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Why are days never calm at the Armed Detective Agency? To answer that question, some may point to the suicidal maniac, or the screaming workaholic, or perhaps even the numerous threats to public safety they endure almost daily. But today, it truly was something as simple as what was in the mail.
“They’re invitations,” Dazai said, eying the paper in his hand as if it had personally offended him.
Near half the agency had received suspiciously pristine envelopes when sorting through the mail this morning. Yet unread, their sender remained a mystery.
“To celebrate this era of peace…” Atsushi skimmed through the contents. “…a hard time for organisations such as ours… Something about finance… Ah, look here!”
He cleared his throat and paraphrased. “It is my pleasure to personally invite you, and your potential plus one, to a masquerade this Saturday evening. Consider it no less a bonding experience than our party at the yacht.” He looked visibly excited at the prospect of a party, then continued reading.
“You will be expected at 19:00, something something… Respectfully, Mori Ougai- the head of the port Mafia??!”
Atsushi’s excitement had flipped to confusion. It’s true that the agency and the mafia were on decent (he hesitated to call them good) terms at the moment, a formal celebration with both organisations still seemed… far off.
Kunikida read his invitation at least five times consecutively. “I assume this is an effort on the mafia’s part to mend the truce we’re supposed to keep standing.” He seemed sceptical. “President, what do you think?”
Fukuzawa regarded the papers soberly.
“It seems an earnest attempt to host a collective gathering between multiple organisations. The ball is on neutral ground, so I don’t see any potential risks,” he spoke. “That being said, the choice to go is personal to each of you.”
“A masquerade… That’s where we all wear masks and dance, right?” Atsushi said.
“That seems fun…” Kyouka’s eyes shone, despite her not having received an invitation herself.
“We might as well go, right?” Yosano said. “I need an excuse to wear a fancy dress.”
“Uh, duh. The snacks last time were amazing,” Ranpo responded with a smile. “It says to bring a plus one, I should force Poe to come too.”
“Puh, nevermind them, Kyouka,” Naomi said, also not invited. “We’re going to have a girls night together, you and me.”
“Oh! Can I come too?” Kenji asked happily.
It did seem this party was ought to be a more mature one, seeing as those underage weren’t invited. However, those who were, seemed excited at the prospect of such a celebration.
Though, not all of them shared this same excitement.
“A masked ball, huh?” Dazai murmured. “I think I know just what to do.”
____
Days in preparation for the big event fly by, as most the ADA had decided to go.
Yosano had dragged Atsushi and Kunikida into the city to buy proper outfits. Ranpo was apparently too busy bribing his plus one and while they tried to get Dazai to join, he managed to get out of it, saying something about being too broke to afford a suit anyway.
“I don’t see why this is really necessary,” Kunikida said as Yosano held up two different ties to match with his shirt.
“I still have a suit in my closet. That should work fine, shouldn’t it?”
Yosano, in return, rolled her eyes. “You wore that one to the last party. And besides, it wouldn’t kill you to splurge a bit.”
She held up one of the ties. “We’re definitely going with this one. You just need a blazer to match it.”
“Yosano-sensei, don’t we need masks as well? Where can we buy those?” Atsushi asked.
“It is a masquerade, after all,” Kunikida said. “Though I hope we won’t have to waste time on a guessing game with all those masks.”
“A guessing game?” Atsushi asked.
“Well, apparently that’s what they used to do. Back in the old days, you know. It’s said the disguises were surprisingly effective.” With the way Kunikida quickly responded, Atsushi knew he’d likely spend all of yesterday reading historical reports of old masked balls.
“The masks… I hadn’t thought about that,” Yosano admitted. “I suppose we can try a costume shop. Or we could order custom.”
Atsushi clutched his wallet which was noticeably shallow after Yosano talked him into buying a new vest for the party. “I think I’ll try the second hand store first.”
“Nonsense! Let’s see what masks this place has to offer.” And no sooner said than done, Yonano marched them out of the shop to a rather expensive looking emporium.
But as they approached the entrance, they halted to see a familiar figure standing in front of the shop window.
It was Dazai, staring at one of the masks on display. A white one, with a dramatic flare up on one side.
“Dazai?” Kunikida said. “You said you didn’t have the money to come shopping with us. Not to mention your poor money management or-“
“Oh, hi, Kunikida-kuuuuun!” He waved at them. “Let’s be thankful that glances are free, shall we?”
“Do you already have an outfit, Dazai-san?” Atsushi asked.
“I’m sure I have something in my closet that hasn’t attracted any moths so far.” Dazai turned back to the window. “But masks are a different thing. Maybe I’ll just put a plastic bag over my head.”
“Don’t even think about it, you!” Kunikida said. “We have to think about keeping up a good image for the agency.”
“Don’t you think our image has already been through a lot…?” Atsushi murmured.
“I’m always focused on keeping a perfect image, don’t you know?” Dazai said. “Don’t worry do much, Kunikida-kun! If you keep that up, your hair is bound to turn grey!”
