why the soft voice of his mentor when he spoke about his partner pushed a switch in his head, and Atsushi started thinking. That wasn’t the first time it happened. 

Dazai never spoke about someone else besides Kunikida in that delicate manner. 

That evening, Dazai fell asleep on his desk. It didn’t look like he was having a pleasant dream: his eyebrows were knitted together and his face half-hid by the brown curls. His fingers gripped the fabric of his sleeves, rumpling it. 

Kunikida passed by: the cup of coffee in his hand was still steaming hot. The whole office was surrounded by silence. Since everyone finally finished their tasks and went home, only the three of them were still there: Kunikida because he didn’t have anything else to do besides working, Dazai because didn’t have anywhere else to go and Atsushi because he forgot how to write a word and spent thirty minutes looking for it on the dictionary, but the others didn’t need to know. 

The criminals had been handed to the police and now all they had to do was filling the reports. Atsushi peeked at the two with the corner of his eyes: the conversation of that afternoon still running in his head. 

Kunikida huffed, then, he patted Dazai’s hair and in silence, he grabbed the stack of paper from his desk and laid it on his own. He did all of Dazai's reports as well without complaining. He just put up a frown on his face to not have people (Atsushi) asking. 

Atsushi frowned in confusion. 

Just what was going on with his mentors? 

Kunikida didn’t hate hospitals. He just thought they were places where people came to life or passed away. A bit dark, stank of sanitizer and sometimes someone screamed, but they weren’t necessarily bad. 

However, now he couldn’t help but to feel nauseated. His forehead was resting on his left hand while one of his legs was bouncing on the floor. The plastic seat of the waiting room in that damned hospital was uncomfortable and his back was definitely hurting, yet he thought that if he were to move, he would freeze because of the cold wind blowing in the corridor. He didn’t know if it really was blowing, but he couldn’t help but to tremble.

He just stood there, shivering as waves of anxiety made him crouch on himself even more. 

Dazai lost consciousness in the schoolyard and the medical staff still had to tell him he was fine and awake: he had been sitting there for what? Three, four hours? He didn’t check the clock: he was afraid to know how much time had passed. It wasn’t the first time Dazai got stabbed, shot or hurt, but Kunikida was worried nonetheless. The fact that it happened once didn’t make him feel any better that it happened again. 

And then, there were the old wounds from the previous fight that still had to heal. 

He clenched the hand on his forehead. 

Kunikida didn’t hate hospitals, however, today he couldn’t stand them. 

But his dread was directed especially to the object resting inside his right hand. A nurse walked in his direction minutes ago, filling Kunikida with hope that he was finally going to know something about his partner. But his hopes disappeared a second after, because the nurse, with her apathetic expression and pale face, handed him a small squared object, not much bigger than a hand. 

“We found it in his coat”.

That’s all she said before flashing a polite smile and walking away. 

It was a recorder, and they found it in Dazai’s coat. 

It meant that the interrogations of the police were going to be less difficult, since they already had a bunch of information to condemn the two criminals.

Dazai could have fled when the situation got bad, but he didn’t: the words of the criminals were spilling out of their mouths more easily than in an interrogation room. But for once, the efficiency of a plan didn’t make Kunikida feel satisfied. Dazai accomplished the mission, but he got hurt even worse than before. 

Kunikida gritted his teeth.

If he only had arrived a minute before, he wouldn’t have been stabbed. He was the one with an ability suited for combat, he was the one good at martial arts, he was the one that should have been kidnapped and faced the principal. 

Like hell he should have agreed, he should have had that argument with him and tell him that no, he wasn’t going to let him get hurt again. 

But he wasn’t sure Dazai would have listened to him. Yet, considering their actual situation, telling him those words sounded a bit out of place. 

…Wait.

Out of place his ass. He hissed at his own thoughts: it was exactly that one the reason why Dazai got hurt; he shut his mouth and stayed silent. He passively agreed to that suicidal plan because he didn’t want to argue. If he had talked, all of this wouldn’t have happened. 

He clenched the recorder between his fingers: weren’t partners supposed to help each other? Why was he sitting on that plastic chair with his clothes barely ruined, while the other was facing surgery for the second time in the same month? 

He yelled at him that he was a terrible partner, as if he were any better. 

Kunikida only knew how to insult him. 

The hand that was on his forehead traveled down on his eyes, lifting his glasses. He was tired. Tired of all that situation, tired of himself, tired of his life. But he couldn’t give up, because if he gave up, what were the others supposed to do?

There was a lump in his throat and swallowing was becoming hard. His eyes fell on the ideal resting on his legs. 

Lately, it was more of a burden than a blessing. 

The memory of himself sitting on the chair of the agency’s infirmary crossed his mind and he narrowed his eyes. The pages that covered the ideal points for his ideal woman were the only thing he could recall vividly, but at the moment, it didn’t bring him any comfort. 

Instead, his head couldn’t help but to think about Dazai’s actual situation. 

-Kunikida!

A voice halfway between worry and tiredness surprised him, and he lifted his head immediately: it was Yosano. Behind her, Ranpo and Atsushi followed her.

He couldn’t make out her expression from that distance, but from the way her heels clanked on the lucid floor it was obvious she was as worried as he was. 

Kunikida took a deep breath and straightened his posture. He forced the lump down his throat and fixed his glasses: he couldn’t let the others see him like that, he was still on duty, after all. 

-How’s the situation? 

She asked him when they reached the place where he was sitting. Kunikida just opened his arms and shook his head.

Terrible, dreadful, horrid. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to talk.

The three of them, noticing that he wasn’t getting up, understood that it had to be serious, and sat at his sides. For a moment no one talked, they just stared at the white wall in front of them. 

-It shouldn’t be critical. That’s all they said. 

Kunikida broke the silence. His leg was still tapping nervously on the floor. 

Yosano grimaced: when doctors said that “the situation shouldn’t be critical”, it meant it was definitely critical and didn’t want others to worry and panic in the middle of the hospital. She also knew Kunikida was aware of that, maybe his awareness was the reason for his distress: after all, he himself had been in critical conditions before. The difference was that with her power, she could heal him, something that wasn’t possible with Dazai.  

And if Kunikida brought him to the hospital instead of the agency, the situation was serious to the point that even with all her will, Yosano wouldn’t have made it in time. 

She understood his nervousness. Given all their situation, honestly, all the three of them did. 

He handed her the recorder. 

-Here. 

-That’s why you called?

Kunikida nodded. 

-There’s important data about the case, transcribe it and give it to the police, it will make it easier for the court to deliver the verdict. 

Just then, Atsushi added his voice to the conversation: he wasn’t less worried than Yosano, considering that it was his mentor they were talking about. 

-Kunikida-san, you’re not coming back with us?

-No, - Atsushi exchanged a glance with Ranpo. – There has to be at least someone to wait for him, otherwise he will be alone when he wakes up. 

-Well, we can stay here. You already did a lot. 

Kunikida turned his head and looked at him for the first time since the three of them arrived. 

-I said I’m staying. It’s my fault if he’s in this state.  

Maybe it was just his impression, but his voice came out harsher than he expected and also his tone sounded louder than usual, but he couldn’t care less. 

His chest tightened in irritation: even if he got back to the office, what could he possibly do without the person that helped him carry out the mission? Dazai came out with the plan anyway, and he was also the one that played the diversion so if there was someone that should type the report, it was him. Since he couldn’t, Kunikida had no reason to go back to the agency. 

As if Dazai could type a report without Kunikida forcing him. Dazai had to work with Kunikida and Kunikida had to work with Dazai, if they didn’t work together, it was as if only half of the work was complete. 

That’s why they worked together, right? 

His colleagues could do it, if they really wanted to. 

Also, while he waited for the others, he mentally organized what he had to do at least ten times, so he knew by heart each step he had to follow: he couldn’t wait to sit at his desk and work until the morning after, but right now, Dazai was still unconscious and the sight of the empty desk in front of his made him feel too disheartened to work. 

His mind wanted to run away, but his body was gluing him on the chair. So, he was obliged to listen to his colleagues talking nonsense. Everything was too loud: the lights, the babbling, the shoes hitting the floor, even his ponytail was starting to give him a headache, and now, they got there and instead of working, they were trying to force him to go back? Didn’t the agency’s entrance exam test their ability to sacrifice one’s life for the others? Where did their understanding of altruism go?

While he was lost in this calvary, Yosano, Ranpo and Atsushi all exchanged a glance and while no words were spoken, it was obvious they were all thinking the same thing: it was the first time Kunikida wasn’t reasonable. 

-Well, I’m hungry and I didn’t bring anything. – Ranpo got up and stirred. – I’m going to the vending machine. Does anyone want something? Say it now because I’m not going to split anything with anyone. 

But Yosano and Atsushi just shook their heads. 

-Alright. 

And with that, he shot one last lingering glance to Yosano and Atsushi before walking away.

Only then, Kunikida lifted his head and felt guilt hit his stomach: he opened his mouth to call for Ranpo, but then he realized he already talked more than he should and so, he closed it again. Yelling at the eldest in the office was officially the least polite thing he’d ever done in twenty-two years of his life. 

He lowered his head, but before he spiraled in self-loathing again, a hand went to rub his shoulder. He tensed: Atsushi would never dare to touch him, so it only had to be Yosano. 

She stroked his shoulder through the fabric in a way that was supposed to calm him but Kunikida couldn’t help but to find it annoying. 

-Don’t worry, Ranpo is fine. You know how he is: he’s been complaining that he’s hungry since we left the office. – If that was an attempt to ease the mood, it didn’t work and Yosano just sighed. –It’s not your fault. 

Kunikida clenched his hands on his lap. The last part wasn’t referring to Ranpo, obviously. 

-It is. It should have been me, - he admitted, and for a moment, he felt embarrassed for the words he used: he sounded like a maiden crying for her husband going to war. He lost all his dignity. – He was still recovering from injuries, what if they get permanent? What if he can’t wake up? 

The nightmare about Dazai being okay with that returned in his mind and punched him in his stomach: what if he died? No, no, no, wait. He was exaggerating. It wasn’t possible. 

But it already happened, once. On that weird island. 

Kunikida swallowed, recalling the memory: it was also from a stab back then, but they were together and mentally prepared that it could happen. Now, they were tired, disorganized and the incident had been too sudden, he barely had the time to process what happened. 

His head fell on his hands. Could they have a bit of peace? Was he asking too much? 

A hand lingered on his arm and stroked it. Yet, Kunikida couldn’t help but to frown in confusion: when he grabbed Dazai’s arm back in the car, he felt a strange warmth pool in his chest, but now that Yosano was comforting him, he didn’t feel anything. Like, he appreciated the support, but he could have done without it. 

Come to think of it, he felt warm even if Dazai just stood next to him, but now, surrounded by his colleagues, he felt cold. 

Another bunch of moments went without anyone talking. 

Yosano kept stroking his arm and shoulder, while Kunikida tried to steady his breath: since they got back to work he kept making mistakes. With Dazai, with plans, with his safety. If he had to type a report at that point, he didn’t know if he was still capable of doing it without getting a word wrong or typing slower. It was as if his meticulosity disappeared: he was sleeping too little, had nightmares, and when he was awake, Dazai gave him a headache. No, it was himself giving him a headache, with his own thoughts and worries. 

He used to be so tidy, put up and adamant. What happened? Could he still be considered the president’s next heir? Why did he feel like he was losing all his motivation and his strength? What was this anger that ate him like a parasite? Where did it come from? He was turning into an empty shell that did nothing all day. 

He shook his head, as if it could help to put his thoughts in order. 

-Why are you feeling so guilty? It’s not the first time he gets injured, he will be fine. 

Though Yosano’s words were ones of comfort, the slight hint of wariness made Kunikida stiffen on his seat: she didn’t need to be obvious, he already understood what she meant: 

“If he's only a colleague, why are you so worried?” 

He grimaced. 

Things between him and Dazai were still bad, and now that he was injured, having a talk was going to be a lot more difficult.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but he couldn’t manage to produce any sound. Yosano huffed and crossed her arms, like that, even the slightest hint of comfort that Kunikida received disappeared as fast as it arrived. 

His eyes searched for the ones of Yosano and what he saw on her face was definitely a disappointed expression. She shook her head like a mother annoyed by a child. 

-Kunikida I said you had to talk. You didn’t even try in these weeks? 

-How could we do it? Can’t you see the situation we’re in? 

Kunikida answered back immediately, almost in a defensive manner. He didn’t want to take all the blame for their situation, also Dazai was at fault for avoiding conversing like a normal human being. They were both at fault and he was tired of the others always pushing him to start the conversation just because he was the responsible one. He was tired of all those responsibilities. 

However, Yosano wasn’t done with the conversation and lifted an eyebrow as she kept pressing. 

-You’re afraid; admit it. 

Afraid? Of what? He frowned. His heartbeat spiked up exactly like that time in the printing room. 

-You’re afraid of the answer he might give you if you two talk, admit it. 

Crossing his arms, he looked in front of him again. Afraid? He had nothing to be afraid of, and he didn’t need an answer about that matter. If he had to be honest, talking after all that time sounded pointless.

They already faced the problem and all they had to do was move on. That was the hard part: they saw each other each day so it was easy to fall into embarrassment. They had a few discussions and it ended up increasing the awkwardness, but there was nothing else. 

It was just a bit of incomprehension.

He turned towards her and spoke in a lower tone of voice. 

-I’m not afraid; besides, what could he possibly say? 

Most of the time, whatever word came out from that mischievous mouth  was a joke. Why should he hear what he had to say? He didn’t have time for that. 

-Why can’t you be honest with yourself? 

-I’m always honest with myself. – He was a realist and he had faith in what he could see and touch: there wasn’t a more honest person than him in the world. –What do you mean? If there’s someone that is a liar, that’s him. 

Dazai was a professional liar, after all. 

-Surprisingly enough, he’s not the one in denial here. 

Kunikida widened his eyes. 

-Yosano-sensei—

-No Kunikida, listen. You didn’t understand before, so I’ll say it in the straightest way possible: you liked it. You liked kissing him and you liked the fact that the one kissing you was him. 

Kunikida felt his face heat up because of anger: he tried to come up with an answer but his mind got filled with scattered thoughts that left him even more confused than before. 

-You should try to take a moment and think about how you feel. But with honesty. 

With a sigh, she got up and probably went to look for Ranpo: good, now the angered people were two. Not that he could do something about it now, it was that kind of situation where talking more could just make situations worse. 

He was left with Atsushi, who shifted his gaze from him to the wall and then from the wall to him. Kunikida sighed. What was with them today?

-Brat. – Atsushi jumped on his spot. Kunikida kept his eyes on the wall in front of him. – What is it? You too want to give your insights about a situation that wasn’t one you lived in first person, but feel the right to judge and assume how someone in regard to said situation? 

His sarcasm was sharper than usual, but it was exactly what he wanted: he didn’t want to talk about the kiss, and he didn’t want to talk about how he felt: his colleagues were seeing things really, as if they never kissed someone while being drunk. 

Atsushi shifted his gaze twice again before talking. His shoulders were hunched, as if he could shield himself from Kunikida’s anger. 

-Kunikida-san, I was there that evening. I mean, I saw you. 

He sighed. 

He didn’t need to be reminded of that. Drunk as shit, kissing his also drunk partner while his subordinate (younger than him) saw them. And now a secretary was writing fanfiction about it, while the member he looked up the most in the office called the incident “kiss-gate” as if it was something worth gossiping about. 

Warmth spread through his cheeks and he clenched his hands further. 

Even if he hated to admit it, among all the people that wanted to give their advice, Atsushi and Ranpo were the only ones that could talk since they were the only two present when the incident happened. 

Atsushi hesitated. 

-But I don’t think it’s a problem. 

-I never said it was. 

-...Sorry if I say it, but it looks like it is. – Atsushi’s voice was firm even if it was hidden under a veil of uncertainty. His statement made Kunikida’s breath hitch. He turned to look at the boy for the first time since he arrived. – I-I don’t want to judge you really, but from what I see, the one that is distressed about it, it’s you. Even if you say that it’s not a big deal, I had the impression that to you it is. 

…

Was it really like that? Was he the one making a fuss over the situation? Was he the one creating problems where there was none? He thought about it and effectively, he was more susceptible than usual: he was the one snapping repeatedly at Dazai, he was the one still thinking about the incident and he was also the one that found “weird” the atmosphere that lingered each time they were alone. 

Weird. That feeling kept returning. He knew it wasn’t properly a feeling, but he didn’t know how to name it: he just had the impression that the air around him and Dazai was different from the one that there was round the others, and he couldn’t tell if it all started with the kiss, or if it has always been this way. 

He swallowed and fixed his glasses, however, his fingers were trembling and his index finger pressed on the lens of the glasses instead of on the centre and just dirtied it. 

Since they were already dirty from before, he took them off completely: the outlines of the objects were all a blur but it was better like that. He didn’t want to see or hear anything. 

Whether he was imagining things or not, the situation between him and Dazai worsened because of both of them: honestly, what kind of communication did you expect from someone that was a professional liar and the other that masked all his feelings with anger? But even if on the outside it seemed funny, the thought of hurting his partner made Kunikida a bit sad.

His mind was a mess, and even distinguishing the memories from before the fall of the agency was becoming difficult: it was as if there were holes and he couldn’t recall when something happened. 

Atsushi fidgeted with the hem of his sleeves and redirected his eyes on his lap. 

-I don’t know why it annoys you so much, but I assure you that Dazai-san is more distressed about the fact that you’re distressed, than about the whole thing.

-As if that idiot could care about someone’s feelings. 

Atsushi frowned and the air around both of them cooled. Kunikida had the impression he said something that he shouldn’t. 

Instead of the usual frown that Atsushi used when he was confused, this one literally screamed that what Kunikida said really pissed him off. 

He turned and straightened his back, as if he knew more on the matter if compared to the person in front of him, and Kunikida’s whole face got warm to the point it was burning.

-Dazai-san cares about you, more than what you think. 

Well, that was something he didn’t see coming. But Kunikida’s embarrassment didn’t last long: that statement, if considered taking into account Dazai’s personality, was just hilarious and he could do nothing but snort. 

-Yeah, right. And he kissed me because he wanted to, not because he was drunk as shit. 

He replied sarcastically, then, he huffed, and got up from his seat. His heart was pounding in his ears: he needed to go out, get fresh air on his face and breathe for a moment without his colleagues nosing in his business. He didn’t want to be harsh or raise his voice: there was no need and he wasn’t a monster. 

Kunikida could feel Atsushi’s eyes burn his back; he paused in his steps, but then, he decided to not turn around and keep walking. 

Contrary to what people thought, he wasn’t always mad with the world. Wearing a frown doesn’t mean being always mad. Sometimes your expression it’s just that, maybe you don’t like the sun or probably the glasses you have don’t work as they should and you have to squint. If the answer to those three was “no”, then someone could finally ask: “are you mad?”

Usually for Kunikida it was the first. Yet, today he was mad to the point he could burn Yokohama if he only had questionable morals. 

However, he didn’t want to yell in the middle of the hospital and he didn’t want to be harsh with the brat that was, in his own terrible way, trying to comfort him. He left him with Yosano and Ranpo, so it wasn’t like he left him alone, but he couldn’t endure the air in that corridor anymore. 

They were detectives damn, why did they like so much gossiping? 

He knew they wanted to help, but at the moment he was just feeling troubled. He didn’t understand a thing anymore and with all their suggestions they weren’t helping. Didn’t they also have their own problems? Was his awkwardness so funny?

Kunikida walked fast through the city, he didn’t even know where he was or where he was going. The only important thing was that he was as far as possible from the hospital and his colleagues. His cheeks burned under the warm sun of the end of March. His jaw clenched so tight that he was going to have headaches for days. 

He dodged the people on the sidewalk, crossed the road a few times and without realizing where he was heading, he found himself outside the agency’s building. He stood there, leaning one hand on the red bricks, a bit disoriented; then, the anger and confusion took over him again. He wanted to yell. His mind unconsciously brought him back to the source of his problems. 

The agency, the case, Yosano, Ranpo, the brat, Dazai, the party, the kiss— 

He held his forehead and sighed: in his mind, he was crouched on the ground, tearing his hair, shattering his glasses, cursing everything, but on the outside, he remained as composed as possible and not because he didn’t want the others to think him mad, but because he didn’t have any strength left to do all those things. 

He had the impression he was the only one dealing with the whole aftermath of the mess. When he looked around in the office, he always found everyone working: Ranpo ate candies like usual, Yosano was fine enough to give surgery to Dazai and assist him for a month straight, Naomi, Tanizaki, Kenji, Kyoka the same. The president assigned them the case, and while it looked like an easy task, finding the right agents on duty for the right case took a lot of time and mental effort. But he did it. 

Why did he feel like he was the only one struggling? Why did he seem the only one that didn’t have the strength to face the day? 

If the others were hiding their tiredness, well, they hid it better than him indeed. 

And then, there was Dazai. 

He opened his eyes again, but he didn’t remember closing them. For a moment, he forgot where he was and all his surroundings became blurred. People strolled next to him, bumped into him but he barely acknowledged them, and kept staring at the tiles under his shoes as a vein of melancholia filled his chest. 

He got so caught up in the events of the past weeks that he barely had the time to stop for a moment and think about how he felt, how Dazai might be after all that mess. 

How was Dazai? How was he dealing with all the events that happened? He didn’t even care to ask, but Dazai must have a lot on his mind, more than anyone else. 

Dazai-san worries about you, more than what you think. 

He scoffed, trying to erase from his mind all the thoughts from before. Dazai was only good at bothering him, if he could pester him and disrupt his work then he was happy: those were the only moments in which the other really “worried” for him. There was no way Dazai could look at him and think: “look, I’m worried for you”, genuinely. 

He was the one always worried about Dazai, he was the one calling him each morning and checking if he ate or slept, and he was the one that did his work when he was too tired to type. He was the one worried between the two. 

Yet, that stupid comparison made him feel even worse. The thought of Dazai not caring about him stung and annoyed him.

The tip of his ears turned slightly pink.

However, after a few moments, he shrugged and thought it was normal that it bothered him after all.

Partnerships were about taking and giving. There was nothing weird in wanting Dazai to at least care about him. Absolutely nothing. He just wanted to be repaid for all his efforts for that idiot, it was more than normal. 

…But hadn’t Dazai paid all his debts by now?

The one in the hospital now was him. He even insisted on coming with Kunikida during the mission and took all the beating, no matter how he tried to distract him, Dazai remained stubbornly firm on his decision of playing the diversion. 

Come to think of it, Dazai never left his side and not only on this occasion: since their first case, Dazai had always stood next to him, even if he wasn’t physically with him. Instructions, hints, plans, if he wasn’t with him, his thoughts were. Yes, there were times in which he flew away, but there was always a reason. Dazai hid in places where he knew Kunikida would find him: it was as if he never left him. Each case, each situation, Kunikida just had to lift his eyes, turn his head and there he was, with his “I know it all” grin that irritated and comforted him. 

True, he slacked off, lamented and pestered him, but when things got serious, he never had to force Dazai to come with him, he just followed Kunikida whenever he went, sometimes pulling at the strings of a plan from behind and making things easier even if his solutions weren’t always the most empathetic ever.

Dazai never had debts to pay, it was just that he was good at hiding his intentions, and Kunikida got fooled into ignoring Dazai’s efforts like everyone else. 

Maybe, maybe Dazai did worry about him more than he thought. 

He swallowed and took a few deep breaths when he noticed that his chest was clenching. He has been too sensitive lately, it must be the stress. After those thoughts, he was hit by the need of going back to the hospital and apologizing to the three of his colleagues. His anger cooled down at that point, and now the awareness of his actions was taking over him with a bit of shame: he exaggerated. 

When he was about to head back on his own, his phone rang: Atsushi was calling him. 

From the other side of the phone, the brat’s voice was enthusiastic. 

-Kunikida-san, come back now! Dazai-san has woken up. 

If people previously had the impression that Kunikida was actually running away from something, now it was obvious that he was sprinting towards something. 

