Chapter Text
Once a month, Kunikida and Atsushi make the entire Armed Detective Agency participate in a bonding activity.
These always go unbearably poorly, which means Yosano is never allowed to bail on any of them, which makes the day miserable for everyone else. They always end in flames or near death experiences or Fukuzawa giving them a stern talking to (which is probably the most unbearable of those options).
This month, the pair are making them run a carnival for the community. “It’ll be a good experience,“ Kunikida said the week prior, putting out a sign-up sheet and ignoring everyone’s looks of despair. “It’ll help the Agency’s reputation around town.”
“And besides,” Atsushi added, “it’ll give us all a chance to work together!”
“The Agency has a reputation already. For being the people you call to get you out of trouble with the Mafia,” Tanizaki protested. “I wouldn’t go to a party thrown by cops.”
“We aren’t cops,” Dazai said with mock offense. “I’ve committed four crimes just this week.”
At this point, Kunikida tried to tackle him out the window, so everyone went back to their computers and pretended they did not see it.
All of them tried their hardest to get out of it, but here they are, setting up booths and signs on a small green patch of land outside their headquarters. A few people from the community are milling around, checking out the various shops and stands. Tanizaki and Naomi offered to make caramel apples and popcorn, and Kyouka organized a few games in the realm of ring tosses and darts. Kunikida is fairly sure they’re rigged to be unwinnable, but it was enough of a struggle to get her to participate, so he cuts his losses.
Atsushi got strong-armed into sitting in the dunk tank, looking as comfortable as one can in swim trunks perched on a small piece of plywood above a tank of freezing blue water. He eyes a handful of kids with suspicion as they pick up balls and look at the target hung next to him. Kenji is in an identical contraption next to him, but everyone either takes pity on him or fears him, so he stays entirely dry.
Yosano fought Kunikida until he admitted that fine okay first aid can count as a booth please don’t hurt me. At the moment, she’s over visiting a small booth set up in the corner with a bench inside, talking to a group that is sure to be an upcoming lawsuit.
Ranpo sits there, hands propped behind his head, feet on the counter in front of him, eyes closed. Poe is next to him, looking as uncomfortable as always, adding to the conversation here and there. To his left, Dazai makes an intricate series of hand gestures.
“What does this mean?” Kunikida had asked, looking over the sign-up sheet a few days before. In scrawling handwriting it read: Fortuneteller of Love.
“Exactly what it sounds like,” Ranpo replied. “We’re going to take a good look at any willing participant and set them up with their perfect match through a series of very intricate and scientific studies.”
“He means we’re going to stare at people for a while, play matchmaker using our Abilities, and bully them about their taste in people,” Poe corrected.
Kunikida sighed, long and full of suffering. “Why does that need both of you?”
“I’m better at actual deduction,” Ranpo said.
“I write romance novels, which practically makes me an expert,” added Poe. He never made eye contact through his bangs, but Kunikida grew fairly certain he was being sassed.
Dazai, presumably to talk with people he could stand and to do the least amount of work, made a banner and brought it with him, declaring himself an essential part of the team. In black looping script on a white background, it reads: Seduction Deduction.
“This is going to end horribly, right?” Lucy mutters to him as they walk around the grounds. He ensures everything is running smoothly; she hands out samples of coffee and advertises for the cafe.
Kunikida considers earlier, when Ranpo and Dazai spent around twenty minutes tag-teaming after the president showed up, describing in graphic detail the kind of hot babes in bikinis he would love to have around. Poe put his head in his hands and did not look up, but Kunikida is almost certain he was shaking from laughter.
“It’ll be fine,” Kunikida assures her.
At the end of the first hour, Tanizaki and Kyouka have made a significant amount of money for the Agency’s operations, and Atsushi has resorted to licking himself clean in tiger form to combat the amount of water dripping from his hair and clothes. Kenji remains dry. Kunikida receives no complaint or uproar about Dazai, which instinctually makes him nervous.
“How’s it going on your end?” he says, walking over. The three are still in the same positions as earlier. A tip jar in front of them holds a few bills and coins.
A bandage covers Dazai’s right cheek. “Pretty good. Made a couple dollars. Got beat up by Yosano.”
He nods. “Probably a warranted beating.”
Ranpo winks. “Want us to read your love fortune, Kunikida?”
He grimaces. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come on,” he continues, leaning back in his chair to the point where all laws of physics govern that he should have tipped over ages ago. “You have a list, right? What if we could find you someone who fit all fifty-four of those traits?”
“Fifty-eight, I’ve expanded, and no. I’m too busy with work to worry about dating.” Kunikida starts to walk away.