“What, really?” Kunikida grabbed his notebook. “If you worry too much, your hair will…”
“I’m messing with you.”
“WHY YOU-“
___
They ended up leaving the mall a few hours later, Atsushi and Kunikida each carrying an impressive tower of packed bags and boxes while Yosano walked in front.
They had each settled on an outfit, complete with mask. Dazai had stayed with them for a bit, but had ultimately strayed away.
Everyone was, in their own way, preparing for the big event. Prepping outfits, arrangements, maybe even a date.
Fukuzawa gave his employees the afternoon off when the date finally rolled around, giving everyone some much needed time to get ready.
When they finally all gathered on before the gates of the large mansion they were invited to, everyone was visibly excited.
“I’m here!” Atsushi called out, running to the rest of the group. “I’m sorry I’m late, I couldn’t find my mask.”
Atsushi wore his usual white shirt and black dress pants, now with a neat black vest and a lilac tie that matched his eyes. He wore a simple black mask with white lining to complete the look.
“What did I tell you about being punctual, brat?” Kunikida said, though his tone lacked any real bite. He checked his watch. “We’re still 12 and a half minutes early, as per schedule, thankfully.”
Kunikida had a very nice pale green suit, with a black western tie. Upon not being able to find any masks that fit over his glasses, he elected a simple hand held one from the costume store. It seemed he had already planned out this entire evening, even when not being the host.
“So, are we going to go in, or what?” Yosano asked. After a lot of back and forth, she had settled on a long burgundy dress and a red hand held mask.
“Dazai’s late, as expected. We can wait a few more minutes,” Kunikida answered.
“Yeah right,” Ranpo said. He wore a simple brown suit with a green bowtie, sure to be matching with Poe. It seems he either forgot or neglected to get a mask somewhere.
“If you guys want to wait another three hours out here, be my guest, but personally I don’t want to miss the buffet.”
“Three hours? Don’t tell me…” Atsushi sighed. “Honestly, why am I surprised?”
“Alright, fine. If that bastard wants to be late…” Kunikida pushed up his glasses. “Let’s go in. Dazai will know where to find us.”
And with that, the group went inside, brimming with excitement. The large gates letting through each and every guest, before it became quiet on the pavement.
Hours passed, before one peculiar man showed up.
Fukuzawa, the agency’s president, had already formally informed the hosts that he would be late in attendance. He had some last minute business to take care off, and not seeing an opportunity to postpone his duties, ultimately let them take priority over the party.
It was when he finally neared the mansion that he noticed a man sat near the entrance.
He sat leaning against the gate, staring quietly ahead under the light of a nearby street lamp.
As Fukuzawa came up to the gates, he decided to address this young person.
“Dazai-kun.”
Dazai shot up in place, apparently only then noticing his company.
“President,” he said, standing up.
Now fully in the light, Fukuzawa could get a better look at him. Dressed in a white dress shirt with full sleeves and high waisted black pants, a black mask in his hand. He looked well put together, if not slightly off balance.
Fukuzawa waited for a moment. “It looked like you were waiting on something?”
“Oh, no,“ Dazai shook his head. “It’s nothing. Shall I join you inside?”
“If you wish.”
The two continued down the path together, making entrance into the large mansion.
As they stepped inside, they were greeted not by the party’s organiser, but by Fitzgerald, who owned the property. Apparently he liked to host large parties. Fukuzawa noticed Dazai’s demeanour calm a bit after that, something he was glad to see.
The room was colossal, filled with people from all different organisations. Logically, most being mafia. There was a large bar at the back of the room, and a small orchestra playing music for the dancers.
Right next to them, Fukuzawa and Dazai could find familiar faces.
“There they are!” Atsushi was the first to greet them, waving from across the room.
“Looks like we got ourselves quite the party,” Dazai laughed as they came up to join the rest.
Yosano quickly helped to fill them in on the earlier events of the night, and immediately it felt like they’d been there for hours already.
Fukuzawa let out a breath, no longer used to the busyness of large parties. Still, he was glad to have made it.
All and all, he had been looking forward to this.
As time passed, the group dispersed a little, with Ranpo having gone somewhere with Poe, and Yosano and Dazai making their way to the bar.
“Wine for you, I’m assuming?” Dazai asked Yosano, having ordered bourbon for himself.
“Oh, check if they have a good merlot,” she responded, looking over the rows of bottles.
Then, her eyes fell onto a red haired lady, sitting lonesome at the other end of the bar. “On second thought…”
“Oh, her? I see~” Dazai said. “She’s a mafia executive.” He winked. “Good luck.”
Yosano playfully pushed him. “I’ll be right back,” she said before walking off.
Dazai had barley received his drink before someone else spoke up.
“What the- I thought I heard someone mention merlot, and I just had to run into you?”
“Ugh, Chuuya,” Dazai responded. “Can’t you see I’m trying to enjoy a drink?”