He ran back to the hospital so fast that when he reached the designated room, a thick layer of sweat was drenching his forehead and back. He was still trying to steady his breath when he noticed that figure laying on the bed had his eyes open; at his sides there were Yosano, Ranpo and Atsushi but Kunikida didn’t grasp any words, if they were even spoken. 

As soon as his colleagues turned to look at him, a wave of guilt hit him in his stomach. His legs became weak yet on the outside he just kept his serious expression and dragged himself towards the bed; each step he wondered what he should have said to the others, how he should have said it, but his thoughts were scattered and incomplete. When he reached the bed, he shot a glance to the three in front of him. 

He expected Yosano to comment about his sudden disappearance, maybe a remark from Ranpo or a glance from Atsushi, but no one of them looked like they wanted to start an argument or as if they took it personally. Their stares just held a glint that seemed to say: “I get it”, and Kunikida had to clench his jaw to calm down his ragged breath. 

He felt worse than before for snapping at them. He didn’t deserve their understanding: they were all on the same boat, they were all dealing with the mess in their own ways, and he just took his anger out on them. 

Yet, they got it and decided to move on, he didn’t know if they were either superficial or understanding. Either way, he was stunned by their patience.

-We leave him in your hands. – Yosano spoke no louder than a whisper. She smiled at him and Kunikida’s throat closed even more. – We’ll take the recorder back to the agency and do our thing. 

He just nodded to thank her. 

Ranpo strolled right behind winking at him, and the sentimentality that Kunikida felt before disappeared as fast as it arrived.

They weren’t over it. 

Nevermind.

He hated his colleagues. 

Atsushi was the only one that hesitated, probably because he sensed that before he exaggerated. His guilt got back again: Kunikida just wanted to tell him that the one being aggressive was himself and not him, but he still didn’t trust his voice, so he just patted him on the shoulder and eased his frown in hope that the brat understood that probably, just probably, he was one hundred years ahead than Kunikida that bragged about being mature and organized. 

Atsushi finally relaxed his shoulders and a small smile curved his lips. He understood: he followed Ranpo and Yosano outside.

Left alone in the room with Dazai, the atmosphere turned gloomy. 

Kunikida sighed and his chest got filled with the unpleasant oppression of anxiety: he looked back at the bed, and found that Dazai’s eyes were already on him; somehow, his stomach got pricked by a needle. 

Realizing he was just standing still in the middle of the room, he walked a few other steps, closing the remaining distance between himself and the bed. He forced himself to look at his partner, even in this state.

Dazai’s curls were straightened both by stress and dirt, to the point that they were barely curls anymore. His face was pale but looked soft as always; Kunikida almost wanted to poke his cheek. The soft purple marks under his eyes enlightened that he needed to rest, or maybe they were just bruises, but even at his worst, Dazai preserved a bit of his fascinating appearance. 

It wasn’t a novelty that Kunikida considered his partner beautiful. The first time they met he got impressed by how handsome he looked despite being unkempt, he wrote it in his ideal. And then, many women told their friends they were beautiful in a platonic way, couldn’t he do the same because the said man was objectively beautiful? 

His eyes wandered on his face for a while, before landing on his chapped lips. He averted his eyes unconsciously. 

-Dazai. 

He blurted out. He wanted to tell him something, he was sure, but when Dazai’s unfocused eyes met his, Kunikida’s mind forgot every word he wanted to say. 

He wanted to place his hand next to his, however, he was standing closer than he thought, and his hand landed directly on Dazai’s. 

Both stiffened, but Kunikida was too stiff to move and his hand clenched on Dazai’s in an attempt to ease his nervousness. It just made it worse, but that wasn’t important. 

He swallowed and managed to let out a question with a dry voice. 

-How, uh, how are you feeling? 

Dazai just looked at him and didn’t answer. He widened his eyes: in his mind he answered, but his mouth was sealed and he couldn’t bring himself to talk, not because he was too tired, but because his head was elsewhere: it was stuck on the conversation he had with the principal back in that school basement. It never left his mind, not even while being unconscious: in fact, when he regained consciousness some time before, his head was still running around the words of that madman, and his whole body got hit by a wave of guilt that clenched his chest and reminded him all the bad things he accomplished in his life. 

He didn’t even know why he was giving so much thought to it. But he was. Probably because it wasn’t the first time he had a vivid proof of the fact he hadn’t improved as he thought he did. The principal said it has been a while since he had someone that talked to him, that listened to him, and though it was a bit pathetic that he confessed on his free will to Dazai because he was alone, Dazai found it relatable. 

He even envied that principal a bit. The man had the possibility to atone for his crimes in an easy way, and now he was relieved of that weight. He was going to witness a trial and with the verdict, since his crime was disgusting but not terrible, he was probably going to get just a few years of prison (that were going to be shortened by good conduct obviously), and then once out, he could commit crimes again, or start anew. 

But the point wasn’t that. The point was that the principal didn’t have the weight of his crimes on his chest anymore, while he was still struggling and battling to turn into someone better and to suppress the guilt he felt when he thought about his past.

That man didn’t have any bad intentions, yes his actions were twisted, but his reasons made sense. 

Maybe, if Dazai looked back, he was more of a criminal than him. He wasn’t less alone than him, he wasn’t less misunderstood than him and the fact that he could see himself in someone he had to arrest, made him want to throw up. 

He still lied, he still tried to manipulate people when the situation called for it. 

And then, didn’t he force Kunikida to believe that the kiss they shared was no big deal, just because it was more convenient? Didn’t that count as manipulation? Didn’t he force Kunikida to admit that he was struggling with the memories of that evening, just because he was the one that didn’t understand what was going on inside him? Wasn’t he the one that should say something about it, but was too much of a coward to sit and admit what he was feeling?

All of that, each single thing didn’t fall under the category of “good person”. 

He had the impression that his friend’s words had been pointless. He even ended up in prison.

A good person, right, like hell he was. All his efforts sounded useless now. Who he was in the past couldn’t be erased, and he was the same person as he was four years ago. Despite all his efforts, he still accomplished nothing. He just changed his attitude towards the others but deep inside of him, he was just as dark as he was in the mafia. 

Kunikida was right, he was a terrible partner. He was a terrible person. 

His free hand clenched on the bedsheets and it didn’t go unnoticed by his colleague. 

-You’re alright?

He forced a smile. 

-Kunikida-kun worries too much. 

A week later

-Thanks to you, the “missing students” case finally got solved. – Fukuzawa placed the reports on his desk and glanced at both Kunikida and Dazai in front of him. – Without you, it wouldn’t have been possible. 

Kunikida hid well the small tinge of pride that prickled at his chest: he clenched his hands behind his back. 

-It’s nothing. 

In the midst of his attempt to stay serious, he missed Dazai peeking at him with a small smile. 

-However, I didn’t call you only for that. From the interviews of the police came out interesting details. Daizo, the principal, and Hideki, the custodian hadn’t always been part of the school’s staff. 

Kunikida frowned slightly: it was the first time he heard their names. During the case he always called them “the principal” and “the custodian”. If they weren’t always a custodian and a principal, and lead a second life, then it was obvious that they had been careful about their identities when they talked with them. From Dazai’s recording, it came out that the principal met the custodian later on in his life, so it was possible that he was lured into sketchy actions by him. 

-They used to rule a gang in that neighbourhood, years ago. They didn’t talk that much about it, and since it wasn’t linked to the case, the police didn’t press too much about it, but one of the victims confessed they already knew them. You can imagine why.  

A pause. 

-Ex-members. 

Kunikida frowned. 

Gang rulers? Well, that explained why they were skilled at combat. As expected, it was impossible for civilians to be that good at fighting. However, that wasn’t what Fukuzawa was telling him. 

-Do you think they will come at us because we arrested them? 

-We don’t know, because we don’t have enough information. Plus, we don’t have a warrant to investigate it, and no case has been opened yet. But don’t lower your guard. Gangs like that are way low average what the agency considers a threat, but things can escalate nonetheless. Keep your eyes open. 

-Roger that. 

Kunikida knew well what Fukuzawa meant. Before all that mess happened, he couldn’t help but to think they underestimated the scandal about the agency. They treated it like a normal case and even thought they could flee and adjust things in the matter of a few days. Then, they stopped a world war.

So he understood Fukuzawa’s worries well. Everyone could be a big threat now, even the small gangs of slum districts. 

Before he could dismiss them both, he turned towards Dazai. 

-Dazai, how are the injuries?

Dazai, who was uncharacteristically quiet, bowed his head slightly and kept the same hinted smile as before on his lips. 

-Fine. Nothing’s serious. 

Kunikida’s eyes unconsciously searched for his figure next to him, but the other didn’t look back. Maybe his eyes roamed over him a second too long or maybe the heavy atmosphere reached even the others that weren’t involved in their tense relationship, but he missed Fukuzawa switching his gaze from Kunikida to Dazai before placing the papers on the desk and clearing his voice. 

Kunikida turned his head again. 

-Alright. Dazai, you’re dismissed. 

The latter thanked the president and bowed before leaving. Kunikida followed him with his eyes: he wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what to add, so he closed his mouth again. 

-Kunikida. 

Shit. He should have seen this coming. He turned towards Fukuzawa again. 

-Is something going on? 

-No?

Fukuzawa huffed. 

-You know, you’ve always had the attitude of someone terrible at lying. I’m not surprised that it’s true. 

Kunikida felt himself flush under the quiet statement. The president had always been private: usually, whatever concerned things that weren’t cases or official stuff wasn’t simply his business. He didn’t even join conversations in the office. If he had to be honest, Kunikida had the impression that Fukuzawa was like a dad watching their children play at the park: he kept an eye on them but didn’t get involved unless necessary. 

That’s why he was surprised he was pressing again about him and Dazai. 

-If you two have small arguments here and there it’s fine, however, when it puts your safety to risk I start to wonder. 

…Was it so evident on the outside? 

How could explain to his boss that he had a sentimental moment with his partner and now his head was a mess? Wait. Put it that way, it even sounded worse than what effectively happened. 

He swallowed, still at loss for words. If he put it on a work level, maybe it would sound less ridiculous. 

-We’re just having a problem cooperating. I’m sure with time everything will return to normality. 

His face burned because of embarrassment. 

-Time doesn’t always fix things. Sometimes it just worsens problems that already exist. – Fukuzawa shot him a glance. – Pride is fine, it helps you to work meticulously, but do not allow it to become your cage. 

Kunikida lifted an eyebrow: pride? Cage? He wasn’t in a cage and his ideals weren’t a cage. He and Dazai were just having problems dealing with the incident that Fukuzawa must not know at all, even if it was clear that he suspected something. 

-I’m sure we just have to get used to each other again. 

Fukuzawa sighed and lifted his eyebrows. 

-Alright, - he sounded like an adult indulging a child. – I trust your judgement. You are dismissed. 

Kunikida bowed and headed towards the door, when Fukuzawa called him again. 

-Kunikida. Private life and work should not interfere with one another. However, when the problem is in both parts, ignoring him for the sake of work, just damages both private and work life. 

Kunikida’s hand tightened around the doorknob. Fukuzawa was telling him what Yosano said a few weeks ago: I hope your life doesn’t turn into a living hell. 

But honestly, when has his life not seemed like hell?

He straightened his posture. 

-There’s nothing interfering, my mind is solely focused on my ideals. 

And with that, he opened the door and left. 

Work, work, work. He just needed to keep his mind focused on work and all his problems would go away. He was sure. 

Sitting at his desk, he waited for his computer to start when he noticed an insistent typing coming from the desk in front of him. 

He leaned over and noticed that it was Dazai, working meticulously on his laptop and filling his reports with a relaxed expression. 

Kunikida frowned as he stared at him: Dazai working was always a weird sign. He could sense that something wasn’t right, but at the same time he was satisfied that Dazai wasn’t pestering him for once. It was confusing. 

Then, Dazai lifted his head and their eyes met. He said nothing, and just gave Kunikida a small smile before resuming his work: he looked like he wanted to finish his paperwork before evening. 

Kunikida stared at him some more before resuming his work too. 

Yes, definitely confusing. 

And Kunikida, lost in his confusion, missed the way Dazai’s eyes seemed clouded by something more dangerous than his usual laziness. 

Chapter Text

A bluish light was flickering back and forth, on and off. In the darkness of the night, Kunikida was fast asleep in his futon when the said light pierced his eyelids. He frowned before opening his dry eyes: like always, he had the impression he hadn’t slept at all. 

He sat up and he didn’t even have the time to rub his eyes, his head started pounding and his mind filled with broken thoughts and incomprehensible words. He glanced around and noticed that the light was coming from his phone. His eyes frantically searched for the clock on his nightstand: it was two in the morning. 

Who the hell sent him a message at such an hour? Go to sleep!

Alright, he was going to check the message, then definitely turn off the phone and sleep dead until the next morning. Yes, that’s what he was going to do. 

Yet, when he unlocked the phone, his heart stopped. Then, his stomach began to throb. 

That wasn’t the light of a message, it was the light of Dazai’s tracker. The one that he put inside his trench coat. Following the position and the name of the street— it was sinking in the river. 

Dazai’s tracker was in the river. In the middle of the night when no one could check where he was. 

His jaw clenched. Kunikida noticed how his hands trembled on the phone screen as he checked the last movements of the tracker. Unfortunately, it had been in the same spot for ten minutes. 

He stood there, his whole body froze on the spot and everything turned muffled. 

He swallowed one, two times, he closed his eyes. He tried to take a deep breath as he dialed Dazai’s number. In the hurry he typed Atsushi’s number, but fortunately, he declined just when the call started. 

He needed to calm down, breathe in, breathe out, he could do that. 

He clenched the shirt where his heart was pounding and tried again. This time, he dialed the right number. 

It rang, it rang, it rang but even after three attempts, Kunikida didn’t get an answer: the phone must have been turned off. 

Kunikida pulled at his hair, pushing his fringe away from his forehead and breathed deeply. Alright, Dazai’s phone was off, his tracker was in the same spot as ten minutes before and the last place tracked was the river where he fished Dazai out of the water several times. 

…

He didn’t lose any time, and with a swift movement he kicked the blankets away without bothering to change his clothes, he just put on his shoes because running with slippers would have slowed him down too much. 

Grabbing the keys and closing the door with a shut, he leapt off the stairs, skipping three steps at a time. As he ran, he tried to comb his hair, to avoid it getting in the way.

Going by car would have been ideal, however, one, the car was under repair because the precedent  case damaged it too much and two, he needed to move physically otherwise that painful feeling in his chest would have taken over him and he couldn’t allow himself that. 

He ran through the bustling city of Yokohama, because a metropolis as big as that never slept. Kunikida couldn’t recall a day in which he saw Yokohama empty but if on a daily basis it may sound comforting, now he was getting slowed down by the people crossing the roads, street lights changing colors and running on the road. 

He pushed, threw people and tried to make his way through the crowd all while wearing office shoes and his pajamas. 

When he reached the river, the crowd was definitely less than the city center, yet, small groups of people still slowed him down every now and then.

Kunikida looked from left to right, his breath was heavy and the sound of his heart hammering in his chest covered the sound of the water running quietly. 

The street lamps made little to no light and it was difficult to tell if there was something in the river. 

Glancing over with squinted eyes, Kunikida prodded himself on tiptoes, but still, he couldn’t see a thing. 

-Dazai! – He called as he stumbled upon the grass and reached for the water. – Dazai! Where are you?

But, as expected, no one answered. He had to be there, there was no way he wasn’t—

Wait. 

What if he threw the tracker there and left to go somewhere else? It definitely sounded like something he would do, after all, it wasn’t as if Dazai was stupid, if he wanted to deceive someone, then, he just had to flick his fingers and everyone would be. If he did it, then there was no way Kunikida was going to find him. 

Kunikida clenched his teeth and his hands closed into two tight fists. He couldn’t back down without trying. 

He scanned the area as he kept running near the shore. He called for Dazai again and each time he was met with silence. 

A cold windblow made him shiver and slammed his unkept hair right in his face. 

He moved them out of the way and he saw it: a group of people staring at something in the distance; they were pointing at something and while it meant nothing on its own, for Kunikida it meant everything. 

He ran until he was close to the point he could hear people whisper between themselves. 

-Is he still breathing?

-Incredible. How can someone stay like that for minutes?

-Isn’t he one of the Armed Detective Agency?

At that, Kunikida felt his heart plunge. Now he couldn’t lie to himself and delude himself that his partner was fine. 

Cold sweat ran down his back as he realized that he didn’t have to look for Dazai but that at the same time, he wasn’t fine either. 

He moved people aside, pushing them away until he finally found his partner: Dazai was face down the river, his curls swayed with the small ripples looking like seaweed. His arms were hidden under the cold, black water, he still wore his office clothes but the trenchcoat was nowhere in the sight. Dazai was never without his trenchcoat. 

Looking around, Kunikida felt his hands twitch: the river’s current was going to drag him away, slowly, but he was going to. He had to do something, he needed to do something. The people that were already there, why didn’t they help Dazai out of the water? Why didn’t they call for help? It was unsettling how much they preferred to sit and watch when it wasn’t their business instead of lending a hand. 

Kunikida didn’t allow himself to spiral into hatred and he took off his glasses, threw the phone on the grass and jumped in the water.

Immediately, cold rose from his back and reached his shoulders. He swam towards Dazai and hooked his arms under his armpits to drag him out. 

He pushed him on the grass, where Dazai landed like a corpse. His skin was cold and shiny, and it reflected the white light of the streetlamps that made him look paler than usual. Eyes and lips were bruised, full of purple and green veins that made him look as if he was punched. 

He looked peaceful, as if he were sleeping. Kunikida wanted to yell.  

After it slipped from his grip several times, Kunikida managed to grab his wrist to check his pulse: it was weak, really weak but it was there. He sighed in relief: with water that cold, it was a miracle he was still breathing. He rolled him on the side to avoid worsening the situation. 

He checked his fingers and he noticed that they were wrinkled from sinking in the water for too long. Considering that the river water was freezing, Dazai had to be immersed for at least ten minutes, as the tracker pointed out. People drown in five. But Dazai was breathing, which meant either that Dazai threw himself in the river less than five minutes ago, or the water was warmer than the average in that period and the fingers wrinkled faster because of higher temperature. It had to be the former, considering the tracker position.

He shook his head: why was he treating his partner like the victim of a case? He could still save him. Why was his work the only thing always on his mind? Why hadn't Dazai woken up yet and mocked him for always thinking about his work? 

His hands started to tremble. Again.

-Dazai? Dazai!

His shaky breath left white puffs in the air as he tried to call for him, he cupped his cheeks and shook his head gently, but Dazai’s eyes stood closed. He kept his peaceful expression, free of any of his faux mirth that characterized his face on a daily basis. It made Kunikida wide his eyes in terror: his stomach churned and revolted as he kept calling for him. 

The crowd from before had dispersed, probably because the stage was no more interesting to watch, so he was now alone with Dazai on the side of the river. 

He wasn’t waking up, he wasn’t waking up! What should he do? What could he do?

He should call Yosano, yes, that was the right thing to do. Yosano could definitely know better what to do. 

Then, just when he was about to look for the phone on the grass, Dazai grimaced and coughed. Kunikida turned and lifted him in a sitting position. He waited for him to stop coughing and then talked, minding to not press him with too many questions. 

-How are you feeling? – Stupid question. – Don’t talk if you feel fatigued, don’t force yourself. 

Well, that was even stupider. If he didn’t talk, how could he explain how he felt? But in the first place, how could someone that nearly drowned talk when they regained consciousness a second earlier?

Kunikida sighed and tried to appear as calm as possible, despite the sweat on his hands and his heart pulsing in his temples and at the sides of his throat. 

He grabbed his partner from his drenched shoulders and kept him steady. The paleness from his face was disappearing as he kept breathing, while the purple lips and the ring around the eyes stayed. He was still too pale for Kunikida’s liking though. It was really too cold for jumping into the river; when he was conscious enough, he moved his eyes up to see who was holding him: the moment he met Kunikida’s eyes his pupils shrank. 

However, the latter was unaware of the thoughts crossing his mind and how they all ended in panic, in fact, he looked down to check on him again with a worried look. When their eyes met, his heart clenched even if he tried to hide it.They couldn’t stay there, he had to move him from the cold ground. Was he hurt? Did he bleed somewhere? Should he take him to the hospital?

He frantically lifted the drenched hair to check if there was damage to his head but fortunately he didn’t find anything. He wasn’t bleeding, and his face just showed a few light cuts probably because of the debris carried by the water. 

However, Kunikida didn’t have the time to let the relief wash over him because he caught a glimpse of how the bandages on the left arm were stained in red. 

Kunikida stared at it and another pang hit his chest. Dazai hadn’t stopped looking at him, not even for a moment. 

-Where’s your trenchcoat? 

Dazai didn’t answer, he just hinted at it with his eyes. Kunikida followed the trail and found it a few meters ahead, crumpled on the grass. 

Kunikida went to grab it: it was dry. Probably Dazai didn’t want it to get torn by pebbles or maybe the wind just pushed it off his shoulders, that’s why it wasn’t with him in the river. He looked at the coat between his hands: carrying Dazai and the coat wasn’t possible, but he couldn’t wear it, because it was too small for him. There was only one solution left. 

He walked back to Dazai, which was now sitting motionless on the grass. His curls dripped on his face but he didn’t seem to care. His eyes kept staring at the void in front of him even when Kunikida put his coat on his shoulders.

Kunikida fixed the collar just to buy time and find something useful to say but what could he say to someone that just tried to end his life? What could he say that didn’t sound like an old-fashioned line that came out right from the worst romance novel written for the average public just for entertainment? 

“I’m here now, everything is fine” 

“How could you do something like that? (Said with trembling voice and knitted eyebrows)” 

“You don’t have to worry now, rest”. 

But even if those were the worst lines he had ever read in the novels that he hid away from his colleagues, he couldn’t help but to think that deep down of him, they made sense. He clenched his jaw: as he thought, he couldn’t say anything.

-Let’s go, I’ll carry you home. 

He murmured, purposely avoiding Dazai’s eyes. He grabbed Dazai by his knees and lifted him on his back; with his heart still heavy, Kunikida started his trip back to his apartment. 

He walked through the streets of Yokohama with Dazai on his back, his own arms hooked under his knees and his arms draped over his shoulders. During the walk, Kunikida’s hands didn’t stop trembling, not even for a moment. Dazai was silent, but from the controlled breath coming from behind his ears, he could tell that he wasn’t asleep, he simply didn’t have the strength to talk. 

Some stared, others didn’t. But Kunikida couldn’t care less. Around him everything was muffled and the lights of the screens around the city appeared nothing but dots that prickled at his eyes like needles.

He stopped when the traffic light in the main district was red for pedestrians: despite sinking in the river, Dazai was warm, his steady heartbeat on his left shoulderblade reminded him that he was alive, his imperceptible movements like adjusting his grip, turning the head to the other side or the simple puff of air helped Kunikida to stay calm. Then, Dazai lifted one of his arms in an attempt to place one on his shoulders, however, he was still too weak and the gesture came out as nothing but a spasm. Yet, Kunikida’s arms under his legs stopped trembling. He rubbed circles in the skin, with his fingers moving on their own: he didn’t know who he wanted to soothe, if himself or his half-alive partner on his back. 

The light turned green.

Kunikida slammed the door shut and put Dazai down. Having rested for a bit, Dazai wobbled on his legs, but could stand on them better than before. 

Dazai’s curls looked like a mop and he looked like he didn’t want to move. It seemed that he didn’t care if he kept those wet clothes on him or if they clung on him annoyingly. 

Kunikida sighed when he noticed he was standing still: he hushed him towards the bathroom where he silently helped him take off the wet clothes: he was drenched and the water reeked of mud and pee. He threw everything on the floor and filled the bathtub. If he wanted to clean the wounds, he should have washed them first. 

Dazai’s legs spasmed every now and then. Kunikida didn’t know if it was because he was having an anxiety attack or because he was exhausted to the point his muscles were crumbling. Either way, it was something that shouldn’t be happening. 

He helped him step into the water when his eyes fell again on the bandages stained in blood. 

He swallowed. 

