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Likening Dazai to a mushroom isn’t out of the ordinary, given his tendency to pop out of nowhere. It doesn’t help that he usually gets sidetracked during trips outside, only returning after ingesting some questionable fungi.
Something similar happens recently. Nobody’s too worried, because Dazai usually disappears for short periods of time, oftentimes without proper documentation, as if delighting in causing Kunikida additional grief.
The Agency isn’t swamped by commissions, and there’s no haste to gather manpower. Annoyance over the improper leave filing pales in comparison to the peaceful calm of not having his notebooks snatched away in a prank. Kunikida texts Dazai to ask his whereabouts, but doesn’t do anything beyond that.
The office din is peaceful.
Such peace is disrupted in a strange manner.
A new client comes in.
Atsushi welcomes her, taking note of the business suit, the large pearl necklace, the gemstone-crusted wristwatch, the big diamond teardrop earrings. Stiletto heels, a pair of dark sunglasses, and a silver briefcase. Brown hair perfectly coiffed. She looks like someone whose attire could pay for the annual rent for the Agency’s office space.
Kyouka is careful when she sends a tray of green tea and wagashi to the table separating her from Kunikida, who’s poised to take notes from her.
“What can we do for you, ma’am?”
“I’ll keep things simple. I’m here on behalf of the Tsushima Family.” She speaks of a family who could be considered the wealthiest and most powerful one in Yokohama, and even the greater Kanto area. She doesn’t touch the food. Her hands are placed daintily atop her right knee, her posture impeccable. “I would like to hire your Agency to assist us in convincing Young Master Shuuji to return home.”
Kunikida echoes the name. As a resident of this city, he isn’t entirely clueless about the big powers who occupy the ceilings of various organizations and political posts. After all, the Tsushima Family has their fingers dipped on practically every business and industry; they even have several high-level officials scattered in various departments and prefectures.
Even someone who lives under a rock would be aware of the family’s might.
“Master Tsushima wishes to start thinking about retirement.” Her expression doesn’t flicker. “Therefore, he’d like to have the Young Master return to inherit the family’s businesses and properties.”
Because it’s such an infamous family, every single one of their moves are scrutinized in great detail. Atsushi looks around the room. When he meets Kyouka’s eyes, she shrugs, as if to say that she also hasn’t heard of such gossip: that the Tsushima Family’s favored heir has gone missing to begin with.
Kunikida clears his throat. “This Shuuji-san… How long has he been missing?”
Her expression continues to be serene. “It should be ten years now.”
The entire office synchronizes in their shock. “Ten years?!”
“The Young Master has left the family just after his fifteenth birthday.”
This is shaping up to be a complicated case. Investigating things that far back isn’t going to be easy. Atsushi wonders just when Ranpo would return from his ‘important trip’ out to the newly-opened dessert shop two blocks away.
Kunikida’s eyebrows are furrowed as he continues jotting down notes. “And you suspect that he has been taken in by some unsavory organization?”
Well-manicured fingernails drum against the fabric of her pants. Her lips twist into something full of disdain. “He has been seduced and lured away by some boy.”
Atsushi chokes on his own breath, taken aback by the possibility that they’re about to be hired to break up a loving couple, as per orders of a homophobic family.
“I won’t ask you to assassinate him,” she says after a moment of watching everyone’s silence. She opens her purse, and slides a photo to the middle of the coffee table. “Our family has made multiple attempts over the years,” is her casual admission, “but this boy is quite formidable.”
Atsushi chokes at this confession, and then once again when he recognizes the person on the photo.
Gravity manipulator, Port Mafia’s Executive, and the person who has hauled Dazai back from Meursault during the most recent big case.
Nakahara Chuuya.
“You know of him.” She sounds pleased that she doesn’t have to waste time introducing the ‘target’. “Young Master Shuuji wouldn’t listen to our requests to break up with this boy, and return to the family. I would like your Agency’s help to convince this boy to break up with the Young Master.”
Kunikida sighs. “Our Agency solves cases for our clients, but we don’t interfere with the private lives on unrelated people.”
