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It was dark, and Yosano was tired of it.
The day had been long and had it been up to her, she'd be sprawled out on a sofa instead of confined to this cramped space. It was barely big enough to stretch her legs. Climbing the boxes or squeezing through them might give her some exercise, but she opted to stay put. Seeing how easily she had freed herself from the rope supposed to shackle her wrists, she didn’t trust the men one bit with securing cargo.
The container shook so much that she’d assumed she was already at sea, off to God knows where, but given the frantic voices dulled by the metal walls, barking all sorts of commands, there had been a hiccup.
She started to wonder why and then waved the thought away. It was all the same to her, really. She could rattle at the door however much she liked, it wouldn’t move an inch - assuming she’d even find it, given that it was pitch-black inside. The outer world was beyond her influence, thus of little significance for the remaining time of her confinement. After that … well, there was no way of knowing where she’d end up once they went back on land.
Her ability enabled her to survive pretty much everything - supposing that the ship would make it safe to shore, given that reanimation after drowning was not on the list of miracles she could perform (one more reason why Dazai was so drawn to rivers, she supposed).
Yet, after her time in the military, she knew that all those die-hard life advocates were the cruelest of all. What good was saving someone when all she’d leave them with was a living hell?
She’d get out of here on her own terms, or not at all.
Ranpo made it three steps into the Agency's office before he froze.
As deserved, all eyes turned on him, but rather than bathing in their attention, his mind remained occupied. He had just come back from a case at the police station. The cases ranged from unimaginative to oozing with drama, and none of that satisfied his curiosity other than providing a temporary distraction.
Since he wasn’t officially employed and thus couldn't receive a proper salary, Ranpo made them compensate for his troubles by demanding a sacrifice of as many sweets as he could stuff himself with.
Today one of them had given him a set of black stories on top because his kids loved them, and Ranpo had shortened the way home by solving them. He’d just put the last back into the box as he reached the office door, stepped inside, and silently cursed himself.
“Ah, Ranpo, good thing you're back. We had to work overtime because of a bodyguard mission coming up and we could use your help figuring out a safe route to… Ranpo?” he heard Kunikida ask, always the first to note any irregularities. Technically, Ranpo and Dazai were quicker about it. Still, they either judged it too much trouble to interfere or, quote, ‘wanted to watch the world burn’. “Is everything okay?”
As he angled his head back, a word left Ranpo’s mouth, the kind that he’d been chastised for by Fukuzawa countless times. “I’m so stupid,” was what any ordinary person would say, but it would never cross Ranpo’s mind. It was just that even his ability had limitations, and since he was laser-focused on deductions and revelations, multitasking was not in his wheelhouse when he had his glasses on. “I need to get something”, was all he said, and scowled. He’d walked all the way here for nothing! His poor feet!
“Do you want me to take care of it?” Atsushi chimed in immediately, having grown an expert on Ranpo’s mood swings. Maybe it was the fact that the Agency had ingrained in Atsushi what Ranpo had spent years teaching everyone else - namely that the backbone of their organization had to be kept happy at all times at all costs - or just his past at the orphanage making him extremely susceptible to any causes of trouble that needed to be avoided.
“Nah, that won’t do,” Ranpo whined theatrically, lamenting the regretableness of the situation, until a thought crossed his mind. Maybe there was some fun to be had after all. “It’s something only I can do. A super top-secret mission. But to make it in time, I’ll have to rely on a special service only I can access.” And with the broadest grin, he walked out of the office, already dialing a number.
Weaving through traffic on a motorcycle that went 230 km/h on a highway wasn’t half as dangerous as the one riding it, but Ranpo didn’t care about either.
Instead, he laughed so hard his lungs burned. He threw his arms into the air like he did on rollercoasters, even without Yosano to piece him back together should he end up as roadkill. He could handle himself with just his legs on the machine, given that they glided through the air as effortlessly as the cars they left in their wake. “This is the best!” Ranpo shouted, which made the man in front of him growl in frustration.
“If you tell me that you’ve dragged me out on a Friday afternoon for nothing but a joyride -” The complaint was cut short as Ranpo’s hand came down on Chuuya's shoulder in a surprising pat, making the motorcycle tilt too much to be intentional. It prompted a colorful cuss from Chuuya at the rush-hour traffic and something about the man’s companion that Ranpo chose to overhear. “Relax, I’m on an important mission. You should be glad that you get to assist me. Maybe I’ll mention you in a footnote.”