-Don’t. – Kunikida’s head shot up. For a moment he thought that he wished so much for Dazai to talk again that he imagined it. But then he did it again and he realized that no, Dazai really was trying to say something. – Don’t, the bandages. 

His voice was hoarse, as if he were thirsty. Kunikida could feel that it burned just from the way he swallowed. He murmured three words, but for him it was more than enough to understand. 

-I won’t touch them, but I can’t treat them if they’re dirty. – He looked him in the eyes.– I won’t look. 

Kunikida was a man of principles. Insulting him on a daily basis because he didn’t fill reports or because he tried to bring others (read: Atsushi) into his distractions was a thing, but peeking at what was under the bandages, even if there was nothing, was a thing Kunikida could never bring himself to do.

And Dazai, fortunately, still seemed to believe it because the corner of his eyes unwrinkled and he looked less like he was squinting and more like he was observing him and pondering his words. 

After what seemed ages, he nodded and settled into the bathtub in a way that allowed Kunikida to wash his hair. His back was covered in fresh cuts made by the rocks, Kunikida stared at it before focusing on his curls.

He poured water on his hair and washed it, Dazai followed his movements with his head, leaning into the touch with a vulnerability that was foreign. His frame looked small sitting in front of him, as if he shrunk and morphed into a child. Kunikida had the weird thought of circling his shoulders and hugging him—

His cheeks flushed and he let the thought drop. Honestly, what the fuck? Get a grip. Dazai had been in way worse conditions and he survived, what was with all this tenderness? He was a grown up adult and he was already doing him a favor helping him. 

The sigh he exhaled was as heavy as the situation. 

He rinsed and put a hand on his forehead to avoid that the soap could end up in his eyes. He smiled fondly. His mother used to do it when he still had short hair and his arms didn’t reach the back of his head, then he grew up and protested that he could do it on his own. She never opposed, not even when the first time he washed his hair alone he ended up with red eyes and dry skin. It seemed ages ago, but it had been just a couple of years. When he looked at the curly head in front of him, his smile was replaced with a deep frown. 

Come to think of it, did Dazai have a childhood? And he didn’t mean it like “being young”. He meant it like, was he allowed to be a child? To cry or to play? What kind of child was he? When did all of this, well this start? The attempts, the made up cheerfulness, the running away from people? Kunikida refused to believe he’d always been like that. A child isn’t born that way. No one is born that way. 

…Did Dazai have a mother that put a hand on his forehead to not get the soap in his eyes? 

He checked the water in the bathtub: it was brown and there were a few grass strands and debris floating. At least, now they were off Dazai’s wounds. 

The wet bandages were glued on his skin, Kunikida could swear they were annoying, but if Dazai didn’t want to take them off, he wasn’t going to oppose it. 

He tore his eyes away from his small frame and focused on grabbing the dry clothes from the heater. He thought he could lend to him his own clothes, but he sensed that Dazai might have refused or denied: their relationship was strained now, and Kunikida couldn’t understand anymore if they were getting along, or they were just tolerating each other. 

It wasn’t just about lending clothes, it was about trust. Maybe he was exaggerating, but since that evening he had the impression that the trust they shared eroded slowly, especially during the last case. They tried to keep the other at arm's length and lending clothes sounded too extreme now that they barely talked without being at each other’s throats. 

He turned and rested the clothes on the sink and hesitated. Dazai followed each of his movements with curious eyes. At least, he was more conscious than before.

-Do you think you can dress on your own? 

Why was he holding his breath? 

Dazai nodded and Kunikida nodded back, not even knowing why. 

-Alright, I’ll wait for you outside then.

He pointed at the door before reaching for it and leaving the bathroom. Once outside, he rubbed his face and sighed again, the tiredness of the situation slumped on him as soon as Dazai was out of his sight. 

He barely had the time to grab cotton, patches and sanitizer that Dazai appeared in the living room, dragging himself as if something latched onto him and prevented him from walking properly. 

He slumped on the couch with his hair still damp, but Kunikida didn’t care. He could have wetted the floor and he wouldn’t have said anything tonight as long as he was still breathing. He could destroy his apartment and Kunikida would have said “it’s fine, I get it”. 

Kunikida stared at him and he felt his heart clench: he couldn’t imagine the amount of broken thoughts that were running through his head, the frustration he felt for missing the right chance to end it all, how mad he was at himself that he couldn’t die. 

Dazai clenched his hand around his bandages that were immediately stained in red again. 

Another wave of pain hit Kunikida in his stomach. 

He already hated seeing people wounded or in pain, but when it was his partner the one being hurt— 

He shook his head.

-Dazai, let’s clean the wounds. 

-But I’m fine, Kunikida-kun, I swear. 

-Dazai—  

-Really, trust me, I’m fine. 

The cloth he was holding in his right hand clenched. Frustration bubbled up in his chest and his face turned warm: helping Dazai clean the wounds was always a hassle; he would toss, whine and pout at the smallest movement, he hated needles and sanitizer, honestly, he hated every medical related stuff. But he couldn’t leave him like that. 

He pinched his eyebrow and sighed. 

-You have cuts all over your body, you can’t be fine. Stop moving. 

-I can do it myself. 

His stupid cheerful voice was back and Kunikida decided that he couldn’t wait for him to change his mind. He got closer and without saying anything, he grabbed his chin and lifted it to see the many cuts that were on the skin up the bandages. 

As soon as Kunikida’s hands touched his face, Dazai’s stupid mouth shut up and he became extremely docile under his touch. The two exchanged a brief look, but Kunikida averted his eyes before he could acknowledge what the small faltering in his chest meant. 

Dazai winced slightly and Kunikida retrieved his hand. 

-Did it hurt?

Well Doppo you poured sanitizer right on his wound, obviously it hurt you dumb fuck— 

Dazai shook his head.

-It’s fine, do what you have to do.  

Kunikida worked in silence for the following minutes. He checked his face and cleaned a cut on his cheek, then, he placed a bandaid on it, Dazai’s skin was incredibly soft under his fingers, and Kunikida found himself lingering his touch on it. When he realized what he was doing, he decided to move away from spots that could have brought their faces too close. He didn’t like how he felt when it happened, so he decided to focus on his wrist and hands, that way, he was crouching at the feet of the couch while Dazai was still sitting on it. 

The tremors had stopped and now Dazai was visibly more relaxed, although his eyes betrayed a tiredness that was probably there before he attempted. And so, Kunikida too calmed down slightly, and set his mind on the lecture mood. Or maybe it was just his mind searching for something familiar because the person before him looked too much of a stranger right now, and it made his heart clench. 

-What the hell were you thinking? Sinking in the river in the middle of the night!

The river's water was cold in summer, let alone in April. 

Dazai however, didn’t look like he cared and just shrugged. The grin on his face was making Kunikida even angrier. 

-Kunikida-kun, didn’t you know that taking cold baths at night is good for your blood circulation? It’s called “the tonification bath”. You should write that down. 

Now, if it were a normal occasion, Kunikida would have just indulged him and took his Ideal to write that until Dazai wouldn’t have told him “I’m joking”. But now, given the circumstances, he just clenched the cloth in his right hand and stayed silent. He went back to cleaning the wound of the rock on the palm of his hand, but the more he pressed, the more the blood spitted out of it. 

If he’d arrived just a little bit later, who knows if it would’ve been too late? The thought made his nose sting. 

He didn’t forget his observations about Dazai of the past two years, and he knew that when he spoke in such a manner, when he acted as if he was out of his mind, it was because he was more lucid than what he showed. It would’ve been less worrisome if he acted all depressed and said something obvious like “just let me die in peace”. He didn’t say anything before, he must've been under shock and now, he was talking nonsense. 

The fact was, that this time, Dazai was serious. He meant it. And it was the first attempt in a long time: he didn’t know if it was because they got caught up in a lot of disasters, one after another, since the Guild came to Yokohama, but he had the impression that Dazai’s attempts were always less and less. Why now that things calmed down he started to act like that again? What brought him to that point again? 

Was he having a relapse all of a sudden because work got too stressful? 

For some reason, the thought hurt more than usual.  

Dazai sensed that something was off, as Kunikida didn’t answer, so he kept blabbering. 

-Really. Oh c’mon, don’t tell me that you don’t believe me. I’m telling the truth— 

-Dazai. 

-See, the secret is to sink in the water until your lips turn purple and then wait for your fingers to turn numb, oh but listen this is the important part!

-Dazai. 

-Shh, shh, let me finish haha. – Despite the laugh, Dazai’s lips quivered. – Only when your fingers turn numb then you can actually get out of the water— 

Kunikida grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to look him in the eyes: the dark circles were still there and his skin was pale, too pale even for him to the point that it was visible in the dark. 

-Enough with bullshit. Stop it, stop it. – He shook him gently, just to verify that he was really there with him and not at the bottom of that river. He closed his eyes and lowered his head. – Stop it. 

He repeated barely louder than a whisper. 

No matter his thoughts, no matter the situation, that stupid sentimentality of his often came out during such moments. Usually, he tried his best to hide it: a bit because he was embarrassed of that side of him, and a bit because his  workplace didn’t allow it. But he kept those thoughts inside of himself during the past weeks and they were pressing on his chest since he saw Dazai on the agency’s infirmary bed, a weight kept dragging his heart down and his entire mind was occupied by Dazai, Dazai, Dazai. Usually he wouldn’t dare to say anything out loud but now words flooded out of his mouth and he could barely process what he was saying.

-It’s not funny. I don’t find it funny dragging you out of a fucking river in the middle of the night. I already told you once. Why do you never listen? Why do you always act as if all I say is something to be ignored? Tell me! 

As he spoke, the grip on his arms became tighter and the clothes got crumpled between his fingers. 

-What is it? Do you think I’d be better without you? That I won't be sorry about not having you around anymore? Your head is full of shit for real. 

His cheeks warmed when he realized what he said, but now it was late to take it back. His chest felt lighter, even if he should probably apologize: yelling at someone that just tried to drown himself wasn’t going to make them feel any better. 

He closed his eyes shut as if he could erase the image of Dazai actually drowning. He was so close this time. What if the tracker was thrown away for real? What if Dazai was going to do it next time? When— There was a way to understand when the next time was going to be?

His hands were covered by cold ones, a wave of warmth hit him right in his chest nonetheless. 

-Kunikida-kun. 

Dazai’s voice was weak now, completely different from the cheerful one from before, devoid of all that faux mirth that characterized the lie that he was telling a moment before, Kunikida lifted his head. 

Dazai’s expression was unreadable: neither serious, nor sad. It was just empty. His eyebrows were arched and his lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, silence lingered in the apartment, only some cars on the road broke it. 

Then, Dazai finally spoke. 

-Am…Am I a good person? – His eyes were downcast, no matter what, Kunikida couldn’t see them. He frowned. – Tell me, do you think that someone like me deserves to live? 

Kunikida sighed. 

-What kind of question is that? You don’t have to “deserve to live”, you live and that’s it. No human should question that. 

And he really believed what he said. Dazai might’ve been a menace, disrupting his work, getting on his nerves, giving him lots of problems to deal with, but he could never consider him not worthy of living. Dazai being dead, the single thought made his eyebrows knit in distress. It was one thing to insult him without the intention to hurt him for real, but it was another to look down on him and wish he’d never existed. He could never do it.

Dazai snorted. 

-As rightful as always. But think about it. The principal we arrested, was he really that different from me? What has he done that was so wrong, that made him earn the title of “criminal”? If we look at it from a realistic perspective, I’m more of a criminal than him. – He gently lowered Kunikida’s hands from his shoulders and brought them to rest on his lap. – He had good intentions.

I didn’t. That’s what hung in the air. 

Distorted. Utterly, distorted. The vision he had of all that situation was distorted to the point Kunikida was left speechless for several minutes. Dazai must have ruminated about it for a while, to reach such a conclusion and it was one of the worst things he’d ever heard.

-What? Dazai do you even hear yourself?

He searched for his eyes but the other kept his head low to avoid Kunikida’s stare. Silence followed again. 

Kunikida hesitated: he had never seen Dazai like that. Sure, he witnessed a lot of Dazai’s attempts by now: he saw him drenched in dirty water, with wounds on his forehead, with things stuck in his throat, hanging from ceilings, walls, pillars. He saw him distraught, upset, confused, but never, he had never seen him like that: he had never seen him giving up for real. 

His slouched shoulders gave away the idea that he could no longer stand himself, and Kunikida thought that when someone was brought to that point, there was nothing that could be said to make someone change their mind. But what should he do? Let him die, ignore him? Tell him that it was fair to think of it that way? 

He gritted his teeth and his hands held Dazai’s tighter: he couldn’t understand his pain so he didn’t know what to say. It had to be something beyond despair, beyond any kind of known pain, that there were no words that could work, not when he was in that condition. His skin got goosebumps when he realized that each thing he wanted to say was either obvious or something he heard others say that could never help his partner. 

His mind ran in circles and as seconds passed he had the impression that he was running out of time, and if he couldn’t convince Dazai to stay now on that couch, then probably he wasn’t going to have a second chance. He had to find a loophole in what he said, and convince him that he wasn’t right.

He didn’t have a plan, he didn’t have a list on his Ideal written for this situation so the only thing he could do now was improvising, even if he was terrible at it.

-Do you really think it’s important, if you’re good or bad? Aren’t you the one that always blabbers about good and bad being two opposite sides of the same coin? – Not a great start, but Dazai’s shoulders twitched so Kunikida kept going. –He may have had good intentions, but he still hurt other people. There’s a difference between knowing you’re doing something bad and persisting, and realizing you’re in the wrong and changing. You did it, he didn’t. He even followed the custodian to force his ideals on someone else. 

He hesitated, but in the end decided to say it: at that point, he was beyond losing dignity. 

-And to be fair, as a criminal, he still has a lot to learn. If you were to do it, probably no one would have ever guessed what your plan was. 

The last line earned a small smile from Dazai and Kunikida smiled back. They locked eyes again.

-I don’t think you should take into account only the things you didn’t do. For some reason, when we count them, they’re always more than what we’ve accomplished. 

Kunikida stared into the distance, locking his mind on memories that now seemed too far from him. He couldn’t save all the victims on cases, he couldn’t save the children that Fyodor blew, he couldn’t save his colleagues from the Amenogozen, not when he jumped from the helicopter, not at the airport. He couldn’t shield Tanizaki, he couldn’t shield himself. 

He made his mistakes. He kept making mistakes even now, with Dazai. But that didn’t mean that mistakes were all he was. The case they solved now was the living proof of what he was saying. 

He fixed his glasses. Dazai’s dark eyes seemed to dig into him and Kunikida’s cheeks got warmer when he noticed their hands were still laced together, however, he didn’t tear them away. He didn’t want Dazai to think that his words were lies. 

-You’re terrible, but, - he swallowed and looked away. – I still think that you’re doing a decent job. 

Dazai snorted and when Kunikida looked back at him, he noticed that a small smile was pulling at his lips. He huffed.

-Kunikida-kun praising me, I should be dramatic more frequently.

-I’m just saying that I’m so used to you pestering me that it’d be weird to not have you around. 

He bit back, but as soon as those words left his mouth he realized how sappy they sounded and his cheeks turned slightly warm because of embarrassment. He was sure that Dazai could see that even if the room was immersed in the darkness. 

They locked eyes again and Kunikida noticed that they were close, almost too much that the tip of their noses brushed together. His heart was pounding in his chest. 

He scrambled to his feet and tore himself away from Dazai, pushing himself as far as possible. 

-Dazai-

-Kunikida-kun. 

The both of them looked away. Kunikida clutched to his chest the damp cloth he was using to clean Dazai’s wounds, as if it could shield him from Dazai. He hadn’t realized they were so close, and he hadn’t realized that it didn’t bother him in the slightest. 

His skin crawled.

He stared at the man in front of him. Who was now looking back curiously, but mirroring his same embarrassment. His brain short circuited as he tried to find something to say. 

-We-we should clean all the other wounds. – Then, he thought that if he should clean his wounds, he had to get closer to him again. –No, you should rest, probably it’s better. 

But again, if he let him sleep with his wounds infected, tomorrow was going to be a hassle cleaning them. Ah, the tip of his ears were turning red, he felt that. 

He huffed again and walked towards him. Yanking one of his arms, he crouched again and stood there in silence without saying anything for a moment. Then, he noticed that the silence was only making him sink in his own embarrassment further, and that he couldn’t do anything to Dazai without saying it, so he tried to let out a few words out of his dry throat. 

-No, a-actually. – Did he fucking stutter? – I think we should treat the wounds, otherwise tomorrow they will be infected. 

He lifted his eyes from his arm and met Dazai’s eyes again: the fog from before seemed less and the corner of his eyes were slightly pushed up, as if he found the situation funny. 

Bastard. Was it so funny to look at him stutter and act like an idiot? He took everything he said back: he was a bastard. 

He worked in silence, unraveling the hem of his shirt, brushing the cotton on his pale fingers. Dazai was visibly more relaxed, his shoulders were down and he followed Kunikida’s touch without hesitation. When he went to tape a small cut on his neck, he got closer to check the wound better and his breath hit the portion of Dazai’s skin that wasn’t covered in bandages: he felt the other’s pulse quicken so he glanced up to see if he was in pain, however, since Dazai didn’t show any reaction. He let it be and kept checking on him. 

Things went on like that until the clock hit four in the morning. Only then, Kunikida placed the cloth, the cotton and the sanitizer on the floor and sat at the feet of the couch to rest for a moment. The room was a mess: pieces of bandages and patches were scattered all over, and he was sure that there were drops of sanitizer on the floor, but each of his limbs hurt from staying crouched for too long, so he couldn’t care less. 

It was a matter for tomorrow, now, he just wanted to lay on the bed and sleep like the dead, but at the moment he couldn’t even move. 

A sigh from behind his shoulders made him turn his head and he noticed that Dazai was slowly falling asleep: he should get him a blanket, after all, the weather was still chilly. 

-Kunikida-kun, thank you. 

Those words should have turned Kunikida fully awake, instead, they calmed something inside of him that kept hurting since he fished him out of the water. It was as if Kunikida finally realized he was alive and fine for real, that he was still with him in the living world on that couch. 

He rested his head on the cushions as his whole body was still sitting on the ground. He thought he said something, but in reality his mouth didn’t move at all, instead, he folded his arms under his head, next to Dazai’s lap. He irradiated warmth even if he risked death that night. 

He should stay there at least until Dazai was fast asleep, just in case he didn’t feel well or needed something— 

Somehow, Dazai’s presence calmed whatever annoying thought he was having and his eyelids got heavier and heavier, until he closed them completely. The last thing he could recall was the warmth radiating from Dazai’s already sleeping figure.

His vision turned dark.

His phone rang once, twice, Kunikida groaned since he had been woken up in the middle of the night. Extending a tired arm, he grabbed the object and opened his groggy eyes. 

When he noticed the name on the screen his eyebrows frowned. A bit confused, he pressed the green button and put it next to his ear. 

-Dazai—

-Kunikida-kun, how good to hear you. Listen up, I might have made a mess hehe. 

Despite the laugh, it was obvious that there was something wrong. An unpleasant bundle moved in his chest and he sat up to listen better. He didn’t want to think that something bad had happened, so he pushed down that feeling that clenched his chest and tried to act normally. 

-Tch. You always make messes. What did you do this time?

-I well, I was trying this new suicide method. – Kunikida’s heart faltered. He couldn’t find the words to say anything. – Basically I took a full blister of sleeping pills but I can't fall asleep, instead, my head spins a little. 

Kunikida’s stomach tightened. He was petrified on his futon.

-My limbs also tremble. – Dazai admitted with a carefree voice. – To be brief, I’m just suffering without being able to die. Since it’s the middle of the night and I don’t trust my legs to walk, can you take me to the hospital? …Kunikida-kun? Are you still there?

While Dazai talked, Kunikida managed to jump out of the bed, tie his hair, put his glasses on and put on a jacket. He grabbed the phone again and headed towards the door. 

-I’m here, I heard you. Where are you?

-Home. 

Kunikida felt relieved that Dazai wasn’t somewhere far and difficult to reach. He sighed and left the apartment. 

It wasn’t the first time Dazai called him during the night, but usually it was because he was drunk or couldn’t sleep and ended up Kunikida awake too. 

Even if he acted all mad and annoyed, he always indulged him, also because most of the time Dazai was satisfied with just a bunch of “mh” or “yes, I’m listening”. With time, Kunikida learnt that Dazai wanted someone to listen to him rather than having a conversation, even if it was about silly things like the number of the tiles in the bathroom or the sound that the wind produced on the windows (this usually led to the making of stories about ghosts that terrified Kunikida, even though he might have never admitted it).  

This was the first time he called him for something so serious. 

He reached Dazai’s apartment and realized he didn’t have the key, and if the door was locked, he had no other choice but to break it. He was still on the phone. 

-Dazai, can you at least open the door?

-Uh? It is open. I never lock it. 

Kunikida got hit by the desire to throw him as soon as he found him, but the way his voice sounded a bit sleepier than before sent electric waves down his body. 

He pushed the door open and stepped into the apartment. 

-What do you mean “you never lock it”?

-It’s not like I need to. 

Kunikida didn’t bother to take off his shoes, and walked into the living room. The last statement made Kunikida frown: it didn’t sound like a joke but he didn’t know how to decipher it.

His voice sounded serious but it could've also been the pills kicking in. For some reason, Kunikida’s mind thought that it had to do with Dazai’s past: he still didn’t know what he used to do.

He looked around in the darkness and almost tripped on the bags of garbage that were laying on the floor. Moving them aside, he avoided the bottles of alcohol that rested near a coffee table, before noticing Dazai’s silhouette resting on a wall next to the window. Only then, he did turn off the phone. 

It must have been luck, because Dazai didn’t tell him where he was located, if he didn’t find him there, he should have searched around the apartment. 

-Kunikida-kun. 

-Don’t talk. Here. – He grabbed him by the shoulders and tore him away from the wall. Then, he turned and grabbed his legs, lifting him on his back. – Let’s go. 

Dazai just rested his whole weight on Kunikida’s back and the latter realized he was covered in cold sweat. He took a deep breath and brought him out. 

The ride to the hospital was basically Kunikida talking nonsense. He didn’t care about what he said, if it was obvious or stupid, he talked to Dazai to keep him awake. He even started describing the bricks of the sidewalk or how chilly the weather was. Dazai was responsive for a great part of the trip, and each time he closed his eyes, Kunikida took a hand off the steering wheel and patted his cheeks with the back of it. 

By the time they reached the building, the sun was rising from the back of the skyscrapers.

Doctors placed Dazai on a barrel and carried him away as soon as Kunikida explained the situation. Only when he was left alone in the waiting room, Kunikida exhaled a long breath and slumped on the plastic seat. His head pounded, it throbbed as if he were sick with fever. 

He swallowed, took deep breaths and tried to comb his hair with his fingers, but there was nothing he could do to remove from his mind the thought of his partner attempting suicide. 

He felt his pockets and soon realized that he left his Ideal at home. Closing his eyes, he took off his glasses.

He was sure he wrote to check on Dazai daily, to see if there was something amiss in his behavior, and the reason why he didn’t dig into him that morning, was because he looked perfectly normal. He even finished all his reports, talked with everyone and even waved when he left. Kunikida got home in a good mood because he thought Dazai finally understood how work at the agency was, but he hadn’t noticed that Dazai was, in fact, weird all day: he never finished his reports, he was never at his desk all day, and usually he fled without anyone noticing. He was bizarre and the way he worked was usually the opposite of the average person. 

He had acted weird, because he wasn’t acting like his usual self, but Kunikida had just to judge him from his point of view and got it wrong. He should have seen it coming. 

He gritted his teeth and tried to push down his throat whatever lump was making swallowing so painful.

Dazai’s gastric lavage took eight hours. 

When the same nurse that greeted them came to inform Kunikida of the situation, he already called Fukuzawa to explain why he wasn’t coming today. 

He could make up for the work he didn’t do tomorrow. 

He let the nurse drag him till the room and mentally thanked the personnel for having already removed the tubes, so now Dazai laid on the white sheets with half-open eyes. 

