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Dazai could have stayed inside at the party where the other members of the Armed Detective Agency were meeting the President at his return, sipping sparkling beverages, and feasting on the wealth of food the Guild had spread for them. He could have stayed and watched the nervous reactions of those mindful of their disobedience or the laughter of their camaraderie, but his mind was elsewhere, on friends he'd never forgotten and on a certain former partner he'd carefully put out of the way. This whole series of events had made him mindful of friends and partners again. Perhaps, he even finally understood what Mori had answered when they'd first demanded of him why they must partner.
A cat came through the window, one familiar to him before he'd joined the Agency and also afterward. He'd thought it coincidental, despite knowing that nothing was coincidence. Then Mori and Fukuzawa both slipped their sickbeds, and there was that shining moment of understanding that they were diamonds under the same mentor once; as once before, Dazai and Chuuya had been diamonds under theirs.
The bay glowed with the colors of the sunset—reds and pinks and gold. He cradled a champagne glass and thought of an ancient toast between friends, one a spy and a traitor, another good in a way Dazai was not and hadn't been, and his own self once upon a time. Strange to think that even now, he'd still reach out hands for Ango when he must, clasp hands with those who called him traitor, that all of these memories haunting him would rise again at times like this and remind him he'd never fully left that life behind.
"Dazai-san."
Atsushi, smiling warmly, had found his own way from the party, and Dazai found himself turning to converse and probe his own charge with a few questions. Only diamonds could sharpen diamonds and Atsushi and Akutagawa, both his charges once if at different times, both so certain they were incompatible, impossible to work with, worked together as smoothly and powerfully as every other duo ahead of them, charged with the protection of Yokohama.
He could almost laugh at Atsushi's own version of his and Chuuya's teenage protests.
Ah. Youth.
They would learn from each other as partners did, and one day, they would both find their places without needing to destroy the other. It was a happy enough ending for now, one worthy of a toast and a goodnight to a lovely evening, framed by that beautiful sunset.
It was a good time to return to his dorm to deal with his own other matters, a book delivered upon his request by someone unaware of what the package contained. They always had worked well together.
Dazai opened the package, flipped open the pages of the book, and began to read.
"You!"
"Ah, Chuuya! I'd heard you hadn't managed to find your way out." Dazai smiled as obnoxiously as ever.
Chuuya growled back at him. He'd dispatched most of those who needed it, but the Agency's detective had already exited by actually solving this blasted mystery where everyone was guilty of something and they all had to have their secrets revealed before he could finally escape. A fine trap indeed.
"What do you want, mackerel?"
Dazai cocked his head, gave that small smug grin Chuuya hated the most. "Don't you want to get out?"
Work with Dazai again, however briefly, for whatever reason. Chuuya glared back at him. "And who was responsible for putting me in here?"
"Yes, yes, but the danger's past. The Mafia and the Agency won!"
Without him. Chuuya nearly put a fist in Dazai's face, but he danced out of the way with the ease of long experience, as if they were still just kids and all the bad blood between them merely pranks and bad teasing.
"Come, Chuuya. You don't have to solve it, just be part of the team that does. What do you say... partner?"
The word was said with too much warmth, too much fondness hiding behind Dazai's eyes, under the smug laughter and the condescending teasing. The vague animosity that colored so many of their interactions was strangely absent, perhaps because Dazai could afford that when Chuuya wasn't necessary to this particular task.
"You came here just to rub it in my face, did you?" Chuuya sighed and dropped his fist without rearranging Dazai's features. "Well, get us out already then, bandaged bastard."
"Ah, so impatient, Chuuya!"
"You haven't been in here fighting off five hundred murderers wanting to kill you," Chuuya retorted. Not that it mattered all that much. Chuuya was more than capable of fighting five hundred murderers to the death. Caring about which convoluted plot they were involved in was much harder.
Maybe it wouldn't be that bad letting Dazai take over that part. His brain was one of the few redeeming qualities Dazai had.
Chuuya took it all back. Dazai had no redeeming qualities and his brain was the worst part of him. "I'm gonna kill you," he said, fixing Dazai with a dark glare.
Dazai just shook the last of the dust and ash of that last explosion off his coat and pointed out, "We're out of the book, aren't we?"
"The next time you call yourself my princess—"
"Would you rather be the princess then, Chuuya?" Dazai asked with comically wide eyes and an innocent expression that would fool absolutely no one ever.
"—throw yourself in my arms and declare to everyone that we're double suiciding, I will murder you."
"That nice couple didn't ask us any more questions, did they?" Despite them having arrived in a precarious position hanging off Dazai's balcony. Dazai hung up his coat and started unbuttoning his shirt.
"We're not partners. We're not dating. I'm not your prince. You're not my princess. And like hell I'm going to die with you!" Chuuya nearly threw his knife at Dazai. "Why are you still undressing?"
"I'm dirty and want to take a shower."
"You're impossible!" Chuuya threw up his hands and started back for the front door.
"You could always take one with me!" Dazai called out.
Chuuya threw his knife in the direction of Dazai's voice and kept on walking.
"So mean, Chuuya!"
"Give that back next time we see each other, partner."
Dazai smiled to himself as the door slammed shut. He would at that.