Chuuya leaned with his back against the bar, looking Dazai over. He wore a thick suit coloured different greys and dull blues, the dark jacket slung over his shoulder.
“I’m surprised you showed up at all,” he said. “Here I was hoping on a mackerel free night.”
“Hm? Well, too bad for you.”
Chuuya’s eyes narrowed. “You- Don’t give me that, you bastard! Why are you even here if you’re just going to sulk in the corner?”
Dazai pretended he didn’t hear him, taking a long sip of his drink.
“The boss was looking for you, ya know?” Chuuya continued, leaning on the bar. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you planted another bomb in headquarters.“
“Is he somewhere around? I haven’t seen him yet,” Dazai answered honestly.
Chuuya motioned to the other side of the bar, stirring his own cocktail. Following his gaze, Dazai could just make out a red scarf behind the masses of people.
“You know, if you’re alone…”
Chuuya was about to say something else, but then his eyes were captured by the doors on the other side of the room, opening up.
A figure he didn’t recognise was let inside. They wore a long, deep purple cloak, and an elegant white mask concealed their face.
The person stayed by the doors for a few seconds, carefully glancing over the surroundings, before spotting the bar.
“Chuuya, I’d love to chat more, but I have to go,” Dazai said, standing up from his seat.
With the thick cloak removed, Dazai could observe this mysterious guest better. They wore a black dress shirt with sleeves that fanned out just above the wrist, lace white gloves, and striking white dress pants.
Their black hair was tied up behind them, violet eyes a penetrating gaze, even from behind the mask.
This night was finally starting to get interesting.
Chuuya turned to him with a questioning look, but Dazai gave only a simple explanation.
“My date is here.”
-
“Excuse me, Mori-sensei, there’s a slight problem.”
“Nothing too urgent, I’d hope?” Mori brushed off the nervous underling, having hoped to gain a few seconds rest at the bar.
“Uhm, there seems to have been a breach in our security system,” the mafia member mumbled. “We… aren’t yet sure of the severity, but it’s possible that-“
He rambled something more about numbers that ultimately meant nothing.
The murmur of the man’s voice draped into the background. How irritating, honestly. Mori had done near everything in his power to make sure this celebration would proceed perfectly.
And so far, the odds were in his favour. Near nothing could derail his plans.
Except…
“White Russian, no ice.”
Someone else had come up to the bar. Someone speaking in a very obvious accent.
The bartender turned back to grab a bottle, and despite his better judgment, Mori spared the new guest a glance.
Suddenly, things weren’t looking as peachy.
“Have you ever heard that it’s bad manners to sneak into a party uninvited?” he said, loud enough so that the other man could hear.
The stranger quickly finished his drink before turning to his host.
“My, what a surprise,” the other responded. “If I’d known I’d end up next to the host, I would have acted accordingly.”
Dostoyevsky let his fingers slide across the empty glass, smirking with the full audacity and slyness of a cat. “However, you see, I am invited.”
“And by who, pray tell?” Mori prodded, hoping to catch him on a lie.
“By me.”
As soon as he heard the familiar voice, Mori realised exactly the mistake he’d made.
“Mori-sensei,” Dazai greeted, coming to stand next to Fyodor. “I see you’ve already met my plus one.”
“I will say, this is quite the party,” Fyodor said. “Dazai, dear, I must thank you for the invitation.”
Mori was silent for a moment, which had the two demons revel in their succes.
“One word from me, and every single person here will be at your throat. Is the enjoyment worth the risk?” Mori turned to Fyodor. His voice was low, still a gentle edge.
“Of course,” Dazai answered for him. “Because calling alarm would mean admitting to failing as a host.”
“The status you built to gain with the agency, the guild, everyone so high and mighty…” Fyodor added.
“It all comes at risk if they find out you let a rat sneak in.” Dazai smiled, keeping his tone just as civil.
“So you arranged this, just to spite me? How considerate of you.”
They had won the moment Mori didn’t go through on his threat.
The music seemed to swell as the performers switched to a new song. Striking chords of the violin overplaying even the murmur of conversation.
“Ah, this one tune is delightful.” Fyodor turned to Dazai. “Would you care to join me?”
He held out his hand, eyes looking expectantly at Dazai.
“I thought you’d never ask.” Dazai smiled and took his hand, and just like that he was lead away.
As they approached the ballroom, Dazai put on his own mask. Black, over eye, with white adornment on the sides.
As they met in the room’s centre, they simply stared at each other, as if only basking in the moment.
“I’m glad you made it,” Dazai said.
“An hour ‘till midnight is what you said, was it not?” Fyodor responded. “Until the day ends, I’m all yours.”
___
It all seemed so natural now, when only a few days before that…
“I’ll have to decline.”
“PLEASE Fedya,” Dazai whined. “It would be hilarious! Can you just imagine his face when we walk in there, hand in hand? Can you?”
Despite the past 20 minutes of Dazai trying to convince him, Fyodor still wasn’t very impressed.