Kunikida’s heart throbbed and he almost forgot to thank the nurse before walking towards the bed. 

He took a chair and sat next to him. Dazai followed his movements with tired eyes. 

-Did…Did they take everything out?

At that point, asking “how are you?” Sounded idiotic and useless.

Dazai gave a slight nod. 

-My throat feels so open that when I breathe I can feel the air pass through it. – He talked slowly, his voice was a bit raspy. – I definitely prefer when it’s Kunikida to hit me. He’s way gentler. 

He attempted to joke and Kunikida smiled briefly just to indulge him. He wanted to try desperately at finding something to say, but there was only a question inside his head, pleading to be answered. 

He tapped his fingers on the hospital bed. 

-Why did you call me?

Calling Yosano would have been the most logical choice, after all. She was a doctor.

-Because I knew you would have answered. 

Dazai’s answer was so abrupt that Kunikida was left startled for several moments. Dazai, who trusted no one, kept everyone at arm's length and ran away from people, affirmed that called him because he knew he’d answer him at every hour. 

Put that way, if he were to talk about an average person, it could mean that the said person was just taking him for granted. But if he took Dazai into account, it meant that he trusted his partner to the point of putting his life into his hands. 

Kunikida’s face became a bit warm at the thought: he had been awake all night, his limbs were cranky, and Dazai’s words made the lump in his throat heavier than before. While resting his hands on the bedsheets, their fingers brushed together and Kunikida had to suppress the weird urge he had to grab that hand and cup it into his own. 

He fixed his glasses instead.

-You can do it. If you need it, I mean. 

He muttered and Dazai widened his eyes. 

-You’re not mad? It must be my lucky day. 

He joked again, but it went unheard from Kunikida. Through all his tiredness, a faint sensation of anger clenched his chest. 

Obviously, he wasn’t mad at him, he could never, He was mad at whoever made Dazai think that swallowing a blister of sleeping pills was the solution to solve all his problems. 

They talked for a bit, but in the end, Dazai forced him to go to sleep at home and to come and pick him up when the hospital would have dismissed him. Kunikida was forced at least ten times before he convinced himself to leave him.

However, when Kunikida got home he did everything but sleep. He’d never tell Dazai how he hysterically worked on the reports he brought from work, before slumping on his couch and crying for two hours straight.

Kunikida opened his eyes, and this time, the rays of the lukewarm sun came from the window. It was morning, finally, however, Kunikida found himself wishing it was at least cloudy outside, if not pouring, because the sun seemed too unsettling for the night he had. 

Fragments of the night before came to his mind, and a sharp wave of guilt shook his whole body. He brought a hand to clench at his chest. But despite all the mess, he slept well, without any interruption. 

He rubbed his face and only then he noticed he fell asleep with his glasses on. He took them off and rubbed his eyes: they burned and the edges were slightly wet. Well, whatever. 

Soft snores came from behind his shoulders. He turned and he noticed that Dazai was still fast asleep on his couch: with the daylight, the wounds from the night before were even more visible, there was a cut on his right cheekbone, a hole on his left temple, and the livid shade under the rim of his eyes suggested how exhausted he was. Soft curls covered his forehead, clear skin reflecting the rays of the sun. Despite the attempt the night before, his lips were rosy and slightly parted. There was something comforting in looking at his chest rising and falling as he slept peacefully. 

The bandages around his neck were still damp, but he wasn’t going to tear them away. He didn’t dare to touch them. It wasn’t as if Dazai got sick easily, though. 

He felt his stomach stir and decided that it was better if he kept his mind focused on making breakfast. He stood up but he must have slept in a cranked position, because his mind blanked for a moment and he had to wait patiently for his sight to clear to be able to see again. 

He was still wearing the robe from yesterday, his pyjamas were now stained with dirt and river water, only a miracle would have cleaned it as new. He sighed and his eyes searched for the sleeping figure behind him. 

Kunikida stared at him, then, almost unconsciously, he passed a hand through his curls and pushed his fringe away from his forehead. Dazai frowned but then eased his expression and turned towards the backrest to shield himself from the light. 

Kunikida repressed the soft smile on his lips and retrieved his hand immediately. He glanced around as if caught doing something that he shouldn’t do.

He should make breakfast, yes, he really should. 

The cold hair of April filtered through the kitchen’s window, carrying the smell of water and laundry detergent. When he got up ten minutes before, the sun had been brightening the whole room. But in the matter of the said ten minutes, clouds covered the sky and Kunikida felt that now the weather was fitting his mood perfectly. 

He sighed in front of the stove, as the two tamagoyaki sizzled in the pan: he slept at the feet of his couch, but he felt as if he slept better than he did in his bed, better than he did in a long while, to be honest. 

He rubbed his face and sighed again. The weight of what happened slumped on his shoulders and he felt tired again. 

However, what was painful was the fact that Dazai didn’t bother to call him. He couldn’t say he was used to his attempts, because each time it happened it made his skin crawl, but at least he grew accustomed to face them, because he knew that Dazai would always let him find him. 

This time was different, because if it wasn’t for the tracker, he would have never found him. Dazai didn’t want Kunikida to find him. And the thought, well, hurt. 

He opened the fridge and grabbed a bowl of natto, he placed it on the counter and pulled the eggs out of the frying pan. 

Was it because of their recent misunderstandings?

The rice fell in the bowls next to the natto with a deaf sound.

Was it because he told him he was the worst he could ever ask for as a partner?

Years ago, Dazai told him that he knew that if he called, Kunikida would have always picked up. The fact that he didn’t do it meant that he thought Kunikida wouldn’t have cared? 

His hands came to a halt and the spoon he was using knocked on the bowl with a thud. 

Dazai…Did it mean that he didn’t trust Kunikida anymore? 

Kunikida took off his glasses and decided that today he couldn’t bear to wear them. 

Why did the thought bother him so much? Even if Dazai didn’t trust him outside work, he shouldn’t care, right? They still solved their last case, so as long as they worked as partners on missions it wasn’t a problem, was it? It wasn’t important if they didn’t get along outside work. But still, his stomach throbbed when he thought about it. 

Honestly, what was with him lately? Each time Dazai was the main topic of a conversation he became overly sensitive. He shook his head. 

Instead of feeling sad he should be relieved that Dazai didn’t pester him outside work anymore. Yes right, he didn’t have anything to be sad about. 

Grabbing the bowls of natto and tamagoyaki he walked with a confident step in the living room and placed them on the coffee table next to the couch. Dazai was still sleeping. 

Kunikida stared at his figure on the couch: should he wake him up? He looked so peaceful with his cheek pressed on the pillow. A hand was hugging his head and another was dangling out of the couch.The soft curls of his hair were flying in all directions, framing his pallid skin as he snored softly. 

Kunikida clenched his jaw: he looked disheveled, like someone that just tried to take his life a few hours before, he was a total wreck and if he didn’t know him, Kunikida would have taken him for a homeless person, yet he didn’t lose his typical fascinating aura. It was Dazai’s quirk to be able to look alluring even covered in wounds. 

…Was he drooling? 

Nevermind. Forget it. He was disgusting, if only all the women knew, they’d stop falling at his feet. Seriously, what did they see in him? Kunikida never understood why he was so popular. Were those the men that women went after nowadays? 

Alright, alright, he had to wake him up. Now. 

He got closer and hesitated before placing a hand on his shoulder. 

-Dazai? Hey, Dazai! 

He shook his figure, but Dazai only scrunched up his nose. He usually slept lightly, it was rare for him to be this fast asleep. What was with lowering his guard that much? 

Kunikida decided to shake him again, harder this time and his whole body swung on the couch. 

-Dazai, wake up! I can see that you’re breathing. Open your damn eyes! 

He was certainly breathing, Kunikida saw his chest rise and fall before and not because he was staring.

Noticing that not even the shake was able to wake him up, Kunikida put his hands on his own waist and clicked his tongue. 

-Really? Do I have to get you off the couch myself?

He leaned over and stared right at his face, squinting, because without his glasses Dazai was just a colorful dot. He indeed had his eyes closed, his skin was sprinkled with dots that weren’t visible from the distance, and he even had a few cuts here and there that cicatrised. 

There were a lot, and some looked stretched: it meant that the skin grew around them. Just how many of those were from when he was part of the Port Mafia? 

Kunikida was so lost following the trace of a longer closed wound, he missed Dazai opening his eyes.

Dazai saw Kunikida standing at less than a finger from his nose. The sleepiness from his face got wiped away immediately. 

Kunikida widened his eyes as well. 

They looked at each other, frozen in their positions. Kunikida had the impression that his heartbeat quickened out of fear: wait, wait, wait. Don’t get the wrong idea. He was trying to wake him up, that’s all, why should it be considered weird? Kunikida sighed. For some reason, since their accidental kiss Kunikida was afraid that each of his gestures could get misinterpreted as something romantic. But it wasn’t like that. 

He stumbled a few steps away, and clenched his jaw: Dazai still had to open his mouth, his widened eyes were running over his figure, still confused after being woken up in an abrupt manner. Just when he looked like he was about to talk, Kunikida decided that he couldn’t bear any teasing so he decided he had to give him a logical and composed explanation of what happened. 

-D-d-don’t get the wrong idea, you know? – He stuttered. Kunikida was sure that all his face was red. – It’s all your fault, I called you several times and you weren’t waking up, so I wanted to drag you down the couch to make you open those damned eyes you have! B-Because knowing the kind of idiot that you are, who knows if you could have died in your sleep?

His mouth was rambling and each word that came out had less meaning than the previous, he didn’t know what he was saying, he just knew that if he stopped talking, the silence was going to be way more embarrassing than his nonsensical monologue.  

While Kunikida talked, Dazai’s face morphed from confusion to amusement and then into a smirk. Kunikida wanted to dig a hole and bury himself alive. 

-So Kunikida-kun was worried about me?

-Shut up! That’s not true, I could never. I was just annoyed that I had to drag a corpse out of my apartment. 

But the fact that Dazai was in his house, added to what happened the evening before, made Kunikida aware that his sentence wasn’t working as it should. He huffed and waited until his embarrassment slowly died down. Seriously, what was with him lately, being all paranoid and jumpy?

He shot a glance at Dazai who was still sitting on the couch. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. Kunikida had even more the impression of dealing with a child. What a hassle. 

-You should eat. 

-I don’t want. 

Kunikida felt the veins at his temples bulge and throb. 

-Dazai! I swear that if you don’t eat in three seconds, I’ll stuff your mouth myself and I won’t be gentle, I assure you. 

Dazai had the courage to whine. 

-Kunikida-kun was kind to me yesterday, was it only because I wasn’t myself?

The tone of voice held a hint of teasing, yet a pang of guilt hit Kunikida in his chest. Something inside of him screamed “it’s not like that”, however those words never reached his mouth, he could only stare at the other. It was always like that. Inside of him there was a storm but it never reached the outside and he imploded.

He had good intentions, but somehow others never saw them. No matter how he tried to make it obvious or how much he showed that he cared, if his face was a frown and his voice sounded like he had murderous intentions, then that’s all people saw of him. And when people put a label on you, you become what they think. 

Lost in his thoughts, he missed Dazai‘s bandaged hand that wrapped around his shoulder. Only then, Kunikida looked up and their eyes met again. Dazai had gotten up from the couch and was now standing where he was.

He must have sensed that something was off, after all, nothing could escape Dazai’s sharp senses. That was a hassle too. 

-I was joking.

Kunikida could only swallow the lump in his throat and huff to pretend Dazai’s hand on his shoulder bothered him more than skipping the workday. 

-I knew. 

No he didn’t. And he didn’t believe that it was a joke, just like Dazai knew that he didn’t know, but at that point who was going to say it? 

The hand on his shoulder travelled up to the side of his face until it reached his fringe and joined the other one on his head. Kunikida was about to slap his hands away when he noticed that Dazai was pushing his fringe away from his eyes and trying to comb it in a way that wouldn’t have bothered him. 

Came to think of it, he had been too caught up in the events of the last few months to care about his hair, and his fringe ended up growing a little more than usual. He didn't notice until now.

He didn’t say anything, and let Dazai do as he pleased. He didn’t trust his voice, since the throat still felt closed.

He forced himself to keep the frown on his face but when Dazai’s bandaged hand brushed on his skin, he found almost natural leaning into his touch. Dazai’s gestures were skilled, as if he was used to untangle hair. Well. He is a womanizer, probably he does this for every woman he meets just to mess with them and seduce them.

His frown deepened.

-Kunikida-kun’s hair is all tangled and messy, you look like you slept on the floor. 

Dazai muttered with a quiet voice that for some reason echoed right in his chest. He slept on the floor. 

Only when Dazai undid the ponytail he noticed he dozed off with his hair tied and that it only added to his headache. In an instant, golden strands were freed from the elastic band and Dazai started combing them with slow motions that made Kunikida feel all the movements up to his head. He didn’t know where to look, so he settled for the wooden floor in front of him and stayed silent. After all, what could he say?

They basked into the silence that was less tense than usual. Kunikida didn’t know what could have eased it, but he found himself less on the edge than he had been during the last weeks, or maybe, he was too tired to care. Outside the air was still chilly and a few cars went down the road disturbing the silence for brief moments.

Dazai, weirdly enough, didn't make any jokes or teased him for having the hair looking like a nest. Kunikida peeked at him every now and then, as if to check that he was alright, but from what he could see, Dazai only wore a serious expression as if he had a lot on his mind: he wanted to ask him what it was, but he wasn’t sure if the other would have answered, and so, the words died in his throat. 

Dazai moved the locks behind his ears and their eyes locked again. 

The gesture seemed intimate, extremely so. 

He hoped that the way he swallowed wasn’t too loud. Something in his stomach pooled and warmed him from the inside, making him wish he could hide his face or run away. A bit like the protagonist of a shoujo manga. 

Only that he was a twenty two year old man, a detective, a methodical one even, and a realist. It was just weird being touched that way, considering that besides his mum no one ever brushed his hair or tried to comb it and when he grew up, she stopped too. 

It’s not like he missed small gestures like that one, but when he got home after spending the day at the desk, when people died, when a client gave him a headache, sometimes, he secretly wished there was someone to take off his glasses, run a hand through his hair and take off his shoulders a bit of the weight.

He didn’t realize how lonely he felt until now. 

Kunikida wanted to laugh.  His ideal woman should do all that, not his work partner.

he was being comforted by someone that attempted. How pathetic could he be? But if on one note he was being pathetic, on the other side he felt as if he could allow his mind to rest for a moment.

It made him sleepy again. Was it just a new way for Dazai to laugh at him, or mock him?

He frowned at himself: the thought of Dazai mocking him just hurt in the stomach, as if it was a big deal. He was really losing himself today. 

Dazai dropped his hands and admired his work before frowning in confusion. 

-You’re not wearing your glasses?

His voice startled him and he took a moment before answering. They still didn’t look away from each other. 

-I took them off before, I can’t stand them. 

-Weren’t they a part of your body?

Kunikida sighed: there were days where couldn’t stand them, even if they considered them a part of his body like he himself said years ago, before the shit went down and he learned that there were things he couldn’t see, not even with his glasses on. 

-Okay, okay, Kunikida-kun, - Dazai put two fingers in front of his face. – How many fingers are there?

Kunikida scoffed, but in the end he couldn’t suppress the smile on his lips. 

-Answer, c’mon!

-They’re two, Dazai, damn. I’m not that blind!

Dazai clapped his hands and Kunikida had the impression that all his sentimentalism from before became useless in front of Dazai opening his mouth. He should stop having those thoughts every once in a while. Not only were they embarrassing, but they also got annihilated when Dazai talked or did something. 

Just then, the phone rang. 

Kunikida grabbed it and when he read the name on the phone screen, he widened his eyes and color drained from his face. 

Only at that moment, it occurred to him that he had been so busy with the idiot in front of him that he forgot to inform Fukuzawa that he and Dazai were coming to work later than usual. Wait. 

Wait. 

He didn’t inform Fukuzawa of their absence. 

He.didn’t.inform.Fukuzawa.of.their.absence. 

Kunikida shivered in horror: one, just one time it happened he didn’t clock in unjustifiedly, and it was because he was so shocked from casualties that he couldn’t muster the strength to get out of bed. But now, what could he tell the president? “Sorry I didn’t come to work because I was busy saving Dazai’s ass, whose owner for the record, is way more competent than the whole agency put together and could save his ass on his own? Oh, but no, I always get worried when it comes to him because I have principles that oblige me to jump into a river in the middle of the fucking night?” 

No, it wasn’t funny. Maybe for someone not involved it could, but for him it wasn’t, at all. 

Dazai, forever perceptive, shot him an understanding smile. 

-The president?

-The president. 

Kunikida’s voice was devoid of any emotion. He glanced at the clock: ten o’ clock. His shift was supposed to start two hours ago. 

He pressed the green button and braced for the scolding. Never, and he swore never, he had gotten scolded by the president. What a shame. 

He put the phone next to his ear and cleared his voice. He was going to react professionally, explain the situation and provide a solution. Logical and linear. 

-Yes?

-Kunikida—

-President I’m deeply dismayed. I’m ashamed of myself, I had a complication with Dazai but I can assure you that it is nothing serious. I know I should have called in, but uh, I have no justification. Please, accept my apologies. 

There was silence from the other end of the phone, Dazai was trying to suppress a laugh while Kunikida mimicked a “fuck you” with his lips. 

-That’s not why I called you. – The president’s voice was amused too. – Although I appreciate that you explained your sudden absence. I asked the others if something happened and Naomi just dropped a stack of papers on my desk. Ranpo said I should read it. 

Kunikida’s blood ran cold. A stack of paper. It was the fanfiction. Like hell he should read it. 

-I-I’m sure they’re mistaken. Actually, that’s just an ugly joke between us in the office, please ignore them. Why did you call me by the way? 

-It’s about the case of missing people. The one with the students. 

-I thought it was closed. 

-It is. But do you remember what I told you?

The president’s voice was serious now, and Kunikida had the impression that the frown on his forehead just deepened. 

Basically what he had been told was that the principal and the custodian came from a gang background. And there was the possibility that the gang could try and strike revenge for trapping their bosses. 

Kunikida sighed.

-Yes. Something’s up?

-I suppose. One of the recent victims that you saved was found dead this morning. He was an ex member of the gang. 

The breakfast on the table had gone cold just like his blood. 

Chapter Text

The area was enclosed by the police tape for a length that went from the beginning of the road to the narrowed alleyway where the body was found. The grey clouds in the sky had gotten thicker and a cold wind rustled their clothes. Kunikida shivered, thinking that April was too cold this year.  

Fukuzawa had always been a man of few words: he told them the location and Kunikida did the rest. He skipped breakfast but he could always eat it later. It's not like the fridge would make rice inedible. 

And honestly, the moment he discovered what happened, he lost all appetite and stubbornness to force Dazai to eat something. 

Inside the giant square drawn by the forensic there was a bustling atmosphere: some were gathered in groups, others walked moving objects while others were taking photos of the place. If they weren’t dressed in white attire, they could have been easily mistaken for tourists.

Tourists staring intently at something in the middle of the street, covered with a white cloth. 

Kunikida averted his eyes. 

They crossed the tape and showed the badges to an agent that dragged them to the side. 

Since he was still lost in his thoughts, he let Dazai do the greetings and introduce the conversation. When his ears started to listen again, they were already discussing the details of the case. 

-Was he found this morning? 

Dazai asked, his eyes were already staring at the corpse lying at the end of the alleyway. 

The forensic nodded. It was a brat and probably he started working no more than a week before. His eyes still held the enthusiasm of a new employee. Ah, great, the youngsters are always full of light and desire to work, even if you kick them or insult them, they will always answer you “yessir” earnestly.

So bright and so sacrificable. 

Kunikida gave him six months. 

-We received an anonymous call. It was found here this early morning, the family doesn’t know anything yet. – He looked behind him. – But I can assure you that it has been here for a while already. At least from the night before. 

From the night before. So it meant that he had been killed at least a day after the interview with the police. Considering the timing, they fitted perfectly. 

-Sewed mouth and neck sliced in two are the only two wounds on him. But it might be more than an isolated incident. Another victim was found this way a while ago. 

Ah right, wasn’t Tanaka the teacher killed the same way a while before?

-It’s like a signature. 

Kunikida murmured and shot a glance to Dazai next to him: he had his thumb and index finger under his chin and a slight frown on his eyebrows. His serious expression meant that he was already deep in thought, his pale fingers nudging soft lips, messy curls falling over his cheeks drawing the line of his jaw— It took a while until Kunikida realized he had been staring at him for a moment too long. 

-Have you found something? – Dazai asked of the blue. – Like documents and objects that could be useful? Was something stolen? 

-Whoever it was, they didn’t take change or documents. It’s as if they weren’t interested in anything other than killing them. But yes, there was something.

He lifted a small plastic bag, the one which is usually used to keep evidence; inside there was a knife that was smaller than a dagger but bigger than a kitchen knife. To be brief, it looked like it could slice a limb and fit in a pocket. 

Kunikida squinted to see better and honestly, he had a hard time believing that a criminal could be stupid to the point of leaving their weapon on the crime scene. The blade wasn’t even stained with blood, so it was either cleaned or the knife didn’t have anything to do with the murder. 

-Something’s on your mind, Kunikida-kun?

Kunikida was startled for a moment. Then, he looked up and noticed that Dazai was staring at him with a half-smile. 

-Uh, uh?

Kill me already. 

His stomach clenched and he regretted not having breakfast that morning.

He opened and closed his mouth but he couldn’t utter a sound. His throat was stuck and the tip of his ears were turning warm: here he went again with distractions. Focus, focus.

The forensic brat moved his eyes from him to Dazai and Kunikida could only sympathize, but since the most he could do was the imitation of a fish out of water, Dazai kept talking for him. In his voice there was the trace of a smile.

-What my partner is trying to say is that this one is not the weapon that has been used to kill, it’s obvious that this knife had never been used. 

-So why was it on the victim? For self-defense? 

-But the body doesn’t have marks of this kind, right? 

-Correct. 

The forensic answered. 

-Kunikida-kun, why should a member of a gang bring a knife with them? Besides self-defense, I mean. 

They exchanged glances, and he thought for a moment. Then, the solution came without too much effort: after all, if it wasn’t A, it was B.

-Identification. – His eyes stood unwavering on Dazai’s. – To show that they are part of a said gang. 

Dazai nodded and his eyes took a look at his whole face before averting his stare and looking at the forensic again. 

Sensing a faint feeling of embarrassment crept from the back of his neck, Kunikida hurried to ask another question. If the tension between them rose again, then they were likely to lose all the possibilities to solve the case. 

-B-but this victim was an ex-member, why did he still have it with him?

-There might be several reasons. – Dazai answered immediately. His eyes were a bit distant and he seemed to get lost in his thoughts. –Who knows? Maybe he knew someone was coming for him and he wanted to use the dagger to save his life. A weapon is always a weapon.

Those words sunk into him immediately. 

Kunikida had the impression that Dazai was again hinting at something about his life, that only he knew and that experienced in first person and that obviously, put him in a bad mood like everything that was bound to his past. 

Each time his eyes got that distant, Kunikida wondered how much Dazai experienced in the short span of twenty-two years of his life. They were peers, right? So why did he have the impression that he was twenty-two while Dazai was something like his old grandfather? And why the sentence: “oh you’re so mature for your age” sounded rather painful if he thought about Dazai? 

Put that way, there wasn’t anything positive in being older than his age. He always thought of it like a compliment, but now if he considered Dazai, it was a whole different story. 

His stomach churned and he looked away, redirecting his attention to the brat in front of him. They should close this conversation and think about a plan as soon as possible. 

-Can we take it? – He pointed at the dagger in the plastic bag. – We have reasons to believe that it might work as a link for another case we are investigating. 

However, just when Kunikida began to believe that things were going the right way, the brat lifted his eyebrows and sighed. 

-I’d like to let you have it, really. But we have to register and analyze it, first. Then, we may. 

Kunikida lifted an eyebrow. Fair. 

-Can we at least take a photo then?

-I’m not sure. 