Ranpo had never cared much for general education, much to Fukuzawa’s chagrin, so his knowledge of physics, apart from anything beneficial to his cases, was nonexistent. He knew that Chuuya controlled gravity as well as the bike they were riding on, but the finer aspects of the how escaped him. Ranpo only cared for the result, and being able to tone down the deafening wind enough to hear the gritting of Chuuya’s teeth was incredibly satisfying. “Remind me to block your number.”
Ranpo rolled his eyes. Chuuya was so bold that it bordered on imbecility, but even he wouldn’t be this stupid. Still, Ranpo decided to cut the man some slack. “You’re driving too fast,” he stated so flatly that Chuuya shot him a flabbergasted look.
“The hell?” was all Chuuya asked before he turned back to the front, because no matter one's ability, looking away from the road was suicidal when you saw speed regulations as mere suggestions. “You’re the one who came crying that you needed a ride asap, and then bitched that I should go faster. Dumping excess weight-.”
“Several speed traps are coming up ahead,” Ranpo elaborated, holding his glasses in place.
Chuuya just huffed. “Like I care. The bike is under a fake name, and when you’re on my pay grade, transportation is fully covered. Maybe your puny Agency has to worry about budget cuts, but an organization as grand as the Port Mafia-”
“Uuugh!”
Chuuya shrieked as Ranpo’s forehead collided with his head, knocking his precious hat to the side, barely managing to catch it. “What the hell was that for?!” he roared.
“You’re so stupid, it hurts. It makes me want to knock my head against the concrete you have in yours. Why do I have to spell everything out for you? Dazai was right, he’s the brain that compensates for the fact that you have nothing but brute strength. How do you even put your pants on right in the morning?”
Chuuya gripped the handles of his bike so hard that the metal dented. “Don’t you dare drop that bastard’s name. One more time and I’ll-”
“Quit yapping and save your empty threats for someone who’ll listen. There will be questions.”
For a second, Chuuya was silent, and Ranpo could hear the gears turning in his head. “About my threats? Or did you prepare some kind of quiz?”
Ranpo heard Fukuzawa’s voice in his head, educating the boy that whenever he was about to lose himself in a tantrum, he should close his eyes, draw in a deep breath, count to ten, and release it before any further actions.
However, Ranpo didn’t have that long and was more than ready to scrap proper etiquette completely. “Where did that come from? Have you lost your last brain cell? The world truly is full of babies who don’t know better. You’re with an Agency member! Whoever gets that photo will give it straight to Mori! Good luck explaining that!”
“Shit!” Chuuya screamed, the brakes of his bike screeching like a banshee as he pushed off the ground, landing on the other side of the road just before the reach of the speed camera. Cars honked and tried to sway away from the sudden wrong-way driver, piling up in a car crash that would back up the street for the rest of the day for miles as Chuuya made his way over to the hard shoulder for a clear way.
“You’re sure it’s over by the Western Port?” Chuuya asked, looking at the horizon to orient himself. “I know a shortcut then.” Without any preamble, Chuuya’s bike screeched as he made a sharp turn, and Ranpo screamed even louder as Chuuya was not steering back into traffic, but aimed directly at the slope next to the highway. The bike hopped over the guard railing like a priced racehorse and didn’t lose any momentum as the slope amplified their speed.
“Are you trying to get us killed?” Ranpo asked, holding on to Chuuya so tight that he could feel his fingertips dig into the soft flesh of his stomach. Streets or any sort of beaten path were also a suggestion, as Chuuya steered his bike so narrowly by some trees that Ranpo feared that one of the branches would pierce his cape and lift him off the bike, or impale him directly.
“Wouldn’t mind if it were you,” Chuuya said, though his tone had taken on a playful note as the thrill of adrenaline coursed through him.
“You have way too much trust in this thing!”
Chuuya grinned. “Says the person who trusted me enough to get on my bike.”