“Besides,” Dazai didn’t give up, “it’s the perfect opportunity to do something like this. Like, bam, a big reveal! Who knows when we get another chance like this?”
“Mhm.” Fyodor unsubtly turned his attention back to his book.
Dazai clambered over the couch to crawl next to him.
“There’ll be free drinks,” he tried. “And good food. Free alcohol, Fedya!”
Finally, Fyodor sighed and closed the book.
“You’ve gotten quite obsessed with this idea, haven’t you?” he asked. “You know it will only end in chaos.”
Dazai finally seemed to realise he wasn’t going to get anywhere with cheap tricks, deflating into the soft pillows beneath him.
“I suppose it’s because it’s such a big celebration that I want to go, but even so,” he turned to Fyodor. “What’s the point of a masquerade ball if I can’t dance with you?”
There was more to it than that, Fyodor knew.
He noticed a deep desire of some kind in his lover’s eyes. One he hadn’t seen before.
Fyodor turned towards him. “You still haven’t told me what you’re really after.”
Dazai smiled. “If you come, you’ll be able to figure it out.”
He didn’t say anything more, but he had conveyed enough. He only had to spark curiosity.
Fyodor sighed. “…I will consider it.”
Dazai smiled victoriously, wrapping his arms around him. “I love you.”
They had never really discussed making their relationship public before. It was easy enough to hide from prying eyes, slipping away without evidence.
Though, Fyodor could tell something was amiss, watching Dazai stare at couples holding hands in public.
Perhaps they’ve waited long enough.
____
Atsushi was dwindling between the dance floor and the windowsill, alone after most of the agency had split up, some going off to the bar. Atsushi was one of the few guests under legal drinking age, so he didn’t join them.
Then, to his surprise, a red haired girl walked up to him.
“Some party, isn’t it?” Lucy said, smiling. She wore a cute blue dress, and a darker linnen mask.
“Lucy-san!” Atsushi said once he saw her. “I didn’t know you were invited.”
Lucy laughed in response. “I’m surprised too, I thought it was over after what I did. But apparently Fitzgerald didn’t think the same.” She shrugged. “I guess this is some kinda small reunion for the guild.”
Atsushi realised this must be the first time guild members had come together after the moby dick’s fall. Maybe this night was an opportunity in many more ways than one.
“Hiya, Atsushi!” a cheery voice called out. It was Ranpo, unsuccessfully trying to wipe crumbs from his shirt.
“Ranpo-san! I thought you were with Poe-san?” Atsushi asked.
Ranpo waved him off. “Wanted some room to breath and went to the roof, you’ll understand.”
“Yeah, I see why. There’s so many people here,” Atsushi murmured. His eyes flew over the crowd before him, before halting.
In the middle of the dance floor, one pair had gotten quite a bit of attention, outclassing all other dancers. Atsushi saw them move perfectly in cinq to the music, swaying with practiced care. It wasn’t until a sharp turn that Atsushi could finally get a look at one of their faces.
“Wait… Is that…?” Atsushi squinted his eyes. He wouldn’t have considered it in a million years, but that mop of brown hair was unmistakable.
“…Dazai-san?!”
“Wait, that’s your mentor?” Lucy asked. “Not what I expected from mister ‘I’ll pay my tab tomorrow’.”
“It must be... But I can’t place who he’s dancing with.” He tried his best, but the masks made distinguishing people a lot harder. “Do you recognise the lady?”
“Atsushi-“ Ranpo snickered. “That’s a man.”
“Huh?”
“And not just any at that.” Ranpo mumbled that last part to himself. “Now, what are you planning?”
____
“Who knew you could dance?” Dazai said, leaning into a sharp turn.
When he spun back into his dance partner’s arms, Fyodor responded. “Interesting, I was about to say the same to you.”
He hooked his leg around Dazai’s and spun the both of them around on the accent of the violin.
The fast paced nature of the music had them flying over the floor, a constant battle of who was leading.
“I will say, this night is turning out to be a lot more fun with you here,” Dazai confessed when they drew close together.
“Is that what this is about? Fun?”
“Hmm~ Perhaps I’m letting myself enjoy something this time.”
Fyodor took a quick step forward, lowering his partner in a dip.
“I’m glad we share the same sentiment.”
Dazai laughed, still hanging low. “Careful there, you don’t want to draw too much attention, do you?”
“Maybe I want something to be made clear.”
“And that is?”
Fyodor took that as his que, and leaned in.
A few gasps and a few cheers were heard as they kissed, undoubtedly from the small crowd watching them dance. Even so, none of them yet had a name to connect to these masked faces, allowing them to keep anonymity.
The song had ended, and they stood together in a crowd that shone with glee.
“It’s hopeful, isn’t it?” Dazai whispered. “That one day we’ll be able to do this, free of hiding? I’d like that.”
His words roamed in Fyodor’s head still for minutes to come.
