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No one bothered to question Yasuhiro on where he got the alcohol from. Asking usually resulted in a five minute spiel where he attempted to justify the legality of every other action, and so his companions accepted the crates of drink as readily as one bottle seemed to follow its predecessor. Nights such as these couldn’t take place often, saved for the transient tranquility after an arduous task at work, and so were very much savoured.
On this particular occasion, it was the run up to Christmas, and Future Foundation gave the six members temporary leave. Christmas Eve started an hour ago, by which time Aoi had collapsed onto Yasuhiro’s armchair and curled herself into a woodlouse ball. Makoto’s body was slung across the armrest of a nearby sofa, in a sleep as deep as Aoi was. Beside him sat Kyouko, and Byakuya sat next to her, and Touko had fallen asleep with her feet on Byakuya’s lap as if he was a footrest. Normally, he would have woken her up, but Byakuya seemed not to mind for once. He absentmindedly wrapped the end of one of Touko’s braids around his index finger, a habit that the others learned not to ask him about, and he and Kyouko looked at the television in the hope that it would disperse the awkward silence hanging over them.
“Hagakure-kun,” Kyouko called, surprising herself with the volume of her own voice. “What channels does your television have?”
“Eh... none,” came Yasuhiro’s voice from another room. Bathroom, maybe. No - closer. Kitchen.
“Why have the crappy thing if it doesn’t have any channels?” asked Byakuya.
“Because,” Yasuhiro’s voice replied, somewhat offended, “I found it in a house and one television is better than none. The empty space where I put it used to give my living room major lonely vibes, ‘right? Besides, it can play videos and DVDs still.”
“You found it in a house? That’s theft,” Byakuya gave his bottle a jerky shake so its contents sloshed, “you retired chimney sweep.”
His insults were even worse when he was drunk.
“I didn’t steal it,” Yasuhiro’s voice grew louder and more indignant, “there was nobody there when I came in. The place was completely deserted.”
“You stole it,” Byakuya decided, taking a swig of drink for the umpteenth time. He really needed to stop overestimating how much he could consume without it affecting him.
They all needed to, really.
“Hey, the place was wrecked,” Yasuhiro’s voice said. “Me taking it-”
Kyouko cleared her throat, almost preferring the silence from earlier.
“Do you have any videos or DVDs?” she asked.
“I do.” Yasuhiro’s voice brightened. “Give me a second.”
A minute later, he walked somewhat steadily into the room and to the rather small television. Yasuhiro bent down and rifled through the cardboard box beside it until he found what he was searching for: a tattered DVD case. Most of its paper cover had been worn away, leaving only smudges and peeling coloured flecks on the transparent plastic case.
As if holding the crown of a future monarch about to be coronated, he lifted the case and shuffled to the side a little so he was crouched in front of the DVD player below the television. He inserted the disc.
The screen remained black for five or so seconds and then an anti-piracy warning emerged from the dark background. Just after Kyouko finished reading the glowing text, bright colours splashed across the screen, accompanied by cheerful music.
“Blue’s Clues?” Kyouko read aloud, furrowing her brow. “This... seems to be a programme for children. I know we’re younger than you, but...” She trailed off.
“It sounds like a mystery show.” Yasuhiro stood up and stretched his back, arms extended toward the ceiling. He clasped his hands together. “That’s up yours and Togami-chi’s alley, ‘right?”
Byakuya and Kyouko stared at him.
Flashing the two a smile, Yasuhiro picked the remote up off the floor so he could select an episode from the menu. Then, waving his hand twice at them, he crossed to the other side of the room and left.
Kyouko and Byakuya exchanged confused glances.
“Hi out there! It’s me, Steve! Have you seen Blue, my puppy?”
A very short pause.
“There she is!”
“Oh! Come on in.”
Byakuya’s and Kyouko’s eyes flicked to the television in unison.
“Hi, this is Steve, reporting live from the front door. This just in: our friend has just arrived.”
“What,” said Byakuya.