Ranpo shook his head, his eyes shut to avoid seeing his life flash before his eyes at the speed of the blurred trees. “Trust me, if I’d had any other choice, I wouldn’t have. And neither do you, because in case I die at your hands, I left precise instructions to open a certain file that will tell the Agency, including Dazai, what you did to the cows back in the book.”
“That wasn’t my fault! It was an accident!” Chuuya yelled, almost losing it along with the control of his bike. The front wheel slammed into a stray trunk lying around, and Chuuya had to reach down to the back to bring it down again with a touch of extra gravity.
“As you say~ I’m sure they’ll believe you,” Ranpo said, patting Chuuya’s stomach in false reassurance as he didn’t dare to release his grip for too long, praying that the man wouldn’t notice the tremor in his hands. This ride couldn’t be over soon enough.
Ranpo was usually the first to get seasick, and he sure as hell wouldn’t admit to Chuuya that his driving was excellent enough to save him from the urge to lean over and empty out the sweets he had been so generously supplied with. Instead, he fought the urge to stick out his legs and touch the surface of the water they were riding on, but something told Ranpo that he wouldn’t get a satisfying splash, but break his foot because, at this speed, the surface should be as hard as the streets Chuuya was supposed to ride on. Gravity control was truly something.
Just as Ranpo thought about all the ways he could exploit that, he saw the ship loom up above them in the darkness. Ranpo had only been on an occasional ride with the president's motorboat, or a trip on a ferry down one of the rivers. Seeing a cargo ship designed for international trade rise above him made him crane up his head so much that his neck hurt.
Before he knew it, they were on it, with Chuuya driving up the side so casually like there wasn't a black sea beneath them that would kill them immediately on impact. “Don't get in my way,” was Chuuya's last warning before he steered the bike over the railing, leaning forward to aim for a free space on the ship. There were some dim lights speckled here and there, but they illuminated the area enough that Ranpo smirked with satisfaction as he beheld the surprised faces of the crew. He loved flashy entrances, and this one might be one of his favorites.
Chuuya mirrored his expression as the wheels touched the ground, leaning so far to one side that his knee almost scraped the deck. He knocked down two guys with that alone like bowling pins. For a moment, Ranpo expected him to keep chasing them down on his bike, but Chuuya stopped, casually got up, straightened his jacket, and looked around the ship. There were cargo boxes all around them, so it was hard to see where the enemies were hiding or how many there were. Still, while Ranpo pushed his glasses further up his nose to activate Super Deduction and figure out his enemies' hideouts, Chuuya simply walked down the aisles in between. “Showoff!” Ranpo commented from his hideout behind some random boxes, but Chuuya just flipped his hair back while he continued on his way, steps as elegant as if he was walking on a catwalk and not into the heart of danger. If the enemies' eyes weren't already on him, there was no way they could ignore the swing of his hips. He even had the audacity to adjust his head before the first round of machine guns was fired.
Crouching and with the urge to bang his head on the box in frustration, Ranpo was in more pain than Chuuya would ever be from that attack. Ranpo already knew that the saying “doing the same thing and expecting different results is the definition of madness” was true, he hadn't asked for a demonstration, thank you very much.
A quick check of his surroundings, then Chuuya walked to one of the metal cargo boxes twice his height and unceremoniously kicked its wall. The impact resonated through the night, shoving the row of boxes so far back that some slammed against the railing, bending it so far that they toppled overboard. Judging by the screams, at least one of the passengers had suffered the same fate.
“Hey, be careful, there's precious cargo around!” Ranpo yelled, but Chuuya just spared him an annoyed glance.
“Like I'd care,” he said, sliding his gloved hands beneath it and lifting it up as effortlessly as a toy brick above his head. There was another scream behind it as it revealed a man hiding behind it, momentarily stunned as he didn't know what to do.
“Looks like we have an ant problem. Time to exterminate them”, was all Chuuya said before he brought the cargo down, denting the metal in the process so that it looked like crumpled paper. None of them bothered with the pool of blood forming beneath it while the rain of bullets continued to ricochet off Chuuya. “Hey, will you shut up already? That's nothing but a waste of ammo. Do you want to rupture my fucking eardrums or what?” Chuuya screamed, already picking up the next container.
“Chuuya, wait!” Ranpo screamed, hoping to be heard over the bullets, not caring that it might blow his cover.
