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It was a normal, summer day, a few weeks after Dazai’s seventeenth birthday and a few days after the Tanizakis were legally adopted, when Yosano and Dazai walked to the park. It wasn’t too hot, yet, and there were just enough clouds that the sun wasn’t scorching. The day was peaceful, and quiet, and Dazai was regaling his older sister with a tale of how Chuuya had found out that he was still in contact with Hirotsu by finding his list of emergency phone numbers in his car after Naomi and Junichiro had left and had blown his gasket.
“Seriously, Sensei,” he was saying, shoulders shaking with a rare, undisguised mirth, “he was furious ! And apparently they told him that I am madly in love with Barbie, which is rude and unfair, because as you know, I don’t love anyone who hasn’t been legally adopted by Shachou.”
“Oh, you’ve finally stopped loitering outside of Ango’s apartment, making sad eyes at his window, then?” Yosano teased.
“Mean, Sensei!” Dazai shoved her shoulder, and she laughed and pushed him back. “That’s unrequited love, really, it hardly counts. Platonic unrequited love, sister dear, before you get any ideas.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. He and Odasaku were your older brothers, basically, before you got us. That doesn’t make the fact that you stand under his window, trying to get up the balls to talk to him, any less creepy.”
Dazai sighed. “I just want to apologize, Sensei, you know that.”
“Yeah, I do,” she said, throwing her arm over his shoulder. She was about to say something else, when she heard a loud yell come from a few feet away. They exchanged glances and ran over to see what the commotion was.
“Oh, this is the best day of my life !” Yosano hissed, as they rounded a corner to see a young man in his late twenties, covered in scars, the most prominent of which was a large rope scar across his neck, and a prosthetic leg, absolutely whaling on Mori Ougai while twelve-year-old Tachihara Michizou watched with an expression of pure horror on his face.
“Hey, Tachihara,” said Dazai, grinning widely. “How’s Gin and Ryuunosuke doing?”
“Fine,” Tachihara squeaked. “Um. Can you maybe help me...um...you know…” He gestured at the scarred man, who seemed to be doing his level best to claw Mori’s eyes out.
“Oh, yes,” said Yosano, eyes sparkling, “we’ll certainly provide backup, I’ve wanted to beat up Mori for forever .”
“What--no, I need help getting him off Mori!” Tachihara said. “He’s my boss !”
“Scars is?” Dazai asked.
“Aren’t you a little young to be working?” Yosano said.
“No-- Mori’s my boss, and there’s no such thing as too young in the Mafia,” Tachihara said. His voice cracked and he turned bright red.
“Uh huh,” Dazai said.
“Well,” Yosano told the boy (definitely not thinking about the implications of his youth as one of Mori’s subordinates, and definitely not thinking of when she or Dazai were that age, and under Mori’s influence), “if I can’t join in on the fight, I’m definitely going to be cheering this insane bastard on!”
“ No --” Tachihara croaked, looking horrified.
“Kick his ass!” shouted Yosano. “Rip! His! Balls! Off! Rip! His! Balls! Off! ”
“Woo!” Dazai added, a shit-eating grin on his face. Truth be told, he had gone cold when he’d seen his shitbag sperm donor, but that was more than worth seeing Mori get the shit beaten out of him by some war veteran whom he’d probably pissed off overseas.
“Guys, please, my brother is beating up my boss , this is a very stressful time for me!” shouted Tachihara, sounding like he was on the verge of tears.
“Rip his dick off and feed it to him !” yelled Yosano.
“What she said!” shouted Dazai.
“Can everyone please stop !” cried Tachihara.
Sadly, at that point, the police showed up and pulled Tachihara’s brother off of Mori. At this angle, they could see that Mori had (sadly) gotten a few hits in too, before the brother had managed to pin his hands down.
“Officer Minoura!” Yosano called, quickly walking over. Dazai followed, keeping himself between his sister and Mori, the elation he’d felt at seeing their sperm donor getting the shit beaten out of him quickly fading.
“Hello, Yosano. Dazai.” The police officer nodded at them. “I don’t assume you two know what’s going on here?”
“Oh, it’s all Mori’s fault,” Yosano said. “We saw the whole thing. Mori was the one who threw the first punch.”
Behind them, Tachihara made a sort of choking, wheezing noise. Clearly, he didn’t want his brother to get arrested, but he didn’t want Mori to get arrested, either, which put him right between a rock and a hard place. Yosano was fairly certain he was having a panic attack, but his brother could take care of that as soon as they got him out of the handcuffs. Both Yosano and Dazai knew from experience that older brothers were very good at taking care of panic attacks (although, in Dazai’s case, the older brother in question was only older in that he insisted, despite the fact that Dazai was in actuality two months older, that he was the older brother).