“Ha. See, I’m being an investigative reporter.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“My job is to investigate things.”
“No shit.”
This was going to be a long twenty-five minutes.
“I report everything I find out so everyone can know. Right now, it’s my job to investigate you. You’re big news around here, you know.” Steve cleared his throat.
Byakuya touched a hand to his chest, visibly flattered. Kyouko suppressed a laugh. Touko mumbled something incoherent but didn’t wake up.
“May I ask you a few questions?”
“Go ahead,” said Kyouko.
“... Yes,” replied the voice of a disembodied child.
“Kirigiri.” Byakuya turned his head slightly toward Kyouko. “You’re not seriously going to answer every question.”
That sounded like a challenge.
“Who did you come over to see today?”
“You,” said Kyouko.
“You’re doing this on purpose.” Byakuya pulled a face.
“... Steve and Blue.”
“I see, I see... and why did you come over?”
“To solve a mystery,” Kyouko guessed, head tilted to one side.
Byakuya groaned loudly.
“We are going to play Blue’s Clues because it’s a really great game, yeah. We’ll play Blue’s Clues to figure out who Blue wants to be today. So remember, Blue’s pawprint will be on the clues. Blue’s Clues.”
“What job do you think it will want to have?” asked Byakuya, presumably referring to the female dog called Blue. Who had blue fur.
Kyouko cupped her chin in one hand, taking a moment to appreciate that her parents didn’t call her Purple. Lavender wouldn’t have been too bad a name, she supposed. A bit uninspired, perhaps.
She said, “I would rather not make a guess until a few of these clues have been found. Though to be honest, I’m not sure how many jobs a dog can have.”
“That talking side table apparently has a job and it’s just a mere side table,” Byakuya pointed out, lifting a finger and aiming it at the sentient side table on screen. He hesitated. “I have a hat like that.”
“A security guard’s hat?” Kyouko raised her eyebrows.
“Mine is supposed to be a police officer’s hat.” His eyelids lowered a bit and he took another sip.
Deciding it best not to delve into his reason for owning a police officer’s hat when he wasn’t a police officer, Kyouko followed his example by having another drink.
“Excuse me, sir, have you seen any clues? Hm. No comment.”
Kyouko frowned. “It’s a coat stand, why would it speak?”
Byakuya sat up straighter. “You didn’t question the talking side table yet you’re asking about a coat stand? A talking coat stand would make sense in this universe.”
“Not if Steve has lived there all his life. That would be too foolish a mistake for him to make.” Kyouko folded her arms over her chest and bowed her head forward. “Also, it doesn’t have a face...”
He glared at her sidelong.
“A clue, a clue!”
“Does this dog leave her ink-stained pawprints on everything?” Kyouko squinted at the television. “I hope she doesn’t intend to be a detective.”
The first clue was a popsicle stick. While Steve drew a picture of it in his notebook, Kyouko tried to think what sort of job involved a popsicle stick. An ice cream man? An ice cream dog? In addition to the side table, there existed an animated bar of soap, who was apparently a fisherman-soap, as well as talking salt and pepper shakers. There was also a third shaker much smaller than the other two.
“Did they have a child together?” asked Byakuya, wiggling a bit as he adjusted his position. Touko’s feet fell off his lap but she remained touching him, her toes pressed against the side of his leg.
“I assume so,” Kyouko said, not nearly as interested in the shaker pilots.
Not until the second clue was found did she speak again - a talking pail and spade, who had been veterinarians, left behind a bandage with a clue marker on it.
“She’s a doctor,” announced Kyouko. Too easy. There needed to be a show like this but for adults. Actually, those probably existed. They did, in fact.
“That profession was mentioned recently.” Byakuya eyed the television. “I doubt it will be the answer... It would be too simple. It must be a red herring.”
“Togami-kun, It’s a show for children. Sometimes the right answer is the most obvious.”
“How much shall we wager then?”
“Five thousand yen.”
“You have yourself a deal.”
“Do you remember what our first clue was?”