“What?!” Chuuya cried out back, throwing the box up and down on the top of his hand. “I already told you, I don't give a damn about their cargo. This scum deserves to have it completely trashed!” And without further ado, he threw the box like a shot putter.
While he watched it fly with satisfaction, Ranpo ran past him, cape swaying as he went. “You absolute fool! That was Yosano in there!”
It was a myth that one was able to outrun a bullet. Only stupid people did that, who couldn't figure out the best hideouts people would take and deduce their shooting range accordingly.
But when you valued mind over muscles like Ranpo, even running itself was an act he avoided at all costs. Being carried was much better, unless for one exception: under the arm of a Port Mafia executive. It had taken Chuuya several seconds to snap out of a stupor that could only be described as “Oh crap”, and still he'd caught up to the detective in no time. They had been hurling insults at each other ever since, running toward where they'd last seen the faint shimmer of blue light on the horizon. Chuuya kept complaining about the dead weight that he still didn't just toss away, even though Ranpo knew that Chuuya didn't even register it with his ability. In return, Ranpo found the lack of one topic much more interesting. “You should have listened to me~,” he prompted, yanking his head back as Chuuya came too close for comfort to one of the boxes.
“Makes me wonder how the Agency gets anything done when you claim you're one of their smartest members. A sooner warning would have been nice. Also with her ability, she's practically indestructible, so why did you make such a fuss about it?”
Ranpo smirked. “You're the one who got worked up here, you know?”
“Do you have any idea what would have happened had she ended up being killed? We don't need another war between our factions,” Chuuya snarled, looking like he debated spanking Ranpo.
Ranpo shook his head while wiggling out of the other man's grip. “I'll go get her. Make sure to take care of those men coming from the right, will you?”
“I'm not your fucking errand boy!” Chuuya shouted back, already sprinting off in that direction.
Ranpo climbed over the wreckage, sliding down behind some metal pieces that conveniently shielded him from the stray bullets that ricocheted off Chuuya. It might not matter anymore whether he was fatally wounded, now that he was within touching distance of Yosano, but he could do without the excruciating pain that rivaled her dissections.
“You're late,” she said, doing her best to brush the dust off her skirt with furious strikes that must leave the skin beneath bright red. Not that it would do anything about the tears in its fabric or her tights. She did her best to look presentable, while Ranpo pretended not to notice the smeared makeup on her face or the tremor in her voice as she asked “What took you so long?”
Ranpo rolled his eyes. “Some idiot that can't take directions, that's it.”
She smirked, pulling herself up on trembling legs. “Can't say I've had that problem,” she mused as she walked over to the sounds of carnage echoing through the aisles, looking down the dark path. She opened her mouth to say something and stood eerily still for a second as a red patch expanded at the chest part of her blouse. She turned to Ranpo, flashing him a look that was either shock or a silent accusation of “such audacity!” as she fell to the floor, remaining utterly still.
“Hey!” Chuuya yelled, running over to them, but stopped dead in his tracks as he looked at Ranpo staring down the end of the gun.
“I don't know what weird stunt you're pulling here, ability user,” the man said, waving the gun up and down like he couldn't decide which way he wanted Ranpo to go down, “but one funny move and I'll send this bullet right through his brain.”
Ranpo stood there frozen, watching the man make his way over to Yosano’s limp body.
“I don't know whose girl she is, but if you go to that length to save her, she must really know how to please a man. Wouldn't have minded that mouth sucking my-”
Instead of the gentle caress of a tongue, the only thing touching him there was Yosano’s knee as she brought her leg up. The man folded in on himself, falling over toward her, but before he could land on her, Yosano’s fist dealt a blow to his face that sent him rolling over the deck.
“Seriously, what's with them?!” Yosano exclaimed, getting to her feet, legs more stable than Chuuya’s and Ranpo’s, their knees wobbly from phantom pain. “First they lock me up in a container to ship me off to who knows where, as if I'm nothing more than cattle, and now they shoot an unarmed civilian just for personal pleasure? Is that some warped kind of “if I can't have you, nobody will?” Chivalry truly is dead - and that scum certainly never heard of it”, Yosano said, bringing the heel down on his private parts for good measure, though the man was so out of it that he didn't react, much to her chagrin.
