Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Oi, brat”, the voice of the orphanage director was rough and loud, and the stench of alcohol made Dazai want to retch, “did you steal the bandages again?”

The Director was a man in his fifties, fond of alcohol and not fond of children. The orphanage itself was a dingy place, with underfed children and staff completely uninterested in their charges. A dismal place. Just was his luck, Dazai thought, to end up in a place like that.

But at least he wasn't locked in a cage in the basement by a harsh headmaster with a tragic backstory?

Dazai couldn't help but tense up, but still opted to say nothing in return. Director tsked and walked away. He knew Dazai rarely talked.

Dazai only stared blankly at the retreating figure, tightly clutching the book in his small hands.

That man was nothing to him, but he still was ten times bigger than Dazai, and if he decided to put his big slimy hands on him, Dazai knew he couldn't stop him. Not when he was just a six year old.

He couldn't even reach the books on higher shelves without standing on a chair.

Being six was the most tedious thing in the world, he decided.

And being short was annoying.

But maybe being short was worse than being six? You could grow out of being six, but you couldn't grow out of being short.

Short just like —

Suddenly he heard the entrance door open and a new pair of steps coming in. A visitor? Someone looking to adopt a kid? Why someone would want to do that, Dazai couldn't fathom.

He clutched the book in his hands tighter.

But maybe this was his chance to get out of here? Unless the potential adopter was a complete psycho, Dazai was sure he could handle them.

However the idea of someone trying to parent him was extremely annoying and a little bit amusing.

It was still better than staying here. He was sure he could weasel his way into the good graces of almost anyone, the adults were gullible like that. They were also big hypocrites.

“Oh - Ideally I'd like a child who can already read and write”, Dazai could hear faintly from the corridor.

“Shuuji, get over here!” he heard the director bark at him.

He ambled towards two adults, looking at the new man appraisingly. He was tall and well-dressed, holding a fancy hat in his hand. A tacky hat, Dazai thought, smirking just a bit.

“This is the smartest one we've got,” the director said. “He doesn't talk much, but the brat read all the books in the library a long time ago. ”

“Hmmm, did he now?” the man replied.

The man was studying Dazai intently, and Dazai studied him back. The man held himself aloof, clearly unused to the presence of children. Dazai doubted he wanted to adopt a child out of the goodness of his heart. And why had he come to this kind of orphanage in the first place? A well-off household would normally reach out to a better-established orphanage, maybe foster a child first, and then commit to adoption.

“Can you talk?” the man asked him.

“I can, “ Dazai replied, nodding for good measure.

Something was definitely off with this man, but he was still Dazai’s best bet to get out of here. Worst case scenario, he could always punch him in the nuts and make a run for it.

Thankfully, the man didn't look like a creep at least.

“The book you are holding, is it the one you are reading now?”

“It is mine”, Dazai replied and clutched it tighter.

The man considered him for a moment.

“Can you write?”

“I can.”

The man took the crossword from the table and gave it to him.

“Write your name here.”

Instead Dazai quickly filled out the entire crossword.

The man gaped at him, clearly shocked .

“I'll take that one,” he said quickly

And thus their new life began.

Chapter Text

“... We are calling it Operation Strix”

"Regarding your second objective, please gather information on "Project Kafka." Recently, Ostanian agents and the SSS have intensified their efforts in the search for a specific item, the nature of which remains unclear. There is a significant likelihood that Desmond is involved. Further information will be provided as it becomes available.”

“The peace of the world depends on you”

At least the second objective was less ludicrous than finding a child smart enough to get into Eden in a single week.

But Twilight was nothing if not resourceful and already had a child ready. He would, of course, have to test his academic knowledge in various subjects, since the brat would be competing with children of the elite, who all had tutors since before learning how to talk, and —

“Oi, old man,” the boy piped up from where he was walking by his side.

I'm not old, was his first thought. He bit back the reply as he looked down on a boy.

The boy was slight, with dark eyes and a tousled mop of hair. He didn't look like most natives of Ostaniania; if he had to guess, Twilight would say he came from a Japanese family. They didn't look at all alike, but Twilight could always say that the boy took after his deceased mother.

He wondered how the boy ended up in that orphanage.

There were bandages peeking out from the boy's long-sleeved shirt, which was a concern, and something he would have to look into later.

The kid probably had some scrapes or bruises from playing roughly. No other children displayed signs of physical abuse, and Twilight could tell that the director, while neglectful, was not the type to beat children—at least not where it would be visible to potential adopters, few as they were.

“From now on, you are to address me as 'Father,' not 'old man.' Is that clear?”

“Sir, yes sir!” the boy replied with far too much cheer.

“You'll be my child from now on. But as far as everyone else is concerned, you have always been my child. Understood? ”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“This is our residence. Your room is down the hall. Feel free to settle there.”

The boy nodded as he looked around, still holding onto his book. He didn't seem all that curious.

Twilight still had to secure all the things he'd need. He'd need some basic groceries, a whole new wardrobe and forged I.D. papers for the —

What was the boy's name again?

“What's your name? Shuuji, was it?”

“Osamu,” the child replied, frowning up at him.

“Osamu Forger it is then. I'm stepping out for a bit.” Twilight put on the TV. “You can watch TV while I'm gone. Understood?”

“And you?”

“What?”

“What's your name?”

Oh. That made sense. He didn't even introduce himself.

“Loid Forger”

Osamu blinked up at him and then nodded.

“Pleased to meet you”

Polite. That was good, at least he wouldn't have to teach him basic manners.

“Shouldn't you first introduce yourself when you meet someone? I've read in a book that this is the basic rule of etiquette. Do you have a book on etiquette sir? Maybe you should also read it, Father.”

The boy was the picture of childlike innocence with his big brown eyes and round cheeks.

Twilight couldn't help but gape at him.

Was… Was he being mocked by an eight year old?

Impossible.

He might have been hasty in calling him ‘polite’ though.

Brat.

“I'll be back soon. Stay put.”

And he was gone.

Finally the old man was gone.

There was definitely something off about him. Or was he just emotionally obtuse around children? Maybe both?

No time like the present to snoop. Dazai just had to be careful to not leave any traces behind.

He wandered around the apartment, oohing and aahing in wonder like a child who had never lived in a real house before. And he never had.

No listening devices.

He checked the first two bedrooms, before carefully stepping in what was obviously the man's bedroom.

The room featured a simple bed, a cabinet, a reading armchair and heavy curtains that would let no light in or out. Overall, it was a very ordinary bedroom.

This Loid Forger had clearly already unpacked, but his room still lacked any personal items or knick knacks.

So, not a domestic person, or a particularly sentimental one either.

Why would someone like that want to adopt a random orphan from a run-down orphanage? One, that Dazai knew, didn't keep thorough records of their charges. Easy to forge a necessary backstory. Close to no documents to track a child down if they suddenly went missing. No one would bat an eye.

He scratched at his bandaged wrist.

He had to figure out what the man wanted from him, unless he wanted to end up with his organs sold on the black market.

Someone always wanted something from him. He could even say that this was just how humans were. It scared him.

But in this universe he knew better. He thought of red hair, of cigarette smoke and an old matchbox, of red wine and —

No time for it now, he shook his head. He continued his search.

The flooring didn't seem suspicious, so probably no secret storage or hidden underground escape route there. Maybe he should just check the man's cabinet?

Almost immediately he found a locked suitcase. Interesting. He slightly shook it trying to figure out what was inside. It rattled, so nothing soft like clothes. Didn't sound like weapons either. No knives and probably no guns.

One would have to know a password to get past the lock but Dazai wouldn't let such trivialities stop him. He grinned as he slipped a small pin out of his bandages.

He may be small and short, he couldn't run very fast and the only way of fighting back that was afforded to him was biting like a little dog, but this was easy. Easier than taking candy from a child, since many children were actually bigger than him.

With a click the suitcase opened.

Bingo!

This was not just a simple listening device, but an entire spy radio set.

Interesting.

So that's who this “Loid Forger”’ was

A spy on a mission.

He quickly locked the suitcase before putting everything back in its place.

Most likely the man was a spy from the neighboring country Westalis. He was still a little unclear on the state of current politics in Ostania and only knew general information about the recent wars and the current Cold War.

An interesting turn of events, but not a completely unexpected one.

At least now he knew his organs probably wouldn't be sold off on a black market?

But what would the man want from him?

Dazai clutched the book in his hands tighter. He really should find a good place to hide it.

‘Loid Forger’ clearly wanted to use him for his mission, why else would he suddenly adopt a child? But a child involved in a mission could also be a liability. It means the man had no other choice.

So he had to infiltrate a place where only a child could get in. And he needed a smart one. So a school? Was the target one of the parents? But why then use a child? Couldn't he infiltrate the target's inner circle?

He probably couldn't. Which means the target was reclusive, its inner circle hard to penetrate. So someone from the upper echelon of society, someone the opposing government wanted to keep an eye on. Someone with political power.

And they definitely had a child. Maybe even the same age as Dazai. In a school. In a school that Dazai would have to get into.

Oh no.

The realization slowly sunk in.

There was no way. There was absolutely no way.

He would have to go to a fancy school.

To socialize with snotty brats.

This was a nightmare.

He wished he could just drop dead right then and there.

Chapter Text

“You need to finish your lunch”

“I don't want to. “

“Boy, you've barely eaten anything”

“I'm full.”

Twilight could already feel the oncoming headache.

“Fine, whatever. I won't force you. You can stay hungry if you want to”

The brat just stared at him stubbornly.

“You need to study. The exam is on the day after tomorrow.”

“I don't need to study,” the brat replied with a frown. “Studying is for stupid little kids.”

You are a stupid little kid, he thought but didn't say. He couldn't help but sigh. Deeply.

No matter how smart the kid was, with this unwillingness it would be difficult to learn new material and keep up with his peers, especially in a competitive environment like Eden.

"Fine. In five minutes, I will give you a test. If you solve it all correctly, you won't have to study," he said, quickly scribbling down tasks that were well above the level of any six-year-old, no matter how gifted or well-educated.

The kid shouldn't be so arrogant as to assume he knows everything

Satisfied with the results he gave the paper to the boy.

He watched as the boy frowned for a moment, before starting to write.

He decided to let the brat take his time.

A minute into washing the plates after dinner, Twilight felt the child tug on his pants.

“Here,” the little brat said while handing him the paper.

Twilight skimmed through the answers once. And then once more.

What.

There was no way.

“How did you do this?!”

“What? Like it's hard?”

He gaped at the brat.

This shouldn't be possible.

“I've read some of it in the books and deduced the rest.”

The kid blinked up at him with his big dark eyes.

“And don't call me boy. My name is Osamu.

Oh. He was right. He wasn't just some boy. They were supposed to be family now.

“Osamu. This is…”

Somehow Osamu was able to solve this. There was no way to cheat, no answers nearby and the boy could hardly read his mind. So he did solve all this. Somehow.

He took a deep breath.

“I'll give you a math problem to solve. See if you can do this”

He quickly wrote an equation that most students usually learned how to solve in high school. It wasn’t objectively a particularly difficult exercise, but it was far beyond the level of an unschooled six-year-old. Except for this one, apparently.

“Try this,” he said, handing him the paper.

In less than a minute Osamu was done.

And then he tried it again with an increasingly difficult equation. And again. And again. But Osamu solved it every time.

He couldn't believe it. Did he just pull a prodigy from a random orphanage? He couldn't possibly be that lucky.

Then he decided to grill him on other subjects. His general knowledge was good. His knowledge of science — excellent. He even gave him a lecture on probability theory.

Where he started to struggle was in history and literature. Osamu knew only basic concepts, unlike in math or human anatomy, where he showed an astoundingly deep understanding of the subject. This was unsurprising, given that the materials available in the orphanage were probably limited. As the brat himself had put it:

'Math is easy because you just use formulas or whatever. It's hard to get wrong. I saw them once in some old textbook.'

And:

‘I have once looked through an anatomy atlas’

Even then, this was more than enough to pass the entrance exam.

“Can we go to the library?”

Twilight really hit the jackpot with Osamu.

He was relieved that fatherhood wasn't as hard as he had expected.

“Can we go to the library?”

Hook.

“I want to do my best.”

Line.

“I will be on my best behavior”

And sinker.

It was far too easy to play adults like a fiddle.

It was a good chance to ditch the old man and to get some alone time for sneaking out.

Mr. Spy would just go on with his spy business, happy that he was studying and no doubt glad that his mission was going smoothly, while Dazai would be left to his devices. A perfect plan.

He also needed to fill the gaps in his knowledge of this world. No doubt all the actually important information wouldn't be available to the public, but he could deduce a lot from half-fake news articles and dusty books. Gaining a better understanding of this world was important.

Besides, he was sure he would be able to needle out important info from Mr. Spy eventually. Dazai was the centerpiece of his current mission after all.

Easy.

He would gather information, and then…

Eh? What would he do then?

“Oi, Osamu. Are you listening to me?”

“Sorry, old man. I was just thinking about how tacky your hat is”

“You, brat!” The old man definitely wasn't used to his hat being called tacky. Typical. Well, he better get used to it then.

“Can we go already?” Dazai asked, bolting to the door before the man could pick him up by his cruff like a misbehaving kitten.

“Oi, brat, wait up!” Dazai heard the voice of his newly acquired “father” behind him as he ran downstairs, greening gleefully.

