Chapter Text
Doppo Kunikida considered himself proficient in most things, ranging from the macrocosmic responsibilities of assisting in the functioning of one of Japan’s most efficient and pragmatically-built ability user organisations to the microcosmic dilemmas of life, ranging from what tie to wear to what event to which pizza restaurant to order from for Yosano’s birthday party. He was careful, trying not to let the stress inherent in the life he led get to him. He set his alarm for his days off to the same time as his work days to stay composed and rested.
He had so much of it under control, so much of it tightly managed and kept tidy with the aid of his notebook, that he was unaccepting of any kind of error, be it Dazai’s typical antics with women or Kenji tracking mud all over the office floor. The President had absolute trust in him as he departed to London for a business trip as his second-in-command, something he knew never to break.
This was why, when he received a call at approximately 8:23 pm on a Sunday, on his way back to his apartment that bordered the north end of Yokohama’s Chinatown, waiting patiently for the subway while holding a brown bag of this week’s groceries - featuring an assortment of peppers, coffee that was on sale for buy one and get one, and various jars of spices, Kunikida felt like a weight had been dropped on him. His mother’s sing-song, jovial voice had crackled like a malfunctioning sparkler against his ear.
“Doppo!” She exclaimed, a cacophony of crowds and vehicles mingling behind her.
“Mother, hello - how are you?” Kunikida fought the urge to smile widely at her overjoyed voice, before giving in nearly immediately as he heard her laugh.
“Oh, excellent, sweetie! I actually am calling you to have you take a wide, wondrous guess at where I am right now on this hot Sunday evening and will be until Wednesday night.”
Behind her, Kunikida heard a booming announcement that the Entrepreneurial Today Panel would be starting in 15 minutes. Right - his mother mentioned in their catch-up call two weeks ago that she’d be in Yokohama for a Painting Contractors Expo, having built and grown her own painting contractors and paint business known as Bamboo Gate that now boasted twenty-nine full-time employees, a store, and two depots in Chōshi, his hometown. She was her own boss. He assumed that the expo would be winding down at this point, given how late it was.
“Haha - how’s Yokohama treating you, mother?”
“Definitely more involved in the expo than the city - although I did eat at this one lovely spot in Chinatown that had the largest bao buns! Just got out of a mentorship workshop, I got to speak about my own growth with Bamboo Gate. Always jobs in entrepreneurship because you basically make your own career, and there’s certainly always jobs back home and a welcoming, awesome boss should you pursue any positions in a certain painting contractor’s shop should you wish to return home~”
“Uh-huh, hehe.”
“Lots of opportunities to use maths in entrepreneurship and business!”
“I know, mother.” He sighed, both lovingly and tiringly, knowing she always saw chances to subtly hint at how she adored the idea of them together rather than Kunikida in a city she truly detested.
“Well, I’ll do one more panel, grab a quick before-bed snack, and then it’s off to the hotel!”
“The Hyatt Regency near Tōkaichiba, correct?”
“Free breakfast and two pools, absolutely! I was thinking, while I have you-” The train arrived, and with it, came the sharp whipping of doors sliding open and a sea of people spilling out. Kunikida put the phone on speaker as he walked into the car, quickly rushing to an open seat while clutching his groceries. “-the expo is ending Monday at noon, and I’ll be meeting some girlfriends in town for some shopping. I’d have all of Tuesday without any plans except looking at the city while trying to make sure I wouldn’t be crushed by a giant whale-shaped warship making its landing-” Of course, she hated just how much of an anomaly Yokohama was - everything peculiar, dangerous, and rare came to the city of strays. She never supported Kunikida’s decision to move there given its penchant for organised crime and near-eternal violence. “-or accidentally wandering into some criminal’s underground tunnel hideout. Or, I could come to see you! I’d stay at the hotel Tuesday and plan to catch the train back home in the morning.”
“Which I said I’d drive you to.”
“Yep! So, what do you think?”
“You want…you want to come see me?”
“Again, all day Tuesday! I could do some city things during the day since I know you’re working. I’ve heard good things about the Ramen Museum, believe it or not.”
“Of course, mother! I would love to see you, even if it’s a short time. I could meet with you at a restaurant, at my place, or somewhere else after work and we could do whatever you wanted, or I could show you some spots I like to frequent.”
