Chapter Text
“What are we supposed to do with him now?” Kunikida asks.
Atsushi whips his gaze to Kunikida in horror. “You mean you don’t know? None of you?”
Yosano shakes her head. Kenji shrugs. Fukuzawa, who was bribed into coming to the agency dinner by Ranpo, looks away. Ranpo snickers. Tanizaki pretends to be engrossed in the juice he, Atsushi, Naomi, Kyoka and Kenji were served. Naomi seems disinterested in the entire affair.
Atsushi looks at Dazai, who is stopped from climbing the table only by Yosano’s hand on his shoulder — which is laughable. Dazai may be lean, but he has the strength to drop kick anyone at the table.
“None of us have ever witnessed Dazai get drunk,” Ranpo offers. “This is new and fascinating to us all.”
“Kyoka?” Atsushi tries.
She shrugs. “I can’t be of any help. No one in the Port Mafia ever saw him drunk.” She tilts her head slightly. “Chuuya might’ve, though.”
“Chuuya!” Dazai suddenly sings. “A little hat rack!”
And then he falls silent again, once again staring at the table longingly like Yosano will take pity on him and let him climb the table if he stares long enough.
“We could take him back to the dorms,” Tanizaki says. “Maybe he’ll pass out and wake up sober?”
“Not a chance,” Kunikids says. “He might pretend to go to sleep so we’ll leave. If we take our eyes off him, he might leave and break into a stranger’s house just because he can.”
“Dazai can break into places?” Atsushi asks, tilting his head.
Kyoka stares at him over the rim of her glass. “Dazai used to be a mafia executive, Atsushi. Breaking and entering is the least of his crimes.”
Atsushi’s not interested in finding out what the most entails. He has a feeling it will either keep him up for several nights or make him throw up his dinner. Neither outcome tickles his fancy.
“Your face is a crime,” Dazai says, and no one knows whether he’s trying to pettily insult Kyoka or if he’s having an argument with the empty bottle he’s now staring at.
“Let’s play a game,” Ranpo says. “Tell me something and I’ll tell you if you’re lying or not. It’ll amuse me.”
“Okay,” Yosano says after a moment. “I’ll bite. Hm, I used to eat bugs as a child.”
Ranpo opens his eyes so Yosano can see his complete bewilderment. “Why would you start with a lie like that?”
She shrugs. “Felt like a fun lie to begin with.”
“A lie all the same.”
“I used to eat bugs as a child,” Kyoka says.
“Squishing bugs and pretending to cook them is not the same as eating them, Kyoka.”
Atsushi stares at Kyoka. “What?”
She shrugs. “Mafia kids don’t exactly have toys.”
“But — bugs?”
“There were a lot of them around.”
“I have a tattoo,” Tanizaki says.
“Lie,” Ranpo says.
Tanizaki shrugs. “Worth a shot.”
“I ate a bug once,” Fukuzawa says. The fact that he’s playing along with Ranpo isn’t a surprise. What is a surprise is the way Ranpo opens his eyes and stares at Fukuzawa in a mix of surprise and mild horror.
“Please tell me it was an accident,” Ranpo nearly begs.
“There was a bug in my tea. I was engrossed in a book. Mistakes were made.”
Atsushi sighs. “Why are we all talking about bugs?”
“Have you eaten a bug?” Kenji asks.
“No!”
“Liar!” Ranpo sings.
“It was an accident!” Atsushi cries defensively. “And it was a bee and I spat it out, so I didn’t actually eat anything.”
Ranpo hums. “All right. I’ll accept that.”
“I once stepped on a wasp and cried,” Kenji says.
“You were stung,” Ranpo says. “Of course you cried.”
“Dazai?” Ranpo calls. “Would you like to try?”
Dazai looks up at Ranpo and blinks slowly. “I can lie to you.”
“That itself is a lie.”
Dazai grins. “Nope! I’ve lied to you before. You just didn’t know. I’m very good at lying.”
“As true as that last statement is, you have never lied to me.”
“Untrue. Remember when I told you I’d never been kissed?”
Ranpo slams his hand on the table. “By whom?”
Dazai grins again. “Not telling! Maybe I will if you let me have some of your sake.”
Ranpo moves his drink further out of Dazai’s reach.
“I bet Chuuya knows,” Kyoka mutters.
“Why would Chuuya know?” Tanizaki asks.
“They were partners,” Kyoka says plainly. “In the mafia.”
Dazai sighs. “Chuuya, Chuuya, Chuuya. Stop talking about that tiny rat.”
“Why?” Kunikida asks. “Aren’t you in love with him?”
