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Kunikida thought that when Dazai joined the Agency, he could stop being paired up with Ranpo, and now have a much more capable partner. Someone who will do his work. Someone who will understand him. Someone who wants to work together.
Instead, he’s currently on one of their rare outings where the greener members had to follow their senior detective around, and all he can think is, I can’t believe there’s two of him.
He’ll begrudgingly accept that Ranpo’s intelligence isn’t an ability, if only because it was proven to him. With such a revelation, it’s not a stretch to say that someone can rival that intelligence while holding an unrelated talent. Dazai kind of skipped out on the investigation because he knew Ranpo had it, and then he jumped into the river and who cares, Kunikida’s used to the routine and doesn’t need to describe it.
But now he’s sitting at a table in a cafe, staring at the table, knowing he’s going to pay for the meal, and there are two Ranpos. The men sniped off about a topic he couldn’t figure out the name of, something that could be chemistry or a contemporary novel or some hush-hush government secret, it’s anyone’s guess. Surely, with two geniuses, he could sit back and relax on the job. This is not possible, because they are stupid sheep, and he is their shepherd, as demonstrated earlier with the river jumping. Kunikida made a note in his book to start carrying towels.
Aaaaaand there’s Dazai’s sticky fingers grabbing the corner of the page, sliding it out of Kunikida’s grip in such a slow movement it’s like he thought Kunikida wouldn’t figure it out. He’s staring right at it, mentally reeling over how anyone would mistake him for a biologically-inaccurate T-Rex, as the notebook leaves his hands.
“Told you it would work.”
“You ass!” Kunikida’s neck cracked with how quickly he twisted to face his partner. “Give that back!”
“Come on, Kunikidaaa.” Dazai grinned, holding it by one of the bindings and absolutely stretching the string. “I was just testing your reflexes.”
“You test that by going quickly, not slowly, you brainless—”
“Ouch, no need for name calling. Say, what did you write down, anyway?”
“That’s personal!”
“Looks like a shopping list.” Dazai blew a raspberry, tossing it with too much force for someone sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Kunikida had to get out of his chair to lunge for the book before it hit the ground. “Nothing personal about that.”
Kunikida huffed through his nostrils, hunching his shoulders as he white knuckled the book. Ranpo’s green eyes flicked between them, uncharacteristically interested. Is it bad to feel a shiver down his spine when a certain person looks at him? Because Ranpo simply opening his eyes feels wrong enough. He had his hands clasped by his chin, and now he’s watching Kunikida only. Kunikida’s not one to fall for intimidation (is that what this is?), so he straightened his back and glared back.
Dazai tried to distract him with damp hair on Kunikida’s neck, leaving a wet patch on the vest in seconds. “When is our order going to get here?”
“Getoffame.”
“Kunikida, make a gun and threaten them into making our food faster.”
He drove the heel of his loafer into where Dazai’s ankle meets his foot, the detective snapping out of his personal space with both hands around his shoe and a curse.
“The hell was that for? I was just kidding!”
Kunikida shrugged, refusing to break eye contact with Ranpo. He knew gears were turning in that head, but he didn’t know what made him tick at the moment. Every tiny movement made those pupils flicker, a new puzzle piece. The picture is…uncertain.
Seriously, why’s the detective watching him like he’s a new case? He concentrated less on their actual job. He talked more on the job. What did he do to earn this attention? Was it Dazai interrupting their conversation to swipe at the notebook? But he didn’t write anything in it that Ranpo would care about.
Ranpo didn’t waver until three plates and cups were placed in front of them. Iced caramel latte and a triple chocolate cookie for Ranpo, cheesecake and nauseating decaf for Dazai, and water with matcha shortbread for Kunikida. He’s not paying more than he has to, and the matcha seemed like the cheapest thing that he wouldn’t hate. Ranpo did look down to grab his frankly enormous cup, standing with it and his cookie wrapped in a napkin. “Have fun, Dazai. I think Kunikida and I should get back to the office.”
“Wh-why us and not him?” Kunikida questioned, already gathering his own food and standing. Dazai glanced between them with his fork positioned to dig into his treat. Ranpo angled his head to peer down at the new employee.
“Are you doing your paperwork today?”
“Nope!” Dazai replied with too much pride, stabbing into the cake. Ranpo chose to enable him with a crooked finger for Kunikida to follow him out the door. He was practically fuming as he followed.