Chuuya glanced between her and Ranpo. “You're not mad that your so-called world-class detective let you get shot out in the open?”
Yosano gave Chuuya a forgiving smile like there was so much he had to learn and a great many things she'd love to teach him.
Ranpo shrugged. “Figured she might want to repay him.”
“Oh, I'd like to do a great many more things to him, but I'm not properly equipped for that. Plus, it's been a long night, and I wouldn't want to waste the remainder of my energy.”
“Maybe next time~” Ranpo said, making Yosano groan.
“I could have done with the thought of never crossing paths again.”
“Let's see how many of those rats can swim”, Chuuya said, careful not to get his shoes wet, which probably cost more than Ranpo's sweet supply for half a year. He walked carefully over the puddles that were forming beneath their soles, drenching the man's clothes.
“Don't you think that's a bit … excessive?” Yosano said, raising an eyebrow as she looked over the railing where waves came crashing over it. There had been too much commotion for anyone to notice that Chuuya hadn't used his gravity control solely on himself, but also brought down the deck to sea level. “We don't need a second Titanic.”
“You know, I wasn't kidding about the riches in here. The mafia won't be happy losing out on money, since they never cared where it came from. With all the men on deck, they didn't have time to close the shutters, and now there's no way it'll come back up naturally.”
Chuuya shrugged. “Give me some scuba diving equipment and an evening off and I'll get our boss whatever he desires. Besides, there's only one place on this bike, so hurry up and decide who gets to swim to the shore!”
“Nah, we'll be fine. But there's no way I'm risking my life with you more than I have to. You better hurry. I texted Kunikida to pick us up at those exact coordinates in … 1 minute and 23 seconds. There should be enough time for you to make it out of here if you leave now. Like, right now. Shooo, shooo!”
Chuuya looked like he was one thought away from throwing up his hands in exasperation. Flashing him a smile as if to offer some much-needed kindness for a job well done, Yosano leaned over and whispered something into his ear that made Chuuya mutter a reply and walk over to pick up his bike that had been expertly spared from the carnage. He turned around just in time to watch Ranpo grab Yosano’s hand and jump at precisely the right moment to land on the motorboat speeding past them, leaving Chuuya behind.
It was well past midnight when Yosano sat down on the bed, the soft mattress strangely comfortable after sitting in that confined space so long her legs had gone numb. Now, there was not an inch of restfulness in her body. It buzzed with muscle-memory of what had happened. She was used to fighting, first patching up the soldiers in the barracks and sending them out, later pulling her weight at the Agency. Violence hadn't been the problem. If anything, that had been a much-needed relief.
The quiet had been worse.
The men shouting outside, laughing about whatever dirty joke crossing their mind to pass the time, the waves crashing against the boat, the wind howling through the aisles … all that had been a distant noise, muffled by the walls that had kept her contained. There had been nothing for her mind to focus on, nothing to distract her from the thoughts creeping back into her brain, spurting up like weeds with roots she'd never been able to properly pull out. There had been nothing to hold on to as she'd tumbled down memory lane, through time and space, until she was back again in that cell.
With thoughts numbed by the drugs they'd given her, and walls as soft as the body replacing them, she hadn't noticed the moment those arms had hugged her from behind. Even now, her first instinct wasn't fight or flight, but remaining still as they reached over her stomach, gliding between it and her chest, and pulling her backward until her back rested against them.
She had been petrified back then, retreating even further into the corners of her consciousness, surrendering all of her senses so she wouldn't have to feel whatever Mori would do to her after he'd wheeled her out of confinement.
Now, she came undone, tears running down her face as her body sacked against his, letting him pull her onto his lap, head resting in the curve between his head and his shoulders, orange hair falling over her face as if to shield her.
He knew that safety and security were false promises in their line of work, that when you believed in too many tomorrows to come, the world would split into the before you couldn't get back, and the after that seemed unbearably empty.
Still, he kept whispering those sweet nothings into her ear, that wishful thinking of being safe, even if only for a night. Yosano let him lull her in. She'd been betrayed too often to fall for pretty words, but he'd passed a test very few people had ever been able to take: if Ranpo trusted him enough to save her life, that was all the reassurance she needed.