It’s clearly an old joke between the two of them, from the tone with which Kunikida says it. Atsushi expects Dazai to have a usual response to the taunt, but Dazai says nothing. He hums to himself and tries to climb on the bench, thwarted yet again by Yosano. He pouts.
“Dazai,” Ranpo says slowly, “are you telling me that it’s true?”
“I’m not telling you anything,” Dazai says in a singsong voice. “Only shrimpy-shrimp-face is allowed to know all my secrets.”
“Secrets?” Naomi perks up. “What kind of secrets?”
Dazai widens his eyes to match Naomi’s when he looks at her. “Big ones!” he whispers. “Super big ones.”
“Dazai,” Kunikida says tiredly, “your activities with the Port Mafia aren’t a secret to us anymore.”
“Yes, but you don’t know what I did in my free time.” Dazai’s eyes, in comparison to the glazed look he’s had for the last fifteen minutes, are shining with mirth. He looks at Ranpo. “You can guess if you like. I’m an open book.”
“Bullshit,” Yosano scoffs with a grin. “You’re the most secretive person I know.”
“Are you still visiting that place?” Fukuzawa asks.
Dazai stares at him for a moment, his mouth open in surprise. Then, he shakes his head once.
Ranpo flicks his head between the two of them. “Oh? So you do have secrets I’m not aware of. Let me guess, then. This place the president mentioned . . . is it a safe house?”
Dazai hums. “I guess it is.”
“Does anyone else know where it is?”
“No.”
“Liar!”
Dazai crosses his arms and slouches. “You’re not being fun. Stop exposing my secrets.”
“We should record this,” Kyoka says thoughtfully, “Akutagawa would get a kick out of it.”
“You have Akutagawa’s number?” Kenji asks.
Kyoka shrugs. “I just haven’t gotten around to deleting anyone’s numbers.”
“Atsushi,” Ranpo says, “you seem like you have a secret to share.”
Atsushi laughs. “As if. Ranpo would sniff out any secrets I have anyway.”
Ranpo nods. “Correct.”
Kyoka glances at Atsushi out of the corner of her eye when he relaxes.
Dazai sits up, straight as a ruler. “I have an announcement to make!”
“Yes?” Fukuzawa says when they all turn to him and he doesn’t speak.
Dazai opens his mouth, closes it again, looks like he’s thinking about something, and promptly drops his head on the table, seemingly asleep.
“Ha,” Kyoka says, “I got that on video.”
“I’ll take him home,” Atsushi says, standing before anyone else can volunteer.
Kunikida moves to stand too. “He’s wasted, Atsushi. You can’t leave him alone.”
Atsushi waves Kunikida down. “It’s fine. Kyoka and Naomi have been talking about a sleepover for a while now, but there’s always an issue with space. If I spend the night at Dazai’s dorm, they can have one tonight, right?”
Naomi squeezes Atsushi’s waist so hard that he thinks she might sever his body in half. “You’re so kind, Atsushi!”
Tanizaki at least tries not to laugh as Atsushi wheezes and pets Naomi’s head. “It’s nothing, really.”
Kyoka doesn’t bother to hide her snickering at the strained sound of Atsushi’s voice or the big breath he takes when Naomi releases him.
He walks around the table and grabs Dazai’s arm to try to pull him up. “C’mon, time to go home.”
Dazai doesn’t move, but he does whine a bit.
“Will you be okay to take him back alone?” Kunikida asks. “He’s not going to want to walk back.”
Atsushi smiles. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. He’s lighter than some of the things Kenji bet me I couldn’t lift.”
Kenji grins when Atsushi looks at him.
“Plus, it’s not far at all.”
Atsushi waves and bids everyone goodbye before dragging Dazai out on his sleepy feet.
“Carry me,” Dazai demands when they get less than ten steps away from the doors. “I’m tired.”
“Sure,” Atsushi says and throws Dazai over his shoulder.
“Not like that!”
“You didn’t specify.”
Dazai huffs. “You’re more annoying than Chuuya.”
Atsushi hums but doesn’t respond to that. “What announcement did you have?”
“I didn’t. I just wanted attention.”
“Aw, you’re like a toddler!”
“If I’m a toddler, then carry me like a toddler! I wanted a piggyback ride!”
“Then say that next time.”
“Next time?! Give me one now!”
“But we’re already near the dorms. I can see the building.”
Dazai huffs again. “I’m never going drinking again if you’re going to be the one taking me back. At least Kunikida gives me piggyback rides.”
“Kunikida is tall enough for that.”
“Chuuya gave me piggyback rides and he’s short so you’re just full of shit.”
“Oh?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did you go out drinking with Chuuya a lot?”