“You’re just going to let him slack off?” Kunikida snapped as soon as the door closed.
“Nope, just wanted to talk to you.” Ranpo took a long, timed sip from his cup. “I want to see how you settled into the partnership.”
“He’s a pain in the neck, but no one else will deal with him.”
“Mhm.” Another slurp, does he have to be that loud with it? Kunikida can see him drinking it just fine, he doesn’t have to announce that his mouth is full like that. “Just want to be sure he’s not pushing your buttons too much. It’s good that you balance each other out, but you won’t work if you’re constantly having your triggers set off.”
“My what?”
“Triggers. Stressors.” Ranpo paused to bite into his cookie. “I don’t interfere with your business, but I notice things, you know? I don’t fully understand other people’s emotions, I can see them, just don’t get them. He knows when he’s doing it, too, but I can make him knock it off.”
“I’m not any more stressed than anyone else in the Agency,” Kunikida replied through a clenched jaw, staring at the ice bobbing in his water.
“I said stressors, not stressed.”
“Same thing.” Kunikida waited for Ranpo to argue with him, only to realize that the space next to where he walked felt oddly empty. He stopped, glancing back, to find Ranpo wide-eyed and watching him a few paces back. “Ranpo?”
He waited another beat, then skipped to get back to Kunikida. “What were you saying?”
Kunikida started off on his pace again. “Dazai’s not a bad person, I guess, I just wish he took his work more seriously. I know why you run off from your desk since the police give you emergency calls from nowhere, but it’s not equal for me to do the paperwork for all three of us—” He stopped speaking when he saw that, again, Ranpo stopped, and he had to stop too. “What are you doing?”
Ranpo moved again, this time walking ahead of Kunikida, and before they could get to the end of the block, he turned around and forced Kunikida to a stop. Suspicious, the man followed Ranpo’s gaze to their feet. Of course, Ranpo kept stopping where Kunikida should stand on the crack in the sidewalk. Instead, he just barely edged to the center of the square.
“You think I’m obsessive.” Kunikida’s lip twitched, purposefully stepping backward so the center of his foot hit the crack. “See? I’m perfectly capable of walking.”
“Stopping at random intervals doesn’t mean I was checking where you stepped.”
“You’re not the first person to try it, unfortunately.” Kunikida forced a cool expression as he pushed past the detective. He had a penchant for writing everything down and sticking to a schedule long before his powers set in, and this was usually the first accusation leveled at him. He has to do everything in a perfect order because it’s a compulsion for him, or he’ll have a tantrum if he doesn’t get what he wants. He thought they were collectively past the stage where people meet him and assume that, so it stung just a bit to have it happen again. With the genius who will always believe he knows better, and probably does.
Does this mean that Ranpo knows him better than himself? Or does he just think he does, and he’s letting Kunikida in on some divine revelation? He pointedly ignored the detective whose gaze could’ve stuck him to a wall like flypaper, now walking just a half-step behind.
“I was just demonstrating a stressor.”
“Sure.” Kunikida felt the word like ice on his tongue, taking too big of a bite of his shortbread.
“I was unaware that demonstrating the stressor is also a stressor.”
“Alright.” It’s rude to talk with his mouth full, but he doesn’t care. They definitely took a wrong turn because he didn’t want to be stuck at the crosswalk with Ranpo, but now they need to double back, which means more time with this nasty feeling crawling under his skin.
It’s always something with geniuses. Dazai analyzed him and his ideals, deciding that they’re mere garbage compared to the apotheosis of the great Osamu. That there is no justice, so sure, let’s just let people shoot each other, and maybe they will uncover a grand mystery! Or just toss themselves in rivers, because nothing matters.
Now, with the genius who frowns at his side, it’s a mystery to solve. Not that his lifeblood is bad, but the way he deals with it. He’s heard Ranpo’s prattle off of someone’s traits before, and he knows that he just scored himself an ugly notch in the detective’s tally sheet. He doesn’t walk like everyone else, so now he’s obsessive.
Perfect. Great. Spectacular. He shouldn’t work with geniuses. They make him fret over minor things, because they always see things he can’t, and now he’s looking at his feet and wondering why does he always go for the center of the square in the sidewalk? He lessened his stride a bit just to fix that, but now he’s firmly placing both feet in each square, and that’s no better. Step on the crack.
