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Kunikida always went above and beyond for the Agency members. It’s how he showed affection for them- he may not say just how proud or amazed he is, but his actions would always ignite a warm feeling of love in their chests, putting a smile on their faces for the rest of the day. Because of this, Agency birthdays were not to be messed with. They’d walk into the Agency tired and just a little unhappy- just another year of their depressing lives- just to be met with an extravagant set up of streamers, gift boxes, cake... all a child would beg for at their own party. A confetti cannon would pop from Kunikida’s desk to welcome them, spraying the startled detective with colorful pieces of paper. To top it all off, Kunikida would do all their work that day, just to let them savor the moment that should be theirs, should be a time of celebration and not of sulking. Kunikida tried to put so much love into the moment- Kyouka’s party was full of crepes and was given a bunny plush; Kenji had gotten a wheel of cheese instead of cake, which he loved; Atsushi got some much tiger memorabilia that it was hard to carry to the dorm, as well as an all you can eat buffet coupon; Yosano got plenty of new dresses; Ranpo’s desk was spilling candy like a waterfall; both the Tanizaki siblings got the day off. Whatever he can do for them, he will.
Though it comes to no surprise that when Kunikida’s own birthday rolls around, he is found simply sitting at his desk typing away his newest report or case. There’s no extravagant decor or any sort of chaos that usually follows. It’s just another day.
Therefore, it’s confusing to figure out exactly when Kunikida’s birthday is.
When Atsushi walks to the Agency, he’s greeted with Kunikida in the doorway, blocking in his entrance. He seems to be getting pushed from behind, holding the doorframe to not go flying out of the Agency. It’s an odd sight, that’s for sure. It could just be chalked up to Dazai’s stupid antics, but if that was the case Kunikida would’ve turned around and sent Dazai crashing through the window. “Kunikida-san?”
Kunikida stops his struggling once hearing Atsushi’s voice- a fatal mistake, as he gets shoved onto the floor, right on his face. Yosano stands behind him, arms crossed and a stern look on her face. “Ah, Atsushi-kun. Could you take Kunikida to the dorms? He’s not allowed to touch a single case report. Keep an eye on that.” Yosano asks, though it’s not really a request but a demand. Atsushi helps up his mentor, who clears his glasses on his vest with the same annoyed expression Yosano wore.
“Atsushi, no.”
“Atsushi-kun, yes.”
The poor boy was at a loss on both sides. Kunikida would chew him out the whole walk back to the living quarters, telling him off for even listening to the idea of taking Kunikida away from his work. But if he doesn’t do Yosano’s bidding, he might as well wish his limbs a farewell. There’s no correct choice. Yosano sees the hesitation of Atsushi’s face and sighs, making a ‘tsk!’ noise with her tongue before shutting the Agency’s door on the two of them. The click of the door lock rings in Atsushi’s ears, a reminder of how fucked he is.
Kunikida tries the handle first, watching as it doesn’t move in annoyance. So he turns on his heel like a stuck-up princess, walking past Atsushi who scrambles after him.
It was a terrible silence as the two walked down the stairs, back to the first floor of the building the Agency shares with other businesses. The only noise that could be heard was Atsushi’s slightly more quick breathing or the sound of Kunikida’s nice dress shoes hitting the tiles. Unable to bear the crushing atmosphere that gripped at his heart with shaking fingers, he blurts out the first thing on his mind quickly. “Why’d she kick you out?”
“You ask a lot of questions.” Kunikida shakes his head at Atsushi’s innocent ask, sticking one of hands in his back pocket with the other one clutching is book of ideals. It’s his usual stance, as if some sort of foe was about to turn the corner and jump them. Or maybe it’s the sense of security, of humanity, that the simple green leather clad notebook brings him. His life is stored in there, his goals and aspirations and how he wants to be remembered. How he wants to remember others.
Atsushi doesn’t press any further. If Kunikida doesn’t want to elaborate, then so be it. The idealist isn’t the type to budge once set on something. If he puts his mind to it, it will happen one way or another.
--
Atsushi knocks on the door of the Agency, getting greeted by a distraught Dazai. “Atsushi-kun! You’ll never believe the horrors that are in here!” Oh Lord, has there been an attack? The Black Lizard? Has someone died? Has the office burnt away from Kunikida’s absence? Has someone been hurt..? That sends Atsushi’s adrenaline pumping as he stammers out his concerns.