“You don’t sound surprised that I used to drink underage.”
“You used to be Port Mafia. I’m surprised you haven’t been drinking since you were ten.”
“Fair enough,” Dazai says as Atsushi begins the climb up the stairs.
“Dazai,” Atsushi says when he comes to a stop in front of Dazai’s door.
“Hm?”
“Why do you never lock your door?”
“There’s nothing valuable. Well, there is one thing, but it’s properly hidden. Plus, it’s not something anyone would steal.”
Atsushi rolls his eyes as he enters and closes the door behind him. “What about your clothes?”
“I can just buy more.”
“Food?”
“Kitchen is empty anyway.”
“Wow.”
Atsushi sets Dazai down and watches him teeter for a moment before sitting on his small couch.
“You really are like a toddler. Do I need to go over to my dorm and fetch food for you?”
“Nah, I ate with Yosano earlier. Plus, my personal caretaker brings me food every week.”
“Your what?”
“My personal caretaker. I even have the receipt.”
“You bought a person?!”
“It was free, actually. I just have a paper that says my personal caretaker is mine forever and ever.”
Atsushi squints at Dazai. “I dread the answer, but are you married, by any chance?”
Dazai blinks lazily at Atsushi before a droopy smile crosses his face. “Can I show you something?”
Atsushi nods and watches Dazai stand. He steps towards Dazai when he wobbles, but stays there when Dazai seems to find his footing and walk into the kitchen. Dazai pokes around for a moment before opening a drawer and feeling around beneath it. He yanks an envelope off the underside of the drawer and lets out a triumphant yip before skipping back to Atsushi and pulling out what’s inside the envelope.
“That. . .” Atsushi stares at the paper, “is a marriage certificate.”
“Sure is!”
Dazai turns it around and slips it back in the envelope before Atsushi can read the names inked on it.
“Why are you showing me this?”
“No one will ever believe you.”
Atsushi can think of at least one person that will.
“I should destroy this so no one ever finds it.”
“No! No, no, no, no! You should put that away and then we’ll have a nice conversation when you’re sober, okay?”
Dazai huffs. “Okay.”
“Good. Why don’t you get ready for bed, hm? I’ll take the couch.”
“It’s small.”
“I’ve slept on less before. Come on, let’s go put it back under the drawer.”
“I thought you’d be more surprised about this,” Dazai confesses as Atsushi leads him into the kitchen.
“Oh, I’m plenty surprised but I figure you’ll answer better when you’re sober by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Fair enough.”
Atsushi wakes up at the crack of dawn to the smell of gas and fire. When he jumps up off the couch, he spies Dazai in the kitchen, giggling to himself as he stands in front of the gas stove with a burning paper held in a pair of tongs.
“Dazai!”
Dazai looks at Atsushi and cackles. “He can’t return me without the receipt!”
Atsushi scrambles to turn the stove off and pay the flames out on the counter. “Dazai, first of all, you can just apply for a new certificate if you damage this one and second of all, why would you set it on fire in the dorms?!”
Dazai pouts and looks at the charred remains of the certificate. “It looked fun. Plus, he can’t get a new certificate because no one in their right mind is going to believe that the big, bad, scary — actually let’s go with small, bad, scary — mafia man got married in the first place.”
Atsushi stares at Dazai for a long moment. “You. . .”
“And he’d have to go to France.”
“Dazai, who exactly did you marry?”
A smile of pure delight that likely wouldn’t be there sober lights up Dazai’s face. “My annoying slug!”
Atsushi sighs, knowing he’s not going to get a name out of Dazai. Plus, he has his suspicions anyway, so it doesn’t even matter. “And don’t you think he will be upset that you torched this thing when it’s so difficult to get it replaced?”
Dazai gasps. “You think he’d replace me?!”
“Not you! The certificate!”
“Oh. Well, you only need it for legal things and he’s not the kind to do legal things so it doesn’t matter.”
“I — go back to bed, Dazai.”
Dazai sulks all the way back to his futon and Atsushi watches him get in before going back to the kitchen and staring at the half of the certificate that bears Dazai’s name. Well, it actually doesn’t say Dazai anywhere on it, but Osamu is there. He sighs and pulls out his phone.
It rings for a good few seconds before the line picks up.
“Just because I said I would answer, does not give you reason to call me first thing in the morning.”
Atsushi ignores Akutagawa’s irritated tone. He picks up the certificate by an un-charred corner and wrinkles his nose at it. “Dazai just torched his marriage certificate. The mafia can forge a new one, right?”
Akutagawa is silent for a moment. “Why would we need to forge one? Can’t he just apply for a reprint? He’s not mafia anymore.”