Predictably, Mr. Spy went on to do his spy business, happily leaving Dazai here to “study”.

And Dazai would use this opportunity to sneak out. Just maybe not this time.

Twenty minutes in he was already bored half-to-death.

As expected, the newspapers were mostly filled with propaganda nonsense: how great Ostania was, how evil and immoral the people of Westalis were, how they brought civilization and knowledge to the countries they invaded, how they wanted to protect their allies threatened by Westalis, and how they aimed to maintain a world order where everyone had a chance at cooperation, not ruled by the right of the strong. Cooperation on their terms, of course.

So, really, nothing new.

While two countries were officially on “peaceful terms”, Dazai knew the current political situation was more complicated than that.

The ruling party didn't support war, however the opposing National Unity Party did, but they were not in power. Dazai knew they couldn't be satisfied with this state of affairs either.

No doubt, the sense of ressentiment was strong among the people too. The country was struggling economically, still recovering from the last war, and for an impoverished nation it was easy to blame an outsider for their woes.

The war-mongers in the government would no doubt use such sentiment to their advantage. Despite all the destruction that war wrought upon the land and its people, it was also highly profitable to certain people.

What a clusterfuck. And Dazai was stuck right in the middle of it.

Well, enough of this, he thought, as he decided to look through the detailed map of Berlint. He knew all the secret and military important objects were left out, but he should at least familiarize himself with this first.

He moved to the History of Japan next.

Yokohama was one of the cities to open for trade with the West following the 1859 end of the policy of seclusion and has since been known as a cosmopolitan port city, after Kobe opened in 1853…

He couldnt help but wonder about special abilities. Were there other Gifted in this world? He glanced at his book that he first found in the orphanage. The Book that let him know and remember things that he shouldn't have.

If he went to Yokohama now, what would he find?

Why was he here, in this orphanage in the middle of nowhere?

He scratched his wrist.

If there were no other Gifted, perhaps the people that his other selves knew—the ones he felt he was destined to meet—were still around, just without their abilities. This happened sometimes too.

But he didn't know for sure and it scared him.

Oh.

It hurt.

He looked at his wrist. It was bleeding. He had scratched it until it bled.

He hadn't even noticed.

What a pain.

He didn't want to go anywhere nor do anything. Where would he go? What would he do? What was the point?

An hour staring at nothing and sitting completely still - it centered him, just a little bit - he heard the familiar footsteps.

“I thought you were supposed to be studying?”

Mr. Spy was back.

“I was. But then I realized how boring it is and decided to ditch it.”

Dazai grabbed his book. “Can we go back now? I'm tired.”

“Let's go,” the old man sighed.

“I want canned crab for dinner,” Dazai declared.

“We have had lunch recently”

“You said it yourself, I should eat more. And I won't eat anything if it's not crab.”

A deep sigh.

“Fine. Crab for dinner.”

“You have an exquisite taste, old man!”

“Don't call me old.”

That night, despite the warmth of dinner in his stomach, he dreamed an unpleasant dream.

He was standing on top of a high building. Port Mafia headquarters, he knew. The red scarf around his neck felt heavy.

“. .. The Book is more or less the origin of this world.”

“…In this Book you will find an infinite number of worlds depending on the choices made and conditions given.”

“Because I'm an ability user that can nullify other abilities… After that I successfully managed to read the memories of the me that exists outside the book. “

“Don't call me Odasaku.”

“If both sides are the same, be on the side that saves people.”

“We are the Armed Detective Agency after all!”

“That was a rather violent way to wake Snow White.”

“Do not pursue the beast within you.”

“I used corruption because I trusted you.”

“A life with someone you can say good-bye to is a good life, especially when it hurts so much to say it to them.”    

Chapter Text

There were far too many snotty brats around him.

Some of them were literally snotty.

Bleh.

Some of them were crying too.

Bleh.

“Remember that this is important. Don't blow it just because you don't feel like writing an answer, or —”

“You really need to calm down, old man. I'm the one who's taking an exam, and you are more nervous than that crying brat over there.”

They looked in unison at the poor child crying his lungs out that was also about to take an exam.

Too snotty.

Gross.

Well, it was kind of his fault the man was so riled up.

They had breakfast, and Dazai even ate half of it, even though it wasn't crab. The man's cooking wasn't completely terrible, Dazai conceded. So far, so good.

But then he had to get dressed into “proper” clothes, so that he would “fit in” among “the elites” that also took the exam.

He had managed to keep his bandages to himself before that even if putting the old bandages on after a shower was just gross.

Bleh.

But then the old man wanted to confiscate them completely.

Stupid. Mr. Spy was stupid and annoying.

But Dazai, as always, had a trump card up his sleeve.

If he didn't get his bandages back, he would purposefully fail the exam!

Naturally, Mr. Spy folded up after that.

He never stood a chance, really. It was some random spy in a fancy hat against him, Osamu, a six year old.

The contest was never in question.

“What's up with that expression, Osamu?”

Osamu was smirking as if he was in on some kind of joke that the rest of the people weren't. And he wanted everyone around him to know it.

Brat.

“I was just wondering if the reason you are wearing a hat so often is because you are starting to get a bald patch.”

What.

He pinched his nose.

“Calm down, old man,” Osamu patted his leg with his little hand. “After I get top marks, I expect to get an entire cabinet of canned crab though.”

“Entire cabinet is too much.”

“Oh… Wouldn't it be a pity if I accidently got some questions wrong… just because my hand slipped…how unfortunate that would be… ”

Twilight grit his teeth.

This six-year old had leverage over him and used it to his full advantage.

Brat.

“One shelf. Of canned crab”

Osamu smiled brightly up at him.

“You got it!” he said, giving him a thumbs up.

The teacher came calling for the students to come into the exam room.

Twilight waved to Osamu as he went with the rest of the children.

This was a crucial point of Operation Strix.

If he failed here…

Maybe he should have agreed to an entire cabinet of canned crab.

While the little brat was busy Twilight finally had some time to himself. He would just leave the school for an hour and then come back before the exam had finished. He had an order to pick up, after all.

He might have gone there on his way back with Osamu, but he knew the boy would throw a fit if he knew what he was here for. So a quick errand, it was.

The tailors workshop was one of the best in Berlint. That's where he had already commissioned some of the new wardrobe for Osamu and would hopefully commission the Eden school uniform soon.

But today's order was special.

"This is good work," he said inspecting the new compression sleeves. " And I appreciate the promptness as well."

The sleeves were small and soft, fit for a child.

The morning incident raised alarm bells in his mind.

The brat stubbornly refused to take off the bandages, even going so far as to bite Twilight's hand. His right hand still bore the marks of a six-year-old's teeth.

But Twilight also saw enough to know that most likely, the boy's arms were covered in scars, just as his wrists were. Small, precise. Medical. Thinking about how the boy of six could get them made him sick.

And anyway, if anyone in such a prestigious school like Eden saw the bandages and the scars, he could be accused of child abuse, and could end up getting arrested by SSS.

It would sabotage the mission.

He wasn't worried about the brat.

He also knew that without being covered by the bandages, the scars must have itched. He hoped the soft fabric of the compression sleeves would soothe the itching without causing further irritation for the skin.

He decided to take all three pairs.

“Excuse me! “

He had almost jumped in place. Almost. He hadn't noticed anyone come in.

He must have been getting too distracted, to get startled like that.

Still, he pretended not to pay the woman any attention.

“Hello, Yor. It's been a while”, said the lady at the counter.

Yor Briar, he remembered, twenty seven years old, a civil servant, unmarried.

“Sir… You've been staring at me since I walked in here. Can I help you with something? “

What?! Was she talking to him? She couldn't possibly sense his gaze, could she?

“Uh, no… I thought you were very pretty… “

Yor Briar looked almost hopeful.

“So you're saying you have a positive impression of my appearance?”

“Well, yes, I… “

“Sir, you see. Um... Well… “

She clearly wanted badly to ask him something, but couldn't find the words. Strange, for a woman so intuitive.

“Sir, you see… Honestly, that's a bit embarrassing, but I'm really out of options… Could we maybe talk outside?”

“You want me to be your pretend boyfriend?”

“Yes, I told my little brother I would be bringing my boyfriend to a party,” Yor Briar fiddled with the edges of her sleeve. “I just don't want him to worry.”

“I suppose we could work it out. But I also have a condition… “

The old man was late again. Why would he even go anywhere in the first place? More secret spy business?

Dazai, naturally, was the first one to finish the exam, in the hopes of leaving sooner, but he had no such luck. The old man ditched him, and now he was stuck here, waiting.

He heard some boy crying in the exam room.

Annoying.

Suddenly he heard the familiar footsteps approaching.

“Are you done already?”

Oh, here he was.

“Yes, the exam was too hard, so I decided to do nothing at all.”

The man looked like he was about to have a heart attack, so Dazai took pity on him, even if he did find his constipated expression amusing.

“Don't fret old man, I was just joking. It was easy.”

Mr. Spy pinched his nose, sighing deeply. Dazai was happy to be the source of his frustration.

“This is no joking matter. The mi — your future education is important.”

Dazai only hummed in response.

Sure. His future education was important, and not at all the man's own infiltration mission.

“I have something for you,” the man said as they got in their car.

“A cabinet of delicious canned crab?”

“No,” he pulled out something from his bag.

Oh.

Compression sleeves.

“I don't want them.”

The man sighed. Deeply. He seemed to be doing that a lot.

“It's… fine if you want to wear your bandages at home. But you can't wear them in public, especially not at school.”

Dazai scowled at him from the backseat.

“I also got you this,” he pulled out the package of new linen bandages. The ones that Dazai knew were soft. “For home.”

“At least think about it. Please.”

Dazai didn't say anything in response, but the new sleeves felt soft and warm in his hands.

“Also there is someone I would have you meet. They are.. “

Chapter Text

The three days since the entrance exam were very stressful for Loid Forger, but not so much for Osamu. He was sitting behind the counter, munching on a can of canned crab, new bandages wrapped neatly around his forearms.

The old man was overreacting, really. There was just no way Dazai failed the exam, Dazai was sure. School, however, was already shaping up to be a huge annoyance, and he hasn’t even officially gotten in yet. But this was a good way to gain some good info, so he would put up with the old man for now.

Besides, the crab was delicious.

“You should stop checking our mail every ten minutes, “ Dazai said, scrunching up his face. “It’s not going to come any faster, you know.”

The man had been pacing the room the whole morning, occasionally sighing or muttering to himself.

“We should have prepared more for the exam.”

Dazai rolled his eyes.

“I want a personal library.”

“I'm sorry what?”

“I said we should go to the bookstore. Then you can brag to other rich parents about how smart and studious I am.”

Well, that, and the best place to hide a tree would be a forest. And the best place to hide the book capable of rewritng or destroying reality, would be a library. Thus, Dazai needed lots of books. Not that he would actually read them, unless something actually proved to be interesting. Which was unlikely.

The old man would also be glad to know that Dazai was oh so studious.

Also, going out was a good way for the man to let off some pent-up energy, so that he would finanally stop pacing.

“We will be meeting someone tonight. We can drop by the store then. And — “

Suddenly the bell rang out. His new “father” looked like he was about to faint on the spot.

“Mail delivery!” announced the loud voice from outside the doorway. Mr. Spy immediately rushed to the entrance.

Dazai was pretty sure it was a professional requirement for the spies to maintain their composure even in stressful situations, but he wasn’t about to tell the old man that.

“Your letter, sir” said the delivery man handing them a letter.

“Thank you”, the old man said before immediately closing the door.

He held the envelope in his hands like it was about to bite him.

“Well?”, Dazai asked, looking up at him. “Shouldn’t you open the letter?”

“Don’t you want to open it yourself?”

“Why would I? School sounds boring.”

The old man frowned at him, as Dazai ambled back to the living room.

And, really, Dazai couldn’t understand why he would possibly be excited about school of all things. Mr. Spy was the one who needed this for his mission, not him. Even if Dazai didn’t know exactly what the mission was, and who this “Loid Forger” was watching, he was sure that he could use his grades and overall performance at this fancy Eden Academy as leverage against the man.

Eventually Mr. Spy joined Dazai at the sofa, looking like he finally mustered up all his strength and courage to open the envelope.

Dazai couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Again.

“Give me that”, he said, snatching the envelope from the man’s hands and quickly ripping it apart.

“Careful! You could damage the letter,” the old man snapped at him. Typical of the adults, really. Constantly complaining and making mountains out of molehills and then yelling at him.

“Well, it's not ripped, is it?”

Dazai slowly opened up the letter.

Dear Mr. Loid Forger,

We are delighted to inform you that your son, Osamu Forger, has passed the entrance exam with flying colors, achieving the highest score in the entire history of Eden Academy. Please accept our sincerest congratulations on this remarkable achievement.

The second phase of the admission process is a mandatory interview. Both parents must attend with the applicant.

Best regards,

Eden Academy

“Yes! You did it!” The old man actually looked happy for once, as he jumped to his feet.

Suddenly big warm hands were reaching for him, and for a moment that was all Dazai could see, the letter momentarily forgotten.

They were reaching for him, grabbing and holding him, lifting him in the air. He felt the phantom feeling of a knife cutting his skin.

He had to get away.

Run. Run to somewhere where no one could touch him.

So that the hands would finally let go of him.