Alright, now Kunikida was literally frowning. Stupid brats, fresh from academic studies, wanted to follow rules by book, didn’t they? Even if Kunikida liked to follow the rules, those were his own rules, built with years on the field. These brats should know that forensics without detectives were useless, they only knew how to cut people or list weapons, left on their own they were nothing but assorted trash—

Dazai chuckled and Kunikida was torn away from his thoughts: he turned his head and noticed that Dazai was looking at him again, the dark from his eyes was nowhere to be seen, instead, they seemed bright despite the weather. 

His laugh rang in his ears for instants but he acted as if nothing and scowled. 

-Kunikida-kun, stop glaring at that poor boy like an old grumpy man. Weren’t you a teacher? – He cracked his knuckles. – Now, look how I fix everything up. 

…He was starting to believe that he saved him the evening before just to kill him with his bare hands. 

He wanted to tell him to shut up, but Dazai already left his side and was now trotting in the direction of a cute forensic woman with an elegant smile plastered on his lips. 

Kunikida immediately knew where this was going. His gut revolted so much that he completely missed how the brat from before had left their side and placed the evidence on a table. He was now back at the centre of the crime scene minding his own business. 

But he couldn’t care less: he looked at Dazai winking at the forensic, she giggled as if he said the funniest thing in the world. He averted his eyes again.

Tsk. 

He gripped the pockets of his trousers and focused his eyes on the grey clouds of the sky, because he didn’t know why, but the sight of Dazai acting like that made his skin crawl. 

It was extremely difficult to look at. In his chest, a bundle tangled and untangled making it difficult to express what he was feeling. He didn’t know what it was, but he wanted it to go away. 

He just wanted it to go away.

And he wasn’t acting like an “old grumpy man”!

-Easier than stealing candies from a sleeping monkey. 

Dazai giggled as he admired the photo of the evidence he had on the phone. 

Kunikida huffed and if it weren’t he was driving, he would have rolled his eyes. 

-Monkeys don’t eat candies.

Was his weak retort, spat sourer than he meant. He knew they had the evidence and he should be happy about it, but for some reason, he was really, really pissed off and he had been since he left the site. 

Kunikida grabbed the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. His chest was hosting a bonfire and he couldn’t stop thinking that another person thanked them for having their life saved only to die after a few days. 

The traffic light was turning yellow but Kunikida pressed on the pedal and crossed the street before it turned red. Dazai frowned slightly but it went unseen by Kunikida. 

Death, death, death everywhere. He thought his job revolved around saving people and not about getting a culture about torture, bombs and guns, but you know what? Fine, if you have to save someone you have also to learn about the possible dangers. It was a normal consequence to some extent. 

But lately he had the impression he was failing at saving everyone and everything. It was one thing not being able to save everyone, while it was another not to be able to save anyone. He couldn’t even guarantee the safety of this person, after all they had endured because of the custodian. 

Just one. He couldn’t even do that.

Either the criminals were becoming more cunning or he was getting worse at being a detective. 

He sighed and made a turn without slowing down. Dazai literally flew from one side of the seat to the other, but Kunikida was too lost in his thoughts to notice the side glance of his partner. 

He saved Dazai but the thought that he could still be somewhere else with his head made his stomach churn painfully.

Glancing sideways, he observed him. The cuts were already better and barely noticeable. However, Kunikida recalled perfectly where they were and he immediately looked at the exact spots to see if they were still red. They weren’t. 

Was he tired? Did some parts of him hurt? 

Did his arm ache? Because like hell he was going to let him go on the battlefield injured. This time he was going to be serious; they couldn’t allow missions to be delayed or slowed down, if one of them was injured, then they were going to stay out of it. 

It was for the sake of work. It was efficient, and he was the king of efficiency.

This morning he looked like he was fine, at least his head worked like always in front of the forensic so why now did he look nauseated— 

He was still trying to process his thoughts when he had to press on the pedal brake to avoid hitting a pedestrian. 

Cold sweat ran on his back while he exchanged glances with the stranger that was glaring at him the same way Kunikida did with criminals. He waited for the person to get out of the way to start the car again. He panted heavily and fixed his glasses in order to regain composure. 

Silence followed for several minutes, and he thought that at least this time he was safe from what usually happened when he was distracted and had something on his mind. 

-Kunikida-kun. 

Nevermind. 

Kunikida wished to choke on his spit. But no, such things only happen in fanfictions, and he wasn’t in one of them, so he just stiffened his shoulders and pretended he didn’t hear Dazai. 

However, since when has ignorance stopped that annoying partner of his? That bastard. 

-It’s all morning that you’re distracted. – He stated. Kunikida wasn’t looking at him but he could hear the smirk in his voice. – Sleeping on the floor didn’t do you any good. 

Even if it was meant as a joke, the meaning behind those words was pretty obvious and Kunikida didn’t like it at all. He already suspected that Dazai didn’t trust him anymore, let alone now making him believe that he burdened him the night before. 

If Kunikida could be more open, if he were the kind of person that could openly say “I care about you” instead of “I want to kick you in the guts” as a form of affection, maybe Dazai wouldn’t have felt like a burden. Why were they paired together? Was it because he was without a partner back then? Or did they really worth something?

Did he himself worth something at this point? 

Since the mere thought of opening a conversation about his worsening mental state wasn’t in his plans, he tried to change the topic. 

-What do you think of this case?

Dazai’s eyes lingered on him for a moment, then, since Kunikida didn’t even spare a glance to him, he got back to look at the road. 

-That it will require more patience than what you think. – He replied vaguely. He didn’t sound interested in thinking about it. – Some old-fashioned methods. 

Kunikida let his eyes wander on him before redirecting them on the street. Old-fashioned methods? 

His confusion increased and Kunikida came to the conclusion that no matter what, he and Dazai were no longer able to cooperate like before. What he could understand in the blink of an eye, now were just confused words.

There were times in which he thought that maybe he was overthinking and that all those problems were just in his head, but then he reminisced about how the previous case went and his chest clenched, because his perceptions were right. 

Dazai had always been his solid shoulder whenever he had a doubt, but his cryptic words, his attempt to hide everything, his sudden distance left him with a weight on his chest, as if he’d lost the only support he had while investigating. He hadn’t realized that he was one, just one but that made him feel like he could solve everything as long as they worked together; now Dazai no longer walked next to him.

Roughly, Kunikida could divide his life in two parts: the first before the fall of the agency and the second after the reopening, and even if the two parts were divided by only a few months, he felt like he was completely a different person. 

Change was part of life, only that he preferred it the way it was before. 

The agency building came into view and he braced himself for another long day, the heaviness of the black clouds in the sky somehow reflected the lump in his stomach.

Dazai, always his shadow, followed him closely when he opened the office door. Some of their colleagues were already there, yet, the empty chairs were more than the occupied ones. It looked like they weren’t the only ones being late. 

He was about to greet the others but his mouth ran dry when he noticed the newspapers on his desk. Fucking journalists. 

The news was already in the journals in the office. Those who looked at the agency with skepticism were already spreading the information with giant titles and strong words, while the few that were on their part tried to support them with poor remarks that sounded too much from the comment section of a social media. 

“Armed detective agency: new opening, new victims”.

“Guy found dead on the outskirts. Armed detective agency in the eye of the storm again”.

“Detectives let the guy die. Did the armed detective agency really get back on track?”

Honestly? They just sounded sensationalistic, but Kunikida had learned from experience that people were going to believe every single word. People always believed public opinion, as long as it was well-written. 

He stared at the page of the journal but he couldn’t bring his face to move to make an expression. If he was mad, disgusted or tired, it wasn’t possible to understand. 

After a few moments, he tossed it on the desk and kept walking towards the meeting room. Dazai followed him in silence. 

There was nothing he could do if it was already printed. 

The meeting room was empty if it weren’t for the president standing with his back to the door, staring outside the window. The atmosphere was heavy, he could feel that. 

The photo of a corpse on the whiteboard in the meeting room wasn’t exactly the right way to start a day, but since the agency’s reopened Kunikida couldn’t recall a day that started well.

The case was just opened and they already had a victim, a victim that was an ex-criminal. How the hell should he feel about it? 

“No one deserved to die”, that’s what was written in his ideal, but during the Hunting Dogs mess a lot of people wanted them dead, people that they saved over and over. Kunikida was used to sighing in resignation and letting go: it wasn’t like he could force gratitude on people, nor did he do his job to seek gratitude but now if he thought about it, a faint pang of annoyance ignited in his chest.

He narrowed his eyes: if common people liked to spit on them, let alone criminals. How should he feel about their victim being a culprit? Happy? Sad? Bothered? 

The line between good and bad was blurring and he wasn’t sure anymore. 

Did Dazai always feel like that? 

He glanced at the man next to him: the frightened man from the night before was gone, replaced by the usual confident detective. If he was still dwelling on those distorted thoughts, then he was hiding it perfectly. 

At the crime scene he had been so caught up in asking about the victim that he didn’t think about anything else. Only now he was taking a closer look at Dazai: his clothes were still crumpled from river water but when had Dazai been tidy and put up? Never, so it wasn’t something out of the norm.  

Unconsciously, his eyes fell on his left arm, the one that had been bleeding all night: white soft cloth wrapped his limb up to his wrist, so candid it looked like a cloud but for a second Kunikida could still see the red blood dripping from the wound. 

Dazai turned to look at him, his eyes opened slightly in surprise and Kunikida’s stomach felt weird again. 

-Kunikida. 

Dazai’s lips didn’t move. It was the president that called him. He turned his head and he found him standing in front of the long desk with papers in hands, his expression was the one that could be described as confused and worried. Like the one of an apprehensive dad looking at their soon going to school for the first time. 

Wait, what kind of comparison was that?

-President, I think he didn’t hear a word. – Dazai stared at him with a (very bad) repressed smile. – It’s all my fault, I’m too charming that I distract from the mission. 

Kunikida clenched his fists and clenched his jaw. Damned Dazai, as if he could be distracted by a man being “charming”. 

He cleared his voice and proceeded to ignore Dazai.

-I apologize. I’m listening. 

Fukuzawa shot him one last glance before repeating the parts he hadn't heard.

-As I was saying, the forensic updated you on details, so I won’t say them again. – He attached the photo of a victim next to the old one: a shiver went down Kunikida’s back. It was Tanaka the teacher. – Our attention should be focused on the modus operandi of the murder. These two, they were killed the same way.

Mouth sewed in a smile, throat sliced. It was their signature. It was common for gangs and illegal associations to leave a signature on a murder scene: just like legal franchises had a stamp to put on paper, gangs usually put uh well, their “signature” on corpses. Be it a letter, a gesture or the amputation of a limb, it usually served the purpose of “marking the territory”.

Like dogs that pee on objects. 

While leaving something on the crime scene might be considered an unforgivable mistake, the signature was a must. Such were the rules of the underworld. 

-Isn’t it a bit weak as evidence? – Dazai pondered. – Even if it’s their signature, we can’t be sure. The only data we have is what the principal told me when I was being held captive plus two lines of what the ex-member said. Realistically speaking, we don’t have any tangible evidence and a just oral witness that for the record, is no longer alive. We don’t even know their intentions. 

-Don’t they want to seek revenge?

In all the answers, Dazai laughed and Kunikida stared at him astonished: the gang killed the ex-member because he talked and revealed that their bosses were part of a gang, exposing them, and now that they were imprisoned, the gang sought revenge. Didn’t they state this just a few days ago? What was he laughing about? 

-That’s not the only reason why criminal organizations murder ex-members, if they murdered him, obviously. – His eyes seemed to darken a bit. – They obviously are pissed we trapped their bosses, but it might have nothing to do with them killing the ex-member. They might have gone after him because of unpaid debts, unpaid favours, and then maybe, after them talking. 

-What about the timing? 

-That might be the only useful aspect. It’s the only aspect that can link the victim to the gang looking for revenge. But besides that, at the moment, this murder, the pair principal-custodian and the gang seeking revenge might be three separate things. 

Kunikida felt the headache approaching already. He thought it was going to be easier, since the criminals, the targets of all the situations, were already imprisoned. He completely erased from his mind the fact that their theories were just theories. 

They had no evidence of them seeking revenge, they had no evidence the victim was silenced, they had no evidence the cases were linked; the only suggestion they had was the timing and the people involved. But the said people involved, that were first in the suspects list, were actually imprisoned. 

-And the sewed mouth? Can we at least hazard a pattern? 

Dazai tapped on the table with his fingers, deep in thought. 

-Hazard is the right word, Kunikida-kun. This case is pretty famous already in the media.

And Kunikida understood immediately. 

The case was having a lot of media phenomenon, because people love distracting themselves from their tragedies by watching tragedies of others. Both the good, and the bad kind. Murders on imitations weren’t a novelty, and the criminals that sought fame imitating famous or “trendy” killings were a lot. It was just as Dazai said, they didn’t have any tangible or attendable evidence. Only suppositions. 

They were at a disadvantage but as always, Dazai saw through things. He was relieved that he didn’t have to spend entire days on the wrong side of the mission. The bad mood from before eased a little and the pang of annoyance in his chest eased a little.

He realized he was staring and redirected his eyes on the table in front of him, feigning to be deep in thought. He felt a bit embarrassed for no reason. 

-We’re without any lead or evidence. – He stated and looked at the president. – There isn’t anything else? A clue? An anonymous confession? Anything?

The president, who had listened in silence until now, sighed and placed the papers on the desk. 

-There’s nothing else. – Kunikida felt a stab in his stomach. – However, the two criminals are still in custody, waiting for the trial. If you think a talk may help you get something more out of it, you should go. What do you think?

They nodded together and the president didn’t need anything else to deliberate the verdict. 

-Alright. We have two objectives in this situation. The first one is identifying the gang, discovering who they are and where they are located. The second is to assure ourselves of the nature of their intentions. This case might be linked to the previous and the agency’s reputation is still staggering. 

Kunikida understood way too well what the president meant. They couldn’t fail. 

Their shoes clicked on the floor of the police building. Kunikida rarely visited prisons, usually he just handcuffed the criminal and handed them to the police; from that moment on, it was their business. But now things were different, since the case was still open and no official trial sentenced the principal and the custodian yet. 

Indeed, prisons sucked, even more than hospitals. Kunikida grimaced at the thought; the air was damp and the atmosphere reeked of tension, or was he having prejudices? 

He peeked next to him: Dazai looked around the long corridor that was full of cellars, some empty, others not. His eyes flickered with interest but the thin line of his lips told a different story. 

Dazai must’ve felt stared at, because he turned his head to look at him. Kunikida glanced away, feigning to stare at the guard in front of him that was bringing them to the interrogation room. 

He swallowed once, then twice. In the end, he couldn’t hold the weight on his chest anymore and decided to talk. 

-You’re not unwell, right?

If he didn’t look, he could keep the tips of his ears from turning red.What was with his obsession for Dazai’s health? He was just relieved that the tension between them seemed to be a bit more bearable since the night before. 

Yes, it had to be like that. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the fluffy wig turn to look at him. 

-Mh?

The tip of his ears turned red. 

Honestly what the fuck—

-I-I said, you’re not unwell, right?

-That’s what you’ve been wanting to ask since morning?

-Could you stop reading my mind? – Kunikida snapped and turned his head to look at him. – There’s something called “privacy”.

-I’m fine, I’m fine. After all, I’m not a newbie at it.  

Dazai’s tone was light, but Kunikida’s heart ached for an instant. Then, he shook his head: what was he worrying for? Dazai tried to kill himself several times and he was still as fit as a fiddle, right? He should stop worrying and even if he attempted again, he was going to be fine, Yosano and the doctors could do miracles!

…No. He couldn’t feel better about it. He swallowed and tried to find another topic. 

-Why are we going to talk to the principal but not to the custodian?

-Firstly, because the custodian is under strict surveillance, since he’s an ability user, and secondly, the principal’s the one likely to talk. – Dazai shrugged. – I’m sure the custodian would prefer to kill himself instead of talking with us. 

-Shouldn’t we press him exactly because he’s the one that won’t talk?

Dazai halted his steps and stared at Kunikida. His eyes felt like two black holes staring right at him and his stomach plunged. 

-Considering the state of things now, do you really want to waste resources and time on something uncertain, or do you want to get on with the case? Efficiency Kunikida-kun, efficiency. 

He patted his shoulder and Kunikida had to swallow a retort when the guard opened the door of the room. 

-Sorry to interrupt you. – His voice was dark like the purple circles around his eyes. – We’re here. 

The principal was sitting behind the metallic table, the room was dark and gloomy, without windows and no more than a flickering light on the ceiling. Around his wrists there were the metal handcuffs and around his ankles chains that bound him to the chair. 

It may have sounded extreme but it was to prevent him from escaping, since they were always talking about an ability user. He still had to be moved to the prison for ability users, but fortunately his ability was useless without the custodian and for the moment, keeping him there wasn’t going to cause problems. 

Dazai could nullify his ability with a tap of his fingers, yet Kunikida was still wary and unconsciously moved in front of Dazai as soon as they entered the room. Ability user or not, this man was the one who held his partner hostage and stabbed him with a pair of scissors. At the thought, his hands clenched on the table.

He took a deep breath and pushed up his glasses, only then did he finally find the strength to look at him in the eyes without the desire to punch his face. 

The signs of prison were showing on his face: dark circles under his eyes, pale face and disheveled hair. 

He was certain of one thing: he didn’t look like the criminal they fought days before. Yet, if he thought about what he did, he couldn’t bring himself to sympathize with him. 

-Principal-san, I can see prison isn’t doing anything good to you. 

Dazai mocked him and refused to use his real name. 

-It is a prison. What did you expect? 

He smiled back in mockery and Kunikida narrowed his eyes. 

Well, you should have considered this before kidnapping people

-Anyway, we’re not here to make a fuss. – If he didn’t interrupt that discussion, he knew they weren’t heading in a good direction. – We’re here for this. 

He threw Dazai’s phone on the table and showed the principal the photo of the knife. Immediately, color drained from his face and he pushed himself as far as the handcuffs allowed. The chains clanged against the table. 

-N-No, I can’t help you. Sorry, but I can’t. 

-Your reaction says that you can help us. 

Kunikida lifted an eyebrow in front of the frightened expression of the principal; that reaction was weird. Considering that he was one of the bosses along with the custodian, he should have laughed at that photo. What kind of boss fears his own subordinates?

The principal was grabbing the edge of the table as he kept swallowing. His head never stopped swinging from right to left to say “no”. 

-No I can’t. You’re wrong. – He insisted as a slight layer of sweat reflected the cold light of the room. He shook his head without tearing it away from the photo. – That knife. It’s been so long since I’ve seen it.

-We know. – Kunikida said, referring to the fact that they knew a bit of his background, and the principal, who wasn’t stupid, understood immediately. He closed his eyes in resignation. – Even if you can’t tell us everything, can you at least tell us what the “M” stands for? 

The principal hesitated. 

-It’s the name of the gang. They’re called the Moles. 

The tension in the room dissipated for a second.

…Seriously? The Moles? Before it was the Rats in the house of the dead, then the Hunting Dogs and now the Moles. What is this city? A fucking zoo? 

Kunikida wanted to quit and go fishing in the countryside. Dazai refused his leave of absence? Okay, he was going to take it. 

If it weren’t for his stupid sense of duty that didn’t allow him to free himself from his work. 

He cleared his voice. 

-We need to know their location. 

-Why should I tell you?

-We know you and the custodian are important there. And now that you’re imprisoned, don’t you think they’ll start rioting and causing feuds? Do you really want them to perish? 

At that, the principal snorted and leaned back on the chair. 

-Detectives, even if they destroy each other, I couldn’t care less. – He spat, his huge hands slammed on the table and made it tremble. –With the crimes I’ve committed, my trial won’t be light and probably I won’t be around for a while; once I’ll be out, I’ll have all eyes on me. It’s not like I care about them now. 

-If you cooperate with us, we can try to reduce your trial and make you an informant. 

-I have no interest in working along with you. I made my mistakes and I should pay for them. 

Kunikida was at a loss for words. No matter what he said, the principal didn’t look like he cared about the Moles, neither he was interested in going back to them nor in working to arrest them. 

It sounded like it was a topic he didn’t want to talk about at all, despite remembering everything, like when someone asks about a long lost person in your life and you go “Whatever, is in the past”; when in reality, the memories are still vivid. 

He had no interest in what happened to them, so Kunikida was left without resolve: he thought he could force him to talk, making up the possibility of a riot, but he sounded relieved at the news. At that point it was difficult even to guess if the gang was on his way to rescue him and the guardian. Given his indifference, could it be that it was the other way around too? 

-You should pay for your mistakes, that’s true. – Dazai’s voice was as calm as always. – But you can pay in many different ways. Torture, prison, the infinite wait of your trial. The free time that you have here that makes you reminisce about past times. 

The chill in his voice was sharp and hit Kunikida on his skin to the point it gave him goosebumps. 

-Or, you can help us. Do you remember what you told me in that basement?

Wow.  

The man nodded. Of course he remembered. He said he wanted to help people, that he didn’t want the others to suffer like he did. 

-You can help people now. Helping us. That’s not what you wanted?

The principal ran his eyes on Dazai, astonished. Kunikida felt that; he knew his partner was good with words but this was straight up one of the best attempts he made at manipulating someone. 

Get your shit together, Doppo. 

-I-alright. – The principal gave up. – But I can’t say much. He will know otherwise. 

-He?

-Hideki. 

Ah, the custodian. Kunikida frowned. He was imprisoned too but in a different pavilion, how could he know? Besides, they were allies, even if he knew, it’s not like he could kill him. 

The principal, as if he read his thoughts, widened his eyes and leaned over the table again. 

-Believe me, he always knows everything, there’s no escape. – His voice grew desperate and he leaned further towards Kunikida. – Probably he even knows we’re talking now. 

His breath grew heavier and some spits of saliva reached Kunikida right in his face. 

-You want my help? Fine. But I can’t say much. 

His eyes seemed more focused by the end of his speech and he lowered them on the table, as if he was seeing something that the others couldn’t. 

-I don’t want to die, please. 

Kunikida swallowed, and his eyes fell unconsciously on his hands.

If it weren’t for the handcuffs, he would be clutching his arms now, probably crushing them and leaving purple marks that were going to hurt for days, preventing him from sleeping on his sides— He didn’t realize his body stiffened until a warm hand was placed on his forearm.

He followed with his eyes the trail of the bandages up to the shoulder until reaching Dazai’s face: he was staring at the principal with an half-amused expression.

-Alright, tell us what you can. 

At that, the principal calmed down, but Kunikida’s mind couldn’t ask any questions; the warmth spreading from Dazai’s hand was distracting him from everything else. 

-It’s not much. The Moles are not this great gang you think. They’re a bit stupid even. They tried to make trials with large criminal organizations, but they always failed because they’re not that skilled in combat. I mean, they’re not from the army or the police so what kind of support could they provide? Most of it is from the practice to survive. 

-And what do they do?

The principal sighed. 

-Money laundering. 

Rain began to fall in the late afternoon. The black clouds finally couldn’t take it anymore and started to flood the streets with water. Everything turned gloomy and the freezing air tasted like fried chips and terrible life decisions, making Kunikida’s nose sting and turn red. 

As he stepped on the stairs that lead to a house in a small district, he mentally thanked his ability that allowed him to make the umbrella that was sheltering him now. 

Dazai followed behind, refusing to share the umbrella (“I like the rain, Kunikida-kun”). His breath turned into white puffs in the air as he stared curiously at the houses lined up on the narrow street. He was silent and glanced around with curious eyes. 

Kunikida stopped in front of a certain house: Dazai and him never met; Atsushi had been here once or twice during emergencies but besides him, among the newbies, no one ever met him. He already left the agency when Dazai joined, and maybe it was better like that: those two would have gotten on his nerves for different reasons; one would spend his days locked up in a room while the other would pester him like he already does. 

It’s not like he wanted the two of them to meet, but the principal didn’t tell them about the Mole’s location, so the first thing he and Dazai had to do was find them. 

Opening the door with a slam he started yelling. 

-Katai! It’s me, where are you? – He didn’t wait for an answer and stepped into the threshold. – Are you still asleep? Didn’t I tell you that waking up late is unhealthy? Get your ass out of that blanket and do something!