“No, but his husband is.”
“His h- what?”
“The half of the certificate that survived says Nakahara and I don’t know any other small, bad, scary mafia men whose names are Nakahara.”
Akutagawa falls silent again for a while. “I have to go.”
“Okay, but I just want to state that he was wasted and is still a bit drunk, and his reasoning was that he can’t be returned without the receipt.”
“I will mention that.”
“Okay.”
“Okay. Goodbye.”
“Love you.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Atsushi waits and sure enough, he gets a grumbled response. “Love you, too.”
“Bye!”
“When were you going to tell me that you’re married?” Akutagawa demands, marching into Chuuya’s office like that won’t get him attacked on any other occasion.
Chuuya, though startled, manages to maintain an impassive expression. “And how did you come to this conclusion?”
Akutagawa doesn’t answer. He’d rather admit to being the one who pranked Hirotsu so badly that the older man nearly suffered a heart attack. Not that he did it alone and if he has to, he’ll take Tachihara and Higuchi down with him.
“Akutagawa, I am going to assume you have a good reason for barging in and accusing me of being married to someone.” Chuuya raises his eyebrows expectantly and waits.
“Uh . . . Dazai kind of . . . set the certificate on fire.”
Chuuya stares blankly. “What?” he states more than asks.
“Yeah, uh, he got wasted and said you can’t return him without the receipt. I have a picture.”
Akutagawa pulls his phone out and shows Chuuya the photo of the burned certificate on Dazai’s countertop.
“Who sent you this? Was it Dazai?”
“No, um, it was . . . it’s from the weretiger. I gather he’s babysitting Dazai.”
“Oh?” Chuuya’s gaze softens ever so slightly before he grins like he’s landed in a pot of gold. “Oh.”
“It’s not what you think. Dazai keeps shoving me on missions with the weretiger and he tends to get lost a lot and —”
“I really don’t care who you date, Akutagawa.”
“I’m not —! Really?”
Chuuya nods. “I really don’t. However, you are coming with me.”
“Where?” Akutagawa asks, already following Chuuya out of his office.
“Chuuya,” Kouyou says as she rounds a corner and nearly bumps into him. “Where are you off to so early?”
“I’m taking Akutagawa on a field trip.”
“Oh? Be safe.”
“We’ll certainly try to.”
“Where are we going?” Akutagawa asks when they continue on their way.
“To beat the shit out of Dazai.”
Akutagawa pulls out his phone to text Atsushi a warning.
Angry mafia executive incoming.
“Look at what you caused!” Atsushi cries, shoving his phone in Dazai’s face.
“Aww, Chuuya’s coming over?”
It would be a little easier to stay mad at Dazai if he wasn’t so adorable coming down from being drunk.
“Wait, how does he know what I did? Atsushi, who did you tell?”
Atsushi is saved from answering by the doorbell, but he quickly realises it must be Chuuya and he’s not very safe. Regardless, Atsushi leaves Dazai on the couch to open the door.
“Uh, hello,” he says, a little surprised to see Chuuya and Akutagawa.
“Where’s the bastard?” Chuuya grumbles.
“On the couch,” Atsushi says, quickly stepping out of the way before Chuuya pushes him over.
“In my defense,” Akutagawa says, “I did not foresee this happening.”
“Yeah, right,” Atsushi says.
“It was an accident!” Dazai cries and the two of them turn to see Dazai topple over the back of the couch as Chuuya climbs up on it. “An accident, I swear!”
“You said I couldn’t return you without the receipt!” Chuuya screeches. “You knew exactly what you were doing!”
“Should we do something?” Atsushi asks.
“Yeah. Make popcorn.”
Atsushi slaps Akutagawa’s arm. “I’m being serious!”
“Wh-! So am I! Can I come in or do I have to watch the show from the doorway?”
Atsushi gestures for Akutagawa to enter and closes the door after him.
“I was drunk!” Dazai pleads as Chuuya grabs his collar. “In fact, I’m still a little drunk!”
“You’re an idiot, is what you are! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to replace that damn thing?!”
Dazai giggles — truly, genuinely giggles. “Good thing I didn’t burn the certified copy too.”
“You — fuck you. You had a copy and you set fire to the original?!”
Dazai turns his head to look at Atsushi and Akutagawa. “So, since when is this a thing?”
“I suddenly have to be someplace else,” Akutagawa says.
“Mhm,” Atsushi says, nodding. “I gotta go, uh . . . shower.”
“I’m not done with you,” Chuuya snaps at Dazai when he waves cheerily as Atsushi and Akutagawa stumble over one another in their attempt to scramble from the dorm as fast as possible.