But as always he couldn't fight back, he was too small and weak, and he hated himself for this weakness even more than he hated the hands that hurt him.

So he did the only thing he could. He bit. Hard.

He thought he felt blood in his mouth, but he wasn't sure if the blood was his own.

The hands let go of him.

“Fuck! I’m sor—”

Dazai recognized that voice.

Oh.

That was Mr. Spy.

He immediately let go of the hand in mouth, quickly moving himself to the furthest end of the couch.

He had to get a hold of himself, before he did something even more stupid.

Stupid. He was so stupid.

Despite his efforts he couldn't get enough air in his lungs, he felt like he was suffocating.

“Osamu, you need to breathe.”

It was that guy again.

Mr. Spy. The one who picked him up from the orphanage.

The orphanage where he found The Book.

Is this the grave of someone you love?

He struggled to breathe. Sometimes he hated all those memories.

Our fate will not end in a place like this. Because you and I are destined to —

He shook his head.

He was in an orphanage because.. Because…

Hands reaching for him, a scalpel glinting under the fluorescent lights.

No, he couldn't think about that now.

Dazai dug his hand into the rough fabric of his bandages.

He tried to focus on his surroundings. He was sitting on something soft. A sofa?

He slowly opened his eyes.

The lighting was soft and warm, so unlike the cold and bright lights of a facility.

Mr. Spy was sitting on the floor in front of him and he looked… almost concerned, even a bit panicked.

“Osamu?“

Dazai could only nod.

“I need you to listen to me, okay?”

Dazai nodded again.

“Can you name five things that you see? ”

“I—”

Dazai took a shaky breath.

“Your tacky hat. On the shelf. “

Mr. Spy frowned.

“Okay, what else?“

“There is crab on the table. It was nice.”

“That's two already, you are doing well,” the man's voice was oddly gentle. “What else can you see?”

“Um… The sofa. That I'm seating on. And… Um, a rug? On the floor. And bandages on my arms.”

Dazai picked at the edge of his bandages, trying to concentrate on their rough texture.

“That's good. Please keep breathing like that. “

Dazai nodded silently, still trying to regulate his breathing.

They sat in silence for a minute before the old man spoke again.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I was just happy that you passed your exam, that is all.”

Mr. Spy bowed his head in apology.

“Oh. It's fine. I was just being stupid, that's all.”

Daxai couldn't stand to look at the man directly any longer, so he averted his eyes. It was just too embarrassing to freak out over nothing like that.

“It's not stupid. There are some things that we can't control. It doesn't make you stupid.”

Dazai scoffed. Slowly he turned to the old man again before patting him on the arm.

“I'm sorry I bit you. Again.”

The old man chuckled a bit at that.

“I meant to thank you then, for your hard work. Even if you didn't actually have to work hard to pass the test, I still appreciate it.“ Mr. Spy softened at that. It didn't even look fake.

Inwardly, Dazai thought it was only natural for the old man to be thankful to him; after all, Dazai was practically doing his job for him. Still, he felt the tips of his ears grow warm, but he definitely wasn’t blushing. He wasn’t.

He saw a hand slowly reaching for him and he was ready, he wasn't scared —

The hand softly patted his hair before withdrawing. It didn't hurt. It felt…nice.

Twilight did his best to maintain his composure, to appear soft and non-threatening so as not to frighten the boy further.

He misstepped. He made a mistake. He should have known better.

The boy was clearly a bit of a brat, witty and always ready with a snarky retort, so seeing him shrink into himself as if he thought the whole world was out to hurt him was… concerning.

He thought of the scars on the boy's arms and how he refused to expose his skin. A sense of unease twisted in his stomach.

He had always hated the sound of children crying, it reminded him far too much of the hopeless days of his own childhood. But the boy never made a sound.

Somehow, it didn't make him feel any better.

Despite having relaxed a bit after their conversation, the boy was sitting completely still, hands clenched tightly into tiny fists.

Twilight sighed. He should be more mindful of Osamu’s mental health from now on, since it apparently could become an issue and endanger the mission. But for now, one of the first steps of Operation Strix was complete: the child he had picked successfully passed the written portion of the exam and had the potential to become an Imperial Scholar. Now they had the next battle before them: the family interview.

Luckily, he knew someone who agreed to play the role of a mother and a wife in this little ruse. He only hoped that Osamu and she would get along.

“You should rest a bit, we will be going out in the evening.” Twilight offered, hoping to distract the boy. “Do you want to watch TV? The Spy Wars should be airing right now." Twilight heard that this show was popular among young boys.

Osamu only silently shook his head.

“I will go to my room,” the boy said, appearing completely calm. It almost didn't seem like he had a panic attack only five minutes ago. Was he really fine already?

Maybe the boy did need a gentler hand. Twilight didn't know how to feel about that.

“Okay.”

The child left quickly. Twilight only heard the sound of the door closing.

By the time the clock had struck five, they both were ready to go out. Dazai was wearing nice clothes that the old man had picked up from the tailor's recently, overall a perfect picture of a well-bred and well-behaved boy. The only thing that stood out was the bandages, but Dazai had refused to wear the sleeves for a simple walk.
Loid Forger himself looked like a perfect example of an upstanding citizen of Ostania.

It was so fake, it made Dazai want to retch. It made him want to mess something up, just so things would look and feel real for once.

Alas, for now, he would have to behave. Sort of. He knew he could get away with all sorts of things right under the man's nose, so long as Mr. Spy didn't think to suspect him of being able to fool him.

He already had a good read on the old man and he would have him wrapped around his little finger in no time.

He just had to act normal. And not to poke Mr. Spy too much. Of course someone had to keep the old man on his toes, so Dazai would make sure to cause only a small amount of trouble. For now.

He had to get his fun from somewhere after all, and he found that poking the old man was amusing enough.

“How long before we get to that stupid park?”

“Not long.”

They were walking along the street to the nearby park to “meet someone”. The streets weren't particularly crowded but Dazai still sometimes struggled to keep up. Damn his short legs and damn all those random people.
He wished he were taller.

“And now?”

The old man sighed.

“We'll be there soon.”

“...”

“And now?”

He saw the man clench his teeth.

Dazai felt himself stiffening imperceptibly before shaking his head.

Whatever.

They walked the rest of the way silently.

There were hardly any people in the park, despite the time of the day. The old man checked his watch.
“We are right on time.”

Eventually Dazai saw a tall woman that looked like she was waiting for someone.

So that was this “someone” that they were meeting. So, the old man couldn't land a date in a normal way?
Did he really have to drag Dazai into this? The adults’ love life was the least of his concerns.

Gross.

Most likely, though, the man needed someone who would play the role of a wife if he wanted their “family” to pass the interview and then appear normal in the long run, so as to not raise suspicion. The woman was likely a fellow spy, because Dazai couldn't imagine who else could possibly agree to marry this stuffy old man on such short notice.

“Yor!”

And the friendly goody-two-shoes Loid Forger persona was on.

Gross.

“Loid! Good evening!” the woman waved to them.

She was tall, with dark hair, dressed in an equally dark dress with a soft pink shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

For some reason that Dazai didn't know, she looked genuinely glad to see them.

Was she just a civilian that Mr. Spy duped into going along with his scheme?

Probably.

Poor woman

“Yor, I would like to introduce you to my son Osamu”, the man gestured to him. “Osamu, this is Miss Yor. I hope we have a good evening together.”

This Miss Yor sat down on her knees before him, so that they were on the same level, and Dazai studied her in return.

The woman's face was open, her smile warm and kind and didn't seem to hold even a drop of deceit. She didn't seem to be a liar – or at least not a perpetual liar, unlike some people he knew.

Huh.

The woman looked eager to meet him for some unfathomable reason.

She smiled even wider at him, her brown eyes crinkling.

“It's nice to meet you, Osamu.” she greeted him, her voice gentle. “I hope all three of us can have fun tonight.”

Dazai didn't know what to answer to such an earnest proclamation, so he just nodded silently before stepping a bit behind his old man.

It was his date after all. He should be the one to face such open sincerity.

For some reason the woman looked a bit disappointed.

“Thank you for coming today, Yor.”

She stood up to face Loid. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Why don't we walk around the park and chat a bit,” Loid said, smiling

Somehow Dazai ended up walking in between them.

Awkward.

The old man continued with his pleasantries while Dazai figured it was a good time to zone out. The old man just kept on talking.
Blah blah blah – more and more boring adult stuff.

Suddenly he saw an ice-cream stand, with several families and their kids queuing before it. His glance lingered only for a moment.

Well, whatever.

“Um, Loid? “

They stopped for a moment. The new woman glanced at him briefly.

“How about we get some ice-cream?”

“That's a good idea, Yor.” the old man replied.

As always the adults were talking right over his head.

Bleh.

Suddenly, the woman once again sat down in front of him, watching him curiously.

“Would you like ice cream, Osamu?”

Dazai didn't completely dislike the idea.

“I guess we could…”

She smiled brightly at him in response.

“Let's go then!”

After what felt like a lot of time wasted in a queue, they eventually sat on a nearby bench, Dazai munching on his extra big ice-cream with extra chocolate syrup.

It was sweet. He didn't completely hate it.

One might even say, they were the picture-perfect-family —so long as one didn't account for the fact that they haven't known each other for longer than a week. Or one evening, when it came to Miss Yor. Probably a soon-to-be Yor Forger.

And this was a perfect opportunity for him.

He turned to the woman, staring at her with big innocent eyes.

“Will you be my new mama?” He looked her in the eyes, and tugged on her pink shawl for good measure. “Papa has been trying really hard to find a mama for me, but for some reason the ladies say that he's ‘a stick in the mud.” He looked away, as if embarrassed. “But I don't know what that means, can you tell me? Please? ”

From the corner of his eye he saw that the old man looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

Heh.

Miss Yor stuttered in embarrassment, clearly confused about what she was supposed to answer.

“Well, that's… um, you see…” she took a deep breath. “We may not have known each other for long, but I think Loid is a very kind person, even if a bit upright at times.“ Her smile turned warmer. “And I know we've just met, but I hope that we can get along in the future. If you'll have me.”

Well, she wasn't the worst person ever, Dazai thought.

“What's a ‘stick in the mud’ though? “

“Osamu, stop that! “

The old man clearly had enough of that. But that just proved Dazai’s point that he was, in fact, a stick in the mud.

Dazai pouted.

Miss Yor chuckled, visibly amused.

“There, there,“ Miss Yor gently patted him on the arm. Strangely, he found that he didn't mind it. “Please don't tease Loid so much. I'm sure he is trying his best.”

They spent the next three hours together. Dazai managed to get the old man to win him a crab plush at a shooting gallery, to get a second serving of ice cream, to bother Miss Yor, and then to bother the old man some more. In his opinion, It was a very productive evening.

As he was getting ready for bed that night, he decided to put his new crab plush on the bed near him so that at night he would dream of delicious canned crab. But he wouldn't mind dreaming of the shooting range where his old man won the plush for him, or of the sweet ice cream either.

The old man eventually joined him in his room.

“Did you enjoy our outing?”

“It wasn't completely horrible.”

The man only hummed in response.

“But maybe don't drag me to your date next time?”

“It wasn't a date. And I'm not ‘a stick in the mud.”

“Whatever you say, old man.”

“I'm not old.”

“If that makes you feel better”

Mr. Spy sighed once again. He seemed to like doing that.

“I will also be out next evening.”

“So you have a second date with Miss Yor? And I'm not invited?”

“It's not a date. And I expect you will be seeing each other a lot these days “

“Good luck with your date tomorrow then.”

“It's not a date, and… I'm glad you enjoyed yourself today.” the man's expression softened slightly. “Sweet dreams.“

And then he was gone.

“Sweet dreams,” Dazai murmured to the silence of his room, the crab plush soft in his hands.

Chapter Text

Breaking News: Massive Explosion in Kanagawa Prefecture, Japan

Reports have confirmed a significant explosion in Kanagawa Prefecture, resulting in catastrophic damage. Ostanian Intelligence Agency confirms that several ships belonging to the Ostanian Eastern Fleet were destroyed in the blast. 

Details surrounding the explosion are still unclear. 

While the fighting in the Pacific regions still continues, Japan itself was mostly spared from the fighting. 

Japan has yet to withdraw its troops from Tokoyami Island, and combat in the area —

Twilight turned off the TV. 

The world was full of foul news, as ever. Would this world ever see a day without pointless death and suffering? Without soldiers slaughtering each other for causes even they didn't understand? Without children crying for their parents to please wake up? 

His own mother never had. 

Neither had his friends. 

Their young faces began to fade with the years, and he had no photos, no recordings of them. Nothing. Nothing connected him to his life before Twilight. But it had to be done for the sake of peace, if not for the world, then at least for the peace of their two countries. 

So that no child would have to cry in the wreckage where their home had once been. 

As he once had. 

But he knew the facade of peace between Westalis and Ostania was a thin one. While the two countries remained in a state of Cold War, many armed conflicts still occurred all around the world that could threaten the veneer of peace they maintained and become the spark that ignites war. 

And that made the information on the main war supporter of this country all the more important: Donovan Desmond, his target. 

To infiltrate his social circle, his newly acquired child would have to excel at school, to become an Imperial Scholar, so that later he could approach the target at a social gathering, and then he would — 

“Oi, old man, look what I can do!” 