They decided to step away from the dance floor, sauntering towards the bar. Then, Fyodor suddenly stopped.
“What’s wrong?” Dazai immediately turned to him. “If you faint in here-“
“Look behind us,” Fyodor muttered back.
He did, and to his surprise, he found his president talking with none other than war hero Fukuchi. After everything, it was a miracle he could still walk.
“Thank you for the last minute invite, old friend!” he said, clopping Fukuzawa on the back. Was he drunk? Already?
“So that’s why the president was late,” Dazai murmured. His mind was already racing. Someone like Fukuchi could potentially recognise Fyodor, jeopardising both of them.
Ducking further into the crowd, they were shielded from sight. But in this environment, there was not a single safe space to escape to.
Or perhaps, if they were lucky, there could be one.
“Let us step outside, shall we?” Fyodor said.
——
They managed to find a staircase leading up to the rooftop area, which was thankfully completely deserted. It was decorated with fairy lights all throughout, mimicking the stars above. There even was a pool, the water still like a perfect mirror.
Dazai couldn’t help but feel conflicted as they relished in the cool air of the outside.
“It seems I may have underestimated the amount of people here that want you dead,” he tried to joke. “It makes sense you’d want to leave.”
“Are you serious?” Fyodor asked in return. He took off his mask, breathing in the cold winter air. “This night is getting more exciting by the minute.”
Though his answer somewhat surprised Dazai, it suddenly felt like a weight was lifted.
“You’re being quite daring today.” He elected to state the obvious, leaning back against the wall.
“You invite it, my dear,” Fyodor hummed in response.
“Am I a bad influence on you? Can’t say I’ve heard that before.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps I simply recon,” he said, looking out over the skyline, “that when we’re together, no one can stop us anyhow.”
He turned back to Dazai. “And that, is why you invited me, I believe.”
“Hm~ There might still be a separate reason.” Dazai didn’t give in.
“Oh? As I see it, you hardly stand to gain from this. Unless you value disturbing your old boss that highly, which I doubt you deem worth the risk.” Fyodor was quick to respond, but Dazai only smiled.
He motioned for Fyodor to get closer, which he did.
“Perhaps the thing I value so much,” he said, pulling Fyodor in by his collar, “is simply to be with you.”
With those last words, he closed the gap between them. Fyodor responded almost immediately, caging his body up against the wall, deepening their kiss.
Their hands started roaming in gentle touches, tugging at clothing, lost in the moment until-
“Eeek!”
A slight interruption.
The scream had the couple pushing away from one another, only to find a lanky author, clutching a racoon in his arms like a pillow, taking off before them.
Dazai all but groaned, obviously annoyed. “Okay, he definitely saw you, let alone us.” He let out a sigh. “I’ll be right back, don’t you worry.”
And with one last tender touch, he set of after the poor author, leaving Fyodor alone on the roof.
The evening air felt awfully cold all of a sudden.
Fyodor exhaled, slowing putting his mask back on. As it became clear he’d have to wait for Dazai to diffuse the situation, he abandoned their spot at the wall.
The small orchestra downstairs had switched to a more poppy repertoire. The melody made its way through the air all the same, swirling with the sweetness of the song’s lyrics.
“Just like me, they long to be…”
Fyodor hummed along to the notes of the song, leaning forward over the fence as he stared out over the city.
“Close to you…”
He knew he wouldn’t be alone for long.
For, no sooner than a minute later-
“Dostoyevsky.”
Fyodor turned back over his shoulder, finding fierce green eyes and the barrel of a handgun. So much for a surprise.
“Detective,” Fyodor greeted, looking him over. “Your safety is on.”
“Wh-“ Ranpo fiddled with the gun, trying to find a switch, and upon finding none, he just threw the weapon aside. “Nevermind that.”
His unfamiliarity with the weapon lead Fyodor to believe he had nicked it from one of the mafia grunts downstairs. Meaning that the detectives had come here unarmed.
Ranpo refocused his attention to the very wanted terrorist in front of him. “Why are you here?”
Fyodor tilted his head, as if debating what to say. “Free drinks.”
“Hardy-har. Why are you really here?” Ranpo didn’t look very amused.
“The great detective himself couldn’t figure it out? I’m almost disappointed,” Fyodor mocked, rather than giving an actual answer.
Ranpo looked a little more uncertain now that he was unarmed. Still, he persisted. “I can’t figure out what you’re hoping to gain from this.”
He had a point there, Fyodor thought, for the real reason is…
The reason is…
“I will put it this way,” Fyodor turned back to the night sky, “I am here for no reason other than that someone wanted me to be.”
What he hopes to gain, however? That is a different question.
“I’ll ask you something in return, detective,” Fyodor said. “Have you pondered the reason why this ball was hosted to begin with?”
Fyodor had read the invitation. It hadn’t slipped his attention how the narrative just barely didn’t add up.
Ranpo was quiet a split second.