Prove it. Prove you’re not obsessive.
Step. There. Now.
Okay, fine, he’ll step half on, and half off of the crosswalk stripes, since there’s no more sidewalk. Half on, half off, come on, stop putting his entire foot, or would half on, half off also be a pattern he’s fixating on? Three-quarters on, one-third off—
“Kunikida, stop!”
Something hot splashed on his back, and his food was out of his hands, as he jerked backward by the collar of his shirt. He snapped his gaze up just in time to see the truck barrelling by, the breeze tickling his nose. He landed with a thump on the sidewalk, his hand in a puddle of latte that still hurt to touch. His shortbread was paste under the wheels, his cup rocketing off with the front of the truck pushing it.
It’s not uncommon to almost walk in front of a car in the city, but he’s never had a practical demonstration of what his body would look like if it smeared green, not red. He could feel Ranpo’s hand on his shoulder, trying to shake him.
He was so obsessive over not looking obsessive that he almost died. He’ll also choose to believe that the water on his face is from his drink spilling everywhere, because the previous statement wasn’t worth getting teary-eyed over. He’s fine.
“I’m fine,” he repeated out loud, standing and turning to examine his outfit. Ranpo basically poured his drink down Kunikida’s back when he dropped it to grab his collar, the cup rolling on the sidewalk off on its own grand adventure. The cookie’s been on the ground too long to salvage. “I’m sorry about your food.”
“Sorry about—” Ranpo’s face contorted, like for once in his life, he doesn’t know how to respond. “You were almost run over and you’re worried about that?”
“It would have been my fault if I was hit, but you did nothing to deserve losing your snack. I’m sorry.” Kunikida frowned at the matching wet patch on his vest, then decided that with twin stripes on him, he’s better off just removing the vest altogether. He folded it over one arm like a towel, making sure his notebook is now safe in his back pocket. “On to the office?”
Ranpo blinked a few times, but he wouldn’t shut his eyes again. “I was right about the stressors.”
“I’m sure you think so,” Kunikida replied curtly, making sure the signal’s actually green this time before crossing again. Geniuses, always right.
“But you don’t seem to get what a stressor is.”
“And you’ll explain it to me.”
Ranpo had the sense to realize that’s a trap, sidestepping it with ease. “Not if you don’t want me to.”
“Good, because I don’t.” Kunikida adjusted his glasses quickly, pretending not to notice how he gets back on the sidewalk perfectly in the square and he’s still stepping in them like a fool who’s learned nothing. “I’m not obsessive. I’m not going to snap because someone decided to be an idiot who ruins my schedule, or takes my notebook without permission. I’m perfectly capable of walking normally, this is just how I want to walk. I got lost in thought, which everyone does, and it means nothing.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t need you to analyze me.”
“Okay.”
Kunikida waited a beat, wondering when the other shoe is going to drop. Geniuses don’t get this silent when told not to expand on how smart they are. He glanced up, noting how Ranpo’s squeezed his eyes shut again. “That’s it?”
“Yep.”
“...Really?”
“I made you walk with me alone so I can ask if Dazai’s taking his Dazai-ness too far.” Ranpo bobbed his shoulders easily, now stretching his back with forced ease. “No point in me doing the same thing, right?”
“So you’re not going to pick apart what I just said?”
“Not out loud, no.” Ranpo rolled his head over to look at him. “Why? Does Dazai do that?”
“Geniuses tend to have little respect for privacy.” Kunikida failed to keep the bitterness out of his voice, feeling his Ideals like a weight that he needed to forcibly remove from his person. “Some just want to be right.”
“Well, I am usually right.” Ranpo leaned into his space, which made Kunikida lean out of it, so he took the hint and swung back into the other direction. “Buuuut like I said: I don’t get emotions sometimes. I see when something upsets someone, but I never know why, so it’s hard to figure out whether I’m supposed to do anything about them. I made the wrong move earlier.”
“Is that your idea of an apology?”
“You do apologize after you hurt someone’s feelings, right?”
“I am a grown man.”
“Never said you weren’t.”
Kunikida didn’t have a retort for that, since he walked right into it. It is a part of his Ideals to be compassionate to others, and acknowledging when you’ve made someone feel awful is a factor. That’s what Ranpo’s…trying to do, so why should he be upset that Ranpo’s reacting ideally to the situation?