“Why are you here?” Akutagawa suddenly asks.
Atsushi looks up from the basket he’s just tossed his towel into, to find Akutagawa in the doorway to the bathroom. “I’ve been here for, like, an hour.”
“Yes, I know, but why?”
Puzzled, Atsushi looks around. “Because your high-pressure shower with hot water is nicer than going to a bathhouse? Because I like your shampoo more than mine? I really don’t know what answer you’re looking for, baby.”
“I don’t mean my apartment, your furry fool. I mean. . .” Akutagawa sighs. “Nevermind, I don’t know what I mean.”
Atsushi follows Akutagawa out of the bathroom and to the living room. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s never nothing with you. The last time you said it was nothing, I found out you couldn’t sleep ever since Gin moved out and I had to find out only because you fell asleep on the job when Dazai sent us to greet a threat to Yokohama that both the agency and the mafia would benefit getting rid of.”
Akutagawa glares at Atsushi. “What is it going to take for you to let that go?”
“Ryuunosuke, baby, you fell asleep in the middle of a fight. You couldn’t pay me enough to let that go.” Atsushi sits on the couch and pats the space in front of him. “Come on, what is it?”
“I don’t know what it is,” Akutagawa says, sitting down with a sigh. “I just — I always had my suspicions that they were together but I never imagined that they’d be. . .”
“Married?”
“Yeah.”
Atsushi sits sideways on the couch and tilts his head. “I’m actually not as surprised as I thought I’d be. I was actually more surprised that there’s a valid certificate than the fact that one exists. Dazai wasn’t so good at keeping his relationship a secret, only how serious it was.”
“Do you think he feels relieved that you know?”
Atsushi studies Akutagawa for a moment. “Y’know, I’m not gonna stop you if you want to tell people.”
“But we agreed —”
“A year and a half ago, baby. Yokohama was still putting herself back together after the whole scandal with the agency being supposed terrorists. Things were a mess. We were a mess. And who knows? Maybe if we tell Dazai, he’ll stop sending us to isolated places where we have zero way of contacting anyone until we finish the mission in the name of team building or whatever.”
Akutagawa doesn’t respond.
“Hey, just talk to me.” Atsushi shuffles closer and smiles. “I promise I won’t make fun of you. Well, not for an hour, at least.”
“You are insufferable.”
“Mm, and yet, here you are. Suffering me.”
Akutagawa closes his eyes when Atsushi cards his fingers through his hair. “I would hardly call this suffering, if I’m honest.”
“Do you want to tell someone?” Atsushi asks gently. “Not that I can think of someone you’d want to tell who doesn’t already know, but I thought I’d ask anyway.”
“I don’t know. Don’t you?”
Atsushi shrugs. “I don’t mind people not knowing. Though, it would be funny to see the look on Ranpo’s face when he finds out.”
“I will always be amazed that he doesn’t know yet. You’re a horrible liar.”
“True, but no one’s ever actually asked me and therefore I haven’t needed to lie.” Atsushi tilts his head. “It’s not about the secrecy, is it?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
“Do you ever think about . . . more?”
“More? I think I’ve been conditioned to feel insanely guilty about looking greedy.”
Akutagawa raises his eyebrows. “This from the man actively trying to put a dent in my wallet every time I buy food?”
“I get very hungry sometimes!”
“I know.” Akutagawa grins. “I enjoy teasing you. And I enjoy spending money on you.”
“I know.” Atsushi lays his head on Akutagawa’s shoulder when he feels Atsushi’s arm around his waist, his fingers tapping some sort of pattern against his body. He frowns. “Is that Morse code?”
“No,” Akutagawa lies.
Atsushi smiles. “I love you, too.”
“Well? You didn’t answer my question.”
“More, like what? I mean, I’m a hundred percent down to move in because you have great furniture and a fancy fridge. Plus, it’ll be easier to steal your clothes.”
Akutagawa rolls his eyes. “You are the worst.”
Atsushi chuckles. Then it finally hits him. He sits upright and stares at Akutagawa. “Is this about marriage?”
“No!”
“It is! You’re nervous about talking about it!”
“I am not!”
“You are! You’re worried I’d say no!”
“I am n- wait. Would you really say no?”
Atsushi rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t say no, Ryuunosuke. But if this is how you plan to ask, I’m going to have to tell you to do better.”
Akutagawa rolls his eyes too. “Don’t be absurd. I would acquire a ring first if I planned to. I was merely . . . thinking about it.”
Atsushi reaches into Akutagawa’s pocket and pulls his phone out, unlocking it and going straight to the browser as he lays his head down again.
“What are you doing?”