“Actually…” As she briefly trailed off, Kunikida swallowed. “…now that I think about it, you’ve only discussed your work! We ran into your sales partner at the mall when I visited last time, Dazai was so nice! He was such a dream!” Kunikida resisted the urge to immediately snort and retort her words. He remembered having seen Dazai at the mall he took his mother to, Dazai flattering her immediately with the mockery of politeness and flirtatiousness he saw him perform among so many other women.
More like a fucking nightmare.
“You’ve never shown me your office or your other coworkers. I don’t even know where the building is, you’ve been so vague about it!”
For a very solid reason. Ever since the Azure King case, his mother had become near-terrified for Kunikida, even suggesting he move out of the dirty, terrorism-ridden Yokohama and come live with or near her in her studio apartment in Chōshi two and a half hours away along the Tone River, where she said the worst that could happen there was an occasional jaywalker walking across the road facing the living room.
She made him swear under penalty of being made to relocate back to his hometown away from everything he had built here, along with a heated swear upon his father’s grave, that he would never become tangled-up in the issues and affairs of ability users in Yokohama, and that certainly included a career built around it as part of the Armed Detective Agency.
So, during a get-together in his apartment during Christmastime, when asked what job he took following leaving his position as algebra teacher, something she was notably proud of him assuming, he felt pounced on, scrutinised, examined. She always wanted him to make a handsome, sustainable income in a sheltered, tight position, and while Kunikida wanted what was best for her, he also wanted what was best for the city he grew practically melded to as part of the Agency.
She asked him where he worked now almost out of nowhere as she set down a Christmas cake in the centre of the dinner table, Kunikida wishing he could just disappear into the fluffy clouds of white icing on the dessert’s surface. He practically seared a hole into the cake with his staring.
His job had to have made more than what he did at his last one, and had to be a “normal” job that did not involve hunting terrorists and micro-managing his maniac of a partner. He mentioned that he worked in an office setting now, which was not truly a lie. However, he had staked a claim, and he must build around it.
“Agency Assets,” was what came out of his mouth in a near-instance. “It’s a technology manufacturing firm.” He could be a good liar if needed as part of being a detective. “I work as a salesman there - I make 14 million yen.”
That was most certainly a lie - he made a reasonable salary, something that was perfectly comfortable for not only the mental work of being a detective, but also the emotional drain from seeing person after person die when they had done no wrong and were simply taken by the dark lurking in this city.
But she was pleased, smiling and admitting she wished to see his workplace one day as she asked if he had any friends he made there. He did not relish in lying to his mother, so he showed her a relatively decent-looking picture of Dazai that he had to struggle to find (earning a remark about how handsome and polite-looking of a young man he was) where his eyes looked normal (and not their usual lifeless fish look) and he was in a salaryman-appropriate suit, telling her that he was his sales partner. He then explained, alongside a picture of a suit-clad Fukuzawa, that he was his boss, and Atsushi was their newest employee he had been tasked to mentor in business and sales alongside Dazai, taking him out to meet clients and future customer bases around town.
“I think it’s a great idea - I could come see your office either during work if it’s not an issue with your boss-”
“H-he’s out of town. I’m in charge right now.”
“-well, then it’s up to you! You could show me around during work and I could meet your coworkers, or, if it’s okay with them, once work’s over, I could see them! You mentioned it’s a homey office and how they liked to sometimes stay there after and hang out.”
“Mother-”
“I really want to see what you do and I want to meet who you work with. I want to see how Dazai’s doing, too!” She chirped, thrilling herself the longer she went on, clearly growing more and more elated at the concept.
“I don’t know…”
“Please, Doppo? I want to get to know what you do here. I want to know more about you, you never really talk about your current job like you did with your last one. Or,” she teased, but to Kunikida, whose dread grew, it sounded accusatory. “You’re back into busting terrorists, haha. Your mother told you that was a big ‘ol no-no!”
“No!” He realised how frantic his tone sounded, the two previously-silent teen girls sitting next to him jumping in surprise. “N-no. Mother, I would be so incredibly happy if you would come to my workplace and want to meet my coworkers. I would love to have you, and so would they.” Kunikida turned and looked down at his feet, face burning. “…they’ll all be at the office to welcome you on Tuesday after 5, which is when our shifts normally end.”