“Come on!” Dazai begs, eyes alight at the prospect of being able to tease Kunikida in new and unplanned ways. “I’m sure being dedicated to work is on the list, isn’t it?”
Kunikida takes a deep breath, considers his mild curiosity, considers the amount of nagging in his future if he doesn’t get this over with, and turns around. “Fine.”
He stands over the booth’s small desk, making sure nothing goes wrong as he sets the Ideal down and flips it to a page near the beginning.
Dazai whoops with delight. “I can’t believe we’re finally being granted passage into this chamber of secrets, unbeknownst to any other mortal men, the highest of—”
Kunikida tries to punch him in the face then, chasing him around the booth while the other two look over the journal.
Ranpo makes a show of putting on his glasses, Kunikida gives up on the futile quest to knock his partner unconscious, Dazai slips back into his seat, and the three crowd around the list, poring over its entries. Yosano appears from the ether behind them, one eyebrow raised. There’s a moment of silence.
“These are so stupid,” she says. Ranpo nods.
Kunikida flushes and makes a high pitched noise of protest.
“You don’t have any room to argue here,” says Ranpo. “Number forty-two is ‘slightly edgy’, whatever that entails.”
He clears his throat. “They’re perfectly reasonable and carefully selected.”
“Number thirty-seven is well-endowed,” Dazai says, seeming to regret his choice to peer at the inner psyche of one Kunikida Doppo.
“That could apply to anyone! I didn’t want to be selective.”
Yosano rolls her eyes. “Oh, you didn’t want your fifty-eight points for an ideal partner to be selective.”
Despite their mounting despair, they flip through the pages, continuing to read the highlights out loud and discussing under their breath. Pisces, hardworking, loyal, committed, serious, protective of Yokohama, loves tea and artwork and calligraphy, doesn’t like dogs, strong.
Ranpo flips the page over, then back, then looks up at Kunikida. His face contorts into an expression it’s quite possible no one’s face has ever formed before. He covers his eyes with his hands and makes a low noise, keening and pained.
“What?” Kunikida demands.
Ranpo shakes his head, face splitting into a grin. “No, no, you’re not going to believe me—”
Dazai looks at him petulantly, Poe expectantly. Ranpo is a better detective than them, but not by much, and Kunikida is suddenly rather glad all three of them are on the Agency’s side. Ranpo bursts into laughter, his shoulders shaking. Tears well up in his eyes.
“Come on,” Dazai whines.
Poe nods. “Give us something.”
“There are—” Ranpo breaks off into cackling again, setting his head on the table. “T-two options.” He wipes his eyes and starts laughing again. “Look at his right ear and then look at number twenty-three.”
Something sparks in both pairs of eyes at the same time; he’s not sure if it’s closer to shock or terror.
Poe covers his mouth with his hand, his eyes darting around the circle and full of mischief. A surprised laugh slips out. “No.”
Ranpo shakes his head vigorously, waving his hands through the air in dismissal. “No, no. It’s not. That’s just a near perfect possibility.”
Dazai’s face is still alive with horror, staring at Kunikida like he’s never seen him before. “Me?”
Poe and Ranpo both break off into a fit of laughter then. Kunikida makes eye contact with Yosano. They’re both a little scared.
“It fits!” Poe says, pointing a finger at Dazai insistently.
“Him?” Yosano and Kunikida yell at the same time.
“It fits!”
“If Dazai is my soulmate,” Kunikida says, “I’m going to either kill him or myself.”
“It can’t be Dazai,” Yosano says, grinning. “He doesn’t fit number thirty-seven.”
There’s a pause in which it’s Dazai’s turn to try and commit murder, further cementing the fact that the Agency are decidedly not cops.
“Poe, back me up here,” Ranpo says once they return, trying to catch his breath. “You wouldn’t try to ruin Kunikida’s life. Please tell me you agree.”
Poe looks at him for a second, the gears in his head turning. “I don’t understand. Who else is closer to fitting this list than Dazai?”
Ranpo looks between the two of them, obviously a little disappointed when they continue to stare at him blankly.
“Right. Right, right, right,” he says, rising to his feet. “Poe doesn’t have enough context to put it together, and Dazai has too much.”
He leans over and forcefully points to another check mark. They both stare at it blankly.
“And he likes to wear watches,” Ranpo says, talking like you would to a slow child. “But only in January.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” mumbles Kunikida. Yosano shrugs at him.
Ranpo takes a deep breath before leaning in to whisper something to Dazai. They do this often during meetings; it always makes the people around them nervous.
“...March first?” Dazai replies at normal volume, his eyes narrowed.
Ranpo nods with excitement, slamming one hand down on the notebook in front of him decisively. “Pisces.”