“But he is not unrelated,” she says, lips on a stern line. “My son works here. Ah, I believe that he calls himself ‘Dazai Osamu’ nowadays.”
Atsushi chokes again, mind going blank aside from a single thought: they’ve been comparing Dazai to a mushroom, but he’s actually a truffle instead?!
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Somehow, this development leads to this: Atsushi knocking on the door of a scary Port Mafia Executive’s office, trying not to breathe too hard in case he ends up activating some sort of booby trap.
For clarification: Atsushi doesn’t think that Chuuya needs to install tricks in the path leading to his office, because he could certainly pummel the opponent faster. However, Atsushi has also heard his mentor cackle to himself while drafting too many plans of how to prank his ex-partner.
Or rather, his apparent romantic partner, if Dazai’s mother is to be believed.
The door swings open. “It’s you?” Then, to the woman beside Atsushi, it takes Chuuya several blinks before eventually asking, “Are you the one who had business with me?”
“Thank you for making time for us, Chuuya-san.” Atsushi doesn’t think about how he’s been chosen for this task primarily because he has a regenerative ability, and therefore would have the highest chance of survival for this ordeal. He also doesn’t want to think about how the man in front of him acts tough, but has actually seduced his mentor. Or something.
The blue gaze skims over him, before the man steps back to let them both into his spacious office.
Two empty couches face each other over a low table that has a crystal ashtray in the middle. A wide mahogany desk sports a level of organization that would make Kunikida proud. A sleek, expensive desktop. A landline with too many buttons in it. Velvety crimson curtains are drawn aside to let sunshine in. One wall is dedicated to a partitioned bookshelf that serves as both a collection of books and a display case for various odd trinkets. The opposite wall has a corkboard and whiteboard side by side, showing off a busy workload; the only discrepancy is that there are several kindergarten-level drawings pinned on them too.
All in all, it exudes the aura of someone whose work attitude is the exact opposite of Dazai.
“Boss has approved this meeting,” is the mafioso’s explanation. “He has mentioned that this is an important client.”
Atsushi doesn’t want to know how the President was able to convince Port Mafia’s Boss that this is a client that must be received on their turf. Atsushi’s aware of the adage ‘curiosity killed the cat’, so he resolves to not know a single detail about that manner of ‘convincing’.
He doesn’t dare take a spot on the couch, so he remains standing behind the client’s seat, acting like a nervous bodyguard. “Um, this is the Madam of the Tsushima Family.”
“Tsushima Tane,” she says with the tone of someone who’s too used to being widely recognized, that she hasn’t had a need to introduce herself.
Chuuya looks bewildered by her disdainful attitude, but he doesn’t actually threaten to punch them out of the room, which could be counted as progress. “…Right. I’m Nakahara Chuuya.” He also looks like he’s more used to people already knowing him beforehand. “Boss said something about this negotiation being important for the mafia.”
“I’m Atsushi,” he grumbles to himself. Then, he clears his throat. “She’d like to ask you for a favor.”
“Not a favor.” With movements brisker than her tone, she presents the silver briefcase, and opens it to reveal a full stack of bills, the overwhelming scent of printed money wafting out. “Release my son from your clutches, Nakahara-san.”
The bewilderment increases, to the point that he ends up blurting out, “Haaa?! There’s nobody being held by the interrogation team right now?!”
“You’ve seduced my son ten years ago,” she continues her accusation.
“HAAAA?! What the fuck?!”
“And because of his entanglement with you, he has refused to return home to his duties as the Tsushima heir.”
“Oi, lady, just because you’re some rich chick, doesn’t mean that you can just say nonsense, okay?” Chuuya shakes his head, looking at the briefcase full of money with dismissiveness so palpable that Atsushi feels slapped by it. “Take your money back, you’ve got the wrong guy.”
She coldly says a date plus, “Suribachi Island.”
Chuuya’s eyebrows furrow, like he’s trying hard to determine the meaning of it. And then, his face twists into something foul. “Urgh. My first meeting with that shitty Dazai.”