Dazai blinked, a bit astonished, before following his partner into the apartment. 

The latter was worse than his; rubbish all over the tatami , dirty dishes in the sink, and the room would’ve been pitch black if it weren’t for the LCD screens that colored the place with bluish lights. 

Kunikida kicked the blanket that shuddered under his touch. 

-Uh, Kunikida-kun?

Dazai was at a loss for words. 

Kunikida huffed and crossed his arms, then leaned over him, still eyeing the blanket, but his voice softened.

-It’s always like this, he will react in more or less than five minutes. 

In fact, after a few moments the blanket rustled and a face came out. 

-Kunikida, what are you doing here?

Straight to the point. Kunikida fumed. 

-I told you I was coming!

-I was asleep. – He scratched his head: the dark circles under his eyes highlighted a difficult night’s sleep. He observed him for a while and then sighed. – A case, then? You’re in office clothes. 

At that, Kunikida relaxed a bit and explained the situation. 

-It might take a while. – Katai rubbed his chin and dragged a laptop in front of his eyes. – Gangs usually hide in secluded places. We have to hope that city cameras are there as well. 

-You talk as if you don’t know the city cameras like the back of your hand. 

Kunikida rolled his eyes and sighed: he didn’t need pessimism from the others in his life, he himself was enough.  

Katai shot a glance behind him and Kunikida was reminded that he still had to introduce Dazai who was observing them in silence. Probably he didn’t need to get introduced, at that point he already understood what was going on, who Katai was, and the ten best ways to get something from him, but Kunikida did it anyway because he had manners, after all. 

-Oh right. Dazai this one is Katai. A sort of, uh, friend of mine and agency’s informant. 

Dazai moved his eyes from him to Katai, then, as if he thought of something, he smiled and leaned over to introduce himself. They exchanged a few words, but it was mostly Dazai carrying on the conversation. 

Noticing that Dazai activated the “I start asking everything about everything I see” mood, Kunikida relaxed a bit and decided to go and take care of chores, since Katai was never going to do it. 

He went for the dishes first, because the pile was reaching the ceiling. 

Every once in a while he leaned over to look at the two sitting in the main room, just to check if Dazai was plotting on destroying something out of curiosity. The hot water was fogging up his glasses so he couldn’t help stealing more glances just to clean them. Sometimes their eyes met, and Kunikida’s stomach ached so much he turned his head back on the dishes. 

He tried to focus on the cleaning and averted his eyes every single time but it was difficult, because the water was making his face too warm. 

Didn’t he catch a fever, did he? He couldn’t fall ill, he really couldn’t. He already had to look after Dazai since the idiot didn’t tell him anything, if he got sick too, then they were done for. 

But he guessed that whatever could happen,Dazai was never going to talk, because he possibly lost all the trust he had in him. 

His movements slowed down: come to think of it, Dazai wasn’t in the wrong this time. Kunikida gave him several reasons to despise him and hide things from him but Dazai never acted like he sought revenge, he just passively took what Kunikida told him; he morphed and adapted to each harsh word thrown at him. 

“Don’t talk to me unless it’s work-related”; he did it, and he hid the fact that he jumped in the river. 

“Are you fine?” He said he was, but how can you be fine after an attempt?

Their conversations, the lighter and the heavier, really revolved solely around work. 

The fact that he was still here, accompanying him on a mission could be interpreted as an act of affection? 

They were partners but the agency had always been flexible about detective pairs changes during missions: he himself ended up being paired up with either Atsushi or Tanizaki often, and also Dazai worked a lot with Ranpo or Atsushi. 

And it wasn’t like him doing things out of affection. Probably he was thinking that working together was the only way to carry out the mission. 

He sighed and closed the water. With a cloth, he started to dry the dishes. 

He never opposed him or to his decisions, despite pestering him and destroying his peace daily, Dazai never tried to overstep anything.

Dazai has followed him like his shadow, even after their argument. Kunikida had treated him in the worst way possible but Dazai was still there. 

At that point, the explanation was only one: Dazai was a masochist. Yes, it had to be like that; his dark past led him to develop twisted morals and now he enjoyed being hurt. 

Doppo, you’re a genius.

A sneeze tore him out of his thoughts. He leaned again from the kitchen and noticed that it came from Dazai. 

He frowned. He tossed the towel on the sink and headed towards Dazai. When he was close enough, he slammed his hand on his hair. In reality, he wanted to place it gently, but he put too much strength. 

As he expected: it was soaked. Idiot. Absolute idiot. If he fell sick, did he know how much the mission could be delayed?

-Moron. I told you to stay under the umbrella before. – He stomped to the bathroom where he grabbed a towel as he never stopped mumbling. – What if you fall sick, huh?

Dazai whined a subdued “Kunikida-kun”, to which Kunikida yelled a “shut up!” Back. After that, there was silence again. He let Kunikida dry his hair under the curious stare of the third person in the room. 

No one talked for a moment and only the buzzing of computers lingered in the air; Katai shot a glance at Kunikida and stared at him silently for an instant. 

-It must be hard to put up with him. – Katai commented out of the blue. His eyes never left Kunikida but it was obvious that the indirect question was for Dazai. – He’s picky and incredibly obsessed with rules and work. 

Hey!

-Kunikida-kun is annoying most of the time. – Dazai ignored how Kunikida seemed to stroke his hair harder at the insult, his head swung back and forth because of Kunikida’s ministration.– But he’s not always like that. Sometimes he even does my work. He’s not that bad.

…Why did he have the impression he had been roasted? And what was the definition of “not bad”, huh? Decent? Passable? Kunikida thought he was better than that, his section of self-improvement on his ideal listed all the points to improve himself and he was following them daily. 

What was with all this pity for him? 

He tossed the towel next to the pile of dirty clothes that had to be put into the washing machine (that he had to do, obviously) and huffed. 

-Whatever. At what point is the research?

He needed to change the topic, now. 

-Almost done, hopefully. 

The conversation came to an end. Kunikida didn’t know why, but he had the impression that Katai was observing him since he entered the room. His stare was usually unfocused and it was obvious from meters far that he didn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone. But today he had a glint in his eyes, as if he was thinking deeply about something, even now that he was staring at the screen quietly. 

Little did Kunikida know that his doubts were about to be answered. 

Looking like he pondered enough what he wanted to say, Katai glanced up from one of his computers, his expression was as stoic as ever but Kunikida had been knowing him for too long to not notice the gears in his head moving. 

His eyes shifted from Dazai that was intently staring at a city map to Kunikida next to him. The latter lifted an eyebrow.

-What?

-He’s fine. – He replied vaguely and returned with his eyes glued to the screen. – Though I didn’t expect you to get into an office romance, since you used to say that work and private life are two different things. 

Kunikida turned his head to him so fast his own hair slapped his face. Office romance? Why, why did it sound like something he already heard in the office? Didn’t Naomi use the same words while talking to Sigma a while ago? 

And how did Katai know this term? Did he read fanfiction too? Why had he never known about that?

He opened and closed his mouth a few times without making a sound. Warmth crept from the back of his neck and he could only speak in whispers to avoid drawing Dazai’s attention.

-W-w-what are you saying? Did too much screen time get to your head?

-I’ve known you for a while and I’ve never seen you get mad over something like wet hair and getting sick. 

Silence. 

-Most of the time you would say something like: “accept the consequences of your actions and perish” or go on a two-hours lecture about health before helping someone. You completely jumped the lecture part, what you told him isn’t even close to what you say to the others. 

Kunikida was sure that the tip of his ears were red by now. His heart was hammering in his chest and he dragged himself closer to his friend (?) to lower his voice further. 

-There’s nothing with no one, let alone with a man. 

His patience was wearing thin. 

He was straight, he had fifty eight ideal points for his ideal woman, was it so difficult to understand for the people around him? He liked women, he wanted to get married with a woman and start a family with a woman; traditional and linear like that. 

-Right, you’re still looking for your ideal woman. 

Katai commented with zero conviction. 

-Right, my ideal woman. 

He repeated to state his point. His heart was still beating against his ribcage when the computer pointed at a certain spot on a map.

-Found them. 

Katai pointed at a spot on the screen and Kunikida understood. If you’re a criminal in Yokohama and you want to hide from the police, that one is the only place where you could live for years without being caught. It was the place where the night was the favourite time of the day, where the most valuable currency were people and weapons, where words like kidnapping and black market were used as if talking about the weather.  

Suribachi. The least legal place in Yokohama. 

Kunikida hung up the phone call with the president and got in the car. His ears were still burning from embarrassment. Why was everyone interested in his and Dazai’s partnership? And why did everyone look at them like they were a couple? Were people so frustrated that they had to imagine things? And things between him and a man of all things. 

He put on the seatbelt and looked at his partner. 

-So?

-So what?

Dazai turned to look at him from his seat. 

-Why did you say that we needed old fashioned methods to solve the case?

Up until that moment, Kunikida didn’t see anything “old fashioned” in using computers and listening to suspects and witnesses. 

Dazai’s laugh reached Kunikida right in his chest. He pushed down the feeling though. 

He started the car and got away from the neighbourhood, towards the large column of cars that were flooding the central road. The rain was still falling, although lighter than before. The smell of water in the air carried the perfume of petals, making the air sweet. 

Kunikida felt a plunge in his stomach, and his mind got filled by a lot of disconnected memories of him and Dazai together, especially during the first times of their work. 

Come to think of it, he hadn’t thought about it for a while; not that he thought about it often, but it would happen that those memories would sound comforting especially during the whole terrorism issue. He was left with nothing but the memories of him and the others working together, and Dazai always ended up taking all his mind. 

He remembered well what he thought about him during their first case—

Disgusting. What was with all this sentiment? When did he start to feel all dreamy and sentimental about fucking petals and rain? What was this, a low budget terebi dorama* ?

It was in the middle of his crisis that Dazai talked again. 

-Say Kunikida-kun, what’s the best way to understand a gang’s intention? 

He wanted to roll his eyes: honestly, couldn’t he just say what he thought? Oh no, they had to play guess each time he had a doubt. God forbid if Dazai spoke like an average human-being. 

But giving up without trying made his skin crawl so he decided to think about it just because shutting Dazai’s smile down with a “I don’t care, just tell me” made his heart clench. They had enough misunderstandings lately, he didn’t want another one to be added to the pile. 

Let’s see. Uh, it couldn’t be staking out, because it would bring this case nowhere, and arresting them on the spot would be useless too. 

Oh no. 

He got it. 

It was something so embarrassing that he wished to never do it again. 

He turned to look at Dazai and the other just clapped his hands, happy that the other understood. 

-That’s my partner. 

He felt his whole face turn red. Pressing on the pedal, he stopped abruptly before the traffic light turned red, and Dazai for the second time in the day, flew right in the windscreen of the car. 

Kunikida fixed his glasses and cleared his voice. 

-Sorry, my leg slipped. 

They bought modest clothes and headed towards Suribachi. To avoid rising suspicions they left the company car a few meters behind and decided to go on walk. Kunikida walked stiffly and with each step he took, he thought about how those ripped jeans and white shirt didn’t fit him at all. 

Dazai however, was a whole different story. How could someone look that attractive with even indecent clothes on?

Kunikida fixed the collar of his shirt, his hair loose and ruffled swung from left to right, he never looked that unkept. He sighed. 

Undercover. They were going undercover.The plan was the following: they had to infiltrate the Moles and understand their intentions, discover why and if they killed the ex-member and stop them if they were to try and free the custodian and the principal. And what was the best way to infiltrate an illegal gang? Robbing them. 

-Aw, this is soo nostalgic, - Dazai beamed as he looked at his fingerless gloves and ripped jeans. – It reminds me of that mission at the Embassy. Time flies ah. 

Kunikida shook his head, yet, when he heard Dazai referring to their first case at the American Embassy his heart softened; they had been through a lot, haven’t they? Anyway, they were in the middle of a mission and he couldn’t allow any distractions.He bit down a smile. 

-Stop making all these noises, they’re gross. – He grumbled and fixed the watch on his wrist. – Let’s go, it’s getting late. 

Dazai didn’t say anything and trotted in his direction. 

The Moles, as the name said, had their lair in the deepest alleyways of Suribachi. They moved in the dark and so, everything they stored was kept around their territory. They walked in silence to avoid rising suspicions but Kunikida couldn’t help but to steal a look at Dazai every now and then. 

There wasn’t any particular reason to do so, it was just that if he left his eyes wondering, they would end up on him each time. 

He fixed his shirt countless times and tried to find why in the world the thought of being alone with Dazai was making him feel restless. 

Was he worried they would end up messing everything up again? But it’s been a while since they had an argument, right? 

“He’s fine, though I didn’t expect you to get into an office romance.” 

Katai’s words flashed in his mind and he felt his blood run cold. 

Maybe he was just tired because Dazai was a lot to handle, the stress was overlapping and he didn’t know how to feel. Yes, and then, it had been a while since they had been undercover. He must’ve felt a bit unprepared. 

This mission was so sudden heh, he hated unplanned things. 

It wasn’t Dazai, it was the mission that made him feel like that. 

Cleared that the words of the others were definitely bullshit and that he didn’t absolutely need to take them into consideration (because he was a realist), he tried to find a topic to make conversation because they entered the district and he had the feeling that if he didn’t say anything, Dazai was going to realize he was being stared at and he wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. 

The latest case seemed the only common ground. 

-Teens working in a money laundering field. What the hell. 

Dazai’s answer came immediately. His eyes slightly darkened. 

-You’d be surprised to find how many teens work in illegal fields, Sometimes it’s not like they have a choice. 

Kunikida clenched his jaw. Maybe it would’ve been better if he just shut up. 

He adjusted his clothes and his mouth blurted out: 

-I don’t like it. 

-Money laundering? Ah, I should have seen this coming— 

-No it’s not that. 

They came to a halt on the stairs. Dazai was a step below Kunikida so he had to lift his head to look at him. His eyes mirrored the white moon and the cold splotched his cheeks with red marks, along with the nose. 

Kunikida understood the women that went after him: his partner was alluring, maybe even more so when he wasn’t trying too hard to be seductive.  

A shot of warmth spread through his ears when he noticed they were staring at each other in silence. He attempted to untie his tongue but found himself incapable of speaking. 

What could he say? “Each time there’s something from your past involved I can see your eyes darken and I don’t like it”?

Men don’t go around telling each other “hey, don’t be sad, I’m here”, that’s something girls do and what if Dazai could think that he was flirting? Ew. 

-I-It’s nothing, let’s go. 

He started walking again. Dazai’s eyes followed his figure, then he lowered his head as if he was upset, before walking down the steps too. 

For a while, no one talked but embarrassment lingered and it was obvious that the both of them wanted to say a lot of things yet neither could bring themselves to say anything. 

Their hands, usually kept in their pockets, were now resting on their sides. Their knuckles brushed occasionally, and each time it happened Kunikida felt a jolt of warmth spreading in his stomach. 

He wanted to get his hand as far as possible from his, but he didn’t want Dazai to think that he felt uncomfortable with being close to him, so he just kept it there. 

A few minutes later, they finally reached the Mole’s alleyway. Kunikida came to a halt, but Dazai seemed too deep in thought with something to notice, so he kept walking. When Kunikida noticed it, he just grabbed his hand on instinct to stop him. 

They both froze on the spot. 

Kunikida tightened the grip on instinct and Dazai’s eyes flickered with a weird, almost tender light that Kunikida had never seen before.

The tips of his fingers were cold and Kunikida felt the urge to wrap his hand around them and warm them up. Under the palm, he could feel the many cuts in the skin, hardened by old wounds and handling weapons from a young age. 

He wanted to smash his head on the floor. What was he even thinking about?

Two men holding hands. Kunikida didn’t think he could step lower in his life.

Holding his hand didn’t feel uncomfortable, though. 

Kunikida forced himself to let the hand go and cleared his voice. Dazai followed his movements with his eyes, his Adam’s apple throbbed.    

-Their storage is here, so probably their lair isn’t far. 

-Alright. 

-Good. 

Dazai fixed the bandages around his wrists while Kunikida pushed his glasses up. 

Reaching the middle of the street, they looked for anything with the “M” that was carved on the knife. 

Is it stupid to put your mark of illegal trade on a warehouse where you store your illegal goods? Yes and no. It was stupid because it made you an easy target for others. It was a huge red arrow pointed at you that said: “Hey! I’m here!” Like the ones on the maps, but at the same time it was a cunning solution because it marked the territory. It meant that you were keeping an eye on what was yours and if the enemies were to cross the area, they’d suffer the consequences. 

They stared at the various stalls that were built one onto the others but nothing seemed to be what they were looking for. 

That was, until they came to a smaller warehouse on the right. The bricks were old and the whole building seemed like it wanted to collapse on itself. The roof was dusty and the “M” on the front doors was crooked as if carved by a child. 

The two exchanged a look: if that really was the money storage, then it was old and it looked like no one visited the place for a while. 

Were they so cruel they feared no enemies? Did the criminals lose all their sense of integrity after all the times Yokohama was thrown into chaos? How could a building survive without a scratch, after all the times people tried to destroy the city? Kunikida had the impression he could understand them to some extent. 

How did he end up sympathizing with criminals?

He sighed and decided to let it go; considering that during the last months his life took a weird turn, it wouldn’t be weird if also his morals were straining. 

Crouching on the ground, he opened his Ideal and wrote something on the sheets. 

Only for it to remain simple words on paper. 

A shot of fear spread from his chest and he frowned. 

His mind was already running in circles to check if something was blocking his ability when he heard giggling from his left. In a second, all his fear was replaced with anger. He clenched the pen in his hand. 

-Dazai. 

He declared each syllable before turning and glaring at his partner. The only reason why the ability wasn’t working was because that damned Dazai was pressing a finger on his shoulder. 

Dazai tried to repress a laugh curling his lips in a grin and Kunikida had to clench his jaw to stop his lips from turning upwards. Why was that idiot’s smile so contagious? 

But then he thought, Dazai’s actions were never casual. What if he was trying to stop Kunikida from putting this plan in action? Had this something to do with him not trusting his decisions? 

It was a bit depressing. A needle pricked at his chest and the uncomfortable feeling spread in his body. 

He sighed and grabbed his wrist with more strength than he meant. 

-If you don’t trust what I’m about to do, why did you even follow me?

And he tore his hand away from him. Immediately, the words on paper turned into a stack of money. Obviously, they weren’t going to rob them for real, they were just pretending they were going to, that’s why Kunikida was using his ability. 

-Do you really think I’d follow you this far if I didn’t?

Dazai’s words made Kunikida jump and he turned again to look at his partner: he was already staring. 

Kunikida had the impression that he was hinting at something deeper than his previous question, something that had to do with these two years they shared as partners. He opened and closed his mouth without saying anything. That sentence, instead of making him feel relieved, just worsened his confusion. 

If you really mean that, why didn’t you say anything the night you attempted? Why are you this distant? 

He didn’t know a thing anymore. 

The pang of annoyance from before got heavier.

He thought it wasn’t the moment for that conversation and averted his eyes again, focusing on making another stack of money. Yet, after an instant Dazai touched it and it reversed back to paper. 

And it happened again and again. For each time Kunikida turned the sheets into money Dazai made it paper again until Kunikida, fed up, grabbed his wrist and dragged him closer until the tip of their noses were almost bumping into each other’s. 

-Are you done with your bullshit? 

-Finally your frown has eased. 

-Uh? 

What did he mean? He was frowning right now.

-You’re still doing it, but now it looks more like you. – Kunikida’s heartbeat quickened. It was just a moment though. – It was a bit off before. 

Off? Did he seem off? So Dazai was harassing him because he looked sad? 

The hand that was holding Dazai’s wrist froze but he didn’t have the time to let the warmth reach the tip of his ears because foreign voices came from their backs. 

-And you? What are you doing with our money?

Torches were pointed at them, two silhouettes were standing there.

Kunikida and Dazai exchanged a look, and after weeks of arguments and misunderstandings, they finally seemed to think the same thing. 

Perfect, they bought it. 

Chapter Text

The two figures came into view. Kunikida’s heart hammered into his ears and behind his neck. He knew that was how the plan was supposed to go, but facing a situation for real always hit differently from just imagining it. 

The fleeting feeling of holding Dazai’s hand flashed through his mind but he dismissed it. 

His mouth was glued and he could do nothing but wait for the consequences, facing the ferocious gang of the Moles, so ferocious that they barely had surveillance to their merch, so ferocious that they killed an ex member just to shut him up, so ferocious that—

A sneeze broke the silence. It came from one of the two figures. 

Kunikida could see the other turn their head to look at his uh, “colleague”.

-Sorry, I’m a bit sick. It must be the rain. 

-Great, now how are we supposed to scare them? – The one holding the torch fretted his hands while pointing at Dazai and Kunikida. The two exchanged a perplexed look. – Your sneezing ruined everything. At this point, even the little reputation that we have left will be completely lost. 

Wait, what?

-Uh…

Was Kunikida’s clever answer. But honestly, what could he say? A few seconds before he was there, trembling in fear and regretting his life choices as a detective, and now he had to listen to two criminals bickering. Why were they talking about them like stray dogs caught redhanded while stealing food? Why were they talking about reputation in front of them? That’s when he realised the principal’s words: “They’re a bit stupid, even”, he said, and back then Kunikida thought he was exaggerating, but now he was starting to think that he might have said the truth. 

Criminals were getting worse, it must have been the economic crisis. 

The one holding the torch sighed. 

-What? You two were trying to rob us, weren’t you?

-Uh, actually, uh yes—

-You caught us! – Dazai cut Kunikida off. His hands were gathered on his chest and his eyes widened in fear. Kunikida felt like he could breathe again. – Sorry, sorry. We have no place to go, and we heard you have money here, so we thought that we could…Anyway. 

He made a gesture towards the fake bills Kunikida created with his ability and looked at them again.

-We’re leaving, it’s yours after all.

He was about to get up, when the figure with the torch motioned with his free hand to stay put. He walked a few steps forward and his face, along with the other’s, came into view. 

They were two young men, probably of their same age; the one holding the torch had a tooth gap, while the one that sneezed had his face covered in pocks as if the effects of puberty were still lingering on him. He had a gentle expression, though it was hardened with waryness.

The tooth gap guy leaned over. 

-Wait. You said you have no place to go? 

Dazai nodded and Kunikida followed him. 

As soon as they admitted they were homeless, the man’s lips stirred up in a smile and he opened his arms. The unwelcoming person from before was completely gone. 

-Well, if you have nowhere to go, you can come with us. We’re all people that have nowhere to go. 

Obviously giving in so easily could sound suspicious so Dazai shook his head and sighed.

-Really? But how can you trust us? I mean, right now we were trying to steal your money.

The man shook his head and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

-You weren’t doing it for another gang, and from your faces, it looks like you haven't got a decent night of sleep since you were born. 

Kunikida held back a sigh: even if it was shameful, the man wasn’t completely wrong: to be honest, he couldn’t recall the night he slept and woke up rested; after what happened with the Hunting Dogs, sleeping meant being vulnerable, and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that now everything was alright, he still woke up with his head already listing the things he needed to do for the day ahead. 

He felt pathetic. And since when were criminals so charitable?

-Well, if you insist— 

The man didn’t let Dazai finish and hurried to make him and Kunikida stand up. 

-C’mon, we were just about to gather for dinner, join us! – He turned again. – Just one thing: you’re not ability users, are you? 

The voice was slightly harder than before, as if he could drop the invitation at any moment if either he or Dazai had an ability. 

Denying was their only option. They shook their heads, Dazai even added a cough for dramatic effect, and the unsettling glint in his eyes disappeared. 

-Well then, follow us. 

He smiled again. 

Kunikida’s legs were about to give out; a lot of ants were cradling up his ankles and he had to shake them before walking. Dazai was waiting for him behind the two men and when they turned to lead the way, with a simple touch of his index finger, the stack of money reversed to paper and got carried away by the wind. 

When they were done, they started following the two figures down the alleyway, shoulder to shoulder. The fabric of their shirts brushed together every now and then, but neither Dazai nor Kunikida moved away from the brief touch. 