“It’s simple, it’s just to celebrate…” he trailed off. “Unless-“
He suddenly shut his mouth, realising something. The same thing Fyodor had realised, and the thing that ultimately had convinced him to come.
“That’s what I thought,” Fyodor murmured. “Then there’s still something I have to do.”
He walked away from the ledge, not looking back before vanishing around a corner.
Ranpo was left on the roof, alone. Only one thought on his mind. He had to find Fukuzawa.
___
Dazai had to carve himself a way through the masses of people, chasing after Poe. He needed to stop the author before he could relay anything he saw to Fitzgerald.
He stopped in place, eyes scanning over the surroundings. Where did his target scurry off to?
A brown suit caught his eye. Bingo.
Dazai reached for their shoulder and the person turned around, surprising him with familiar eyes over a plastic green mask.
“Ango?”
Ango stiffed a bit. It seemed neither had expected to see the other here. “Dazai-kun, it’s good to see you here, ah… Can I pull you aside for one moment?”
Dazai said nothing as Ango lead him away from the masses, into one of many hallways.
Once it was finally quiet enough to speak at normal volume, Dazai spoke up.
“So, want to tell me what you’re doing here?”
Ango shook his head. “You were never one for formalities.” He sighed. “I’ve been asked to keep an eye out. So many gifted people in one place, well, you know the drill.”
“Are you afraid this party could… attract someone’s attention?” Dazai’s brow furrowed the tiniest bit.
“I hope not. But with you, and everyone here, I’d want to assume we have nothing to worry about.”
There was a slight twinge in his response, like he wanted to say something more. Alas, Dazai could breathe easily. They weren’t onto him yet.
“Well, aren’t you lucky with me, huh?” Dazai said, though his voice lacked any cheer. “I better go find the agency.”
He wanted to find Fyodor. Just Ango being here makes things more complicated, not to mention he still hadn’t gotten to Poe.
“Actually, I had something to ask of you,” Ango intervened, before Dazai could slip away.
“You understand, everyone here has gone through a lot. They are seeking for something to pin their hopes on,” he said. “Hopes that this peace will last.”
“Mhm.” Dazai absentmindedly responded. He did not want to have this conversation right now.
He heard something coming from the ballroom, the tingling of glass. As if someone was calling attention. “…What time is it?”
Ango opened his mouth to say something, but Dazai spared him no time. He walked through to the nearest door back, and found himself stood on a stage, opposite the orchestra.
Bright lights were focused his way, and the people gathered around were quiet.
“Ah, Dazai-kun,” Mori said, stood front centre on the small stage. “You’re just in time.”
The crowd’s attention silently shifted to him, and suddenly Dazai realised just how isolated he truly was.
___
The crowed around them watched as Mori lifted his glass, finally addressing his guests.
“I wanted to take a moment to express my gratitude for everyone who gathered here,” Mori spoke. “The Guild, the Armed Detective Agency, and, of course, the Port mafia. All here united in our ongoing battle for consonance.”
He took a moment to smile gently, almost bordering on innocence.
“But even we must conform to tradition,” he said.
Dazai had realised instantly what he meant. The simplest trap he could lay.
Without further theatrics, Mori continued.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the twelfth hour has come. If all would please remove their masks, we shall enter the new day.” With that, he was the first to remove his mask, many others following after him.
Still bearing that deceivingly gentle smile, he turned back to Dazai. “Dazai-kun, perhaps you wish to partake in the opening dance?”
He was mocking him. Even if Fyodor showed up now, he would stand out too much or be forced to remove his mask.
Well, they’ve had their fun. It was never bound to last.
‘Until the day ends, I’m all yours.’
He heard Fyodor’s words repeat themselves in his ear. At least he wouldn’t be dragged into this now.
“You didn’t need to spend all this effort,” Dazai told Mori. “He’s already left.”
Mori seemed to have expected that, yet his smile broadened.
“Then, you might wish a different dance partner, no? I think this could be a fantastic opportunity, Dazai-kun, to-“
All at once, the lights cut out.
Everyone was covered in darkness, confused voices rising out of the crowd. But before Mori could console the crowd, or even demand an explanation,
Dazai felt a hand graze his own, and a voice whisper into his ear.
“Focus on my voice.”
He felt himself smile. And, perhaps against his better judgment, Dazai let this mysterious voice guide him off the stage, into the pitch black of the crowded room.
They passed confused whispers and rustling fabric, until they finally stood still somewhere.
The violist started to play, suddenly, from within the shadows. A familiar tune, combing through the darkness.
A spotlight flashed on overhead, and Dazai could see violet eyes inches away, feel a hand firmly grasping his own, another creeping onto his waist. Feel a warmth blooming between them.
He and Fyodor were back in the middle of the dance floor, and it was like the rest of the room had melted away completely, dissolved in the darkness.
The music picked up, confused musicians deciding to mimic the violist and play, and Tchaikovsky’s Swan lake filled the room.
And, then… they danced.