Mori, for his part, was being brought away to an ambulance, probably because he’d been beaten so badly.
“I see. Why did Mori punch him, if you know?” asked Minoura.
“Um,” said Yosano. She and Dazai exchanged glances. Dazai mouthed, war doctor and nodded to his amputated leg. “I’m not quite sure, but…” she took a deep breath, and nudged Dazai, and when she looked Minoura in the eye he sent Tachihara’s brother a sharp look and mouthed, play along . The man looked confused, and then shocked, as Yosano began her story. “Mori used to be a war doctor overseas, and he was a terrible one--ethically speaking, I’m sure he was skilled enough, although I don’t really remember. There was one soldier--or, technically, there were several, although they didn’t exactly survive --who didn’t take any of Mori’s shit. Mori hated them, obviously. One of them got his leg blown off and hu--tried to hang himself. He was...particularly kind to me, and I got a front row seat to both events, so I remember them about as clearly as I remember anything else from..back then. That man there is that soldier. I’m willing to bet that Mori thought he was dead and figured he’d finish the job, which meant that he was fighting him in self defense.”
Tachihara’s brother’s eyes were wide with shock and tears. Dazai wondered if maybe he actually had been a soldier under Mori, and remembered Yosano’s soldier. He squeezed his sister’s hand, and she squeezed it back.
“I see,” Minoura said. “I still have to take him down to the station to give a statement. It’s procedure, you see.”
“Right,” said Yosano, squeezing Dazai’s hand again in a way that meant, now it’s your turn . Neither sibling was going to let the man who willingly beat up Mori get a criminal record--or, if he already had one, get another mark on it.
“Say, Minoura, remember that cold case you gave us last week? With the runaway kids, and the potato peeler?” Dazai asked.
“Yes?” said Minoura, with a raised eyebrow. It was clear that he knew exactly where this was going--who was Yosano kidding, he’d known where this was going the minute the two of them had stepped up and claimed that they’d seen what had happened. Ranpo had basically adopted him after Shachou had started their family “detective agency”, and Yosano knew that all he needed was a good reason for Tachihara’s brother to be let off the hook and then a slight incentive, and one that didn’t make him crooked, thank you very much, because they were handing over a murderer, not money.
“Ranpo and I have basically figured out who did it,” Dazai said. “We’re still sorting out the particulars--evidence and such-- but I might be inclined to give you his name.”
“Do you have his address?” asked Minoura.
“Only if Mori gets arrested.”
Yosano elbowed him--that was much too bold for bribing a police officer, especially since he was the closest thing to an honest cop they had.
“And the arrest sticks.”
“You know I can’t do that,” Minoura told him. “But, I could let this incident slide.”
“Deal,” said Dazai, and rattled off the name and address. Minoura uncuffed Tachihara’s older brother, nodded at them, and left, presumably to go make an arrest.
“Great,” Yosano said. “Congratulations on beating up Mori, if you ever breathe a word of what was said here to anyone you will wish you had been arrested, yes, our family runs a small detective agency, yes, we have an arrangement with Officer Minoura, no, he’s not a crooked cop. Yes, we will get you off of any further beating-up-Mori charges, as long as either Dazai or I get to watch. Videos are appreciated, although they are evidence that’s pretty hard to deny. Have a nice day.”
She turned on her heel and headed back towards their house, tugging Dazai along with her. He went willingly; there were few things he liked better after having to see Mori than his older sister taking the lead and making sure he didn’t have to think. This went well with Yosano’s own coping mechanism of taking immediate charge of the situation and refusing to show any vulnerability. They were both huge messes, sure, but at least they weren’t messes at odds with each other, and if, when the interaction was particularly awful, Dazai looked at her and thought Angel of Death and followed her out of some sick mixture of love and fear, well, that was his own business.
“Wait,” said Tachihara’s brother, and Yosano stopped, turned, and raised an eyebrow at him, her hand tightening around Dazai’s.
“Yes?” she said, voice taut as a bow string about to snap.
“The soldier you mentioned,” he said, “how much do you remember about him?”
“Not nearly enough,” she replied, her voice frosty. “And if you spread around what little I told you, I swear to God I will end you. He may be dead, but I am not.”
“He isn’t,” said Tachihara’s brother. His voice was shaking, and Yosano’s eyes slowly went to the rope scar at his neck, the missing leg.
“Oh my God,” she said, her free hand clapping up to her mouth. She felt like she was about to cry, or be sick, or both. She didn’t know what she felt. “Oh my God .”