There’s a moment of stunned silence before Dazai convulses and almost falls off his seat in a sudden fit of unknown emotion. Poe looks at Ranpo for confirmation, mouth open, and Ranpo nods excitedly like a schoolgirl. Kunikida gives up on getting information and decides to wait them out.
Dazai seems to be screaming wordlessly in terror as well as delight. Eventually, it forms into sentences. “You didn’t realize this before?”
Ranpo throws up his hands. “I don't stop and consider my coworkers’ love lives! Sue me!”
“Okay, one… one last thing,” Poe says, holding his head. “Before I back you up on this.” He stands up and walks over to Yosano, whispering another series of questions to her. Kunikida stands there and wishes he would stop being left out of the loop of his own romantic pursuits.
He can only hear her answers: “Yeah. We go to tea every other Thursday. Uh… I don’t know, we try not to? Okay, okay. Yes. Fine. Blue. Mint chocolate chip. Yeah, but only when it’s upside down. I think… probably seventeen.”
Poe nods finally, goes over, and retakes his seat. “Dazai,” he breathes. “Ranpo’s right.”
“Will someone please,” demands Kunikida, “tell me what is going on?”
“There’s only one person,” Dazai says, his voice strangled, “who fits this description.”
This is how Kunikida ends up in a small clearing in a dark woods, trying to figure out if he’s being punked.
A small stream babbles in the distance. Salamanders dart around underfoot, and the sun is beginning to set, turning the sky pink and violet. “I feel stupid,” he says to no one.
“No, trust me, this is going to work. It’s like a bat-signal to him.” Dazai comes out from behind a bush to give him a double thumbs up.
Kunikida glances skeptically at the cheese platter in his hand.
“He loves cheese cubes.” Dazai hesitates. “Or really hates them. I know it’s one of the strong feelings.”
“Put your sombrero on upside down like we told you to!” Ranpo says from atop a tree, swinging his legs back and forth and eating a chocolate bar.
“I feel stupid!” Kunikida says again, but he bangs together the pots and pans Dazai hands him. He begins to read off a small piece of paper. “Grantors of dark disgrace! Vessel of Arahabaki! I have one demand of you, o being of heavenly darkness!”
True to Dazai’s word, Chuuya appears a few minutes later, a red tint growing darker around him as his eyes narrow. He drops to the ground from his place in the sky, looking Kunikida up and down before he starts wheezing. Kunikida is getting tragically accustomed to the feeling of being laughed at.
“What are you doing?”
Kunikida crosses his arms. “I needed to talk to you, and Dazai said this would work!”
“Ah—” Chuuya mutters something to the effect of so glad he’s not my partner anymore. “Of course. Of course he said that. I have a cell phone, you know, and I know he has my number. So does Kenji, he sends me cat memes, and I’m pretty sure I’m mutuals with Yosano on Twitter—”
Kunikida takes a deep breath. “I get it.”
“Or you could have just called Mori! Arranged a meeting, like every other person in this town when they need to deal with the Mafia—”
“Eat your cheese cubes and shut up,” Kunikida growls, thrusting the tray into Chuuya’s hands.
“Okay,” Chuuya says, popping a cheese cube into his mouth. With how readily he accepts the food it’s a wonder he hasn’t been poisoned, but on second thought, he probably has. “Okay. What did you need to talk to me about?”
Kunikida pinches the bridge of his nose. “I need to arrange a meeting with Akutagawa, and he’s considerably harder to reach.”
Chuuya frowns. “He’s probably off being edgy and lonely in the woods somewhere.” His eyes narrow. “What does the Agency need from him?”
“Not the Agency,” Kunikida clarifies. “Just me.”
“No offense, but I think he could probably kill you without breaking a sweat.”
Kunikida’s eye twitches. “I’m well aware. I just need a meeting.”
“For information?” Chuuya points a cube at him. “Because if you bring me a few more of these, maybe some wine, I think I’d be willing to cooperate—”
“I don’t need information. I just… want to talk to him.”
Chuuya takes a step back warily. “What’s your agenda here, Rapunzel?”
His phone buzzes; he takes it out of what Kunikida assumes, but is not certain, is a pocket. His face lights up with undisguised glee as he makes eye contact with Kunikida. “You’re going to hook up with Akutagawa ‘My Body Is A Prison’ Ryuunosuke?”
Kunikida sputters. “I’m not going to hook up with him, I just think, maybe, due to certain circumstances worth pursuing, we could possibly be compatible—”
Chuuya nods solemnly. “I’ll get you that meeting.” Then he launches himself bodily into the bush where Dazai is hiding, at which point Kunikida assumes the meeting is over and leaves them to their own devices.