A mimicry of the ballet, slow, almost a waltz. Pressed up close together. Gentler than their earlier dance, but no less intense. Every single muscle conveyed thought, feeling, a whole conversation without a single spoken word.
Their audience watched in silence, forced into the role of bystander, not daring to breathe even a single breath too loud as to not disturb this performance.
Dazai had realised, he and Fyodor were the only ones still wearing their masks. With both the light and music following after them, this could only appear to have been scripted as part of the evening. A fundamental part of the ball itself.
In just a few short moments, Fyodor had managed to set the environment to his hand, and use it to its utmost advantage.
“I see!” Someone whispered in the crowd. “It’s a reference to Verdi’s opera, the masquerade. The first dance of the new day!”
As always, it seemed his strategy had worked flawlessly.
All this snuck behind his back, all for the reward of this dance. The music flooded his head, overactive mind soothed by the simple rhythm of their steps, by a body holding his own.
Dazai smiled into Fyodor’s shoulder.
“How?” he whispered.
“Hijacking the lights, and a small bribe,” was the answer.
Fyodor knew well what this night entailed. A thin mask was the only thing between him and the wrath of this crowd. Yet, simply being here, in the arms of the one he deemed the most dangerous, he couldn’t seem to regret his decision to come.
All to say, he couldn’t stop himself from acting when he saw Dazai enter that stage.
“I thought you would have left.” Dazai pulled away to meet Fyodor’s gaze again. “You had a clean window. It was the safest option.”
Fyodor slightly tilted his head, then relaying the simplest solution all their mind games so far had seen.
“I didn’t come here to be safe,” Fyodor responded. “I came here, to dance with you.”
His palm flattened on Dazai’s back, pushing them closer again.
He wanted to say more, so much more. To only see the look on Dazai’s face was already more than worth the risk.
…He did have a plan, when he first agreed to come. A question to ask, a simple one.
Yet, one he didn’t dare ask. Not now, not in this company.
Fyodor was a patient man, you see. And he was waiting. Waiting on the perfect time, the perfect place.
Perhaps he had underestimated how like minded they truly were, for he was spared from waiting any longer when Dazai read his mind.
“Ne, Fyodor,” Dazai said, “marry me.”
Fyodor’s eyes widened and he stood still, their dance ending with the song.
He’d said it loud enough that it could be heard, the perfect pinnacle that this night had been leading to. Right here, in front of everyone, fearlessly in love.
Fyodor’s look of pure surprise was one Dazai loved to see, but this time his eyes shone with affection.
“Osamu, I…”
Before he could properly answer, a scalpel flew shot through the sky, grazing his temple.
“That’s enough!” a voice boomed from behind them. “I won’t allow this to go any further.”
Fyodor’s hand quickly went up to the side of his head. The blade had missed his skin by a hair, but…
It had sliced clean through the ribbon of his mask.
The white mask fell to the ground without a sound, and a deathly silence followed.
It took not a moment too long for the demon’s features to be recognised. Cold shock seeped into the room as the pieces finally fell into place.
Fyodor slowly smiled, and turned back to face his assailant. Now in the mids of it all, finally standing unmasked.
“Don’t be dissuaded,” Mori said. “The real threat was here all along.”
Temperature in the room had plummeted, allowing the silence to become all but oppressive.
Fyodor allowed the audience just enough time to breathe a gasp before he calmly responded.
“Forgive me, I assumed this party was one celebration of peace, so to say? Must we ruin the illusion already?”
Dazai had stepped slightly closer to him, wide eyes rapidly scanning the room, taking in every petrified expression.
Most faces he’d dreaded to see didn’t seem to be at the front of the crowd. Except for one.
Chuuya had burst through the front rows of people, likely to shout something along the lines of ‘you bastard! I’ll kill you!’, but even he fell strangely quiet when Dazai met his gaze.
Chuuya locked eyes with his boss, uncertain, almost. Mori, however, smiled as he carefully considered his words. Because now, he could see opportunity.
He stepped into the inner circle, making his intentions more than known.
Fyodor took a slight step forward, hiding Dazai behind his frame. This was a battle of wits, and one he knew how to play.
“It’s true. In reality we are far from free of terror, violence, the gruel of conflict…” Mori smiled again. “But, with this… sudden guests in our mids, all that can end here, tonight.”
Fyodor narrowed his eyes.
“For a supposed genius, it wasn’t very smart of you to show up here,” Mori mocked.
“You think you can kill me?” Fyodor mocked back.
“Me? No, not nearly. But I know who can.”
His smile broadened, and he addressed the room.
“Dear guests, the reason we are gathered today, as you see here right before your very eyes, the terrorist is still at large,” he began.
“Thus, I propose, to end this once and for all, we bring back the most powerful team in Yokohama’s history. Double black,” Mori said, turning back to Fyodor. “And with them back under my command, you will be nothing more than a faded memory.”
He smiled triumphantly, finally revealing the plan he’d been hinting at the entire evening.
But his smile fell just as quickly when he locked eyes with Dazai.