“Akiko--” he said, and her hand tightened around Dazai’s. He felt something crack, a little, but clearly Yosano hadn’t noticed, her eyes fixated on Tachihara’s older brother--on her soldier --so Dazai didn’t say anything.
“No. Oh my God. Oh my God . You--you died! You hung yourself! I saw it!”
“You stopped it,” he said. “You cut the rope before--”
“ No ,” she hissed, and another bone popped in Dazai’s hand. It was getting harder for him to squeeze back, so he stepped close next to her. I’m here. You’re safe. I’m here .
Little brothers weren’t as good as older brothers for warding off panic attacks, but they were better than nothing.
“No. You died !” she shouted. Dazai started desperately wishing Shachou was here. He would definitely know how to handle this. “You died ,” she repeated, voice soft and breaking, and Dazai tugged at her hand.
“Let’s go home, Sensei, please,” he said. “We can deal with this later.”
“R-right,” she said, voice still soft, and when Dazai tugged again, they went, walking first, then breaking into a run once they knew they were out of sight of Yosano’s soldier.
“Oh my God,” she kept repeating. “Oh my God.”
Ranpo tracked down Yosano’s soldier two days later. It would have taken him less time, only his sister and best friend was a wreck, and he wasn’t going to leave her until she was ok, and besides, he wasn’t going to talk to her soldier unless she gave him express permission, because she was freaking out enough already enough over him having been alive and Mori showing his face that near their house and also the broken bones in Dazai’s hand, and he had no intention of adding anything to her plate. But after a day and a half of unhelpful hovering and even less helpful plying her with sweets, because that was what helped Ranpo when he was upset, she rolled her eyes at him and told him to just “get on with it, already, just don’t hurt him” and so two days after the debacle in the park, he was standing outside of the apartment owned by Tachihara Michizou’s older brother, the soldier that had taken care of Yosano when Mori had her. Ranpo still had her letters, locked in a safe under his bed, that described him and everything else. He sometimes read them, still, when he felt particularly nostalgic, although that wasn’t often, lately. He enjoyed his life, and didn’t mind the fact that Yosano had no memory of their prior friendship. It wasn’t like it affected their daily lives at all, or even the random strange occurrences, not even this one. It had been over a decade, after all.
Ranpo knocked at the door.
Yosano’s soldier opened it. “Hello? Um, how can I help you?”
Ranpo walked right past him. “Nice place! I’m guessing you got a job on top of your army pension?”
“I...yes, I’m a jeweler. Um. Why did you just…”
“Close the door, soldier of my sister’s!” Ranpo exclaimed. “Come on, I just want to talk.”
“I’m not a soldier anymore,” he said, “belonging to someone or not.”
“Yeah, you’re a jeweler. It’s just what we call you because we don’t know your actual name. Close the door, and we can talk.”
Yosano’s soldier who wasn’t quite a soldier anymore stared at Ranpo as he raided his fridge and made himself at home on his couch. Finally, he seemed to realize that nothing was going to happen until he closed the door, so he did, and Ranpo, now reclining on his couch, gestured him over.
“Would you please tell me who you are and why you’re here.”
“I’m Edogawa Ranpo,” Ranpo told him, “and I’m here because you had a bit of an unfortunate run-in with my sister at the park two days ago. She sent me to clear things up.”
Recognition had sparked in Yosano’s soldier’s eyes at his name, which made Ranpo deeply uncomfortable for reasons he had repressed nearly a decade ago, and again when Ranpo mentioned the incident in the park.
“I didn’t know you were siblings,” said Yosano’s soldier.
“Oh, yeah, there’s nine of us,” said Ranpo. “Shachou adopted us all, at some point or another. The most recent is the Tanizaki siblings, although we’ve fostered them since they were babies. Their mom is a real piece of work, but Dazai sorted her out nicely and she barely made a fuss giving up her parental rights.”
“...Right,” said Yosano’s soldier.
“Dazai’s the other one from the park. He and Yosano are our other pair of biologicals.”
“Biologicals,” repeated Yosano’s soldier.
“Biological siblings. Although technically they’re half-siblings. Mori’s a disgusting motherfucker, but I cannot deny that he gets around,” Ranpo said, rolling his eyes.
“Oh. Right. She never mentioned him, back there.”
“That would be because she didn’t know he existed until we were fifteen and Kunikida came in with a street kid on a drug bender, and didn’t know they were related until she questioned him about his family life about six months later and he mentioned Mori and the fact that he had an older sister with a very distinctive title.” Ranpo shot Yosano’s soldier a quick glare; they knew he’d used it. They had no idea whether or not “Angel of Death” was his invention, but he had definitely called Yosano that, at least once.