“Wonderful!”
“We’ll have food and drinks ready for you.”
"I’ll see you then - I’ll wear my nicest dress, I want to impress your coworkers like I’m sure they’ll impress me.” She sung. “Text me the address when you can and I’ll get there on my own just fine. You’ll have work that day!”
“Of course!” Kunikida attempted to battle the fear and gloom that began to fall over him and radiate from his being to those around him, the girls to his right staring at him in concern. “I’ll see you after 5, Tuesday.” Although he knew she loved to ‘surprise’ him by coming to events early - she loved to see him shocked yet pleased to see her, always beaming in excitement and delight wherever she went. She was like sunshine - welcoming, galvanising in all the right places, but could become overstimulating and overwhelming the harder she shined and the longer she stayed illuminated the way she always was. “I truly cannot wait to see you, mother! I love you, good luck at the panel. Good night.”
“Love you too, my dear Doppo.”
Kunikida hung up, releasing a long, hard groan as his head collided with the cold train glass.
Yes - Doppo Kunikida considered himself proficient in most things, but most certainly nothing when it came to the spontaneity and surprises of his wonderfully sweet yet overprotective mother. He sighed, returning home to drop off his groceries before contacting the president.
He would have tomorrow, when all of the Agency would likely be present for work during a period of relative peace in regards to mission-taking and likely obstructing or aiding in his attempt or both, and would probably have to stay after to deal with it himself. He would also have Tuesday, but even then he’d be too seized with attending to his mother, who he knew would want to see him first and then the office, leaving it to the metaphorical wolves that were his coworkers for the day until she came in the evening.
Welp, he needed to see what he could and could not move.
Kunikida found himself uncorrected about his coworkers. They indeed would either obstruct or aid him, and so far, some had been far more helpful than others were, and it was easy to predict who.
He did not tell them of his mother’s near-future visit yet - he did not want any questions or for them to sit with the news for too long and stagnate, growing anxious, odd, and suspicious as they waited in dread for her to arrive like Kunikida was, particularly among the likes of Tanizaki or Atsushi. He preferred to wait until Tuesday, and all that hinted at his mother’s visit was the knowing looks from Ranpo, the prodding eyes of Dazai, and the brief statement made in the morning for the Agency not to have plans on Tuesday night before rushing to the bathroom as Naomi opened her mouth to ask why.
Kunikida spent Sunday night developing and fine-tuning a schedule in his notebook, conversing with himself about what he needed to move, where he needed to move it, who to macro-manage versus micro-manage, when he would welcome her in, what rooms she’d be shown, and whose areas to clean compared to what he would let another do. Despite the six-draft developments he made that he soon found to be somewhat firm in their likelihood of keeping himself at the Agency and his mother out as soon as possible, he was still combatting anxieties that something could spring up and go wrong given everything around him.
The changes made during the day were minimal, both to permit the Agency a smooth, normal workday and to circumvent questions from his colleagues. Tuesday, he figured, was the day to deal with them and make sure they’d clean everything that he was unable to clean. The day went by without anything unusual happening, the slowness allowing the Agency to enjoy their lazy workday and Kunikida the ability to plan easier.
Yosano mostly sat in the infirmary, playing those first-person shooter games she enjoyed so much before Ranpo came in, asking for pictures of her new calico cat, Butters. Ranpo kept shooting himself in the face with a Nerf gun he brought in out of boredom. Dazai, at least four times, threw pencils at Kunikida as he was hunched over his schedule to get his attention before asking if he had a can of ligma he could borrow. A slow, calm day.
He already had an inkling of who would be the easiest to be granted the aid of. He enlisted Haruno (having stayed late for an overtime shift), who knew exactly how to be the best of help and how to avoid asking too many questions, in changing the name plates of the Armed Detective Agency to Agency Assets, telling Atsushi as he lurked around the corner, on his way out of the office (a force of habit, he figured, in that he was always paranoid that someone somewhere was speaking about him), that he’d get an explanation soon as Haruno worked on nailing the replacement plate to the office entrance.
Soon, all were replaced.
Kunikida hoped against hope itself that the armoury would not be needed either tonight or tomorrow - Fukuzawa gave him permission to seal it off for now provided it was immediately opened back up to secret access the moment his mother left, understanding, as Kunikida explained the entire issue, that he could do whatever he deemed necessary to keep the Agency and himself secure and safe during her visit. He could not having his mother stumble into the armoury and have to explain away why a technology manufacturing firm had grenades, guns, and so many other weapons she may not even know the name of.