Well, it worked out. They were inside the gang, or so it seemed. Dazai’s improvisation skills never failed; the expressions, the gestures, even the tone of voice, everything felt so convincing that if he didn’t know he was acting, he too would have believed the lies he told. 

Suddenly he felt a bit embarrassed and averted his eyes, even if he wasn’t looking at him. It couldn’t be helped, Dazai’s skills were incredible.

He nudged him with the elbow and Dazai turned to look at him with an eyebrow raised. Kunikida nodded in approval because talking could raise suspicions. He knew that probably Dazai didn’t need compliments and praises, especially from him that kept yelling hateful things at him since they met again. But at that moment he didn’t know why, he wanted to let him know that he did well. 

Dazai hinted at a polite smile, the one he used to address clients, before going back to look in front of him. 

Kunikida stared at him slightly confused, then he looked in front of him again. A faint discomfort spread through his body and the nervousness from before got back stronger. 

Alright, that wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. 

He was about to spiral into his thoughts when he noticed that they reached a worn-out building that probably was the Moles’s headquarters. Immediately, Kunikida’s guard increased. 

The real mission started now. From that moment on, everything could be a trap and everyone might be an enemy. 

They stepped inside and the faint smell of mold and dirty water made Kunikida’s nose wrinkle in disgust. A large room with a table and all the different kinds of things, along with dozens of chairs and other people chatting. The worn out chandeliers on the ceiling flicked and filled the room with a yellowish light. The place was like the warehouse; old, dusty, ruined by the signs of the time. From the furniture, it was as if they found that place, settled and didn’t change anything. Like a person that rented a house. 

As they walked in, the chatting decreased until disappearing completely. 

Kunikida could feel the stares on him and Dazai, and he closed his shoulders in an attempt to disappear. 

But the tooth guy was quick to dismiss the heavy atmosphere. 

-What? Did you see the cops? They’re with us. 

At that, the other people leaned back on their seats and a few of them also displayed polite smiles. If Kunikida didn’t know better, he could have bet they weren’t criminals. 

The tooth guy turned to look at them and whispered. 

-Go take a seat, there are always free seats here. Don’t mind the others, they're a bit wary around new people. 

The first part of the sentence grasped Kunikida’s interest. He frowned. 

-Why are there always free seats? 

At that the tooth guy just smiled and shrugged. He hushed them towards the table and went to take a seat too. Kunikida’s back got hit by a shiver, but he stiffened his posture on the chair so it could be hidden well. 

The chatting filled the room again, and some of the criminals there wanted to know how the tooth guy found them. He gave them a brief explanation and they seemed satisfied with that, after all, they said that they always had nowhere to go, what interesting backstory could they have? Growing up on the streets, eating with the dogs, starting with robberies— Basically the most boring and predictable events that shape the life of a criminal.

They even had fake names to accompany that, and after a while of chatting the criminals felt comfortable with them to the point that they started talking about their lives. 

-I had a wife, - started a guy with a rough voice. – I thought I had everything in life when I discovered that she was slowly poisoning me, putting acid in my coffee. I almost lost my stomach, heh. 

Despite knowing that he had a criminal in front of him, Kunikida felt a pang hit his chest and leaned over the table.

-Couldn’t you report her? 

-Oh I tried. – The man sighed in resignation. – But they didn’t believe me. They said that the evidence was too little to move an allegation and most importantly, I was a man. Men don’t suffer these kinds of things, most of the time it’s the women that get poisoned, and in the end, they even thought it was my fault, because maybe she was tired of me being a terrible husband. They didn’t know it was because she wanted the inheritance of my grandparents. And well, she got it. 

-So you ran away from the city and got here, right? 

The man nodded and huffed a laugh. 

-Yes, my life is much better now. 

Kunikida stared at him for a while before a woman took the word. 

-I experienced a similar thing, but in my case my husband was a shit for real. – She blew the cigarette between her fingers. – He used to hit me with a belt. He said that his father did that with his sister and he thought every woman should be treated like that. “We’ll see what we can do”, said the police, and in the end, they did nothing.

As they went on, Kunikida felt even worse to the point of almost forgetting the reason why he was there. Who was almost burned alive, who saw his best friend die in front of them, who escaped once but got kidnapped again, these people were criminals now, but back then they were just ordinary people that experienced bad things. 

From his moral point of view, if they were involved in the case, they were going to perish in prison. No one excluded. But if he thought about it, from a human point of view, they all had their reasons to be there. 

Some of them said that their lives were better now with the Moles, he couldn’t even try to imagine how hard it was for them before, if living with a gang in the slums was “better than before”. 

He hadn’t realized he lowered his head until Dazai next to him clapped his hands. 

-Alright, alright. Enough with sad stories. 

Kunikida thought he saw him sneak a peek at him, but maybe it was just his imagination, because a second after Dazai plastered a cheerful smile on his lips and put his elbows on the table. 

He looked at each one of the criminals and then talked. 

-Who’s the boss here? 

The tooth gap guy pointed a thumb to himself, his chest inflated with air like a proud child. 

Dazai and Kunikida exchanged a glance: so it meant that the principal and the custodian definitely left the gang. Or maybe something else happened? 

-Ah, people around here chatted about two bosses, so it was all lies. 

At that, the tooth guy's face hardened. 

-Yes, it was. 

That’s all he said, holding Dazai’s gaze for a moment and the cheerful atmosphere from before disappeared.The tension in the room increased, the gazes of everyone went from the tooth guy to Dazai, and Kunikida felt they were seconds away from a bomb exploding. 

He was about to reach out for the papers he had hidden in the hem of his shirt, when Dazai just shrugged and smiled. 

-Well, voices are not always right. Guess we got fooled, right?

He elbowed Kunikida and he nodded, his hands got back on his lap. 

The tooth guy seemed to relax as well. Evidently, he didn’t like his status being questioned. But Kunikida was harboring a lot of questions in his mind. 

He leaned over Dazai’s shoulder and brushed his lips against his ear, to avoid any other person from hearing. 

-He doesn’t look like he’s lying. 

-He’s not. He really is the boss here. 

The other questions hang in the air. If that guy was the leader, then what were the principal and the custodian? They said themselves that they were the heads here, did they lie all along? Or they left for real? Whatever might be, what was sure, was that the tooth guy was being honest, and if Kunikida could have gotten it wrong, then Dazai’s skills in reading body language were always right. If he said he didn’t lie, then he didn’t lie. 

But if on one side they obtained an interesting answer, then from the other, ten more questions had risen. 

He wanted to keep the conversation going, since no one was paying them attention, when a discussion from the other end of the table caught his interest. 

-Umpf. – A person from the bottom of the room spoke up. – Those Armed detective Agency’s detectives, they’re disgusting. Hiding behind the figures of detectives to commit crimes. I wish I had the same idea, it was cunning. 

The topic was their newest opening, and how they let down Yokohama one-hundred times during previous cases. 

-Who could have imagined they were such people? It’s always the ones you suspect the least. 

-Didn’t they get cleared a while ago? I heard some news circulating. 

-There’s always someone protecting the culprits. Do you want to blame the victims? 

The chatting filled the room again. Kunikida looked around and found that everyone was talking, the only ones with their mouths shut were him and Dazai, but what could they do? Spit on themselves? He thought it was a bit too much. 

“I wish I had the same idea, it was cunning”. First, what idea do you mean? And then, why do you sound like a failed writer, reading a best selling novel and crying over an idea you wished you had first? 

He didn’t know how to feel. 

He liked to think that hearing those words, especially from criminals, didn't affect him. After all, they were criminals and they did worse things on a daily basis, yet, the pit in his stomach hurt and it hurt in a way that made it throb up until his chest. 

Warmth cradled up from his neck and the only thing he could do was staring at the plate in front of him. 

It was like the newspapers on the office desk. You can be what you want, but when people label you in a way, you become their opinion. And as time passed by, Kunikida was starting to believe their opinions. Had all his ideals and efforts of the past been useless? 

-To me, there’s a lot of fake news running around. – A voice, quieter than the others, spoke up. It was the pock guy from before, the one that greeted them at the warehouse. – They might not be saints, but newspapers like to make dramas louder and they saved this city a lot of times. There has to be good in them. 

Kunikida’s head shot up and for a moment he had the impression the brat was staring at him, but then he realised he was just looking around the room. 

A choir of disappointment echoed at the table, but every noise was muffled to his ears. Nine people were sure they were criminals, yet one of them didn’t, and those words were the only ones that lingered in Kunikida’s head for the rest of the dinner. 

Turned out the Moles’ naiveness was true and they just accepted them in the gang as long lost friends. 

After what could be called dinner, Kunikida and Dazai followed the pock guy down the worn out corridor of the building. Since they weren’t too many, they used to stay together in the same building. A pang of melancholy hit Kunikida when he thought that the situation was similar at the agency, where they all shared the dorms building. No one spoke, yet, there wasn’t any tension hanging in the air: it was as if the three of them didn’t know each other well enough to start a conversation, but the fact that this person didn’t have a terrible opinion of the agency was already enough for Kunikida to lower his guard just slightly.

They reached a small room on the right, and Kunikida’s comfort he felt moments before was now dissipating.

The room was worse than the living from before; with an old couch, a wardrobe that broke down only by taking a look at it, and two beds. There wasn’t much but at least there was something. Again, the impression one could deduce was that they kept the original furniture of the building. 

At that point, Kunikida couldn’t tell if it was because they thought that furniture and objects were useless to replace, or because they were so broken to the point they couldn’t afford anything else. 

Wait. Two beds? 

He and Dazai were going to share?

Kunikida suddenly felt nervous and a shot of warmth made him feel his stomach closing again. 

What are you restless about, huh? Get a grip it’s just a shared room!

He was about to turn and ask if it was necessary for them to stay together but the guy left after delivering a polite smile, and Kunikida and Dazai were now alone in the middle of the room. Alone. 

They glanced around, just to give another look at their surroundings before their eyes met and their mouths opened at the same time.

Hey, wait. What’s with this thing of talking at the same time? Let’s not start another weird habit, shall we? And why do we seem to have a lot to say, but when we open our mouths we suddenly forget everything? Are these memory issues? Please no, I’m still young.

-You go first. 

Dazai conceded with an amused smile and Kunikida focused his mind on the case. 

-They don’t seem to be dangerous. – He sighed and fixed his glasses. – But there’s something that doesn’t seem right to me.

Compared to the majority of syndicates that they fought against during those few years, the Moles were a piece of cake: they really looked more like a gang of rascals than ferocious criminals. Yet, two moments in particular stood stuck in his head: the moment they found them at the warehouse, and the moment Dazai asked about the leader. 

-They have an aversion for ability users; no one of the criminals mentioned they had powers and the only moment they seemed reluctant to let us in was when they asked about us having powers. But wasn’t the custodian an ability user? 

Dazai slumped on the couch with the grace of a child after a whole day at school. Kunikida kept talking. 

-And when we asked who the boss was, the tooth guy pointed at himself. It was clear he didn’t want to dig into the topic, but the principal said that he and the custodian were the two bosses, so why were they never mentioned? Why is this guy the boss now? 

He sighed. 

-It’s hard to believe they killed the ex member. 

Sure is, it was weird. Death was a common event in the slums, but Kunikida believed organisations cared about hierarchy and members. Even the Port Mafia went by the saying “hurt us once, and we’ll hit back one-hundred times harder”, right? Was death so common as an experience within the Moles that they didn’t care about an ex member being killed? Shouldn’t they burn with revenge? And then, why didn't they mention the principal and the custodian being trapped in prison? Shouldn’t they seek revenge also there? 

Why were they eating and laughing together that night, instead of plotting revenge? Were they even aware of what was happening?

Fatigue from the day made his temples throb, and he could do nothing but stare at the floor with his head lowered. Thoughts blurred together and he couldn’t think straight anymore. He knew this mission was going to be difficult, but at the moment he indulged his annoyance and admitted to himself that he just wanted to go home, take off those embarrassing clothes and sleep for weeks. He just wanted his head to stop making noise.

-They’re technically all connected, because the people involved came from the same place, but then why don't the parties seem to know each other? 

Dazai observed him from the couch in silence. His eyes were sharp, so liquid and lucid that even Kunikida’s silhouette was almost visible. It was impossible to guess what he was thinking, but after some moments they softened at the corners, as if something melted, he moved to the side of the couch to pat the free spot. 

-Kunikida-kun. 

Kunikida opened his eyes, looked at his hand, then at Dazai, and only then he crossed the room with slow steps. He reached him and slumped on it in an indecorous way that didn’t suit him at all, but he was too tired to care. 

For a second no one moved.

Then, Dazai turned to the side to face him and the two of them exchanged a look. 

-Relax, - he murmured in a soft voice, like the one of an adult coaxing a child. – We just arrived, let things unravel as time goes by. Everything turns out right in the end, we just have to listen carefully to what they say. 

Kunikida would usually scoff if such obvious words were thrown at him, but hearing him say them made his stress decrease, as if his calm voice calmed also whatever was moving inside his chest. 

Dazai moved a few hairs from Kunikida’s face and his neck and ears started burning hot to the point he could do nothing but stare back at him in silence.

He could feel Dazai’s breath hit his skin and his stomach crawled. He was tired of trying to be sarcastic, so he swatted his hand away. 

-You’re saying this because you already figured something out. 

Silence stretched until Dazai huffed a silent laugh. 

-Maybe yes, maybe not. Who knows. – Kunikida rolled his eyes. – I might have understood who killed our little friend. 

Uh? Already? Kunikida was about to talk but Dazai cut him off again. 

-But I’m not sure yet. I have to be certain of another few things before, and I have to ask a favour to your friend, slash enemy, slash informant. 

…Katai? What has Katai to do with all of that? But the last time he tried to press Dazai for answers, it ended with a terrible argument that still made his stomach stir. He learned his lesson and sighed. 

-Do what you think is right, that’s all I have to say. 

-I knew you’d say that. 

After that, they basked in a silence that was comfortable to the point that Kunikida felt tiredness starting to weigh on him, Dazai began to play with a long lock of his hair out of boredom and Kunikida unconsciously leaned into the touch, slightly pleased by the way his skin seemed to tingle. Besides, it wasn't as uncomfortable as he thought. He was about to close his eyes when something came to his mind.

He felt nervous all of a sudden. 

-What did you want to say before? 

Dazai’s hand stopped and this time it took a while before he answered. 

-Just the details of the case. 

He sensed a lie in his tone, but making Dazai talk was almost impossible, so he didn’t even try. If he said that, he said that. Besides, the question he wanted to ask was another. 

-This mission seems more intricate than what we thought. Are you sure you can handle it? – Dazai cocked his head to the side. – I-I mean, the case, the undercover and staying here in this place. Your ankle barely recovered when we started working again and you suffered injury after injury during the case—

It might have been tiredness, but he spoke lower than usual, almost murmuring. 

Dazai leaned his head on the backrest and spoke in the same quiet tone. Despite the tired look in his eyes, a mocking smile appeared on his lips. 

-What is it? Were you worried for me? 

He teased but Kunikida didn’t find it funny; a strong ache was spreading from his chest through his whole body, making him feel warm. He wanted to keep the words he thought locked in his mind, but his heart quickened making it impossible to not hush them through trembling lips. 

-I was. 

Dazai widened his eyes. The mocking smile disappeared completely. 

Kunikida’s head spun. The fuck did he just say? That wasn’t like him at all. His face was burning and holding Dazai’s surprised stare didn’t seem possible anymore, so he started fixing his glasses, his shirt, his jeans, everything, just to distract himself.

The silence was eating him and he needed something to fill it. He still avoided his eyes but his voice was firm. This question was another one that Kunikida was waiting to be answered. 

-Why did you refuse your leave of absence? 

Back when they reunited, Dazai’s ankle was still healing, and his mental state was unstable (more than usual), so the president suggested taking a leave of absence to recover, but he, Dazai, forever lazy and professional slack off, refused. 

Kunikida never understood why and never asked. He supposed Dazai needed something to do to keep his mind busy, or that he feared hospital and refused to get checked. He supposed, speculated, observed but at the end there were just his doubts. Though tonight he had the impression his doubts weren’t enough anymore. 

Dazai played with his bandages a bit, his eyes lowered on them. He didn’t dare look up but Kunikida knew he could feel his stare on him. He seemed deep in thought, the tip of his nose slightly red. 

Kunikida waited for an answer that never came, as Dazai opened his mouth but then closed it again. 

Clearing his voice, Dazai sat up and looked at his own hands. Then, as if he made up his mind, he shot a glance to him and murmured:

-Tomorrow is going to be tough. Try to get some rest, Kunikida-kun. 

And with that, he got up and headed towards one of the beds. 

Kunikida stood there on the couch, staring at the place where Dazai had been sitting: it was cold. Did he say something wrong? Did this count as another discussion?  

He frowned and his mind started running in circles, trying to understand what he had done. 

Maybe he got disgusted by how intimate the situation looked. Well, if that was the case, it was understandable. Like, a man playing with another man’s hair while making doe-eyes and talking all soft-spoken. “Why did you refuse your leave of absence?” What was he expecting? That Dazai would say something along the lines of “for you”? He grimaced and averted his eyes. Every man on Earth would feel like they lost all their dignity. 

It all sounded like something a teen girl would do at a sleepover with her friends.

Have you ever seen a man playing with another man’s hair? There’s a reason if it never happened. Men don’t do such things. 

But then, why didn’t he mind that? 

His head was becoming heavy and he began to feel feverish. His glasses slipped from his nose but this time no one pushed them up, he just let them hang from the tip of his nose and closed his eyes.

They followed the crowd through the alleyways. The sun was already high, making the puddles of water glisten along the streets. Now with the sun, the misery of the buildings was even more visible.

Kunikida and Dazai were walking with the gang to a spot where they should “get the merch” to counterfeit, but if Kunikida had to be honest, he had the impression of being back to his high school days when he went on school trips with his classmates.

The Moles told each other puns and nudged themselves, and while Kunikida’s stomach twirled at the thought of taking part in a crime, he still had a hard time picturing them as criminals. 

They finally reached a spot similar to a square where there were just a few people walking (read: dragging themselves) around and some sleeping on the benches. 

No one talked. Even the Moles were slowly getting quieter as they approached an alleyway darker than the others. Lying next to a corner, there were some worn out sacks full of something until the hem. 

Glancing around, Kunikida couldn’t find anyone, a sign that probably those were the loads they were waiting for, even though it was weird: usually, the criminals that worked as links wanted to see their clients at the moment of the delivery. And then, if they happened to know each other for a while, they even exchanged a few words. The Moles had been existing for a while, it was weird if their link acted as if they didn’t know them. 

But it wasn’t Kunikida’s job to ask. He was there to “learn the secret of the job” or whatever they said. Kunikida couldn’t tell, he shut his brain off at some moment. 

Dazai, however, was acting as usual, as if to him there wasn’t any difference between robbing money and making coffee. Maybe robbing was even easier for him, since he was a total disaster at making coffee, but again, that was a story for another time. 

The tooth guy gave a hint with his head and two members started grabbing the merch. 

They were going to drag the sacks to the warehouse where they would have copied the banknotes and created the new, counterfeit ones. However, as they walked and reached the square again, the people sleeping on the benches were nowhere to be seen, same for the people dragging themselves. 

The place was empty. 

There was no one. 

Silence was the only thing that could be heard, there weren’t even dogs barking. It was the kind of silence that usually announced troubles. 

Kunikida could feel his trained senses feel that something wasn’t right. He stiffened in anticipation and looked around. He couldn’t grasp what was wrong until he noticed something with the corner of his eyes. 

A glisten. 

-Over there!

He yelled and pushed a guy from the gang away: not even a second later, a dagger was planted into the bricks on the wall with so much strength that it drew cracks over the surface. No one moved, even the wind seemed to stop. Kunikida’s heart reached his ears and his eyes searched immediately for Dazai; he wore his same troubled expression.

Everyone stared at the blade with widened eyes and knitted eyebrows. If it were just a second earlier, it would have pierced one of their comrades like scissors through paper. 

Then, shadows came from their backs and covered their figures. When they turned, Kunikida realized they were facing thugs. Real thugs that had nothing to do with the happy, naive and innocent Moles. 

-Look who’s trying to steal our money again. 

The one who looked like the leader talked. His voice was deep and firm. Even though he was missing some teeth, his words were completely understandable.

Kunikida worked as a detective for enough time to grasp immediately what was going on: obviously, for a miserable gang like the Moles, finding informants and links that could provide merch was incredibly difficult and stealing the other’s merch was easier than making their own. Now he understood why they were being all sneaky. 

After all, it was common in environments like that. Criminals stole from other criminals, that was also the plan Kunikida and Dazai adopted to get in touch with the Moles.

However, adrenaline was rushing through his whole body and Kunikida could only turn towards the Mole’s leader with a frown and yell. 

-Their money?!

-Well, technically it's theirs, but we took it first. – He yelled back, uneasy. – They always get everything. There’s nothing else left for us. 

The underground world sure had hard rules. If the normal world had its struggles, then the underground didn’t show mercy: stealing was fair, as long as you didn’t get caught, and that was similar to the “normal” world; however, if you get caught, the consequences are nothing like the “normal” world. There’s blood, feuds and their favourite word: death. That’s why Kunikida couldn’t stop sweating until the back of his neck and his shoulders were soaked. 

The solutions were two, and they were both terrible: the gang killed everyone and the agency might start another conflict while looking for them, throwing Yokohama into chaos again; or they ran away from the Moles, damaging the trust that they were building with them, that could guess what? Blow their cover. 

He shot a glance at Dazai: he was already staring at him. Well, at least he wasn’t going to face consequences alone. 

While they argued, the people from the other gang decided to claim their belongings and lift them on their shoulders before walking away. They were already in the middle of the square when another dagger, this time coming from the opposite direction, cut the air next to their cheeks. 

A faint rivulet of blood traced the thugs’ face. 

-I suggest you leave that money. - The tooth guy said. Obviously, the dagger that had been thrown was his. – That’s our job. 

He moved two steps in their direction and squared their faces. The air was tense and everyone was waiting in anticipation. 

The other criminal grinned. 

-Should I care? Your last load got interjected by the police. Let real crooks do the work. 

The insult was taken seriously and a brawl started. It wasn’t clear who threw the first punch, but in less than three minutes people were hitting others while another group of five was throwing others into the air. One grabbed a man by the lapels of his shirt and slapped him repeatedly, while another kept another firm on the ground and twisted his arm. It was a pitiful sight, watching all those grown up men and women wrestling like children at school. 

The Moles only knew how to kick, bite and throw punches without any particular technique, but when they landed a blow sure it was impressive. 

Kunikida was lost contemplating the sight in front of him when he heard steps approaching in his direction; he turned and he noticed that it was a member of the opposite gang that targeted him. Well, it was understandable since he was with the Moles. 

A shot of adrenaline went down Kunikida’s back and his body reacted on instinct. He grabbed the man by the arm and the shoulder and drew an arch in the air, making him slam on the ground. 

Dazai meanwhile was busy with another thug. He had his hands in his pockets and he dodged his attacks with a knowing look. He reached for the wall of a slum and drove the head of the thug in it. He immediately lost consciousness. 

Typical. Kunikida almost rolled his eyes. 

As if he felt being stared at, Dazai turned his head in Kunikida’s direction and their eyes met. They knew they could handle fights, but both of them could calm down for real only after noticing that they were both fine.  

-Where did you learn that? 

A third voice called for both of them. It was a guy from the Moles staring at them with a surprised look on his face. Right, Kunikida held back a sigh, these people never saw someone use proper fight techniques, they only did it to survive. 

Kunikida tried to come up with an answer but his mind was blank as the paper sheets of his Ideal. 

But before the guy could suspect something, Dazai placed himself in the middle and grabbed Kunikida’s arm. 

-Movies, - he replied with a cheerful smile. – Movies and practice. 

Then, he lowered his voice and tugged at his shirt. 

-Let’s go, we can’t stay here. 

And Kunikida let Dazai drag him away from the street fight. He was skilled at martial arts and Dazai was a veteran in fights; joining the brawl might blow their cover since they were too good at defending themselves. At that rate, their image of “good for nothing” that they were portraying might crumble in an instant. 