“Ring shopping. Your taste in jewellery sucks.”
“It does not! And don’t do that. I get to choose it.”
“Says who?”
“Me! I say so!”
“Why?”
“Because it’s supposed to be a surprise.”
Atsushi snorts and continues scrolling through the images. “Yeah, right. The last time you tried to surprise me with an accessory, you bought me a watch that I couldn’t even tell the time on.”
“It looked nice,” Akutagawa grumbles. “And I’d put more thought into something like this.”
“Yes, but you’d buy me something like this.”
Akutagawa frowns at the photo Atsushi shows him. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Baby, the diamond is bigger than my fingernail!”
“So?”
“So, I would accidentally take my own eye out with this. It would be a nuisance to wear. Not to mention, I’d probably need to wear it on a chain so I don’t end up chopping a finger off every time I need to use my ability and this would be hell around my neck.”
“Hm. You make a good point. What about that one?”
Atsushi clicks on the photo Akutagawa points at. “You’re learning. Bands are nice. But this is ridiculously overpriced. And ugly.”
“It is not ugly!”
“It’s the colour of puke.”
“Fine! Fine, choose your own goddamn ring!”
Atsushi snuggles closer. “This is not the way I envisioned marriage talks would go.”
“Really? Because you bullying me is exactly how I imagined it would go.”
“Ha ha, very funny. Oh, Dazai texted you.”
“What did he say?”
“He wants to know if you know where I am.”
“What did you say?” Akutagawa asks when he sees Atsushi typing and sending something off before going back to the browser.
“I said no, like the liar you are.”
Atsushi scrolls through a few more photos before he pauses. “Hey, you’re not going to set our marriage certificate on fire, are you?”
“I have to. I need to be sure you won’t return me.”
“You’re so stupid.”
“It’s because of all the time I spend around you.”
“Okay, you know what? Maybe I want a divorce.”
Akutagawa smiles. “Good luck trying to get one without the receipt.”
Atsushi suddenly throws the phone in Akutagawa’s lap. “Dazai is calling you.”
With a sigh, Akutagawa answers the phone on speaker with a curt, “I’m busy, what do you want?”
Atsushi looks at the phone while Dazai responds. “Would you tell Atsushi to look at his phone? We have work to do.”
Akutagawa glances at Atsushi, who sighs and peels himself off the couch to go in search of his phone.
“While you’re there,” Chuuya’s voice sounds over the phone, “we gotta go, too.”
Akutagawa wrinkles his nose. “You and me? To the same place? The world isn’t ending again, is it?”
“No, no, just convenience. We’re the only ones that live close by. Calling for someone else would take unnecessarily long. I’d ask your sister, but they’re out on a long-term assignment.”
“Oh. Oh, okay. Text me the address, I’ll meet you there.”
It’s Yosano’s day off and she usually spends her off-days alternating between relaxing or window shopping. While engaged in the latter today, she spies an interesting sight. Through the windows of an expensive jewellery shop, she sees Dazai and Atsushi looking into one of the displays and seemingly arguing about something while an attendant watches. Over with another attendant is Chuuya and Akutagawa, looking amusingly serious.
She steps in.
“Wow, what are the four of you doing in a jewellery shop?”
“Robbery,” Dazai says, the same time that Akutagawa says, “Homicide.”
“What?” Atsushi asks, turning to face Chuuya and Akutagawa.
“Potential homicide,” Chuuya corrects. “It could just be an abduction.”
“Is that not our jurisdiction?” Dazai asks.
“Do you want to take on a rescue operation of Port Mafia standards?”
“Nevermind.”
“That’s what I thought. Butt out.”
“Oh, is this place mafia-owned?” Yosano asks.
“Apparently,” Dazai says, sticking his tongue out at Chuuya when he notices Chuuya glaring at him.
“Hey,” Yosano says, looking at Chuuya and Akutagawa. “You guys are coming on Saturday, right?”
“What’s on Saturday?” Akutagawa asks, quite obviously playing dumb.
“You know what’s on Saturday,” Atsushi hisses.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Did you suffer brain damage recently?”
“Only when you talk.”
Yosano thinks their little rivalry and bickering is adorable now that the danger level between the two of them has watered down from a potential murder to catfights in an alley. “Well,” she says, “I’ll leave you to it. See you two on Saturday.”
When she leaves, Dazai turns back to the display cabinet and the open catalog next to it, so they can document what’s missing. “The only reason anyone would steal that is to sell it. You know we have to track it down through the black market.”
Atsushi frowns at Dazai. “Are you saying that because it’s something that’ll fetch a lot of money or because you think it’s ugly and no thief would ever want it for themselves?”