Osamu took a candy from their candy jar, threw it, and then caught it with his mouth. 

Twilight couldn't help but sigh. 

Osamu was gifted, no doubt, but sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder if the boy was the right pick. Smart, but undisciplined, quick-witted, but completely uninterested in applying himself. 

Hopefully, the competitive environment in Eden would force the boy to actually study. Somehow, he doubted it. 

The brat threw another candy into the air. 

“Well, enough of that,” he said, snatching the candy jar from Osamu. “Eating too much candy is bad for you. And throwing it in the air is improper.” 

The little boy tried to jump to get the jar from his hands, but he was still too short to reach. 

“No way! Give it back,” Osamu said, his face wearing a stubborn scowl. 

“No.” 

“Yes!” 

“No. What if you get a sugar rush? What will I do with you then?” 

“But I want more candy,” the boy pouted. 

“I'm sure you do,” he said as he placed the jar on the highest shelf possible. “Later. And I thought all you wanted to eat was crab?” 

“I want candies and crab.” 

Osamu had a weird taste, Twilight thought, but at least a sweet tooth was expected of a six-year-old. 

“Well, it's time for me to go to work. There is lunch in the fridge, books on the shelf, and cartoons on TV.” 

“Just go already.” 

“I expect you to behave.” 

“I will try.” 

Twilight didn't believe it for a second. But Osamu was pretty self-sufficient and had already stayed alone at home for extended periods of time, so this time should be fine too, right? 

“Stay put.” 

“I will.” 

Twilight nodded. He would have to ask Franky to drop by to check on Osamu later.

And he wasn't lying. He was going to work, just not to his shift in the hospital.

Today there were special guests arriving in the city tonight. 

Glooman Pharmaceuticals, Ostanian major pharmaceuticals company, was establishing foreign relations in a bid to expand its markets. Today they were hosting reprasantatives from a Japanese conglomerate to hopefully establish a partnership between the two parties. 

However WISE intelligence had found out that "Tsushima Corporation" was just a front for something much more sinister. Most likely a crime syndicate, but they lackes the specifics. 

Twilight had already put on his disguise. Tonight he was the waiter with experience working in the most luxurious and well-refined restaurants. Polite, well-versed in the intricacies of etiquette, and yet completely unobtrusive. A perfect place to observe today’s guests.

The staff had spent several hours preparing the hall for the arrival of the guests  

Eventually, he saw them come in. A small group of men and women dressed in formal wear was escorted into the banquet hall. At first glance there was nothing remarkable about them. He saw no weapons hidden on their persons either.

The only person who stood out in the group was the young woman walking on the right flank of the group. She was undeniably pretty, dressed in a flowery pink kimono,  her hair neatly styled in a traditional Japanese hairstyle. Twilight was sure she couldn’t be more than eighteen. In her hands she was carrying a folded umbrella and her voluminous dress was enough to hide a knife at least. However, what truly caught his attention was her position within the group. Normally, those walking on the flanks of a group were bodyguards or at least individuals looking out for external threats, but the girl obviously couldn’t be one. But he knew he should stay on guard, regardless of how non-threatening one looked.

Leading the group was a young man, slightly older than the girl. Twilight judged him to be in his mid-twenties at most. Although visibly he didn't stand out among his comrades, Twilight knew that alone meant nothing. He and Denus Glooman exchanged a handshake.

Eventually, everyone was seated around the table, and the staff began serving the dishes. The guests and hosts were arranged around the table,  but the heads of each delegation sat across from each other. Surprisingly, the young woman in a kimono was seated to the right of the head of the Japanese delegation.

As Denis Glooman exchanged pleasantries with the guests Twilight continued to observe the group. 

“I am honored to receive you today, Mr. Fujimoto. However I would have preferred to meet the boss of your organization,” Denis said, “though I suppose it cannot be helped.” 

Twilight saw the young woman raise an eyebrow in surprise and their leader frown. 

“I’m sure we can arrange something if you play nice.” 

Play nice, huh? 

Did Denis know who these people truly were? Did he reach out to them out of his own initiative or was he under someone’s influence higher in the Ostanian political hiearchy?

Or did this group reach out to him? 

Unfortunately, WISE did not possess any more concrete information and investigating this further was not his main mission either. He would gather all the information he could today and keep an eye on them in the future. 

The staff began to bring out the food. He set several dishes on the table.

“It is a truly lovely city. Would it trouble you to show us around?” Mr. Fujimoto, the young man at the head of the Japanese delegation, continued. 

“Oh, I am honoured to hear you say that. Berlint is especially charming this time of year.” 

They continued with the usual pleasantries, most of which were completely meaningless. Twilight knew he probably wouldn’t get more information out of them today. 

Twilight heard them agree on arranging further meetings, where all the important things will be discussed. Sadly, there was no way to infiltrate private meetings either, and setting up listening devices was far too risky. If they were to be exposed… 

Two hours into the banquet, they were about to wrap things up. As Twilight was gathering the dirty dishes by the side of the red-haired girl, she suddenly turned to him, and their eyes met. Her gaze was sharp, intellegent. 

He felt a chill go down his spine. 

“Thank you, sir,” she said with a light accent. 

“You are most welcome,” Twilight answered. 

“We’ve enjoyed ourselves today. Your host is most generous.”

“I’m glad to hear you’ve enjoyed Berlint, miss. Will you be staying here for long?” 

The woman studied him intently, but Twilight knew his disguise was immaculate, very few people would be able to see through it. He was the master of his craft. 

“Mayhaps,” she answered after a pause, nodding. 

“If I may,” he said, gathering the dishes and heading for the kitchens. 

Why had she spoken to him specifically? Was she suspecting him? Unlikely. 

But these people were someone he and WISE needed to keep an eye on, he decided.

Eventually, the guests were escorted out of the hall. Twilight knew they would be staying in the most prestigious hotel in Berlint. It was time for him to go too. After cleaning up with the rest of the staff too, of course.

A change of costume later, he was Loid Forger once again—a father and a doctor—cheerful and easy-going, not an overly polite waiter in a prestigious restaurant. 

He was running late for his meeting with Yor. He hoped she didn’t think he had abandoned her without a word, they still had their agreement, after all. 

He wondered how Osamu was doing and hoped he was okay. Maybe he should get a babysitter next time. 

He sped up in his car, determined to get there; he was sure Yor would understand. At least he wasn't being chased by criminals right now and could get where he needed to be without extra problems.  

Eventually, he arrived at the residential building and quickly rushed up the stairs. The party had clearly already started. In a hurry, he slammed the door open. 

Everyone turned to him at the sudden noise. He saw Yor standing alone in the corner. She looked surprised to see him. Did she not expect he would come? 

“Please excuse my tardiness, he said, addressing the room. “I am Loid Forger, Yor’s husband.”

Everyone was surprised to hear that, but none more so than Yor herself. 

Crap!

He mixed up their missions! He was supposed to be her boyfriend, and she was supposed to be his wife.

“Yor’s husband?” someone in the crowd asked.

“I didn't know she had a husband,” he heard someone whisper.

“No way she has a husband!” the blond woman called out in surprise. 

“Aah, Camilla, you see…” Yor tried to explain.

Camilla only sneered at her derisively. 

Was she jealous?

It looked like Yor didn't have a particularly good relationship with her colleagues. 

"Ah, Miss, this is my second marriage, and I have a child from my first one. It's not easy for Yor either. I am truly honoured to be her husband," he tried to ease the tension.

“Ah, Mr. Forger,” she said gleefully. Someone tried to shush her. “Did you know that apparently your wife was in an unseemly line of work, before she came to city hall? Men would summon her to their hotel rooms to give them ‘massages’ I believe”

Yor looked horrified to hear that. “It's not what you think, Loid…” she tried to argue.

He knew what the woman was getting at. But, in truth, he saw no shame in that. 

War had scarred many people, not just soldiers. He knew that the Briar siblings had lost their parents early, leaving Yor alone to care for herself and her younger brother, taking on a burden no child should ever have to. Such an act of self-sacrifice was nothing short of heroic, he couldn't help but admire that.

Enduring a merciless job for the sake of someone else was not something that just anyone would do.

He told the people in the room so.

Everyone looked at him in shock, as did Yor.

“Thank you for your hospitality everyone, it's been a pleasure. I believe It's time to go, Yor.” he addressed her. 

“I suppose you are right.”

They left together. 

The evening air was cold. The sun had set down a while ago, leaving the city aglow with bright lights.

“I’m sorry about the husband thing…”

“It's alright, Loid, I don't mind.”

Wait, what?

“Please at least let me give you a ride back home.”

“Ah, Loid, I just thought, what if we -” 

Suddenly his phone rang. He saw who was calling him: Franky, his informant. He was supposed to check on Osamu while he was gone. He immediately picked up. 

“Yes?”

“Ah, Forger, hello! So I came to check on your kid as you had requested, and… Well, how do I put this…”

Was something wrong?

“Get to the point.” he couldn't help but frown.

“The boy is not here.”

What.

For a fraction of a second Twilight felt that he couldn’t breathe. 

“What?”

"When I came in, the door was already open, but there was no sign of a struggle or violent break-in. But the boy is missing."

He felt as if the soul would leave his body right then and there.

“I will be right there. Search the surroundings,” he said, hanging up. 

He had to get a hold of himself and think. 

Did someone find out his identity and wanted to get back at him by using his newly adopted child?

“Loid, is everything alright?” Yor asked, concerned. 

“I - yes - it's Osamu.”

“Your son? Something happened?”

“Yes, he is missing,” he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Yor but I really have to go now.”

She looked shocked for a second, but then she looked at him decisively, “Please let me come and help you.”

“Very well,” he wouldn't waste the time. “Let's go then.”

They rushed to the car together. 

He took the wheel and Yor sat to his side. The next fifteen minutes felt like the longest car ride in his entire life. 

Was Osamu kidnapped? 

He never should have left him alone.

The mistake was endangering that child in the first place. How did he not see this? Making the world, where children wouldn't have to cry, was the whole reason why he became a spy, why he was here. He never should have involved a child in this.

“Loid, I'm sure we will find him.” he heard Yor say.

He couldn't help but feel grateful. He was little more than a stranger to her and she didn't know Osamu for longer than a single evening, so there was no reason for her to come. But she did.

“Thank you Yor.” He felt just a bit lighter. At least he wasn't alone in this.

As they arrived at their apartment, he saw that Franky was waiting for him there. He closed the car door behind him with a loud bang.

Twilight couldn't help his anger as he grabbed the man by the collar. A rational part of his brain knew that Franky wasn't one to blame. It was no one's fault but his own.

“Well? Did you find him?”

“Loid, please, let him go,” Yor said.

“Yes, Forger, let me go!” he did let go of him. “ When I arrived the door was open and the boy already wasn't there! It's not my fault! And I've searched the entire building!”

“How about we split up and search the neighbourhood for Osamu? Maybe he just wandered off?” Yor offered. “If we don't find him, we will call the police.”

She was right.

He knew, however, that he had locked the door when he left. Could the boy really have wandered off on his own?

"I will search to the north and west of the building, while Loid can search south and east. This way, we will cover the whole neighborhood." She put her hand on his forearm.

He really was losing his edge.

“You are right, Yor. Let's go.”

They rushed in opposite directions. 

He hoped Osamu was alright. And if not, we would have to reach out to WISE for help, as well as report to the Ostanian  authorities, which would attract unwanted attention.

Half an hour later, he had checked all the shops and playgrounds and all other places where a child might go.

 Nothing. No one saw a boy of six wandering around. 

He turned into a closed-off alleyway and was about to climb the building to get to a vantage point when his phone rang. 

He saw the unknown number, but immediately picked it up. 

“Yes?”

“Loid,” it was Yor. “I found him.”

He felt like he would collapse right then and there at the sheer relief that coursed through him. 

“Where are you?” He needed to get to them quickly, he needed to know if the boy was alright. 

“We are heading to your house now.”

“I will be right there then.”

“Okay!” Yor didn't sound particularly distressed or worried, so Osamu must be okay. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but worry. 

He rushed back home, and as he was approaching their house, he saw Yor standing at the entrance with Osamu by her side. And in his hands, Osamu was holding… a black kitten? 

What? 

He was so relieved he almost gave into the urge to hug the boy, to make sure he was okay. But he remembered how Osamu had shrunk into himself the last time he tried to touch him without warning.

Instead, he slowly lowered himself to his knees to look less tall and intimidating. 

He tried to sound calm and composed as he spoke, even though he was sure he still looked quite frazzled. 

“Are you hurt? What happened?”

Osamu looked away in embarrassment, the tips of his ears red. 

“Loid, everything is fine,” Yor said, sounding far more cheerful than Twilight felt. He, on the other hand, felt like he had aged several years in the last hour and was sure he had a few new grey hairs now.

“I found Osamu behind the nearby bakery,  he was playing with this kitten. Just look at them! Aren't they just adorable?” she smiled at that, wide eyed and rosy cheeked. 

And he did look at them. 

Osamu’s clothes were covered in dirt and grime, and the cat he was holding was no better. It was small, black, wet and dirty. It was also missing one eye. Where did Osamu even find it? 

Together they made quite a picture. 

Twilight couldn't help the wary sigh that escaped him. 

“Where were you?” he addressed the boy.