Because I feel dumb for being upset over something so minor.
He shut that thought down quick, since that’s just rife with material to fixate on. No way he’s touching it. Instead, he focused on rolling up his sleeves and buttoning them again at the elbow, pretending to adjust to a sudden hot flash. “So, what do you think of me after all of that?”
“Is this permission to analyze you?”
“More like I want your opinion before Dazai forces his on me when he hears about what happened.” He couldn’t keep the bite out of his olive branch, although he’s sure that Ranpo won’t speak a word of him almost dying in the dumbest way possible. No way Kunikida’s going to explain, either, but his vest is ruined by coffee that isn’t his, so either Ranpo pulled him away from something dangerous or Ranpo suddenly decided that he values causing someone pain over his sweet tooth.
Ranpo reached into his pocket, unfolding his glasses. He did not have to do that, but apparently it’ll add to the sincerity if he goes full force. “Ability: Ultra Deduction.”
Kunikida stared right back as the detective studied him. It’s just like in the cafe, and before when Ranpo tested his steps, but it doesn’t feel as accusatory anymore. He’s not breaking Kunikida’s bones to find a kernel of truth in his marrow. He’s just taking in the whole picture.
“I see.”
“You do?”
“Yep.” Ranpo closed his eyes again, keeping the glasses on as he stared at the ground.
“Then you’re going to tell me?”
“I’m sure you already know. You don’t seem to have any uncertainty, although you may not like the words associated with them.”
“What’s the point of using your ability if you won’t brag about the outcome?”
“I’m testing you to be sure you actually want me to say it.”
“Then stop beating around the bush. I already told you I want to know.”
Ranpo took a moment to sort the information in his head before saying it. “You seemed to not like the word obsessive, so I’ll also go out on a limb and say you don’t like being called compulsive, either, so I won’t use either of those. You did seem fixated on those words being associated with you, so at least one person has used them as an insult. Maybe they pointed out the thing you do with your feet, and it seems to be a long standing issue, so this could have occurred as far back as early childhood. People frequently tried to use these fixations against you and for their own amusement, so it became a stressor. That’s what I was referring to, with buttons being pushed. Ruining your routine, touching precious objects without permission, and doing everything in a specific order is all a part of it.”
“So you’re another person who will tell me I have OCD, right?”
“I’m not a doctor, but…yeah. And some other things, too. You weren’t tested as a child, though, and it’s almost impossible to be tested as an adult and get accurate results.” Ranpo took off his glasses and snuck them back into his vest. “The president went out of his way to take me to one of the adult facilities, but they wanted us to spend an arm and a leg for a preliminary appointment, so he just had me use my Ultra Deduction in a mirror and call it a day.”
“Wait, what?”
“Did I not tell you I’m autistic?”
Kunikida gawked at the innocent way Ranpo asked that. “Huh?”
“Difficulty understanding other people’s emotions. Also, food’s a huge problem for me. If it doesn’t have the right texture—” He made a gagging noise. “You know? I used to just keep my eyes closed because of bright lights, but then everyone started directing me where I needed to go as soon as they saw I was walking like this, and it really helps not to get a headache over it. No eye contact, either, unless I’m thinking really hard, and at that point people are just grateful I’m looking at them, I guess.”
“Are you saying that I’m autistic?”
“Sorry, man, but. Yes. I know this was about how you don’t want me and Dazai to just decide things about you and announce them as little tidbits to hold over your head, but I promise it’s not worth the crap we had to go through before giving up. I’m saving you time, money, and frustration. Also anxiety. I’m pretty sure you know you have anxiety, but. Anxiety.”
“I’m not anxious!”
“Anxiety can also be seen as spouts of anger, it’s not just curling up in a ball and crying. Although if you did decide to cry over it, I don’t think anyone would judge you. I’d also get anxious if I fixated on routines and had Dazai as my partner.” Ranpo turned slowly to still talk to Kunikida as they walked. “If you really don’t want him as a partner, I’d get it. I believe the president is scouting out some high school students, so they may be more your speed. You were a teacher, so they could get a lot from your mentorship, and then you’d also—”
“No thanks.” He doesn’t want that kind of power imbalance in a partnership. He can do just fine with an entire class, but it would…feel wrong. “Dazai’s just fine. He won’t break me.”
