Chapter Text
Inside the iconic tall buildings in Yokohama reside the infamous criminals that the citizens both fear and admire – the Port Mafia.
Mori Ougai, the boss of the organization, had been thinking for a while now as he stared at the unopened envelope on the table, already knowing what was inside without even looking.
His mind was occupied by the unexpected meeting on a cruise ship with almost all the different organization leaders regarding the decision of the state.
Mori liked Yokohama very much. Although ambitious, most information from the outside never interested him in the slightest. Thus, he focused on building his power in Yokohama. Still, who would've thought such a bill would actually pass?
“Rintaro…”
In any case, he couldn't let the others get a head start. It was best to send in his most promising subordinates who perfectly fit the criteria.
“Are you really ignoring me, Rintaro?” A huff was heard, and the girl stood up on the table, her small toes stepping on the envelope without a care. With a frown, her bulging cheeks pouted as she put her arms on her waist in anger.
Mori took a long glance, starting from the pinkish toes to the headband of the blonde girl.
“Elise-chan! You look so gorgeous even without wearing anything!” The mafioso's serious face melted into a puddle, leaving only a stupid grin behind.
Unconvinced, Elise shifted her hips to the side and said, “I am wearing undergarments, Rintaro.”
“Yes, you are! Can you please try this dress? Look at the ribbons—they're so cute!” He moved his hand elsewhere and somehow got a hold of a frilly red dress with black ribbons.
Elise looked like she was seriously considering it for a moment before looking away. “Hmm… no!”
Mori tried to persuade the young girl, but she never caved in. He could only sigh and beckon her to come so he could hold her and focus on the matter at hand. Just as the girl was crouching down to sit obediently on his lap, something sharp flew toward her, making her vanish instantly.
A gloved hand caught it—he recognized it as a scalpel. He looked toward the person glaring at him and, instead of a scowl, gave him an affectionate smile.
“Quite the temper,” he said, smiling as he examined the scalpel. “Did you enter my ward without permission again? I do hope you didn’t mix any drugs and gulp them down like water again.”
The teen was now sitting on the sofa, leaning lazily without a care for his appearance in front of his boss. “I did. Your drugs suck. They don’t work all the time.”
Mori shrugged and walked toward him, placing the envelope on the coffee table as the light grew warmer. “I prioritize safety more than anything else. And, since you're still functioning normally, I’ll let you handle this one together with Nakahara Chuuya.”
The teen glared at the envelope as if cursing its entire lineage. Still, in the end, he was in Mori’s presence. His instincts immediately kicked in, and before he realized it, his seemingly practiced action had already allowed him to know the contents of the mission.
“You want me to investigate the Hero Society and their quirks? I thought you didn't care about these things?” the brown-haired boy said with disgust.
Mori affirmed, but at the same time, he figured there was no need for further explanation. The boy was smart—obviously, he already knew what had sparked Mori’s interest before he even asked, so there was no need to insist on an answer.
“And instead of mixing drugs, why don’t you try this instead, Dazai?” In the ex-doctor’s hand lay a small bottle of pills. He opened the lid and mixed them into a drink before handing it to the other. “It’s potent. Consider that an investment for the upcoming mission.”
The boy’s eyes, though wary, lit up slightly as he held the cup of warm tea, drinking it slowly and waiting for death to kick in. “Why do I have to work with the slug again? Can’t I just do this on my own?” he wondered.
“It’s part of the agreement.” Mori just smiled, watching the boy slowly consume the tea.
Dazai put down the cup with a clink and slid the envelope into his black coat. “Suit yourself.” He stood to leave, but his legs weakened, and he fell back onto the sofa.
No way. Did Mori really give him a potent poison? Never knew the old man had it in him.
When Dazai’s body began to retaliate, he found himself panting, gasping for air, and thinking he might really die this time. He just escaped from the kennel and changed his bandages, though…
Wait. Something's wrong. He feels like he's dying—but he’s certain he’s far from death.
Fuck.
“You should really change your suit. It's quite a hot day.” There was a hint of amusement in that voice, and amidst Dazai's blurring vision, he saw something red.
Red clothing of some sort.
“Let me help you get changed, okay? After that, I’ll supervise your recovery.” With that, the man carried his scorching body all the way to his personal medical ward, returning both the boy and the scalpel to their place.
“...and that’s that. I’ll be counting on you both.” The older man in a green kimono spoke with firm sternness but with warmth underneath.
In a simple building, there existed a group of detectives. They were still small, but they had been operating for three years now. In those three years, they had three members, including the president.
The boy didn’t sound too happy with the news. “Ugh… why do I have to study in a place filled with stupid people? Nope! Find someone else! Let’s recruit another member ASAP!”
The girl finished rereading the contents of the letter and returned it inside the envelope. She and the president sneakily exchanged glances before she spoke, “I remember there are many different brands of snacks outside Yokohama.”
There was a subtle flinch in the boy's lazy demeanor. In an instant, there was no whining—but still no affirmation.
The girl, Yosano, had no choice but to continue. She held her phone and searched for a short while. “I want to try visiting this Hero-themed café. It has free selections of snacks, and oh, I heard there are free souvenirs too if you go VIP.”
The boy, Ranpo, slowly leaned in, trying to be sneaky. Yosano and the president, Fukuzawa, noticed his small, cute, and awkward movement but chose not to call him out for it.
“President, if Ranpo-san doesn’t want to come, it’s best not to force him. I’ll find someone else ASAP,” Yosano commented.