“I was bored.” Osamu mumbled. “And then I saw Jiji sitting alone on our balcony..”

“Jiji?”

The kitten in Osamu’s cat meowed. 

“I see. Please go on.”

“Well, I didn't want him to go, so I followed him,” Osamu had a stubborn frown on his face. ”And you are the one who left me alone!”

He had him there at least. 

“I know, and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that.”

“It's okay, I forgive you.” Osamu nodded, looking very serious.

He heard Yor make a noise that young girls and women usually make when they see a puppy or a cute baby. 

“Promise you wouldn't wonder off next time. Not without a warning.”

Osamu didn't answer immediately. He glanced at the kitten and then turned his wide eyes to him.

“Can we keep him? I promise I won't wander off then”

The kitten in his arms meowed again.

Twilight sighed. Again. 

“You will have to take care of him then.”

“I will!”

“And clean after him.”

“I will!”

Twilight couldn't help but sigh again. 

“Fine. You can keep him.” Hopefully it would motivate Osamu to study more. “But promise me, you’ll do your best in your studies. And that you won't wander off again.”

“I'll try…” Osamu said after a pause.

Twilight knew that was the best he could hope for. Hopefully acquiring a dirty wet cat would be beneficial for Operation Strix. 

He stood up and faced Yor once again. She was smiling at them warmly.

“I wanted to thank you Yor for finding Osamu”

She flushed in embarrassment. “Please, you don't have to thank me.”

“Still, you didn't have to come. But you did. Thank you.”

She didn't give him a response, but only looked away in embarrassment. 

“Will Miss Yor be staying with us for dinner?” Osamu blinked up at them. 

“Oh, I wouldn't want to impose!” she waved her hands frantically.

“Please, Yor, let me at least invite you to dinner with us tonight. As a thank you.”

“Oh… If you’ll have me, I will be happy to.” She smiled up at him. 

Suddenly the kitten Osamu was holding screeched before slipping from the boy’s grasp.

“Jiji! Wait!”

Osamu ran after it. Thankfully the cat ran into the house this time and not into the streets. 

“Let's go then, Yor.”

“Let’s”

He decided to make crab cakes for dinner that evening. Yor and Osamu were trying to wash the cat as he busied himself in the kitchen. He could hear the loud yowling coming from the bathroom.

As he put the cakes in the oven, he couldn't help but wonder: did he really forget to close the door back then?

Chapter Text

The old man ditched him again, saying he had something important to do. This time, however, he wasn’t left alone, but with a babysitter.

The audacity!

He really should have been more careful to make it back home in time yesterday. Now, Dazai was sure he wouldn’t have time to snoop for a while.

Bleh.

The babysitter in question was some buddy of the old man. Dazai was sure he was in on things and knew all about the spy business.

A weak link.

Mr. Scruffy was more likely to let some good info slip than the old man, so Dazai would naturally exploit it.

The old man had brought a cathouse earlier, so now Dazai had to work with Mr. Scruffy on putting all the details together.

Well, Mr. Scruffy was putting the cathouse together and Dazai was playing with Jiji.

Trying to catch up with the kitten as he was jumping between the empty boxes was hard work.

“Oi, Osamu, want to help me here?”

“No.” Jiji jumped into another box, sliding several meters ahead. He wondered if he could teach Jiji to jump and scratch on command. Then, he would sick Jiji on Mr. Spy. On accident, of course.

“But I really need you to hold this for a bit!”

Dazai rolled his eyes. Adults were as useless as ever.

“Sure, whatever,”

He did end up holding one of the perches as Mr Scruffy screwed it into the cat tree.

“Hey, Mr. Scruffy.”

“You know you can just call me Franky, kid. Although I do like ‘Mr. Scruffy.”

“Why did old man pick me up?”

Dazai knew shy of course.

He looked at Mr. Scruffy.

The man stuttered something before managing to find a coherent reply.

“Um, you see, Forger is—well, he always wanted a child, you know? He is a great guy like that.”

Dazai frowned demonstratively.

“But why did he tell me to say that I’d always been his child?”

Mr. Scruffy clearly had no idea what to say to that.

“Well, because eeeh… Because in his heart he thinks of you as his real child? Like he’s known you forever.”

“But isn’t it lying? And old man says that lying is bad.”

“Sometimes a little white lie is necessary. It’s not like it hurts anyone?”

“So, it means that lying is alright, then?”

“What?! No! I didn’t say that!”

“Thanks for the advice, Mister!”

Suddenly the doorbell rang. He picked up Jiji from where he was sitting before scurrying off to the entrance.

Mr. Scruffy had bored him half to death, it was time to bother the old man again.

“We are home!” he heard Mr. Spy call out from the hallway

Mr. Spy had come back rather quickly, it wasn’t even time for lunch yet. But he wasn’t alone.

“Miss Yor!” Jiji slowly climbed from his arms to his shoulder, meowing at the newcomers. Mr. Spy had said it was less ‘meowing’, and more ‘screeching’, but Dazai didn’t agree.

“Hello, “she waved at them, smiling shyly. This time she wore a red sweater, instead of the black dress that Dazai was used to. Both her and Mr. Spy were holding several big boxes, and he saw a truck waiting outside.

What? Was Miss Yor moving in already? Dazai really didn’t understand why she would agree to move in with his old man of all people.

“Please, Yor, come in,” Mr. Spy said as they carried the boxes in.

“Will Miss Yor be living with us?”

“You sure know how to court a lady, Forger! Finding a wife just before the interview!” Mr. Scruffy exclaimed. “I wish I had your skills!”

Miss Yor blushed.

When did they even manage to get married? Dazai was pretty sure they weren’t married yesterday evening.

“Well, thank you for your help, Franky, but I believe it is time for you to go.” Mr. Spy said, handing him a stack of money.

Dazai was happy to see that putting up with him for a few hours cost quite a hefty sum of money. He would have to try his hardest to be even more bothersome so that the old man would have to pay even more.

“Welcome to Osamu’s house, Miss Yor! I and Jiji live here,” he heard Mr. Spy clear his throat pointedly from where he was bringing in another box. “And my old man stops by sometimes too.” He pointed to the new cathouse Mr. Scruffy put together, “This is Jiji’s new house.”

“Thank you, Osamu, it’s lovely.”

Mr. Spy brought in another box. “Oh, I meant to tell you I pulled in a favour from the friend at the courthouse and got our marriage backdated a year.”

Backdated a year, huh?

“Oi, old man.” he tugged on his pants. “Do I also tell people that Miss Yor has been my mama for a year?”

“Yes.”

”Mama?” He heard Miss Yor’s surprised whisper.

“But isn’t it lying?”

“Well…”

“Didn’t you say that lying is bad?”

“It is bad, yes.”

“Then why are you telling me to lie?”

“Well… We need to get into that school, don’t we?”

“Do we? I don’t want to go to school”

“Good education is important.”

“Whatever you say, old man.”

“Don’t call me that. Especially at the family interview,” he gave a wary sigh. “The interview is in two days. We will begin preparing as soon as Yor finishes unpacking.”

“Pfffff,” Dazai blew a raspberry just to annoy the man further. “I don’t want to prepare! And I don’t want to go to school!” he exclaimed, darting to Miss Yor’s room to see what she was doing. At least she wasn’t as stuffy as the old man.

Miss Yor had almost finished unpacking by the time he ran into her room. All the boxes looked very interesting. He couldn’t wait to snoop.

“Hey, Miss Yor! I want to help!”

”Oh, I’m almost done!”

That one small box looked particularly interesting. So many boxes! So many secrets, he couldn’t help but feel excited. What if she was also a spy? So many possibilities!

“Ah, no!” Miss Yor snatched the box from his hands lifting it up in the air, where he couldn’t reach.

He didn’t even get to look inside! No fair.

Mr. Spy came in carrying several boxes. “Now that we’ve sorted that out, shall we practice for the interview?”

And now they were back to the boring part. That stupid school again.

“Ill ask the questions”

The old man even put on a pair of glasses to look stricter before sitting him and Miss Yor on the sofa. This felt more like an interrogation. He was really into it, huh?

“Osamu, what do you do when you are not at school?”

“I don’t go to school, so I’m always home. Since my father leaves me alone, I play on my own and feel sad.”

Mr. Spy clearly didn’t like the answer. Well, maybe the old man should ditch him less and entertain him more.

“No. Not a good impression.”

“Mrs. Forger, please describe your parenting style?”

“Strike first, strike hard, no mercy…?”

What? Strike what? Strike how? No mercy?

Dazai couldn’t help but stare.

“Eh,” Miss Yor looked flustered. “Em, I meant, know the terrain?”

What?

Mr. Spy sighed deeply. Dazai didn’t know how to feel about that since for the first time he wasn’t the sole reason for the man’s frustration.

“This is hopeless. We need another plan.”

Oh no, now they had to do more work for Mr. Spy’s mission. Dazai didn’t like extra work. The old man paced the room clearly deep in thought.

“We need to broaden our horizons, to gain the cultural knowledge to fit in the elite. And we need shared experiences.”

Dazai knew that was going to be a long day.

First the old man dragged them to the opera. This must have been the most boring show in Dazai’s short life.

On the other hand, in the picture gallery he quite liked the painting of a man being executed by a guillotine! He was glad Miss Yor liked it too.

Then they went to the restaurant for the ‘elites. Was putting so little food on such huge plates necessary? The food wasn’t even that nice, Dazai preferred canned crab.

Miss Yor seemed to really like all the fancy knives, though.

Mr. Spy looked more and more stressed.

“You told me we would go to a bookstore soon. I want to go now,”

“Now?”

“Oh, Osamu likes books?” Miss Yor asked smiling brightly

Well, not really.

“It reminds me of my little brother! He has always been such a smart boy.” Her smile grew warmer.

He didn’t know Miss Yor had a younger brother. Another annoying adult, he was sure.

“We should go now then.” Mr. Spy interjected.

Dazai had to admit the bookstore they ended up going to had a good collection. He picked up some history books, maps, and encyclopedias on engineering, biology and so on. But what caught his eye was a simple old book.

Treasured Fairytales:

Sleeping Beauty

Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs

Hansel and Gretel 

The Twelve Dancing Princesses, and many others

Well, it was embarrassing to even look at that. Such things were for stupid little kids, and he wasn’t one.  He definitely didn’t like that sort of book. He didn’t.

He caught Miss Yor’s curious gaze on him but paid it no mind.

“Well, I’m done!” he told the old man. He was holding several huge stacks of books, in both of his hands, so Dazai couldn’t even see his face.

“Isn't it too much?” Mr. Spy asked but still handed the money to the cashier.

“Nope!”

“Uh, could you please wait outside for me for a few minutes?” Miss Yor called out. “I want to pick up something.”

“Oh, of course, Yor.”

Eventually, they walked back home together, while Mr. Spy interrogated hum further with interview questions.

Jiji greeted them with a loud screech. He seemed to like his new house too.

Dinner was good that evening, but he was glad when the old man showed himself out of the dining room to clean up. He was sure he would get more interview questions soon.

“Um, Osamu,” he saw Miss Yor reach for her bag, before taking something out of it.

Oh.

Treasured Fairytales

He felt the tips of his ears grow hot. Why would she think that he liked that kind of stuff? He didn’t!

“I thought you seemed interested in it earlier, and I remember my mother reading to me when I was little, so I thought, well… Maybe we could read it together sometime? If you like to, of course,” she smiled at him, wide-eyed and rosy-cheeked.

He looked at the book for a minute longer.

Sleeping Beauty

Snow White And The seven Dwarves…

He didn’t completely hate the idea. Maybe… It’s not like anyone would know, right?

“Maybe… Just don’t tell the old man, please.”

Her smile grew brighter.

“Okay!”

“I’ll hide it for now, but we’ll read later.”

It wasn’t the worst idea ever. He hoped it had nice pictures.

“Okay!”

He quickly dashed to his bed before hiding it under the mattress. It really was none of that spy’s business.

When he came back to the living room, both Miss Yor and Mr. Spy had already finished cleaning after dinner. Mr. Spy was sitting on the sofa, reading a newspaper, as old men do.

“Did you put all the books in place?”

“Yep!”

“We should go over the mock interview again,” he said, putting the newspaper away.

“Um, Loid, I was wondering-, “ the adults continued talking

Dazai picked up the newspaper curiously. He really should pay more attention to this sort of thing before he gets caught off guard. He still knew too little about this world. But between all the crab and Jiji and Mr. Spy and Miss Yor he had somehow forgotten.

He read the headline on the first page and felt as if the ground fell out from under him. Nausea settled in his stomach.

A Massive Explosion in Kanagawa Prefecture, Japan 

Two days ago, a giant explosion devastated a large area on the outskirts of Yokohama, Japan. Several ships of the Ostanian Eastern Fleet were destroyed in the explosion. 

It looks like the war had spread to Japan, and as the fighting in the region continues -

Dazai couldn’t breathe. 

He heard the newspaper drop on the ground.

There was an explosion in Yokohama.

An explosion.

In Yokohama.

He knew what that meant.

He knew exactly what caused it.

He knew.

Suribachi City was a city made up of a mortar-shaped hole. A huge explosion, with a diameter of two kilometres, blew away both the people and the rights of the land. Later, only the bowl-shaped wilderness remained.

He knew better than his own name.

It was a small figure, a boy in a dark green rider suit, like a spear in the dark. His age was almost the same as Dazai's.