“What- what happened, Dazai-san?”
“Kunikida has died! He’s not here!"
“...he’s not dead.” Atsushi sighs, relieved it’s nothing serious but also a bit stupefied by how Dazai is so... Dazai.
“Still! His absence means that I have nobody to bother! I might as well just hang myself over his desk to make him regret his mistake!” Dazai cries out in misery, slumping against the couch as Ranpo walks over, candy bag in hand. Kunikida had gotten him so much that Ranpo still wasn’t out of the sugary treats. And his birthday was last year. It was smart in theory, as even though it blew out a whole three paychecks, now Kunikida didn’t have to spend any more money on Ranpo’s addiction.
Ranpo stares at Dazai- if it even was possible, with closed eyes- with an amused smile. Dazai rolls around for a bit more before sitting up with a groan, waving his hands at Ranpo. “Where has he gone? Want to make theories in which way he’s died? I say street brawl.”
Atsushi gives Dazai an exasperated look, shoulders sagging. “Yosano kicked him out... I’m sure he’s fine.”
Dazai gives the struggling weretiger a horrified stare, as if that was a crime. “Kicked him out? On the streets? He cannot survive out there! We must save him! Ranpo, you need to help before he starves!”
Ranpo had watched Dazai give Atsushi a sharp pain in his head before sticking a lollipop in his mouth. “He’s on a break.”
Now both Atsushi and Dazai were mortified. Kunikida? On a break? Something is clearly wrong! “Is- is he alright?” Kunikida even works when he’s sick, what if Dazai’s joke came to reality- what if Kunikida was dying?
Ranpo flicks the lollipop at Atsushi, getting a pink speck on the white button-up. “August thirtieth. Yosano dragged him out to celebrate his birthday like a normal person. I mean, who works on something were you get pampered?”
Pampered. That’s what Kunikida does for everyone else on their own special days. It feels unfair he doesn’t face the same luxury, pushing himself to the brink just to power through the Agency’s workload. It must not be in his ideals. ‘Do what must be done’- what must be done is his paperwork, not his relaxation. It doesn’t feel unfair, it is unfair! What a load of bullshit!
Dazai puts his hands on his hips, jumping up from where he was reclined. “Well then, we gotta get going!”
“Going where?” Junichiro turns to face the trio, Dazai’s sudden exclamation turning the other heads in the Agency.
“To wish our dearest Kunikida-kun a very happy birthday!”
--
Kunikida was sitting cross-legged on a raggedy old couch, sinking into the cushion. He was out of the stiff work clothes and into something more loose and free. Being as free as a bird was something he didn’t feel much- it’s been forever since he’s let his shoulders fall and his heart rate decline. But he cannot help but feel a worry gnaw at his heart, fearing the workload he’ll face tomorrow- if the Agency even lasts to tomorrow with him not there. It’s a few prayers about the Agency not crumpling at the seams and a few more that he doesn’t walk in to a few dead bodies.
The smell of tea unties the knot of worry in his mind, his heart seeping out the anxiety as if the tea strainer was in his chest instead. He sighs softly, wrapping the futon around his shoulders just a bit tighter, letting the stale yet comforting feeling embrace him. Katai walks into the room, holding a tray of two teacups, setting it on the coffee table in front of his best friend.
“I can’t believe you actually let them flick you away.” Katai comments humorously, grabbing one end of Yoshiko- the futon- and pulling it over himself so that the two of them are now covered by the cavern.
“I had no choice.” Kunikida shakes his head defensively, taking a teacup and bringing it to his lips, blowing on the surface and letting it ripple. He stares down at his small reflection in the deep brown liquid. Twenty-three years old. But he doesn’t look like he changed at all. Closer to his death, closer to the dates he had mapped out so precisely in his ideals. Each date that he won’t see come true, the closer they get the more grim the chances get. Marriage was listed soon, yet here he is with a homely hermit instead of the ‘Ideal Woman’. He is twenty-three years old, but still feels like some sort of daydreaming child.
Maybe just for now, just for today, daydreams are alright. Reality is just as sweet as his ideals when the lights are dimmed and he feels at peace.
“Happy birthday, Doppo.”