Since everyone was busy, no one noticed how they started running in the opposite direction, nor did Kunikida understand when he began to run in front of Dazai instead of being dragged. 

He seemed to know where to go, so Dazai stared at his broad back for a moment before talking.

-Where to?

-Let’s take a look at the main building, they must have a place where they store information and keep documents. 

He knew Dazai was nodding even without looking at him. 

Before they were far enough, they heard the boss of the other gang yell. 

-Look at what you’ve become! You’re nothing without him!

At that, Kunikida’s legs slowed down. Him? Who was he referring to? And why the Moles should have needed this him to be something? 

His frown deepened and he lost himself in his thoughts until he heard heavy footsteps walk towards his direction: a criminal followed them and was about to hit Dazai from behind, but Kunikida grabbed him by his wrist and broke his limb in one swift motion. Then, he threw him into the air and when he hit the ground, way louder than the previous thug, he lost all consciousness. 

The main building was empty, as the Moles were just a dozen people, and they were currently outside getting beat by real criminals. 

Kunikida heard their steps echo through the entrance and the smell of dirt water and dust lingered in the air along with the scent of old wood. 

He looked around and noticed that the place was bigger than he thought yesterday evening. Without anyone around, places always changed. There was a long corridor with a lot of doors, all closed, that could have been the rooms of the other members, but that could also hide the office. 

The best solution would’ve been to split, but last time they did it Dazai almost ended up with a concussion, so Kunikida didn’t feel like suggesting it. He placed a hand on his shoulder and hinted at the corridor with his head.

After many twists and turns, they finally opened the right door. 

The office was small and unkept like the rest of the building, so dusty that the dust was flying in the air. 

Kunikida looked around and his astonishment worsened.

Weren’t money laundering people rich? Why do these guys seem to be poorer than the tiger brat when we hired him? Poorer than my salary? Poorer than the poor in Yokohama?

The bad feeling that told him they knew less and less about the case as they dug deeper in the Moles stirred in his chest. 

-At this point, I wonder if we’ll ever find anything. 

He murmured. 

Dazai’s steps cracked on the floor as he went for the wardrobe and opened it. The shelves inside collapsed but his face didn’t change, nor did he move; he stared at the broken wooden pieces, then sighed. 

-I have the impression this place must have been rich, even if now there’s only the shadow of it. It’s like watching something after its decadence. 

Honestly, that was also his impression. The sumptuous building, the furniture, the hatred with other gangs, it all looked as if the Moles used to be ferocious for real in the past, but for some reason they lost all glory, and now they were experiencing the consequences of their failure. 

A huge epilogue. And there was no one to tell them the rest of the story. 

Kunikida ran his fingers on the surface of the desk, the one standing in the middle of the room, until he reached the drawer on the other side. He opened it and found some worn-out dossiers. 

He widened his eyes. 

-Dazai. 

He called, but the other was already next to him. Their hands extended at the same time.

Their eyes met on instinct.

-S-Sorry, you can take it. 

-No, it’s fine. You found it first. 

Silence. 

Can I grab it? Why are we staring at each other? Dazai, what happened to your resourcefulness? 

Kunikida was the first to avert his eyes and grabbed the dossier. He opened it and put it in the middle to allow Dazai to read it. 

They stood close and Dazai’s curls tickled his cheeks, sending waves of tingles on his skin. 

What’s with this proximity? Dazai, has no one ever told you decency? I’ll end up eating your hair if you keep stepping closer. 

He was so lost in his thoughts that it took a while before he realised he had been staring at the same page without reading it for real. He shook his head and tried to focus. 

On a paragraph in particular there were some dates and names, some were a bit blurred by time while others were more recent. 

Kunikida frowned. 

-What are these? Victims? Targets? Allies of their laundering?

It was a while before Dazai answered. 

-What’s the most recent date?

Kunikida checked: five years before. It was a lot of time. A company, or a gang or a syndicate doesn’t go bankrupt in five years, sometimes it requires less time. 

Dazai hummed. 

-If we could understand what the custodian and the principal did when they ruled the gang, then we might get a hint of what these names are. Five years is a lot, these people might even be dead. 

Kunikida shot him a glance before going back to the papers. There must be something between those documents that could be useful. Anything. 

His eyes analysed every corner of the dossier until his pupils were hurting. Then, here it was, crumpled and hid between two yellow pages. 

An address was attached on a small piece of paper. 

Just then, steps and voices came from the hall. Some murmured, others spat insults, while other sounds felt like limbs being dragged and the whines of people in pain. The Moles had returned.

Kunikida and Dazai exchanged a look. There was nothing weird about staying in the office of the organization you’re part of, but in their case, they snuck away from the brawl and purposely returned before everyone else in order to check the building on their own. And then, the information they were holding was confidential, it wasn’t something that could be shown to two people that joined the gang the day before. 

That to say, that they shouldn’t be there. So they waited until the crowd dispersed and then escaped to check the address. After all, it wasn't too far from the building, and it was still within Suribachi’s territory.

Half an hour later, Kunikida and Dazai were facing a secluded area near the ocean, where even Suribachi seemed to end. A lot of nameless gravestones were chaotically buried in the ground. Here and there laid bouquet of flowers but they were all dry, a sign that no one visited in a while. 

A cold wind rustled their clothes and the horn of a ship echoed from the port. 

-Well, this explains a lot of things. 

Dazai commented as if talking about the weather. However, Kunikida was still trying to digest the fact they were in front of a bunch of dead people. 

Sometimes Dazai’s tendency to have no reaction to death scared him. 

-What do you mean?

-The names on the register. I’m pretty sure that those names were the ones of the people buried here. 

-So we can say that the dates we saw were the days of the burials. – He frowned and held back the instinct to lower his head. – They’re a lot. Too many for a gang in the slums. 

To fill a graveyard, they had to be over seventy, maybe eighty corpses but Kunikida could count at least one hundred gravestones. There was barely any space to walk. Not even the Port Mafia lost that many people these days. It was possible during the Dragon’s Head Conflict, but that was over seven years ago, while the last victim here was from five years ago, so it meant that whoever was buried there wasn’t linked to any of the past turfs with important crime syndicates. 

And then the place at the extreme outskirts of the district, the nameless gravestones, the fact that the zone wasn’t limited by a fence or a wire. It all seemed to hint that this was a place that wasn’t supposed to be found, not even from who created it. The identities of the victims were hidden if not for who buried them, since the register recorded names that weren’t carved on the gravestones. Basically, one would know who died but not where they were buried. 

The only two who could have known for sure were the principal and the custodian. 

His temples were already throbbing. 

-We should look into each one of the people’s backgrounds but it’s too many and we don’t have time. 

Maybe it was the way those criminals spoke about the agency the evening before, or the insecurities in his head getting louder, but his voice sounded more stressed than usual. 

Dazai shot him a glance and his eyes flickered with something tender before going back to being serious. He opened his mouth but he didn’t get to say anything because the sound of footsteps came from their backs. 

They both turned, already with their guard high. Their first thought was that someone from the previous fight followed them. However, their postures relaxed when they noticed who it was: the pock guy. His usual gentle expression was now troubled, as if some thought upset him. He kept walking until he noticed them, only then, he stopped in his tracks and a gentle smile appeared on his lips. 

It was obvious from afar that his body felt heavier than usual, but he made an effort and waved in their direction. 

Now that he was there, they could only try to hold a conversation; walking away or trying to brush off the fact that they weren’t at the headquarters could only raise suspicions. 

The pock guy closed the distance with large steps, and when he got in front of them, he shot a glance to the graves and then to the pair. He sighed. Between his hands there were a bunch of flowers, they were limp and plucked, with a few missing petals. They didn’t look like they were bought, more like they were picked by the streets and tied together. 

-A heavy show, isn’t it? – The pock guy talked as he stared at the graves. The scars on his face glistened with the sun. – How did you find this place? 

His voice wasn’t aggressive and he genuinely sounded curious about Kunikida and Dazai being there.

Dazai didn’t look like he wanted to intervene, so Kunikida started the conversation with his fantastic improvisation skills. 

-Uh. – Excellent start. – About that, after the brawl we escaped and wondered around, and we happened to end up here—

The more he talked, the more confused and troubled the pock guy’s expression became. 

Kunikida felt the back of his neck getting warm and he started to sweat under his arms. 

Dazai you great bastard, lend me a hand. You always run your mouth and now you’re keeping it quiet? Do you really love watching me drown in misery? 

Just then, a small laugh came from next to him. 

Evidently, Dazai decided that he had enough fun of his suffering and lent him a hand for real. 

-Do you come here often? 

He asked the guy with a light voice. He didn’t answer the previous question, probably because the solution that they ended up there by chance was convenient enough, and shifting the attention of the guy to something else could only help suppress any doubts. 

The pock guy nodded and walked towards the graveyard. 

-Sometimes, when others are busy with something else. 

-Why?

-That’s not a place they like, and honestly, I understand them. 

He crouched and started putting a few flowers on each grave, lost in thought. If that was a place the Moles didn’t like, it meant that whoever was buried there was someone that should’ve been forgotten. 

Kunikida shifted his weight on one leg, feeling his chest clench: he never knew how to act during those situations. Despite working for years in a field that considered death an everyday occurrence, the sight of someone mourning always made his throat tighten. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t find the words to ask anything. He clenched his wrists and looked away. 

Dazai leaned over a tree and stared at the pock guy in silence before talking again. 

-Is it because of who’s buried?

The pock guy nodded but didn’t add anything. 

-Our former boss wasn’t exactly the gentle type. He didn’t value life at all. – He placed another flower on a grave. – Or maybe he valued his own life so much to the point he didn’t care about what happened to the others. 

-I heard he was an ability user. 

-He was, but that was even the worst. The worst was that he was incredibly good with words and people always fell for it. Can you believe it? A good mouth and a remarkable ability, he was unstoppable. I’m glad he’s not here anymore. 

The anger in his voice just worsened Kunikida’s confusion. Why did these people hate so much ability users? 

-And that’s all. – He informed Ranpo from the other end of the phone. – They are harmless and don’t seem to be aware neither of the custodian’s location, nor of the ex member being killed. 

-Mh, news runs slow in the underground districts, because they don’t have shops that sell newspapers, and if you want to rely on social media, I bet that none of them has a phone that works. – Ranpo spun on his chair as he munched on candies. – If that’s really the reason why they don’t know a thing, wait a few days. The other option is that they’re acting dumb in front of you, but if you say that they’re harmless, I’d leave this supposition behind. 

So by Ranpo’s judgement the Moles didn’t have anything to do with the ex member and didn’t know about the custodian’s location. 

Kunikida looked at the rooftops of the slums from the balcony: the sun was setting and it resembled a giant fire ring. It was blinding. Lost in his thoughts, he voiced his worries out loud. 

-Are you saying this because you’re sure, or because you don’t have enough information to see where this is going?

-Who do you think you’re talking with, Kunikida? – Ranpo’s offended voice cut him off immediately. – I’m the best detective in the world, obviously I have enough information to see where this is going. Wait a few days, I’m sure that something will move. 

-And if it doesn’t?

-Then you will dig deeper into their secrets. But I don’t think that it will be necessary. 

If Ranpo believed that it wouldn't be necessary, then Kunikida trusted him: he was never wrong, it meant they were heading in the right direction. 

-And Kunikida?

-Ranpo-san?

-Never doubt me again. Ever. 

A fond smile appeared on Kunikida’s lips. Maybe a few years ago the sole thought of contrasting Ranpo would have made him stiff. He used to lower his head and trust him blindlessly. However, after what happened, he realised that there were times in which Ranpo could struggle, that he was human too, and it helped to put him down from the pedestal, to see him as another colleague instead of a fortune-teller. 

He almost lost him too, so hearing the voice that could sentence the worst criminals in Japan scold him for doubting him, filled his chest with warmth. 

Ranpo didn’t wait for his answer and sighed through the phone. 

-Alright. – A pause. Kunikida could almost see him exchange glances with someone else in the half-empty office. – How’s the rest?

Kunikida frowned. 

-The rest? I told you everything. 

-C’mon Kunikida, you know what I mean. Between you and your Dazai. Your kiss-gate kisser. 

Kunikida didn’t think he’d see the day he found out that the great detective Edogawa Ranpo loved to gossip. And over useless things, after all. What should he say? The tip of his ears were already burning. 

He heard commotion from the other side. Ranpo talked again after a while: he could hear the smile in his voice. 

-Right, right. Naomi wants to know if where you are there’s only one bed. 

Kunikida swallowed and grabbed the railing of the balcony with one hand to steady himself. 

-W-what? Obviously not! There are two beds, why should there be only one?!

He swore that if it was another weird fetish among youngsters, then mankind really was beyond salvation. What did those children read nowadays? He couldn’t recall himself being so shameless. 

It was quiet from the other end. Then, Ranpo started explaining and he regretted having asked. 

-Well, she said it’s a common trope in fanfictions, where two characters that are stupidly and very obviously pining for each other find themselves in an hotel room where, because of a misunderstanding, there’s only one bed. – The innuendo in his voice just worsened Kunikida’s despair. – You can imagine what happens next. 

Kunikida wanted to leave the Moles, go to the agency and resign. He couldn’t take it any longer. 

He rested his forehead on his hand and sighed. 

-This isn’t a fanfiction. And tell her to stop writing whatever unhinged thing she’s writing during her shift. 

Just then, he heard footsteps coming from his back. When he turned, he noticed Dazai standing in the middle of the room. 

He closed the call and reached him. 

-What did Katai tell you? 

-I asked him to do something and he said it might take a while, but he can do it. I hope he will not prove us wrong. 

Kunikida nodded but didn’t add anything, neither he mentioned the call with Ranpo; his heart was still beating fast and the warmth from the tip of his ears still had to die down, but he was lucid enough to notice that Dazai looked pensive, maybe more than usual. 

He was about to ask him what was on his mind when someone knocked. The two exchanged a glance, then, Kunikida went over and opened the door: it was the pock guy. Again. 

For a moment Kunikida feared that the criminal might have heard the call, however, it wasn’t like that, because the boy’s lips stirred in a smile. 

-Oh, fortunately you’re here. I was looking for you. 

Kunikida lifted an eyebrow and was about to ask him why, when a weight dropped on his back so hard that he almost lost balance. 

What the—

While Kunikida was reassuring himself that his lungs were still working, Dazai leaned over and plastered a forced smile on his lips. Needless to say, the weight on his back was Dazai leaning fully on him. 

-Who do we have here? Oh, it’s you. – Then, he turned towards Kunikida with his hands holding him firmly from his shoulders. – You talked a lot at the graveyard before. Did you invite him here? So it’s like this? We join a gang and in the span of two days you leave me for someone else? You’re mean. 

He whined and Kunikida felt it right in his chest. It wasn’t the moment for jokes and teasing, and then, “leaving him for someone else”? Who was he supposed to work with? The others were all at the agency. 

But the pock guy was too polite to grasp the offense and too dense to see Kunikida’s thoughts so he kept his kind smile and said nothing. 

-I have no intention of splitting you up. – He looked at Dazai with a fond expression. – I noticed that you two are rather close. 

Again, Kunikida was left speechless. 

He stared from head to toe at the boy in front of him with a frown, not quite grasping what he meant: did he and Dazai seem close? Well, that was just a huge misunderstanding. They were working, that's why they were always together and then the last time they split Dazai almost ended up in a coma (he didn’t need to know though). 

And what was that fond expression? It was almost as if he was hinting that there could be something tender between him and Dazai—

Kunikida’s eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. 

Wait a minute. Wait. A. Minute. Is he suggesting that—

-N-N-no wait, you got it wrong, I mean. – There was nothing like that! Not him too, please. Kunikida swallowed. – There’s nothing like that, it’s not—

As soon as the pock guy realized that he read the situation wrong, he waved his hands and a slight blush colored his cheeks. He was really too polite. 

-Oh, I mean, sorry. It’s just that you know, you two are always together, so I thought that there might be something more. It’s not so uncommon nowadays. 

-W-we’re not— I mean we are just… 

His throat got dry to the point that his voice lowered gradually as he spoke.

Dazai’s snort in the background just worsened his despair. Why did everyone who crossed paths with him and Dazai think they were a couple? It happened so many times with so many different people that it wasn’t funny anymore. 

He was starting to feel the pressure, because each time he and Dazai were together, his mind began to think if they weren’t acting weird, if they were being normal enough, if the way they talked or moved didn’t leave room to think that they were something more than colleagues. Because they weren’t nothing more. Just colleagues. 

But for some twisted reason, everyone wanted them to be something more. And he didn’t know what else to do to make others understand that they together could just argue. Dazai was too free-spirited for him, and he was too attached to rules for Dazai. 

Some people are not made to be together romantically: they had good chemistry when they worked, but at the moment they left their desks, arguing was all they knew. 

It was only when the pock guy talked again that Kunikida noticed he had lowered his eyes. 

-Anyway, I wanted to give you this. – The pock guy revealed two daggers from his back. They could fit in a pocket and had a M on the handle. Kunikida widened his eyes: the knife they found on the victim. – The boss said that without this, you couldn’t be considered a real part of the group. 

Both Dazai and Kunikida took it. It was heavy, like a pebble.

However, Dazai was never someone that got happy with a few explanations, and after observing the dagger he asked:

-Why didn’t he give them to us when we arrived? 

-He wanted to be sure of you two, see you on the field, you know? – He sighed and looked around, as if he shouldn’t be saying what he was saying. – This morning you helped us a lot during the brawl. If it weren’t for you, a few of us wouldn’t be here this evening. Thank you. 

That “thank you” hit Kunikida’s chest as if he’d been punched. It wasn’t like that. He and Dazai just took advantage of the situation to carry out the mission. Hearing that the Moles saw it as an attempt to help them out and that worthed their trust made him wonder if they were stupid for real, or if the criminals there were him and Dazai. Was there another way to solve all that mess? 

It was then that Kunikida started to wonder: what if they didn’t do anything? Was the agency going to let them pay for crimes they didn’t do? If that was the case, they could try to see and find a better solution. Or at least, he hoped so. 

-Oh, pretty wound you have there. 

Dazai pointed at the pock guy’s leg and that’s when Kunikida saw it too: the brat had his whole leg marked by a long scar that was reddish at the edges and still had fresh blood exposed. Kunikida could feel it sting from where he was standing; it must’ve hurt a lot, yet the boy didn’t say anything and still walked up to them to deliver them the knives. 

But the guy dismissed his wound with a wave of his hand. 

-It happens, it’s nothing serious. 

-Oh, I do think it’s serious. – Dazai insisted and grabbed the boy to drag him inside the room. – We have to treat that absolutely. 

Obviously, he didn’t care at all about the wound, he just realized that the pock guy trusted them and that could provide a lot of information. 

The door closed behind their shoulders with a thud. 

The three people in the room stood there in silence. Two of them were actually going through the stereotypical “denial of feelings” stage of a romcom, while the third one sensed the tension and decided to not speak. 

Obviously, it wasn’t necessary to specify who was who. 

Yet, after a while when the ticking of the clock filled the room, Kunikida couldn’t take it anymore. Dazai’s proximity was making him feel restless, and he could still feel the shadow of his touch on his shoulders. He had to say something, anything, so he focused on the mission and decided to take off his chest the weight that had been troubling him since they visited the graveyard.

The pock guy was sitting still next to him on the dusty bed. 

-Say, why does the boss hate so much ability users?

It wasn’t a suspicious question since the hatred was obvious, but Kunikida couldn’t understand the reason behind it.

The pock guy huffed from his nose and smiled. His gentle eyes looked at him. 

-We all despise them. – Dazai rubbed harder on the wound and he flinched. – Our previous boss was an ability user and he killed more members than enemies. 

…The custodian killed his own subordinates? 

Kunikida and Dazai exchanged a glance. 

-His ability was a parasite one, so in order to activate it he needed a host. However, just like a parasite, it consumed the life of the host so he needed to change it every now and then. 

If someone asked Kunikida if abilities were good or bad, he would have answered that it depended. Sure, there are, by nature, stronger abilities than others, but their strength mostly depends on how you use them. You can’t expect Rashoumon to build a home or give you flowers, but it can shield you from bullets or sudden attacks; at the same time, it can kill and torture mercilessly. The same goes with abilities that may look “useless” or fitting only for “support reasons”, like Yosano’s ability to heal or Sigma's ability to exchange information. If they only wanted, those two abilities could hurt just as Rashoumon. 

That’s to say, that a parasite ability could be used to kill, but at the same time it could provide a useful tool for interrogation and defense. If there was something that Kunikida learned from all the fiasco and the fall of the agency, it was that choices were just choices. Whether they were good or bad depended on their use. 

The pock guy kept talking. 

-Initially, he used the members of other gangs, but then he realised that the bond between the host and the parasite works only if the host trusts him. And who was better than his own subordinates that would give him their lives?

A few dots were coming together. He needed to change hosts every once in a while, the names on the register were a lot, and the graveyard at the outskirts of the city seemed a place even the Moles wanted to forget. Probably those were all the subordinates that the custodian killed with his ability, that’s why the pock guy was visiting it. 

But even if what he said made sense, there were a lot of plotholes about the ability and its function. 

-Couldn’t the host just interrupt the connection and stop trusting him?

The pock guy shook his head. 

-The only way to be set free was by death. And well, it happened only when the parasite used all the life of the host. 

He lowered his head and his eyelids fell slightly. It was as if he was recalling the terrible things he witnessed when the custodian was the boss, and Kunikida could sympathize: they weren’t subordinates, but mere animals used to feed his ability, and when they stopped being useful, they were discarded like empty sacks of meat. That man was worse than they thought. 

-If it was solely the ability creating problems, he could just stop using it and all could be solved. – Dazai’s deep voice echoed through the room and Kunikida startled. He was wrapping a bandage around his leg. – He didn’t need to use it. 

-He hadn’t any control over it. – The pock guy interrupted. His voice was slightly louder, as if on the verge of a crisis. – It just activated on its own. 

Dazai’s hands on the bandage faltered.

Kunikida’s eyes shifted to Dazai: it wasn’t the first time they heard about a particular kind of ability. Dazai’s No Longer Human was always active and he couldn’t turn it off, Atsushi didn’t have control over Byakko in the beginning, Kyoka had to learn how to control her Demon Snow, and also innocent and predictable abilities like Kenji’s could have hidden sides that were dangerous if provoked, so hearing about a parasite ability that ate its own ability user sounded plausible, so he didn’t argue. 

Dazai’s lips stirred in a well-measured smile. He still had to lift his head though. 

-That’s why you said you prefer the gang as it is now. 

The pock guy nodded, and let out a sigh that seemed to signal that he was done with the topic. It was clear that he just wanted to close the conversation and rest. 

-Yes, Not that it’s good now. I mean, If I’d have anywhere else to go I’d just let—

He cut himself off. Coincidentally, Dazai wrapped the wound on his leg. The temperature in the room lowered a few degrees, everyone stalled in anticipation. 

-Burn it down? 

Those words were hushed with tight lips, parted just enough to allow a cold and detached voice to come out. It was three words, but they felt like Dazai summed up all the guy’s time spent in the Moles. 

Kunikida didn’t need to look to know that there was no light in Dazai’s eyes, that they were void and torrid like stagnant lake water. For a stranger, there was nothing different, his expression was neutral, however, Kunikida couldn’t help but to notice how tight he was gripping the cotton and how clenched the jaw was. He felt on his own skin how much Dazai understood the guy’s hatred. 

He knew what it felt like, what brought someone to wish their house burned down. 

It had something to do with his past, again. Maybe with Port Mafia, maybe with something that had to do with other organisations, maybe with something that Kunikida’s boring and predictable brain couldn’t even imagine, but it must’ve been something so painful and traumatic that it still affected Dazai when he thought about it. 

To think that he experienced a pain so strong that he wished for the source of it to perish—

His stomach tightened: he didn’t know how to feel. 

The guy nodded, lost in thought. Then, he widened his eyes and waved his hands. 

-W-wait, actually, don’t tell anyone! They would throw me out.