"That hurt." Dazai was laid down on his back and replied. "I don't like pain, you know."

His head hurt like something terrible 

“Look at us getting along so well. That’s what makes me love you!”

“The hell?! Quit that! You’re making me sick!”

In his mind, he burned like a star. A supernova, waiting to explode.

No matter what lifetime, no matter what universe he was always there. For better or for worse, their fates were always intervened.

“I used Corruption because I trusted you.”

“You sound like you’re certain he’s human.  - I am. There’s no way I could hate a man-made character string this much.” 

He pulled on his hair, trying to focus on the sting of it.

In this life they were children. Children with simple lives, whose biggest worry was getting pudding for dessert. They went to school together, argued in class and - 

“In the Mafia my orders are absolute, and we have to respect the hierarchy, right?”

Distantly he heard someone call out to him. 

He was so happy he didn't know what to do with himself. The wedding band was a comforting weight on his finger, a tangible reminder of the vows exchanged, the promises made.

He could hear someone talking but couldn’t make out even a single word.

The girl’s eyes were the prettiest shade of blue she had ever seen. She reached out her own bandaged hand , and -   

He felt something wet and hot on his cheeks. 

He tried to take a breath, but his lungs burned. 

In this life they were detectives, trying to do good, to find a new reason to live. But they still had each other and that was the most important. 

The world was closing in.

It was him.

Of course, it was him. 

Who else could it be?

They were laughing and dancing in the rain like there was no tomorrow. Their hands intervened, lips meeting as they shared this moment for themselves. They would live, live, live! And they would love.

This was a joy so complex that his six-year-old mind couldn't comprehend it. He felt like he was drowning, desperately trying to reach the surface. 

The body was cold in his arms. There was far too much blood, but he would recognize him anywhere- 

A grief far too great for him to handle enveloped him like a tidal wave. It was as if he were trapped in a storm, swaying from one direction to another.

Make it stop. 

He didn’t know who he was asking, but this was the only thing he could do.

He felt as if only death would stop this. He wanted to die, he wanted to die, please just let him -

“There were moments when our hearts reached out to each other…”

Something burned against his eyes.

” Take a break now, Chuuya." 

It was too much.

It was far too much.

He wanted to fall asleep and never wake up. 

Suddenly he felt warm arms enveloping him, holding him, a sweet voice humming a gentle tune.

He tried to focus on that

Sleep, my little prince, sleep,

Oh.

Someone was singing.

The sheep and the birdies rest,

The tune was sweet and calm, it soothed him just a bit.

A gentle hand ran through his hair, as calloused fingers intertwined with his own, carefully prying them away from where he was pulling on his hair.

The garden and the meadow are quiet,

He tried his hardest to listen to it.

To not to think about -

About- 

“Did you use Corruption because you believed in me? You’re gonna make me cry…”

Not even a little bee buzzes anymore.

He felt someone touch his cheeks, wiping away the wetness on them.

Sleep by the silvery glow,

He tried to open his eyes, but all he saw was a sea of red. 

Red, like the setting sun, like the blood, like- 

Oh.

It was just Miss Yor.

Sleep, my little prince, sleep…

The sweet humming continued, and he felt himself drifting away with it. He felt Miss Yor untangle the knots in his hair. The touch sent goosebumps on his skin, but it wasn’t a bad feeling.

For once his mind was quiet.

At least for that moment, he felt at peace. 

Chapter Text

Today was an important day for the Forgers, and Yor Forger, up until recently Yor Briar, was worried. She knew that Loid wanted Osamu to get into a good school, as per his late wife’s wishes. But that was not what truly worried her. Only recently they had spent such a wonderful day together, and Osamu was such a cute and lively child, it reminded her of the times when Yuri was still young and small. So, seeing Osamu break down and begging for someone to stop whatever he was going through made her want to reach out and soothe the heartache that this child was burdened with.

She knew she was just an intruder in this family, but…

The only time she had seen a child so distressed was when their parents had died, and Yuri had learned for the first time what 'death' meant. Did something remind Osamu of his mother? Was he grieving someone? She didn’t know for sure. There was no enemy she could kill for hurting a child like this, so she did the same thing she did when Yuri cried at night. As a child, she could only hold her little brother close and sing to him through the night.

Thankfully, it seemed to work this time too. In truth, she had panicked for a moment, but she knew Loid did too. After she had put Osamu in his bed, she looked at Loid, who was silently watching them from the doorway. He seemed almost…lost.

Neither she nor Loid had gotten any sleep that night, agreeing to monitor the boy as he slept. Osamu was sleeping fitfully. Was he having nightmares? Would it have been better to wake him up or to let him rest?

The next day, Osamu woke up in the early hours of the morning, but he seemed nothing like the boy she had come to know. By the time Loid and she came to check on him, Osamu had already woken up but was lying silently in his bed, vacantly staring at the wall, as if he were looking at something only he could see. His kitten was lying with him, sleeping soundly.

They tried talking to him to bring him out of that blank state, but no cajoling seemed to work.

Eventually, she settled on slowly picking Osamu up and settling him in her arms, Yuri had always liked it when she did this. For a second, Osamu stiffened imperceptibly before relaxing in her embrace, laying his head on her shoulder and clutching her sweater with his little fist.

She was so touched, she had no words. And that was how the entire day went, Osamu a silent shadow by her side. Their apartment was mostly silent, Loid made sure nothing could disturb them. Yor knew he had thrown out that newspaper a long time ago.

But the boy had never spoken a word and barely ate anything. So here they were now. Even a whole day later, Osamu had yet to say a single word.
And today was the day of the interview. Loid was also clearly stressed out about it, but diid his best not to show it.

After they both helped Osamu get dressed, Loid sat down in front of the boy, looking almost pleadingly into his eyes.

“I know it’s hard, but I need you to try your best in this interview. Just answer as we practiced, remember?”

Osamu stared at him for a long minute before nodding.

“I’ll try,” he answered, his voice barely more than a whisper.

After what felt like an eternity of distractions—like a crying child stuck in a gutter and a pack of escaped farm animals—they were finally here.

Yor hoped Osamu wasn’t too nervous about the entire ordeal.

Dazai wished everyone would just leave him alone. But, of course, Mr. Spy had to complete his mission, so here Dazai was, about to be asked annoying questions. There were three interviewers, and Dazai decided to dub them 'Strict Grandpa,' 'Nice Grandpa,' and 'Annoying Blob.'

His new ‘parents’ answered their portion of questions, before Nice Grandpa started asking him questions.

“What does your father do for a living?” 

“He’s a psychiatrist,” he answered, but he knew his voice was quieter than usual. 

He wondered how much the old man gets paid for his spy work. Shouldn’t Dazai get a percentage from his pay for this mission, since he was the one doing all the work? Dazai decided that he would settle on ninety percent for himself and the remaining ten percent for the old man. If he didn’t get paid, would this qualify as child labor?

“Do you often spend time together?” 

What a failure. Now he had angered his father, and he could be sure that his revenge would be something fearful. That night, as he lay shivering in bed, he tried to think of some way to redress the situation.

He shook his head to dispel the memories. He knew they weren’t his own, or at least he hoped so. He wasn’t sure. 

“Um… we go for walks together. He won the plushie for me at the shooting range recently, and I like it. It’s soft. We also go to operas and stuff,” he added as an afterthought, “but they are boring, though.”

The Nice Grandpa smiled at him again.

“Tell me about your mother, then. What is she like?” 

“She’s nice, I like her.”

“So, which mother do you like better?”  The Annoying Blob asked with a satisfied expression on his face. “Your old mama or your new mama?”

What? 

Which mother did he like better? Did he even have one? Surely, he had to have one since he must have come into this world somehow, right?

Because his mother was in poor health, she was always in bed, and he rarely saw her. He never lacked for anything; the household was full of servants attending to his every need. But he spent each day either alone or with his tutors. 

He saw one of the servants’ children cry and then calm down in their mothers’ arms, but he himself had never experienced that. His mother was an extremely noble, gentle, and good woman, yet she never gave him that strange feeling of reassurance.

Shuuji couldn’t help but wonder: Do the mothers of this world all provide their children with this comfort, the peace of mind that comes from knowing Mother will always be there to help? If so, it must be the most wonderful feeling in the world.

His eyes burned.

Dazai didn’t even know if those were his own memories or from some other version of himself out there. Did it matter? In the end, he couldn’t truly remember who his mother had been. Was she kind but distant? He didn’t know. Did he even know her? All his memories from before were fuzzy. But he remembered the darkness—the tall figure looming over him, cruel hands reaching out for him—

Suddenly, two warm hands landed on his shoulders, making him jump in place. But the weight of them was reassuring. 

“This is far too much!” he heard Miss Yor call out. 

Even the old man stood up, staring down the school staff. 

“Well, there you go! He likes his old mommy better!” 

They were blabbering about something else, but he didn’t really grasp any of it, everything felt foggy. 

“…Eden is no place for a child who bursts into tears over every little thing,” he heard the same obnoxious fellow say. 

The room suddenly became very loud, he heard everyone arguing, even Miss Yor sounded angry. Someone cracked their knuckles as if preparing for a fight, but then— a sudden CRASH resonated across the room. 

It was his old man. 

“My apologies. There was a mosquito on the table.” 

Somehow, the table was broken, and there was, in fact, a mosquito there, but…

Oh.

Wasn’t this important for his mission? Why did he sabotage himself? 

“An institution that belittles a child’s feelings is not a fit place for our family. Good day.” 

He felt Miss Yor take his hand and lead him somewhere. Were they going home? He hoped so.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. He knew Mr. Spy must have been upset and disappointed, but surprisingly, he didn’t scold him for failing the interview. 

He was happy to see Jiji come out to greet them when they returned home. Dazai couldn’t help but feel relieved that this day had finally ended. At least it was a good distraction; he hadn’t thought of that person even once today.  Still, he couldn’t shake his curiosity about his whereabouts. Was he still on the streets of Yokohama, stumbling through the wreckage all alone? 

Or was he with The Sheep already, trying to survive in the merciless streets of Yokohama with the rest of the orphans? 

Or maybe he was with—

“You live in a terrible place, Dazai-kun.” The figure said, his voice light. “Honestly, what are you so afraid of that makes you live in such an awful place? Property tax?”

Dazai’s expression didn’t change whatsoever, and he spoke in a gritty voice devoid of any emotions.

“I’m scared of you, Verlaine-san.”

The figure entered the room. He was tall and wore a suit that was reminiscent of the sea at night. His eyes were carefree, as if he were amused by the events playing out in front of him, and he had a black hat on his head. It was the assassin king, Paul Verlaine.

What an annoying person.

"…All people, all life forms, live without knowing what they truly are," the man named Rando whispered, aware that death was only a breath away.

Dazai couldn’t help but sigh wearily, borrowing deeper in his blankets.

In the end, he knew he had no way of knowing for sure, and he had to make peace with that. So long as both of them existed in this world, he knew their paths would cross, of that he was certain.

He heard someone knock on the door before slightly opening it. Peeking out from under the blanket, he saw Miss Yor standing in the doorway, smiling at him. Jiji also came in.

“Osamu, how are you?”

I’m fine, he thought and tried to respond, but he felt utterly exhausted— even this simple task seemed overwhelming. He ended up nodding instead.

Miss Yor came to sit on the edge of his bed. “Do you want to read together before sleep?”

He nodded again.

“But, um, where is it?”

Dazai pointed to his mattress.

“Is it under the mattress?” Miss Yor asked. Dazai nodded in agreement.

“Alright!”

Immediately, he felt funny, but it took him a moment to realize why. The entire mattress was being lifted into the air, along with his blankets, Jiji, his crab plush, and Dazai himself. He also saw that Miss Yor was using only one of her hands while reaching for the book with the other.

What?

Was this normal? He didn’t know for sure.

The next second he felt Miss Yor carefully setting the mattress down without a single jolt.

Dazai was so confused.

“Well, what should we read today?” Miss Yor asked, sitting on the bed next to him. He looked at the cover again: Treasured Fairytales: Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Hansel and Gretel…

He pointed to Sleeping Beauty.

Dazai settled in to get more comfortable, Jiji curling by his side.

“Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, a beautiful princess was born,” Miss Yor began to read. “To celebrate her arrival, the king and queen held a grand feast and invited all the fairies in the land, except for one who was known for her envy.”

Dazai knew it was just a silly fairytale for little children, but he couldn’t help but listen, completely enraptured.

“…but then, the spiteful fairy appeared, cursing the princess to fall into a deep sleep on her sixteenth birthday after pricking her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel.”

Dazai couldn’t help the image that formed in his mind as he tried to visualize the evil fairy. One familiar face came to mind: super slimy, absolutely grating, and always extremely annoying.

Bleh. At least he didn’t have to deal with him right now. He tried to focus back on Miss Yor.

“…The princess stumbled upon an old spinning wheel hidden in a tower. Curious, she reached out and pricked her finger, a small drop of blood welling up before she fell into a deep slumber.”

He decided he would never touch a spinning wheel.

“Finally, a brave and kind-hearted prince ventured into the enchanted castle. He fought through thorns that had grown around it…”

Whoa! Dazai couldn’t help but sigh dreamily. If only someone would fight through thorny walls for him!

“You used Corruption because you trusted me? How beautiful…”

That was close enough, he thought. His other self was so lucky, Osamu couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy.