“Title?” asked Yosano’s soldier. He looked confused. Ok, he had not coined “Angel of Death”. It was still shitty that he’d used it, but at least he hadn’t made it. Yosano would be relieved.
“Mori’s a piece of shit. He gave each of them a ‘title’. Yosano’s was ‘Angel of Death’. Mori had built up this crazy inferiority complex in Dazai--but that’s not what we’re here to talk about.”
“What are you here to talk about?” he asked.
“Yosano sent me to apologize, for the...incident at the park.”
“Apology accepted,” her soldier said immediately. “How is she doing?”
“Better,” he said. “It’s a good thing Mori didn’t get the opportunity to speak--although from what I heard about the state of his mouth, he would have had trouble anyway. According to them both, you beating the shit out of him is going to be a treasured memory for a long time.”
He smiled. “It’ll be one for me, too. Michizou introduced me to him, and apparently they were on good terms, and I remembered what he had done to Akiko, and, well, I didn’t know if he did it to little boys, too, but…”
“He does,” Ranpo said. “Dazai is living proof, and he didn’t have a soldier to protect him. You did the right thing.”
Yosano’s soldier nodded. “Michizou isn’t too happy with me, though.”
“Of course not, you beat the shit out of his boss. It was still the right thing to do.” Ranpo leaned his head back against the couch. “She doesn’t remember much, from before we adopted her. She remembers you, clearly, and Mori, and being taken from her parents, but that’s all. And even remembering that...it wasn’t fun. She probably would have had a breakdown, anyway, even if you hadn’t told her...who you are. Were. Since you’re apparently not a soldier anymore.”
“I’m not a different person,” Yosano’s soldier said.
“Well, yeah, clearly, but we’ve referred to you as ‘Yosano’s soldier’ for a decade now and since you’re very insistent you aren’t a soldier anymore, we’re going to have to come up with something else to call you.”
“You could just call me by my name,” Yosano’s soldier pointed out.
“Yeah, but we don’t know it,” Ranpo pointed out. “I mean, Dazai’s fairly certain you’re a Tachihara, because you’re Tachihara Michizou’s older brother, and Tachihara is best friends with Akutagawa Gin, who used to be Dazai’s younger foster sister, and so Dazai would know if you had divorced parents. However, oftentimes married people change their names, so you might have changed yours, had you gotten married.”
“I’m not married,” he said. “My name is Tachihara Kage. It has been Tachiahara Kage my entire life. It’s also written right next to my apartment number, and there’s really no way you could have tracked me down without it.”
“I’ll bring your name to the High Council and we’ll decide whether to refer to you by it,” Ranpo said.
Tachihara Kage raised his eyebrows. “High Council?”
“The older siblings. Me, Yosano, Kunikida, Dazai. Sometimes Shachou too, depending on our mood. The Low Council is the babies--Junichiro, Atsushi, Naomi, Kyouka, and Kenji. And the Council is all of us together.”
“You’re telling me a lot about your family,” Tachihara Kage said.
“Yosano wanted me to let you know the basics of our situation along with the apology,” Ranpo said. “She made a list, but I forgot it at home. Luckily, I’m the smartest person ever, so I know what I’m supposed to tell you.”
“So Akiko mentioned,” said Tachihara Kage.
Ranpo perked up. “She talked about me?”
“A lot. More near the beginning, and she didn’t talk much at all after Mori started...attacking her, but she did,” he said. “She loved you a lot.”
Ranpo nodded. “Still does, even if she doesn’t know we met before Shachou adopted her. We’re best friends.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” said Tachihara Kage.
“Do you have any questions for me?” asked Ranpo.
“Questions?”
“About Yosano, our family, the way we were able to get you off assault charges…”
“Oh! No, not really. I’m grateful to know what you told me, honestly, and I’m glad she’s doing well. I thought she was dead, or worse, after the explosion.”
Ranpo raised his eyebrows. “You were there? I thought your whole...hanging...thing happened before that.”
“We were flown out on the same helicopter,” Tachihara Kage said. “It happened about a half hour after she cut me down from the rope. I was cursing out Mori, and my luck, and the fact that I’d survived, and every single government official I’d ever met or heard of, and the concept of government in general, and then the bomb went off. Luckily, she had thought she’d made a mistake setting it off and had left the room to go get another one, or she wouldn’t have survived. She was knocked unconscious, and when she woke up, it was like…”
“Like she wasn’t there, anymore?” said Ranpo. “Like her body was moving and working, but she’d gone away, inside.”