“Thank you, Tayama.”
“Aren’t you a little lonely?”
Kunikida turns his head to look away from the window in front of him, which cast a soft glow on his face due to the contrast of the light outside and the darkness of the room. He looks at Katai in surprise, tilting his head as if it was an insane thing to speak of. Lonely? Him? Why would he ever feel that way? He has family in Katai, in the Agency- a dysfunctional one maybe, but a family nonetheless. “What do you mean?”
“I’m just saying,” Katai starts, taking his own cup as he melts into the futon. He sips his own tea, burning his tongue. No sugars in one strong cup. Kunikida swears he could smell the intoxicating bitterness, already giving him a terrible headache- one sip and it would’ve put his four sugars soul into a coma. “You spend your birthdays alone- or with me, of course. But you spend all this time planning what the others will have. You throw a huge party, forcing all the Agency, clerks and all, to join in. Why don’t you do it for yourself?”
Kunikida shakes his head, swirling the tea in his cup and watches it swish like the waves on the beach. He loves the beach= except when Katai begs him to take him there in the middle of the damn night. The company vacation to the beach was one of his most cherished memories. “I don’t need it.”
“In that logic, neither do they. Remember what you did for my own birthday? You planned out a whole day, making terribly precise calculations to figure out when the aquarium was near empty. We went at eleven at night despite you having a hard day at work.”
“Yes but...” Kunikida sighs at his own logic fallacy. “They do deserve it. They’ve been through hell and back, it’s the least I can do for them.”
“And so have you, Doppo. Just because one person has it worse doesn’t mean they deserve gold while you settle for pyrite.”
“It wouldn’t be fair.”
“How come?”
That Kunikida did not have an answer to. ‘Do what must be done’ is for others, not for himself. What must be done is the enjoyment of his coworkers- of his family. He takes a sip of the tea, ruining his reflection.
“You deserve a happy birthday too, y’know.”
“I know.”
“Happy birthday, Doppo.”
--
The Agency stood in front of Kunikida’s dorm, holding out a cake Ranpo reluctantly gave over; party streamers, taken from Cafe Uzumaki downstairs; and some party hats that Junichiro ran to retrieve. Dazai had a balloon tied around his neck, one that spelled in sparkly pink letters ‘Happy B-Day!’.
Yosano knocks on the door, rapping her knuckles against it in quick succession. The fact that there was no response was incredibly odd. Kunikida would open the door in exactly thirty seconds, no matter what room he was in. It was just his process.
After a few more seconds of silence, an extremely uncomfortable one with all the Agency members staring down the not moving door, Yosano swings her leg and promptly kicks the door down. She storms into the dark apartment, the Agency following far behind in awe and apprehension. They’re just glad they weren’t the door. The group’s footsteps echo on the floor, bouncing off the walls and giving it an odd feeling. Dazai turns to look at Atsushi slowly, like he’s glitching in a computer game.
“...do you think I was right?”
“What?”
“...about him dying.” Dazai whispers in mock panic, Atsushi internally facepalming. Though, the weretiger hopes not... if Kunikida did somehow pass away, on his birthday out of all days, it’d be his fault...
He’s pulled out of his sudden gloom by the sound of Ranpo’s glasses flicking open. The super genius detective slides on the frames with a prideful smirk, like some sort of shonen main character. He pushes it with his index finger, opening his emerald eyes with a laugh. “Ultra-deduction says you’re all fools for coming here! He’s not here, come along!”
He walks past his colleagues, the others following him with just their heads for a moment before reluctantly following after. Why they can’t just take some public transport is beyond them- Ranpo insisted on them walking. It was a pain- they should’ve just called Kunikida back to the office!
--
Kunikida stands at the stove, hair dripping down his back in silky blonde locks, bouncing with each movement of his head. He was slaving away over a pot of curry udon, Katai ordering some tataki bonito from Kunikida’s favorite small restaurant. His glasses were fogged up as if he was standing outside in a fluffy of snow, making it hard to see the bubbling curry. But he didn’t mind. It was calm, just how he wishes every day was. Usually fairy tales are made of one’s wildest imaginations, creatures and magic and a happily ever after- to Kunikida, these sort of days were fairy tales to him. Peace and quiet. The world stops turning just for him.