“…and they lived happily ever after,” Miss Yor finished the story.

“What?! That’s it?! Already?” Osamu exclaimed, unable to contain his surprise.

Miss Yor blinked at him, taken aback. What? Did he do something weird?

“Did you like it?” she asked, her smile softening her expression.

“It was alright, I guess…” Osamu sighed again. “I liked the part where the prince fights his way through the wall of thorns to get to the princess.”

“Thorns?” Miss Yor looked confused for a moment before her face brightened. “I like thorns! If Osamu were hidden away like the sleeping princess, I would fight my way through the wall of thorns too!” She held up her fist at that.

Dazai couldn’t help but blush. But he couldn't deny that it did sound really cool —almost exhilarating in a way that made his heart race.

That night, he dreamed of thorns, and the red blood on the princess’s finger.

Chapter Text

It was true that Dazai was only six and didn’t have a lot of life experience, but he still had to deal with many strange things, like the annoying memories, the awful orphanage, and the itchy scars that burned at night.

But even that paled in comparison to this. The hall was packed with children and their parents—a sea of snotty noses and impatient sighs. These were the kids he would have to spend most of his time with. No amount of interdimensional knowledge could prepare him for this.

This was his reality now, Dazai thought in despair. The old man’s lectures were utterly unhelpful. 'Study hard… blah blah blah… become an Imperial Scholar… blah blah blah.' Dazai rolled his eyes. The old man’s insistence on collecting these ridiculous stars at least clarified some aspects of his mission. Whoever the old man’s target was, their spawn was probably already an Imperial Scholar, which the man’s insistence on Dazai becoming an exemplary student. What a pain.

“You are the chosen ones!” cried the presenter in a funny hat. Was this meant to hype up the students? To make sure they knew they were special? “Due to your hard work—and perhaps that of your guardians—you have crossed the threshold into The Eden Academy!”
Great. Just what he needed: a room full of privileged kids. What a delight, he thought, rolling his eyes.

At least Miss Yor looked excited. Why, he couldn’t fathom. Maybe she was just relieved that she wasn’t the one who had to attend this place? If the news came that he was expelled, Dazai thought he would share her excitement.

By his side the old man was muttering something about his future classmates.

“Remember to make friends, Osamu.”

“No, thanks. Sounds boring.” The old man rubbed his head, hard. Given the amount of pressure he was putting, Dazai wondered if the man’s head would explode.

“Class 3, Cecile Hall! Alice Paulette…” More and more names followed that Dazai paid no attention to. “… Damian Desmond!” Dazai perked up at that. Wasn't some Desmond guy the former prime minister? And the leader of The National Party? Well, that was interesting. He wondered if the old man had a hand in determining which class he would end up in. 

“Osamu Forger!” Oh, what a joy. 

Miss Yor clapped in encouragement.

Osamu walked as slowly as he could toward where the rest of his new classmates were standing. He ended up beside a dark-skinned girl who looked just as uninterested in what was happening as he was. Absentmindedly, Dazai noted that she was wearing gloves, which struck him as even weirder than his own compression sleeves beneath his uniform. She also was a bit taller than him, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit peeved about that.

Bleh.

He would grow taller eventually, Dazai was sure. He wasn’t the one cursed to remain a shorty, after all.

“…Becky Blackbell, Edward…” blah blah blah. A couple more brats joined them. 

Eventually, after all the children had been named, their new homeroom teacher was announced. It was The Strict Grandpa from the interview. What was his name again? Mr. Hende-something…? 

So now Dazai had to deal with his old man bugging him at home and this straight-laced guy at school. There was just no escape for him, huh?

“Welcome to Eden Academy!”

Mr. Hende-something began showing them around the school, droning on about rules, something about scholars, bolts, and stars and endless rules. Dazai paid it no mind. The instructions felt so boring and useless; he wasn't going to follow them anyway. It was just school stuff—how hard could it be? Instead, he let his mind wander.

He was officially known as Osamu Forger now and couldn’t help but think that it sounded a little silly. Did Mr. Spy come up with the name himself? Did he realize that the only difference between “Forger” and “forgery” was a single letter? He should have chosen something more inconspicuous for a fake family, but maybe that was just the old man’s sense of humor. Did his old man really think no one would notice? Well, maybe no one else would, but Dazai did. Choosing this name for a fake family was a bit too on the nose in his opinion, but the more he thought about it, the funnier he found it.

Mr. Spy thought no one else would notice, but Osamu did! Checkmate, old man! 

The teacher continued talking about something, but the rest of the kids had also stopped paying attention. Dazai observed from the side as they began fawning over the Desmond offsping, mostly discussing his father. The only exceptions were his companion and the Becky-something girl, who was obviously another rich kid. 

A bunch of nepo-babies, he thought. Even though that was expected of a school like this, it was still annoying.

“And what are you two standing there for?” the Desmond brat called out to him and the girl he was still with. The brat was ten times more obnoxious than Dazai himself without even trying, and that was saying something. “Who are your parents? If they’re important enough, I might consider becoming your friend.”

Osamu simply blinked at him. If his hunch was correct and this brat was indeed the son of the old man’s target, then making friends to gather more juicy info might be a good idea—but the little twat was just too grating! 

“My father is a diplomat,” the girl in the gloves replied. Dazai tried to remember her name, but he hadn’t really been listening to the announcements, so he came up blank.

Well, it was probably best if he didn’t disclose who his ‘father’ actually was, although it would be amusing to mess with the little brat. “My father is a doctor.” 

“So, a bunch of nobodies then,” the little twat smirked. 

“Yes, and?” The girl clearly didn’t care about any of this, which made her a little more tolerable in Dazai’s eyes. 

“You are from England, then! You’re not even from Ostania!” a boy with ridiculously tall hair exclaimed, pointing at the girl. “How did you get to Eden?!”

“Oh my god, you are so serious,” Dazai snorted. 

“Do you expect your daddy to solve every problem for you?” the girl interjected.

The Desmond brat turned an interesting shade of red while other kids began whispering among themselves, clearly outraged. 

He was happy to know that he wasn’t the only one who found the situation amusing because he saw the girl smirk just a bit. 

“No private conversations!” The teacher barked at them, making most of the brats jump in place and quickly get back in line. 

Well, that was tiring. How much longer did he have to be here? He wanted crab cakes. Or canned crab. Or candies. Or to play with Jiji, or to read with Miss Yor. He definitely didn’t want to deal with a bunch of snot-faced brats.

The girl looked at him with a raised eyebrow but didn’t say anything, for which Dazai was grateful. 

The teacher continued to drone on about something Dazai tuned out, but he noticed the Desmond brat glaring at them. Despite the teacher’s reprimands, the children kept gossiping among themselves. 

“Hey, I know that girl. She’s the daughter of that English guy... Didn’t her mother—” 

“No way!” 

“My father works at the Foreign Ministry, I heard him say that…”

The Desmond brat was clearly curious to hear that, but Dazai had to admit he was curious too, even though he had no idea what they were talking about. Apparently, there was some juicy gossip going around that Dazai didn’t know anything about, and it irritated him. He liked gossip!

“It was her mother that—” 

The girl’s expression grew increasingly stormy. 

The whispers were interrupted by a loud BANG! as the teacher struck the floor with his cane, his expression severe.

“Enough gossip! I should remind you that any misconduct will be punished with Tonitrus Bolts, and getting eight of them will be enough to get you expelled!”

That finally made them shut up.

The expulsion bit sounded interesting, at least. If he ever wanted to quit this school, he could always get himself expelled. Problem solved! 

“Let us continue with the tour then.” The entire gaggle of first graders followed him, and unfortunately, Dazai, being a first grader as well, had to tag along. 

Suddenly, a ball of crumpled paper flew just a centimeter past his head. It was unclear whether the Desmond brat and his lackeys were aiming for him or the girl, as they clearly missed their intended target.

"You have a problem?" the girl addressed them

"You have no proof it was us!" Lackey number one exclaimed.

"Yeah! How do you know it was us?" added lackey number two.

Dazai watched the scene unfold like a play. Squabbles among a bunch of brats weren’t particularly interesting, but it was the best entertainment he had at the moment—and miles better than whatever that geezer was droning on about.

“Do you think I am stupid?”

“Not stupid,  but crazy definitely,” the little twat answered.

The dark expression came over her face.

Wow, things were heating up! 

“So, what did you say about my father again?” the Desmond boy continued. “Like you are the one to talk, wasn’t it our mommy that—” 

But the boy never finished his sentence, as in a sudden burst of anger, she raised her hand and slapped him across the face, her frustration boiling over .A second later, the Desmond boy started wailing, smearing snot and tears all over his face. Dazai saw a red headprint on his face.

Wow.

Dazai really couldn’t help himself, he laughed out loud. If he could watch a bunch of brats beat each other up when he came to school, then maybe it wouldn’t be so boring after all.

"What’s going on here?!" their teacher came running at the commotion. 

“Mr. Henderson! She punched Lord Damian!” Lackey number one cried. 

Mr. Henderson frowned. “Is this true, Miss Bronte?” 

Bronte, huh?

It didn’t ring any bells for him, but apparently the rest of the children recognized her. The girl remained silent, her face set in a stubborn scowl. Well, it would do no good if the only somewhat interesting person here got expelled on the first day. 

“He was harassing us all day and insulted our parents,” Dazai tried to interject. “Isn’t it filial piety to defend one’s parents?”

The teacher gave him a considering look. 

“But Lord Damian didn’t do anything to any of them!” Lucky number two argued. 

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, Miss Bronte?” 

Silence. 

Dazai thought it was a waste, if he were in her place, he would have weaseled his way out of the situation for sure. At least the Desmond brat had finally calmed down and wasn’t crying anymore.

The teacher gave a weary sigh, t eerily reminded Dazai of his old man.

“Let us proceed. But your father will know about this, Miss Bronte. You will be given Tonitrus Bolts as punishment, I’m sure you understand.”

The girl only nodded in response. 

“Let us continue,” Mr. Henderson said.

The Desmond brat and his little friends went ahead, but Dazai decided to stay as the teacher walked forward with them.

The Bronte girl was tightly clasping her hands, as if afraid to touch something with them.

“It was so fun! Can you do that again?!” he exclaimed.

The girl looked at him in surprise. “What?”

“I loved the way you slapped him! Serves the stuck-up brats right!”  

She smiled a little at that. “Maybe… Aren't you afraid I will slap you next?”

“How do you know I won't kick you in return?”

“That’s fair,” she looked pleased to hear that.

“What’s your name?”

She gave him a weird look.

 What? Did he do something weird. He thought that this was the normal thing that kids did.

“Why do  you ask?”

“How am I supposed to address you then?”  

“It’s Emily,” she said after a moment of hesitation. “Emily Bronte.”

“Osamu Forger! Nice to meet you. Let’s go bully some other kids together!”

Emily cracked a smile at that, but didn’t answer.

“Does that mean we are friends now?” he asked. Mr. Spy did ask him to make friends.

“Sure…” she said, sounding less than certain.

“Let’s go then!”

The school wasn’t as dull as he thought it would be.  

Chapter Text

“And then she slapped him!” Dazai recounted his first day at school while finishing his breakfast. Mr. Spy didn’t look particularly impressed with his new acquaintances.

“I’m glad Osamu already made a friend!” Miss Yor clapped in excitement.

Dazai wouldn’t call him and the Bronte girl ‘friends,’ but he understood the importance of reaching out and making connections. Of course, he would have to expand his connections outside of school too, but this was as good a place to start as any.

“You shouldn’t associate yourself with such ruffians,” the old man said seriously. “Why don’t you try to make friends with Damian instead?”

Dazai couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Of course, his old man wanted him to befriend the brat. But that just made Osamu want to do the complete opposite!

Even Miss Yor looked worried. He wanted to tell them that if he were to turn into a ruffian, he would do it on his own; he hardly needed anyone’s bad influence to do that.

“Won’t you be late?”

Dazai gave an exaggerated sigh. “But I don’t want to go to school!” he whined.

“There, there,” Miss Yor tried to console him. “I have a day off today, so I’ll meet you after school. We could walk home together?”

It was better than a school bus, he had to admit.

That day, Miss Yor and Mr. Spy accompanied him to the bus, waving goodbye as he rode off.

He wondered if that was what ‘a normal life’ was. 

As he approached the school, an unsettling feeling settled in his stomach. For some reason, this place filled him with a sense of dread. It was just a school for stupid kids, so why should he be worried? Yet, the sheer number of people gathered in one place made him feel like crawling out of his skin.

Eden Academy was a grand, ancient institution renowned for providing top-notch education. However, in Dazai’s eyes, it was also unbearably pretentious.

 He made his way to his class, hoping he wouldn’t get lost. As he entered the auditorium, he noticed that almost everyone was seated around the edges of the room, already forming cliques with their peers. The Desmond brat lounged in the back with his two lackeys, and in the center of the classroom, sitting alone with a stony expression, was the Bronte girl.

He probably shouldn’t call her that in her face though, or he had a feeling he might get slapped or pinched, or worse. 

So… where should he sit?

This was so annoying. Why did he have to deal with this nonsense?

Most of the kids seemed dull and completely uninteresting. With a loud thump, he set his things down next to Emily, while the other kids stared at him as if he were crazy.