Atsushi gives him a look that’s half-admiring and half-pitying. He kind of wants to applaud—they must really be in true love, if this man can remember the date so clearly!
“So you do have an impression of it,” she says, full of steel.
“The plague to my life started on that day, of course I’d remember.” Chuuya’s expression twists further. “Oi, are you some chick wanting to avenge your daughter who got tricked by that asshole? You don’t need to pay me, I’d beat him up, free of charge.”
“I want you to break up with him.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…I heard wrong, right? You said that I have to break him, right.”
“I want you to break up with him,” she repeats. “That way, he’d return to the family and resume his duties as the heir.”
“Why the fuck do I have to break up with him?!”
Atsushi can’t stop the “wow” from escaping his lips this time.
“So you refuse to let him go?”
“I’m not even dating that bastard, there’s nothing to break, aside from his stupid neck!”
“So you refuse to even acknowledge your relationship.”
Atsushi itches to find popcorn, because the only other option is to slink away in case he ends up being on the mafioso’s shit list for witnessing this confrontation. Worse, what if Dazai learns that someone else knows about how his boyfriend refused to acknowledge his relationship to his mother’s face? He’s never going to let Atsushi get away with it!
“The only relationship I have with that bastard is one full of hate.”
“You still save him when his life is in danger,” Atsushi grumbles, but apparently everyone in this room has excellent hearing skills.
“Only because it’s important to protecting Yokohama! Not for any other reason!”
“So you admit that there is entanglement between you and Young Master Shuuji. I don’t mind sending extra money, if that would convince you to end this entanglement.”
“Oi, do you think that I could be bought off with this measly amount?!” Chuuya looks offended now. Like he can’t even fathom how several million yen could compare to his salary. He jumps to his feet, hands on his hips. “I understand that the bastard is worthless, but you think this amount is enough to buy me off?! I’m not even dating him, and I’d refuse this kind of money!”
“Wow,” Atsushi repeats, looking at the amount of money that could buy several lifetimes of chazuke.
“So you don’t want to admit your relationship, but you also refuse to let him go and fulfill his responsibilities as the Tsushima heir.”
Chuuya’s glare is truly withering. “If you’re desperate enough to pin big responsibilities to that shithead, then you’re just dooming yourself.”
“You don’t understand. He’s been born just for this very purpose.” She doesn’t look fazed, even when the mafioso that she has failed to assassinate so many times is standing in front of her, brimming with agitation. “Young Master Shuuji bears this responsibility. He is born to be a genius who would bring the Tsushima Family to greater heights.”
“Shut the hell up! Tsushima this, Shuuji that! That bastard is shitty Dazai, damn it!” Chuuya points at her, not outright flipping her off, but he seems like he’s practically vibrating to do so. “If you want him beaten up, then fine, I can help with that. But to talk all about wanting to control that shithead’s stinking life—how dare you? That mackerel’s life is his alone, oi!”
Atsushi actually claps this time. “Wow, and you say you’re not dating.”
“You shut up too, Agency’s weretiger.”
A slow sigh, and then she also claps. “What a magnificent display.”
“…Ha?”
“I’m glad I had this chance to meet you prior to your wedding.”
“……Ha???”
Her cold demeanor thaws, leaving behind a rosy cheeks and dewy eyes, like she’s moved to tears. “When Young Master Shuuji contacted us to request for funds for your wedding and honeymoon, we’ve been shocked and elated to know that he has remembered his ties to the family.”
“Isn’t that just because he needs money,” Atsushi grumbles again, but nobody pays attention to him this time.
“But I’m glad to know that the partner he has chosen truly does love him.”
“What the fuck are you saying????????”
“As Shuuji’s mother, I haven’t done an excellent job in raising him, but I’m glad that he has found happiness now.”
And that’s how Atsushi witnesses Port Mafia’s strongest martial artist collapse after getting defeated by mere words.
(Of course, days later, they find out that this is all just a prank set up by the missing Dazai, who has absconded away with a staggering amount of money. Then again, weeks after that, rumor has it that there’s a suspicious bulge on a certain mafioso’s gloved left hand, as if there’s a diamond ring on his finger.)
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