“Yeah.” Tachihara Kage took a long, shuddering breath. “I blamed myself, for a long time. Still do, sometimes.”
Ranpo nodded. “You should go to therapy.”
“I already do,” Tachihara Kage said. “Speaking of which, I actually have an appointment in about forty five minutes, so…”
“Right,” said Ranpo. “I’m missing out on an epic Uno tournament, anyway, and we’re battling for the right to throw Dazai a second birthday party, since the Tanizaki siblings missed the first. Winner decides, and the more cake I can get, the better.”
Tachihara Kage laughed, clearly deciding not to question the strange politics of their family. He walked Ranpo to the door, and Ranpo waved and skipped away, already dialing Kunikida to come pick him up. He had an Uno tournament to win.
“...totally cheating!” Dazai protested, from his place curled almost in Kunikida’s lap. “No! No, that’s not fair at all!”
“House rules, baby brother,” Yosano smirked, tapping his card. “Go on. Draw two!”
“It’s not my fault you said Uno first,” he grumbled, reaching for the pile. His arm didn’t quite make it, mainly because he wasn’t making that much of an effort to actually reach the pile. Atsushi, who hadn’t yet realized it was a lot more fun to actually make Dazai do things for himself, plucked two cards from the pile and handed them to him. “Thank you, Atsushi. See, this is why you’re my favorite little brother.”
Atsushi perked up.
“Not fair,” Junichiro grumbled. “It’s me and Naomi who are going to be the reason you’re getting a second birthday party. Why aren’t I your favorite little brother?”
“I gave you a cow!” added Kenji.
“Yes, but I can’t trick either of you into doing my chores,” said Dazai, who in actuality did not want a second birthday party. He only tolerated the first because it made the little kids happy, and as such, he was the only one who, if he won, would claim as his prize him not getting the second party.
“Atsushi, you need to let Dazai do his own chores,” said Kunikida.
“I only help him out a bit!” Atsushi protested. Kyouka nodded.
Kunikida groaned. “Atsushi, Kyouka, next time we house-clean you’re both with me.”
Atsushi, Kyouka, and Dazai all groaned. Usually, when you cleaned with Kunikida, that meant that you had to work twice as hard to keep everything nice. However, although the younger two didn’t know it yet, this time it meant they would each have a lot less chores.
Nobody had any time to protest, though, because Kenji used a Draw 4 card on Ranpo, who let out a dramatic wail and faux-collapsed on the floor.
“I’m dead! I’m dead! You killed me, Kenji!”
“Oh, finally,” Yosano smirked. “Aaaaaaand...Uno!”
“ No !” Dazai shrieked.
“Yes!” Naomi cheered. Yosano was her favorite sister, and she made no secret of that. Kyouka didn’t mind. Yosano was her favorite sister, too. Honestly, neither Kyouka nor Naomi even considered thinking of the other as on par with their older sister; they idolized her, and sometimes saw her as the equivalent of a second parent (or fourth, in Kyouka’s case; she hadn’t stopped thinking of her dead parents as her parents).
The cards went around again, everyone doing their best to make sure Yosano had to draw. Sure, they all (other than Dazai) had the same goal of getting Dazai a second birthday party, but winning Uno was a thing of pride, too, and the only person amicable enough to put it aside for a common goal was Kenji. Sometimes Kenji was able to convince Atsushi to do that, too, but not this time; this time, Atsushi had his eyes on victory.
So Kenji skipped Ranpo, and Yosano, grinning, put down her last card: a color-change.
“Nooooooo!” Dazai wailed, as Yosano leapt up and pumped her fist.
“Happy birthday to you,” sang the Tanizakis, “happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Dazai...happy birthday to you!”
“We’re totally having chocolate cake with fudge icing,” said Ranpo.
“And mint ice cream!” added Atsushi.
“You have to have at least seventeen candles,” Kyouka said. She liked fire. She liked it a lot. She loved watching the candles burn down, and didn’t even mind the crunchy bits of wax that got in the cake when they burned too much, because at least she’d gotten to watch the fire.
“We’ll have the party on Wednesday,” Kunikida said, writing it into his Ideal. “Now, Dazai, about non-family members you want to invite…”
Ranpo looked at Yosano and cocked an eyebrow. She frowned, took a deep breath, and nodded.
“Actually, Doppo,” she said, “there’s someone I’d like to invite, an old friend whom I’ve recently reconnected with.”
“Really?” Kunikida asked, flipping to another page and starting to make a new entry. “Who?”
“His name is Tachihara,” she said, “Tachihara Kage, and once upon a time, he was my soldier.”