“Alright. Find another member for the agency, ASAP,” Fukuzawa agreed.
Ranpo, however, immediately inserted himself back into the conversation. “Now that I think about it, I am the reason this agency is working in the first place. It’s my responsibility as the elder brother to represent the agency.”
Fukuzawa and Yosano exchanged another quick glance. This time, Fukuzawa spoke up first. “Woah… Ranpo, you’re a very amazing big brother.”
Ranpo: “!!”
Yosano: “I always knew I could count on you, Ranpo-san!”
Ranpo: “!!!!”
Fukuzawa and Yosano: “The agency can’t really do without you.”
Ranpo’s cheeks flushed pink, his face heating up, so he giggled and shrugged. “Really, what can you guys do without me?” He laughed to his heart’s content while munching on some of Fukuzawa’s snacks.
Fukuzawa: “...I’ll leave him in your care, Yosano.”
Yosano: “Well, it’s my role as the younger sister.”
Chuuya looked at the unfamiliar place. He had just hopped out of the black car, but his expression was already about to explode.
“Why…” he muttered under his breath, waiting for a certain mafioso to approach him and say, Sike!
However, he heard the mafioso instruct the driver to get their luggage out of the trunk—in a cheerful voice, no less.
Trembling, he finally grabbed the other person’s collar and exploded, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME ABOUT THIS?!”
The guy just raised both hands in defeat, but his voice was still as cocky as ever. “‘Cause if I told you about it, how could it still be called a surprise?”
Chuuya went for a smack. “You're fucking—FUCK YOU, DAZAI!” But the other nimbly evaded and even had the audacity to thank the driver and grab the black suitcase.
“Here’s yours, Chuuya. Don’t worry, I made sure to tell them to pack what you like. Look, even the suitcase is pink! Just like how you always wanted it to be!”
The ginger was embarrassed to grab the suitcase he didn’t even know was his. He sighed and glared again. “I swear to god, I’ll kill you a thousand times.”
“Nuh-uh-uh. The person who’s dying with me is already reserved.” Dazai dramatically looked regretful. “No matter how much you want it to be you, we’re just… not meant to be.”
“Who says I’m dying with you, scumbag?” Chuuya raised a brow, one hand in his pocket.
“They’re the same thing, chibi.” Dazai gave the other a judgmental look, as if he were staring at someone too stupid to function.
“HOW ARE THEY THE SAME?! ALSO, I’M ONLY FIFTEEN! I’M STILL GROWING, FILTHY MACKEREL!”
The two bickered without a care. A taxi parked nearby, and two detectives stepped out.
Yosano glanced at the barking mafiosos and let them be. Meanwhile, Ranpo handed her a lollipop, saying, “How can they be so energetic this early in the morning?”
Yosano unwrapped it and handed it back. The guy, as if it were normal to be served, took the lollipop in his mouth and ignored everyone.
Another car came, and two young men in formal red uniforms walked out, carrying their luggage.
“My, my. How lively,” the white-haired man smiled at the sight. The other just followed him silently.
Dazai stopped provoking Chuuya and whistled to grab the other four’s attention. “I didn’t know the Hunting Dogs were also here to take a bite of the pie.” He smiled.
“Dazai Osamu. The youngest Port Mafia executive and one of the Soukoku. Sadly, we’re ordered to focus solely on our task. Otherwise, I’d love to invite you to an interrogation room I’m quite fond of.” Jouno said the words that could scare children—with a smile on his face.
Chuuya became alert while Dazai remained nonchalant. “Really? That’s too bad. Anyway, nice to meet you too.” He gave one of his most charming smiles.
It didn’t take long before an agent came to greet them and led the way after confirming everyone was present.
It was a half-hour ride before they got to Musutafu. However, before they could start observing the place, the moment they stepped out of the van, they were greeted with camera flashes and a different kind of chatter from what they usually heard in Yokohama.
There were too many people staring at them like they were celebrities. Meanwhile, there were even people flying in the sky.
People outside Yokohama looked at them with a perverse desire to dissect. While Chuuya felt a bit uncomfortable, he shifted closer to Dazai—only to brush against the other’s hand.
It was wet with cold sweat.
Sneaking a glance at his partner, Dazai still wore an amused smile on his face.
Chuuya: “...” Better not say anything, then.
Tecchou, the other guy with Jouno, whispered, “Why are they acting like it’s the first time they’ve seen a perfectly normal-looking human being?”
Jouno smiled and said, “Who knows? I really can't tell-” -you are normal—is what he left unsaid while facing the other.
Tecchou: “???”
Ranpo frowned in annoyance. “Are those heroes? Why don’t they assist?” He noted how most of the security guarding them were police, while some heroes just showed off and signed autographs.
Chuuya scoffed, shrugging off the icky feeling. “Hey, Dazai, look at that. That guy’s literally flying with wings.”
Dazai looked up and saw a blonde man with bright red wings. His unfocused eyes suddenly cleared. He couldn’t help but laugh for whatever reason. “And here I thought Abilities were already too flashy for my taste.”
A guy with the body of a bodybuilder landed in front of them and smiled with gleaming white teeth. “I am here! Hello there, Ability Users! I am the Pro Hero, All Might. Welcome to Musutafu!”
He had quite a loud voice. Dazai visibly flinched, his body tensed for a moment before sneaking a sigh.
Who said Abilities are too flashy? Have you seen this guy?
Unbeknownst to Dazai, a certain detective doctor had noticed his little reactions.
Yosano: “...”