“It’s not about someone breaking you. It’s about avoiding stressors whenever possible while at work.”
“I need to interact with them a little if I ever want to move past it.” Kunikida doubted that Dazai would care if he’s basically a tolerance guinea pig for him, with how limp he gets whenever Kunikida throttles him. “If it’s Dazai doing it, then I know it’s him, and I can handle it. No matter how upset I get.”
“Good. That’s all I needed to know.”
Kunikida nodded slowly, then stopped with his eyebrows knit together. “But Dazai can’t do that, can he?”
“He can certainly guess, but no. I don’t think he realizes it’s an actual mental thing he’s screwing around with. He just thinks you’re—”
“—obsessive.”
“I was going to say ‘routine’.”
“You can say obsessive if it’s not an insult.” Kunikida snorted. “I am, aren’t I?”
“That being true doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck to hear.”
“And you figured it out just by watching me walk. Maybe the other people who said it were onto something.”
“No, I just did that to see how you’d react. It’d take some big leaps of logic to decide the be-all-end-all of OCD is how you walk. I realized that you may be autistic when you reacted so quickly to Dazai messing with your notebook. Apparently people who aren’t like us would just laugh it off, but that’s your notebook, and you were interrupted in the middle of the task of writing something down. Reacting like that when someone interrupts what you’re doing is a pretty good indicator.” Ranpo gently grabbed his wrist to keep Kunikida from going off-course again, turning the corner so the Agency is in view. “Then I was trying to see if you would react to me just being unpredictable in where I stop, a benign way to mess up your routine, but instead you thought I was messing with your steps. Anyone who did that to you on purpose was a dick, by the way. There’s no point in proving someone obsessive, because then they’ll obsess over if they’re obsessive, and—”
“Walk into traffic?”
“Losing track of your surroundings like that is also a symptom, unfortunately. I thought you were just mad, so I didn’t stop you from walking sooner. But yes, when you were busy in your own head, I watched your feet from then on. You intentionally tried to switch up your paces however possible, and always set back into the old one like you had to if you wanted to move forward at all. You also tapped in time on your cup with your steps.”
“I didn’t even realize.”
“Most people don’t. It can just be you fidgeting, but you were getting stressed. Hence the name ‘stressor’. Can I ask if you were counting your steps?”
“...I was measuring the distance between them.”
“Hm.” Ranpo waited for him to open the cafe door, quickly leading the way to the Agency. “Well, either way, I can tell the president with your permission and we can set up something for you like what I have. He’s not going to be weird about it, and it can help set up cases. Really emphasize how important it is that you don’t get taken off of your routine, you know?”
“Do you have a routine I don’t know about?”
“Kind of. We don’t have enough employees yet to need this, but he’s said before that if there’s too much noise I’m allowed to just sit in his office with the lights off for a bit. I’m sure he’ll let you do the same to escape Dazai.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“So, do you want me to tell him, or?”
“I can.”
Ranpo bobbed his head, crossing to his desk and cozying up immediately. Kunikida dipped his head into the president’s office, and by the time he was done with that oddly beneficial meeting, Dazai was back.
Three detectives. Two geniuses. And with Kunikida noticing how Ranpo went out of his way to avoid snacks that left dust on his fingers, he realized that them being geniuses wasn’t the end of it. He’s not the odd one out in the way he thought he was. Maybe, maybe, he’ll find something in common with Dazai, eventually.
He did notice that Dazai makes it increasingly obvious what days he’ll ruin his schedule, like it’s a competition between them, not an ambush on his psyche. Any gap between Kunikida and his coworkers shrank a great deal after that. Following a particularly annoying case, leaving all three of them drained, the president walked in, put a box on an empty desk, and walked out. Kunikida found the handheld puzzles inside and thought it was a joke.
Apparently all he needed to feel like he belonged with the geniuses was to have them in a braindead circle solving brain teasers, which Yosano declared was the worst bonding experience she’s ever seen before joining them. They have to learn to work together somehow. He’s always stuck herding the Agency like cats, but at least he’s not plagued by the constant thought that he’ll never crack it. When they say he’s obsessive, it’s not a bad thing. It’s just a fact that they all deal with.
Also, Yosano keeps trying to push pills on him to help him out, and he’s not sure whether he’s supposed to be grateful for the support or scared that she has such easy access. He’ll figure that out at his own pace.