“So that’s it.” Dazai stared at him, his eyes soulless. There was a poisonous bitter in his expression, seeping into the air.
This was what Ango tried to tell him about. This was all just a ploy. A stupid fucking ploy.
“The agency is still indebted to me,” Mori defended. “You know that. And you know what my choice would be.”
It finally dawned on the remaining guests what they were talking about. And by proxy, what Mori’s speech had been referring to earlier.
Finally, Dazai took off his mask, being the last to do so.
Fyodor stared back at Mori. He sighed, as if deeply disappointed.
“And there it is. This is simply a desperate recruitment attempt. Backing the agency in a corner and forcing them to your hand. Not bad, not bad at all.”
He looked back at Mori, his smile now simply mocking.
“Only, a little predictable, don’t you think?”
Hateful silence followed.
“Hm,” Fyodor hummend, before anyone else could speak. “Well, this has been fun. Dazai?”
“Hm?”
“Will you show me out?” he asked.
Attention shot back to the two of them. More pieces seemed to finally fall in place, yet not nearly quick enough.
“Yeah,” Dazai responded calmly. “I will.”
They looked at each other in a knowing gaze. This party was over.
“Don’t you dare,” Mori seethed. He activated his ability, and Elise wielding a giant syringe flew through the sky towards Fyodor.
She was followed by others, golden demon flying through the sky, weapons being drawn.
Yet before any could make contact, the room suddenly filled with a bright white light, and when it faded again, the two demons were gone.
Chaos erupted. Voices, abilities, everything overlapping in a wondrous mess.
As soon as the air cleared, and with it most of the crowd, Ranpo let out a breath.
“…So that’s what he hoped to gain,” he murmured.
Then, a voice rang out.
“Mori-sensei. Was that your intention in bringing us here?”
It was Fukuzawa. Ranpo stood next to him, likely having revealed the evidence already.
Next to him stood Fukuchi. He said nothing, he stared like a madman into the centre of the room, too still to even breathe.
“You were a fool to try and corner them,” he murmured, breathlessly. Then he turned, and left.
Mori stared back with grit teeth. He’d walked right into his own trap.
‘The status you built to gain with the agency, the guild, everyone so high and mighty…’
‘It all comes at risk if they find out you let a rat sneak in’
“Those demons…” he eventually managed. “They knew this would happen.”
As the masses cleared, Fukuzawa turned once more to Ranpo.
“Ranpo,” Fukuzawa began, quietly. “Do you know the reason? Why Dazai… invited him?”
“Huh…” Ranpo stayed silent for a moment. “Same as to why you invited your old friend, I guess. Just… to have someone to dance with.”
_________
In the streets flooded with moonlight, two demons walked side by side.
“I suppose you were right,” Fyodor said. “That was quite the big reveal.”
Dazai laughed. “I can’t believe we did that.”
Fyodor looked up at the stars above them. “It was a stupid ploy. You must forgive me for interfering.”
“Mhm. I would have done the same,” Dazai said. “Ahh, it’s gonna suck to diffuse all this.”
Fyodor was silent for a moment. “You can always stay with me until the dust settles again.”
Dazai smiled. “Then I’d never leave.”
“Perhaps that’s just what I want.”
The calm night was gentle around them, a soft breeze being their only accompaniment.
It was the quiet that prompted Fyodor to speak again.
“Osamu, what you said, back there…” He turned back to Dazai. “Did you mean it?”
Dazai smiled at the stars.
“I did.”
There was no hesitation in his voice. He himself had waited for that moment for far too long.
Fyodor took both of his hands, his features melting into a softness unfamiliar to him.
“Then my answer is yes,” he said. “A thousand times yes.”
His voice was clear, without a hint of uncertainty. The answer to a question so long awaited.
The question hadn’t been necessary to ask, really.
Dazai smiled as a breath escaped him, the confirmation finally landing.
“As long,” Fyodor then said, “as you’ll allow me to buy you a proper ring. One worthy of your hand.”
“I’m really glad you said that, I’m kind of broke at the moment…”
A soft laugh filled the air, then followed by silence.
“I need you to know that if we go through with this, what happened tonight will be nothing in comparison. Every barrier is set in our way,” Dazai said. “Do you believe we can? That it’s possible?”
Fyodor’s grip on his hands tightened. “I believe that if anyone could, it will be us.”
___
The moon was at her highest point, the open curtains allowing her silver light to flow the room.
Fyodor watched Dazai’s form as he slept next to him. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the way the blanket loosely draped over his shoulders.
Lying here, in this calm ocean of a bed. A man stupid enough to betroth himself to a demon… or perhaps two of them.
His love-, no, fiancé, Fyodor mentally corrected himself. The reason he came to this silly gathering.
This night of disaster, danger, confrontation…
Every second had been worth it. Every moment beautifully spend, squeezed for every drop of pleasure.
He pulled the sleeping man closer into his chest, knowing that in the end, he had won.