But when you work for the Armed Detective Agency, peace doesn’t last long. There’s a loud bang from the main room, where the front door is. Katai perks his head out from the bedroom, his eyes following Kunikida’s body as it tenses and turns to face the noise. What the hell could that be? The delivery man wouldn’t slam through the door like that. And the last time someone burst into Katai’s apartment, it was a fucking assassin. He’s not taking chances with this.
Per his own protocol, Kunikida keeps a spare page of his notebook in his back pocket at all times. Written on it now is ‘pistol’, the page folding itself into the cold metal as he slowly pulls it out. He aims the gun straight ahead, slowly creeping towards the loud commotion. A group of people? They’re so loud that their voices are merging together, unable to make sense of their words or even how their voices sound.
As he creeps into the hall, someone spots him. And soon enough, Kunikida is rammed into by about eight people.
--
The gun skitters onto the floor, landing with a loud clank. Katai scampers out of the bedroom, wrapped in his futon, and stares at Dazai, who was sitting on top of the idealist. The rest of the Agency’s detectives, plus Naomi, were getting off the floor from a stunned and fairly traumatized Kunikida, who laid there as if his soul was getting ripped from his body. Kenji held up the cake as the noose balloon flopped around in the air, Atsushi and Junichiro blowing hard on the party horns as Yosano sprays bright red silly string onto the limp body, the apartment filling with a terrible rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’.
Kunikida sputters, wiping silly string off his face and praying he didn’t eat any of the definitely toxic substance. “What the fuck?”
Dazai puts a hand over Kunikida’s mouth, then one over his own in false horror. “Kunikida-kun! There are children here!”
“Kyouka and Kenji are teenagers, first of all. Secondly, the only child here is you. What the hell are you all here for?”
Yosano shakes the can to get all of the string out, spraying onto Kunikida- missing and getting a ton in Dazai’s probably already disgusting hair. “Isn’t it obvious..?”
Kunikida takes a deep breath to stabilize himself, looking around. Cake? Party horns? Balloons- well, balloon singular? They’re here to celebrate. To celebrate him. “I... I don’t understand.” Dazai finally gets off of Kunikida’s poor stomach, letting the man sit up. Kunikida drags his hands down his face trying to process the sudden stimulation overload, Katai creeping over wrapped up in a little spring roll.
“You’re an important part of the Agency. Of our family.” Ranpo shakes his head, wagging a finger in Kunikida’s face as if this was as clear as day. Though, it truly was. Kunikida was respected and a little feared, but also loved. He was like Yosano and Ranpo’s little brother, like Dazai’s (unwilling) best friend, like Atsushi and Junichiro’s mentor, like Kenji and Kyouka’s honorary dad. Just like Katai’s other half. Kunikida deserves nothing but the best, even more than he blesses all of them with. “Even if you don’t understand it, don’t see it- we do.”
Kunikida stares round-eyed at Ranpo, then looks between all of his colleagues- no, his friends. ‘Do what must be done’. What must be done is making them happy. And if celebrating something like his own birthday makes them happy... then so be it.
Happy birthday to me.
--
Katai’s apartment has turned into a party haven- it’ll need to be cleaned the next day, hopefully Kunikida doesn't have a terrible hangover. It means he gets to sleep over with his best friend, so how could he complain? Though, how Yosano is able to fit a whole bottle of wine in her blouse is beyond him. He was sitting on Katai’s futon, a paper plate on his lap covered in overly whipped frosting he’s just wiped off and a large chunk of vanilla cake with little strawberries and chocolate striped wafers shoved onto the top. It was sweet- he had a sweet tooth to rival Ranpo’s, he was just to health-conscious to act on his love for sugar.
The tataki bonito had been devoured quickly, as it was his favorite dish. The Agency- current and old- sat in a circle around a table, chatting nonsense and slurping the udon Kunikida’s whipped up with enough spice to kill a sickly Victorian child (like the Port Mafia’s Rabid Dog, Atsushi had joked- Kunikida is genuinely taking it seriously). Kyouka and Kenji had made party streamers out of spare printer paper, currently coloring them in vibrant markers to hang them up with their Do-It-Yourself birthday banner. What a dreamy way to end the day.
Happy Birthday, dear Kunikida-sensei! We love you to the moon and back.