“That is the ugliest ring I have ever seen in my entire life.”
“Can I borrow this?” Atsushi asks the attendant, turning away with the catalog before she can respond.
He crosses the store and drops the catalog in front of Chuuya. “Dazai says that’s the ugliest ring he’s ever seen in his life.”
Akutagawa and the second attendant lean over to look at the photo.
“It’s a little ugly,” Akutagawa says.
“I’m afraid I must admit that many customers barely give it a second glance.”
“It’s not ugly,” Chuuya tells Atsushi. “It’s just boring.”
“You all suck.”
“Your taste sucks,” Akutagawa says.
“My taste in what, exactly?”
Akutagawa, Chuuya and Dazai all respond at the same time.
“Jewellery,” Akutagawa says.
“Clothes,” Chuuya says.
“Men,” Dazai says, and promptly flees the store.
“Wow,” Akutagawa says flatly.
“I’ll deal with him,” Chuuya promises. He shoos Atsushi away. “Go solve your own problems and stop disturbing mine.”
On Saturday morning, Atsushi breaks into Akutagawa’s apartment.
Akutagawa is standing in his room, a mug of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. “Did I not give you a key?”
“It kind of fell in a drain downtown yesterday,” Atsushi admits, still perched on the windowsill.
“Again?”
“Not on purpose!” Atsushi hops off the windowsill and closes the window. “It fell off my neck and I didn’t know how to tell Kunikida that I needed to hop into the sewers to look for a key without him questioning my very existence. He already did that on Wednesday. Verbally. To everyone.”
“You could’ve said you lost your keys down a drain,” Akutagawa says, scowling when Atsushi takes a sip of his coffee before putting it back in Akutagawa’s hand.
“Mm, yeah, I already used that one last time, so now Kyoka gets to keep the dorm key. Your coffee is disgusting.”
“Then don’t drink it.”
“How much sugar is in there?”
“Enough.”
Atsushi scoffs.
“What are you even doing here anyway?”
“I came over to make sure you’re getting dressed for today.”
Akutagawa turns away from Atsushi and continues on his journey to his bed, turning his attention to his phone on the way. “No.”
“Come on! It’ll be nice! Your sister’s coming.”
“My sister has a crush on someone in your office.”
“Yeah, duh, and you have a crush on me.”
Akutagawa sets his mug down on the nightstand as he takes a seat and raises his eyebrows at Atsushi. “A crush? On you? Remind me again who was it that started bawling in a random alley on the other side of the city and wouldn’t calm down even after Dazai had to be called for an early extraction, and had to be comforted like a baby?”
Atsushi rolls his eyes. “I had, like, four nightmares the night before alone. Let it go.”
“I will hold that over you until you stop bringing up the sleeping incident.”
Atsushi jumps on the bed, bouncing twice and Akutagawa counts himself lucky he already put his mug down. “It’s a celebration! A happy anniversary to the ceasefire between the Armed Detective Agency and the Port Mafia and well wishes for our continued assistance to one another.”
“You just rattled off someone else’s speech.”
“Oh, whatever. There’s going to be so much candy and chocolates and all kinds of goodies.”
Akutagawa turns his gaze back to his phone. “You cannot bribe me with sugar.”
“Fine. I’ll go to the party early.”
“No! No, no, no, no, no.” Akutagawa abandons his phone to grab Atsushi by the belt and yank him back.
“Sap,” Atsushi teases, relaxing against Akutagawa and picking up Akutagawa’s phone. “What are you up to?”
“Date spots,” Akutagawa mumbles, burying his face in Atsushi’s shoulder.
“Top ten most romantic spots in Yokohama,” Atsushi reads off the screen. “Aw, you’re looking at proposal spots.”
“Shut up! I’m not!”
“Ooh, the Sky Garden sounds nice. But what if I drop the ring off the observation deck?”
“I’m smarter than that,” Akutagawa grumbles. “If I were looking at proposal spots — and mind you, that’s a big if — it would definitely be on solid ground and far from drains or loose soil or carpet. It would also have to be somewhere quiet, so that when you do make a disaster of the entire thing, it wouldn’t be hard to find the ring.”
“You’re so cute,” Atsushi says, “planning a hypothetical proposal in such great detail.”
“Who said it was hypothetical?” Akutagawa asks, nuzzling Atsushi’s cheek. “I just said I’m not doing that right now.”
Akutagawa doesn’t need to see Atsushi’s face to know how hard he’s blushing. He can feel the heat radiating off Atsushi’s neck.
“Oh,” Atsushi says in a small voice.
“What? You’re the one who’s been harping on about it for a whole week, now you’re getting all shy?”