Kyouko laced her fingers together and slouched forward. “The popsicle stick.”
“A wooden stick, right.”
"Mailbox, welcome. So, tell us, what’s it like having so many people depend on you, each and every day?”
“It’s a big responsibility but I do my best.”
Byakuya rolled his eyes.
“Fascinating. And how did you start?”
He clicked his tongue.
“I started by just bringing in postcards... then I moved up to letters and now I even bring in packages.”
“I see. Our mailbox, a simple box who started out small but worked hard. Tell us, Mailbox, do you have any advice for our friend who may just be starting out themselves?”
“If you work hard, you can do anything you wanna do.”
Kyouko held in a sigh and glanced away. She widened her eyes. “Togami-kun?”
Byakuya coughed into the back of his hand. His glasses reflected the room’s lighting in a way that cast an opaque, white shine across the lenses. “That... was well said,” he mumbled. “Naegi could learn from that mailbox.”
Somehow, Blue and Steve teleported into a painting. On the other side of what Kyouko could only assume was a wormhole lay a construction site. Judging by the small dance that Steve performed prior as well as how swiftly he put his reporter persona back on afterwards, this sort of thing happened regularly. Blue could not be seen anywhere on the screen though Steve soon bumped into a large, blue door. That talked. Of course it talked.
“The door is making a house,” Byakuya said. His tone, tinged with disbelief and disapproval, made it impossible to discern whether he intended what he said to be a statement or a question.
“Well, first I have all these ideas. I need someone to turn my ideas into a design for my house. Who should I call for that?
“Who should Door call to design what his house will look like? Should he call a librarian, a farmer or an architect?”
“An architect,” Kyouko said.
“You don’t have to do that for each one,” Byakuya informed her icily.
“The architect!”
He waved a hand toward the television. “See? That child says the answer anyway. There is no need for you to give your opinion.”
Soon after, the architect - a pencil - popped into view to draw blueprints. After it left, the door explained that someone needed to make a frame for the house.
“Who should Door call to build the frame of his house? A painter, a builder or an auto mechanic?”
“A builder,” Kyouko said.
Byakuya narrowed his eyes at her. “Shut up.”
Kyouko tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Togami-kun, stop talking so much. You’re starting to become more obnoxious than usual.”
“I’m being obnoxious?” Byakuya scoffed. “You were the one playing... footsies with Naegi while we were trying to eat dinner earlier.”
So he noticed that. She felt her face warm. “... My foot itched.”
His eyebrows shot up. “So you had to use Naegi’s leg as a scratching post instead of just scratching it like a normal person? You couldn’t have restrained yourself until you were both alone?”
“What about you? Did your thigh itch during dinner?” Kyouko lifted her chin and forced herself to look at Byakuya. “Was it an itch that apparently only Fukawa-san could relieve by rubbing at it with her hand?”
A satisfying shade of red flushed through his face.
She turned back to the television.
The door asked who he should call so his house had running water. Three choices were listed. Without meeting Byakuya’s eye, Kyouko answered, “A plumber.”
“A plumber!”
“A clue!”
“No,” said Byakuya, looking at the stamped stethoscope with what could be described as horror. “No.”
Kyouko grinned. “Blue is a doctor.”
“That’s-!” Byakuya’s mouth hung open when not speaking. “I don’t believe this.”
She held out her hand, palm upward. “I believe we had a deal. I recall you wagering five thousand yen.”
Byakuya took out his wallet, paid her and refused to acknowledge her smirk or her anything else for the rest of the night.
An hour later, Yasuhiro returned from the bathroom to find everyone else had fallen asleep. He shrugged and settled himself between Kyouko and Byakuya, who seemed to have moved away from the other in favour of being closer to the other person beside them: Kyouko’s arm lay across Makoto’s back and Touko’s braid was still coiled around Byakuya’s finger.
Yasuhiro pointed the remote at the television and browsed through the channels made available to him by his totally legal satelite dish that he failed to mention before.