So, having recruited Naomi alongside Haruno, the three of them simply pushed Fukuzawa’s china cabinet to where it completely obscured the already difficult to find entryway, being exceedingly careful as they did so. The cabinet was fortunately light enough to move if needed after Naomi proposed using the armoury as a storage space for anything they were unable to move to the floor above.
Soon, they got to work cleaning out what they could, taking all of the papers and documents that hinted at their true intentions and purposes as an organisation and transporting them to the fifth floor for temporary storage. Naomi and Haruno were immensely helpful, not even asking why Kunikida needed to do this and understanding they would know soon - just not now, this tendency to mind one’s business he couldn’t find universally in all of the Agency’s members.
He replaced the chart of Yokohama’s factional differences from ward to ward in regards to dominant organised criminal syndicates with a giant chart of consumer tech sales for the fiscal year and put a projector at the head of the table.
He checked each computer in the office, from the monitors used by all members when needed to the more personal desktops at an individual’s desk, examining their wallpapers. Of course, his more eccentric coworkers would have the oddest wallpapers. Ranpo’s wallpaper depicting two wide-mouthed Wojak men pointing at a pile of sweets, Kenji’s smiling selfie of himself holding a tomato that looked to have male genitals, and Dazai’s wallpaper that had an image of a watermelon with human eyes and teeth that Kunikida and Atsushi hated so much - most had to be changed, Kunikida deciding to keep them simple with generic images of lines, hills, or flowers. He knew this would infuriate and upset them, but he didn’t care.
Soon, Kunikida got to work looking through cabinets, the top cabinet in Dazai’s desk giving way to several CDs (he had no idea who Panchiko or Have a Nice Life were, nor did he listen to “Deathmetal” or “Deathconsciousness”, figuring it made sense Dazai listened to albums with “death” in their titles) that were probably weird post-black-gaze-whatever music Dazai listened to that he couldn’t stop animatedly describing to Kunikida as “eerie and esoteric”.
After dealing with the desks in the central office, he moved onto the infirmary, taking care not to move too much, both due to Yosano’s fear-inducing attitude about her things being messed with, and from his lack of knowledge of the equipment and tools in there. He figured he’d convince Yosano to move everything around herself. Of course, he found multiple pornographic magazines in there in the upper cabinets alongside scissors, post-it notes, and a few other objects, bikini-clad women on the covers that he put in the pile to take to the fifth floor that Haruno and Naomi would move up.
Haruno and Naomi were massively important - they changed the appearance of the office, cut off the armoury, and changed the nameplates, all while keeping their pleasant smiles and jovial conversations. They even printed out forms typical of an office and laid them around the area. He knew his coworkers, and, while he would never admit it, his family, would ask questions the moment they stepped into the office on Tuesday, but that was not the issue for now.
He avoided Yosano’s infirmary, however, both from the fear of a scalpel being shoved in his trembling face against a lightning-adorned, red-hot storm of rage at her things being moved around without her explicit consent and because he did not know exactly what to do and where to move what given his lack of medical understanding. He just left it, save the magazines, returning to Dazai’s area as he moved onto stuffing Dazai’s bandages in the bottom cabinet of his desk as he realised they should likely be kept from sight if his mother wanted to see their desks.
It was 7:30 by the time they had finished up all they could fix up, Haruno and Naomi departing for their dormitories with polite waves to Kunikida, who stood around against the last, late rays of the falling sun piercing through the dusted glass. He kept looking around, eyes journeying to all angles and places the office had to offer, looked again, and looked another time.
Anxiety swelled up again as he choked it down, grabbing his bag and leaving the office to go home, where he knew his mother’s visit would continue to consume his thoughts for the foreseeable future. He stared holes into his notebook, taking care to write a list down of absolutely off-topic subjects and questions no one, under any circumstance, could discuss with his mother. The sooner she came and got it over with, the better. But he also wished to put it off for as long as he could. Not only would he put up with the issue of her visit tomorrow, but from the inevitable questions the Agency would pelt him with the moment he entered work where they would find a changed office.
Right. He could do this.