“Shut up,” Atsushi mumbles.
“Chuuya says he and Dazai are flying out for a two-day trip to Toulon to replace the certificate Dazai burned,” Akutagawa says casually.
“Oh?”
“Mm. He happened to mention that he wouldn’t be opposed to company.”
“Company? Us? What, are we supposed to keep him from throttling Dazai every time he remembers why he’s in France in the first place?”
“Among other things. Toulon has beautiful beaches, and there’s supposed to be some kind of incredible walking trail, and —”
“Did you do vacation research?” Atsushi interrupts, leaning forward to turn and squint at Akutagawa.
“Maybe.”
“Every day, I try to remind myself that you scare my coworkers and every day, you remind me that you’re just a soft dork on the inside.”
“Am not. I’m very scary.”
Atsushi hums and kisses Akutagawa’s hands. “If you say so.”
“Well? Take a trip to France with me?”
“I would love to, but how am I supposed to disappear without everyone at work wanting to know why?”
“Dazai can pull a mission out of his ass or something.”
“True. All right, then.”
“Good, because the flight leaves tonight.”
Atsushi pulls away again and stares at Akutagawa. “You stress me out, you know that?”
“I know.”
“You’re lucky I like you.”
“I know.”
“Get dressed. We’re going to that lunch party.”
“Ugh.”
“Attention, everybody,” Dazai says, climbing on a chair and cupping his hands around his mouth for extra volume.
Slowly, the chatter dies down as, one by one, they all turn to him.
“In light of some new information the Port Mafia has received, Atsushi and Akutagawa will be undertaking a three-day job in France.”
“France?!” Tanizaki shouts.
“This is the first I’m hearing of this new information,” Tachihara says.
“It’s above your paygrade,” Dazai says, sticking his tongue out at Tachihara.
“Rude!”
“You cannot send Atsushi to France,” Kunikida says. “He gets lost when he has to take the train.”
“It happened once!” Atsushi cries.
“I’ll be accompanying them,” Dazai says, “so I will also be unreachable for the duration of their stay.”
“Wait, that’s not fair,” Gin says. “How come Atsushi gets to take company but not my brother?”
Tachihara sticks both hands in the air. “Ooh, me! I wanna go to France! I’ll go!”
“I’m going,” Chuuya says over Tachihara. “Someone on that trip has to be willing and able to lock Dazai in a closet if he doesn’t behave.”
“You wouldn’t,” Dazai says, pretending to be wounded.
“I’d lock you in a portable toilet if I could.”
“Ouch.” Dazai rolls his eyes. “Anyway, given the time sensitivity, we’ll be leaving now.”
“Wh- right now?” Yosano asks.
“Are you packed already?” Kouyou asks. “Why didn’t you mention this before?”
Chuuya shrugs when Kouyou looks at him. Dazai avoids Ranpo’s gaze like it’s the plague.
“Atsushi,” Ranpo says, “did you know about this?”
Atsushi shrugs. “First I’m hearing of it.”
“I thought so. Good luck, I guess.”
Dazai stares at Atsushi with a look of vague awe. He gives his head a quick shake. “We’ll be taking all Kyoka’s little sandwiches.”
“No!” Elise shrieks. “You can’t have all!”
“We will be taking all except five of Kyoka’s little sandwiches,” Dazai amends.
“I have to sit next to you on a plane for, like, fifteen hours,” Chuuya says, mercilessly yanking Dazai off the chair and dragging him to the doors by his collar. “I’ve had enough of your chatter already.”
“Bye, everyone!” Dazai calls, not bothering to get up.
“Here,” Kyoka says, handing a plastic bag to Akutagawa and Atsushi each. “There’s enough in there for all of you.”
Akutagawa inclines his head slightly. “Thank you.”
“You’re amazing, Kyoka,” Atsushi says. “Thank you!”
“You’re welcome.”
“You should go before Chuuya decapitates Dazai or something,” Naomi says.
“Right,” Atsushi says before bidding everyone goodbye and rushing in the direction Chuuya had dragged Dazai. Akutagawa follows.
“It’s not really fifteen hours, is it?” Tachihara asks.
“How am I supposed to know?” Gin asks when they notice both Tachihara and Tanizaki looking at them.
Over in the back of the room, Fukuzawa looks up when Mori approaches.
“We didn’t get any new intel,” he states.
“I know.”
“Oh. You know.”
“Mhm.” Fukuzawa pauses for a moment. “Don’t even think about sending anyone to Lyon.”
“Lyon . . . thank you.”
Fukuzawa watched Mori walk off before smiling to himself. Playing with people like Mori is actually fun if he knows what his pieces look like.