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Dazai’s body seemed inseparable from the couch. The moment he claimed his shoulders were heavier than usual, he had never left his spot. Now his eyes were half-open and a pair of headphones were snug against his ears – he was truly embracing the lazy rainy mood.
Kunikida had given up long ago and left the office to accomplish his own work. Damn that Dazai, he told Atsushi, having to make his partner face yesterday’s client again today, but by himself. If only he hadn’t been so unusually enthusiastic last night then perhaps Dazai could be pressured to come again today, or so he said.
Either way the younger detective left his mentor alone and focused at the task on hand. The rhythmic rain and soft thunder had mellowed out the bubbling annoyance in his mind, and as long as he didn’t lay his eyes on Dazai then Atsushi’s momentum was guaranteed.
No one was around, save maybe two or three clerks. The silence helped with the concentration, but the desolation somewhat scared him. What if there was an intruder somewhere else on the floor? Would he be able to deal with them on his own? Now that he was roaming around the floor by himself, the disquiet in his heart grew louder by the second.
The storeroom door creaked loudly even though he pushed it gently. His footsteps resounded throughout the entire hall, and they became increasingly louder as the weight of the box he took seemed to become heavier. The echoes, too, seemed to develop this strange pulse; it was as if someone was walking behind him.
Yet he saw nor felt no one. How uncanny.
Atsushi finally returned to the office and gently (at least he believed it was gently) put down the box on Dazai’s desk (Kunikida said it was the least the bastard could contribute). It contained evidence and other materials from their current case, none of which he ever saw nor had an idea of.
As he turned around, the feeling that he was being followed was confirmed by the appearance of a young woman near the lounge area.
She was pretty, he thought, but what a waste that someone as immaculately clad as her had her forlorn eyes glued to Dazai. Was she another victim of his frivolous exploits?
Atsushi would have said something, but the man of the hour was fast asleep. Back to work then, he thought, maybe she’ll leave on her own and he won’t have to talk to her.
But minutes later she was still standing there, almost hovering above the sleeping figure. The sadness and infatuation in her gaze did not waver at all – it seemed that she was intent on retrieving something… her heart, perhaps.
Kunikida suddenly returned.
“Rain’s too hard so they cancelled,” he explained, half-annoyed at the sudden change of plans but half-relieved that he can continue other things. His abrupt entrance made Atsushi think that he hadn’t noticed the peculiar guest, or worse straight-out ignored her for being one of Dazai’s many “superfans,” but he glanced at her direction only to find no trace of her.
“Help me take them out, Atsushi.”
The younger one did as he was told and proceeded to remove the contents of the box he transferred earlier: various items in ziplock bags, aged jewelry, and papers hastily filed. His superior asked for the long manila folder and Atsushi handed it to him. Unfortunately, one of the photos fell out.
“Sorry-“
The moment he picked it up, he immediately recognized one of the people in it. It was the lady gazing at Dazai.
“Is she your client?”
Kunikida shook his head. “No, but she’s a friend of our current client. Well, was. Apparently committed a double suicide with her boyfriend although her survived- not that it’s related to our current case, but one of the evidences we have belonged to her.”
He pointed at a pocket mirror. It was of classic Japanese style, covered in sakura and encrusted in gold. In addition to the hallucination – it must be a hallucination – of the woman earlier, everything about it screamed ‘dangerous object: do not touch!’ It seemed to be in perfect condition, however, and Atsushi would have satisfied the cat’s curiosity if only Kunikida didn’t stop him from opening it.
“Oi, be careful! You don’t know what will happen.”
“…wh-what will happen?”
“First of all, it’s a broken mirror. There are shards inside – what if you hurt yourself? Besides…”
He stared at Kunikida, patiently waiting for him to complete his sentence. The latter looked away and bit his tongue for a moment.
“They say it’s… well, cursed. Not sure if it’s true of course, but the idiot looked square into his reflection on it last night, claiming that ‘being alive is a curse in itself’ and ‘what can be worse than that?’ Tsk. Somehow I feel like I’m the one cursed with such a sloth of a partner!”
While Kunikida rambled on, Atsushi’s eyes automatically scanned the sleeping man. Something was wrong.
“If a vengeful girl’s soul is bound to this thing – if such a thing were possible – then she would take some man’s soul to be bound with hers, right? That’s the point of double suicides, I think…”
“Kunikida-san-“
“B-but it’s not like something will happen, right? I mean this is Dazai we’re talking abou-“
“Kunikida-san!” Atsushi almost screamed. “Dazai-san hasn’t woken up since you left...”
The two looked at each other and a mutual understanding passed without a word more.
“I-I’m going to get Yosano-sensei, so you stay here.”
The wind-whipped rain shook the glass windows. The stronger it became so did the unease in Atsushi’s gut. The sudden silence and solitude became threatening like a slowly emerging shadow.
His eyes darted across the room, wary of any signs of danger, when he saw on the dim shine of the cabinet’s glass panes the reflection of the same woman he had seen earlier. She had not moved from her spot at all.
Without thinking twice Atsushi grabbed his phone and dialed Kunikida’s number. “She’s still here!” he had to say. “The woman from the picture you showed me!“
In panic he looked once more at her reflection; this was his fatal mistake. Her gaze moved from the detective below her to the one staring at the glass and their eyes locked.
“Atsushi? What’s wrong? Atsushi? Hello?!”
But no one answered except the pitter-patter of gentle rain.