Emily looked surprised to see him as well. 

“Hello again!” He flashed her his most charming smile. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, frowning. 

“Sitting here,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I doubt anyone else would want me hanging out with them anyway.” The rest of the kids were still giving them weird looks. 

“I don’t want to hang out with you either.” 

“But I thought we were friends already!” he whined. “I thought we agreed on that at least yesterday.”

She scowled at him in response. “We are not friends. I merely agreed to be on cordial terms.” 

“Semantics,” he waved away her protests. 

“Everyone, take your seats!” Before she could respond, the teacher entered the room, his voice booming throughout the auditorium. All the chattering immediately ceased, and everyone quickly sat in their places. Mr. Henderson was undoubtedly a strict man, possessing a commanding aura. Dazai also had the feeling that he was even more of a boring stick-in-the-mud than his old man, and he couldn’t help but sigh. Was he cursed?

“Today marks your first lesson at Eden Academy. I expect you to study diligently moving forward and to adhere to our school's rules of conduct.” As he spoke, he shot a pointed look at their desk, which Dazai felt was completely uncalled for. He hadn’t slapped anyone! To the teachers, he was just a prim and proper student who had earned his place at Eden with the highest marks. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Emily giving the teacher a blank stare, looking far from chastised.

“Now we shall review the conduct that will be expected of you moving forward,” Mr. Henderson began his dull lecture. Dazai felt himself melt into the table as he tuned out the droning.

He stifled a groan. Was every lesson going to be this dull? If it continued like this, he might actually go mad in this place. He hoped there were some big mysteries lurking around—maybe more spies, hidden assassins, or ability users in disguise? Perhaps even secret government projects?

Literally anything to keep his life interesting.

His gaze drifted toward the Desmond brat. There was no doubt that his father was the old man's target. A reclusive and influential politician, he was the head of the National Union Party that had ruled the country during the war. Perhaps he should try to integrate himself into the brat's social circle, if only to get the upper hand on his old man regarding his own mission. However, the brat was also insufferable, which made the idea more complicated than it was worth.

“…imperial scholar…” the teacher just kept droning on.

As he continued to observe the classroom, he noticed that his new deskmate was also zoning out.
“Pspspsps,” he called out to her, but she didn’t respond. It was odd, considering that when he called Jiji like that, the cat would come running. Apparently, humans needed more training than cats. With no other choice, he poked her in the cheeks, which were chubby with baby fat, and received an incredulous glare in return.

Exactly the reaction he wanted, so he couldn’t help but grin.

“What?” she hissed lowly.

“I’m bored,” he whispered back.

“How is that my problem?”

“We sit together.”

“So?”

“That makes it your problem.”

He glanced over to see that the teacher's back was turned as she slowly walked across the classroom.

“Let’s play a game,” he whispered, pulling a coin from his bag that he had pickpocketed from his old man earlier. He quickly scribbled the rules on a piece of paper:

one person tosses the coin, and the other person guesses heads or tails

 f you guess correctly, you get to ask a question if not, the other person asks.

He added the little scribble of Jiji for good measure, to make his offer truly irresistible.

After a moment he added:

The one who gets caught by the teacher loses

Emily looked interested by that.

The teacher was still slowly walking back and forth in the room, still not done with his lecture ‘on proper conduct’.

As he turned his back to them Dazai threw the coin into the air, excited to have something to do

“Tails,” he whispered.

What Emily didn’t realize was that if Dazai called tails, it would always land on tails. It was just a sleight of hand, a clever trick. As long as he was the only one aware of this little skill, he was in the clear. He just had to ensure he didn't win every time.

With a flourish he revealed the coin. Tails.

“I ask the question,” he whispered triumphantly.

As the teacher turned toward their side of the classroom, both of them immediately sat up straight, the perfect picture of attentive students, waiting for him to pass by again.

Why did they call you crazy, he thought but didn’t ask.

Instead, he wrote: what has to be broken before you can use it?

She frowned, but after a moment wrote down the answer.

A horse.

Her handwriting was neat and clear, unlike his chicken scratch.

incorrect! u lose!

How is this incorrect?!

it’s an egg!

She scowled at him and began writing furiously.

That’s stupid! Even if ‘the egg’ could be one of the answers,

it doesn’t mean that my answer is incorrect!

but it was my riddle and I say the correct answer is egg :P

They couldn’t argue any longer because Mr. Henderson was walking toward them again. Couldn’t the man see that Dazai was busy now?!

As he once again turned away, before Dazai could react, Emily snatched the coin from his hands.

“Hey!” he whispered.

“It’s my turn now,” she whispered back, throwing the coin into the air with deft fingers.

Dazai watched the coin carefully, trying to predict how it would land.

"Heads," he whispered.

She raised her hand, revealing that it was indeed heads. As always, Dazai thought, his predictions had come true, and he felt extremely pleased with himself.

Since i guessed correctly its my turn again!

After thinking for a moment, he quickly wrote

what goes up but never goes down?  

Emily smirked at him, as if he were silly for asking such obvious questions.

Age, obviously.

nope!    its smoke :P

She glared at him.

Both answers can be considered correct, then.

no bcs i created this riddle and  the answer is smoke!

u lose!

“You're messing with me!” she exclaimed loudly, clapping her hand on the table. “There’s no way I could lose at a riddle game!”

“Miss Bronte!” Mr. Henderson called, outraged at the interruption. “We were just going over the rules of proper conduct!”

Uh-oh.

For a moment, he had forgotten they were in class.

Mr. Henderson approached their desk, clearly displeased.

“But I see you are not the only one who was distracted,” he turned to him. “Mr. Osamu Forger. Is the instruction at Eden Academy not up to your standard?”

No, it really wasn’t.

“Sorry, Mr. Henderson,” he said, trying to look apologetic.

“After today’s lessons are over, you will be given detention. The two of you will also have to submit an essay on the importance of proper conduct,” he said sternly. “Is that clear?”

“Yes…” they sighed together.

This was his first boring assignment, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be his last.

The rest of the day blurred together, one boring lesson after another; the only highlights were the squabbles with Emily. The detention and the essay were even more mind-numbingly dull than the lessons. At least he wasn’t the only one who had to suffer through this.

“It’s finally over,” Emily said as they left the classroom. The school was already empty, most of the children had either gone home or to the dorms.

“It’s your fault that you yelled during class,” Dazai replied.

“No, it’s not! If anything, it’s your fault!” she argued, looking outraged.

“How is that my fault?”

“You were messing with me!”

“I wasn’t. It's hardly my fault you guessed the riddle wrong.”

“I didn’t guess it wrong!”

“You did.”

“Did not.”

“Did!”

“The simple truth is that there is no definite answer to those riddles, so both of our answers could be considered correct,” she said, looking very cross with him. “I bet you know it, but don’t want to admit it just to mess with me and say that you were the winner.”

He rolled his eyes. She was clearly very stubborn and didn’t back down easily, but so was Dazai. He wasn’t going to lose either!

“But you got caught by the teacher! Which was also the condition for losing.”

“You wrote ‘who gets caught,’” she said with a triumphant smirk. “Both of us got caught, and both of us got punished.”

“Semantics,” he waved away dismissively.

“You started arguing over semantics first.”

Which… fair.

“Let’s do this then. Tonight we both make up three riddles,” she offered, looking excited. “Whoever doesn’t manage to solve all of them tomorrow loses.”

Dazai liked the sound of that. “And whoever loses—” he started.

“Will owe a favor to the winner,” she finished.

He noticed his own smile reflected on Emily’s face. It seemed great minds really did think alike. He felt a surge of excitement at the thought that something interesting was finally happening in this school.

“Emily! What are you grinning at him like that for?” he heard an unfamiliar voice call out, startling him.

While they were talking, they managed to reach the gates of the campus, and to his shame, Dazai didn’t even notice. The girl who spoke to them was dressed in a school uniform, but it wasn't from Eden. She was taller and older than Emily, but her hair was just as wavy and dark as Dazai’s companion's. She bore a resemblance to his companion overall, though she lacked the distinctive facial features that made Emily stand out.

Huh. Were they relatives? Sisters?

“Hey, Charlotte,” Emily greeted her, smiling, though it was not the same grin she had shared with Dazai earlier; it was much softer and gentler. The two girls embraced, and for a moment, Dazai felt like an intruder.

After they parted, Charlotte turned to him with a curious expression. “Have you already made a friend?”

“We are not friends!” Emily protested vehemently.

“I’m Osamu Forger,” he said, waving in greeting. “Are you sisters? You look quite alike.”

“We are,” Charlotte answered. “I’m Charlote Bronte. I’m in my third year”

“Nice to meet you,” Dazai replied.

“Charlotte, please don’t talk to him,” Emily interjected. “He’s annoying.”

“If you call everyone annoying, you’ll never get along with anyone.”

“Maybe I don’t want to get along with anyone,” Emily shot back, much to her sister’s chagrin.

“But you walked all the way here together!” Charlotte said with a mischievous smile. “And before I interrupted, you looked quite busy bickering to even notice me.”

“Whatever,” Emily replied with a scowl. “Can we go already?”

“The car is waiting,” Charlotte responded.

“Osamu!” he heard Miss Yor call from outside the gates. Oh, she had mentioned she would meet him after school tonight, and he had almost forgotten.

The girls looked at him curiously.

“Oh, it’s my mama,” he said. An expression that he couldn’t decipher came over Emily’s face, and her sister looked at her in concern.

Interesting.

“I think I should go now. Have a good day! Bye!” he said and rushed to Miss Yor, leaving the girls to their own devices. That was enough social interactions with toddlers for today.  

“Hey, Miss Yor!” he waved in greeting. She smiled at him, and he found himself enjoying the warm feeling that fluttered in his stomach.

“How was your day? I hope the detention wasn’t too bad,” she said, sounding concerned. “Loid looked very worried when the school called.”

Crap, they already knew about that?

“It wasn’t too bad. Mostly annoying. And boring.”

“That’s good to hear!” she sounded relieved.  “Let’s go home then.”

“Mm,” he agreed.

As they walked back, Osamu chattered about his day and all the things he disliked about school. It felt good to have someone to talk to.

The sun was setting, and Dazai observed the evening streets of Berlint. Most of the buildings were old, but he noticed many skyscrapers in the business part of the city. He wondered what secrets this city held and how much he had yet to uncover. What kind of people did he pass by without knowing? Were some of them spies like his old man? Were there any other ability users here? Secret organizations? He didn’t know. As night began to cloak the city, he wondered whether local gangs would emerge from the shadows, their activities hidden from the public eye.

“Um, Miss Yor? Are you sure we’re walking the right way?” he asked, confused. “I've never been in this part of the city before.”

While they had been walking down one of the major streets of the city, after taking several turns, they found themselves in a very shady neighborhood. Dazai observed a few drunks stumbling toward a dingy bar, their laughter mingled with shouts and the distant sound of music that barely reached his ears.

After a moment of deep thought, her expression lit up as if she had discovered an answer. "I know! Let's climb to the rooftops! That way, we can shorten the distance and get a better view of the area!"

Dazai blinked at her.

What?

“I can’t climb. Miss Yor will have to carry me, then.”

“Okay!”

He didn’t expect this evening to go like that.

“Oi, isn’t that Eden uniform?” he heard a male voice call out.

Dazai turned and saw a group of punks approaching them. His fancy Eden uniform ended up attracting unwanted attention after all.

“What does a kid from a fancy school is doing in a place like this?” one of them said. Dazai could feel the stench from alcohol even from a distance. “You shouldn’t bring children in such places, Miss.”

“Hey, if the brat goes to Eden, I bet we could ransom some cash for him!” some other goon exclaimed.

“Exactly my thoughts, mate,” the man smirked.

Miss Yor turned to them, her expression cold.

“I strongly suggest you leave,” she replied, voice not betraying a hint of worry.

Osamu stepped closer to Miss Yor, clasping onto her skirt. The stupid punks didn’t scare him! But something cold and heavy settled in his stomach.

“Look, lady,” the man came closer doing his best at attempting to tower over Miss Yor, trying to intimidate her. It didn’t seem to be working. “How about you just hand us your money, eh? And then we’ll let ya go?”

He smirked, pleased with himself, and the rest of the group hooted, eager at the idea of free money.

“I must decline.”

“Then we’ll take both the kid and the money,” the man said, turning his gaze to him, making his skin crawl.

Dazai saw the man’s hands reaching out for him, the slimy smirk fixed on his ugly face. He tugged on Miss Yor’s skirt to urge her to leave before—

A loud crack echoed across the alleyway, followed by the man’s scream of pain as Miss Yor folded his arm in half.

Osamu could only stare in shock.  

“You, bitch!” another one rushed to them, but before Dazai could blink, he was already sent flying through the air and crashed into a stack of trash with a loud thud. The cacophony of clattering trash cans and the resulting groans of pain filled the alley. Dazai blinked, momentarily stunned by the speed and precision of Miss Yor's movements.

"Stay close to me, Osamu," she instructed, her voice steady and calm despite the chaos unfolding around them. With her back to him, she surveyed the remaining thugs who hesitated now, their bravado faltering in the face of her strength.

“Y-you’re insane!” one of the gang members stammered, backing away slowly. “We didn’t sign up for this!”

Dazai’s heart was racing, both from fear and admiration. He felt safe beside her, an odd comfort amid the chaos. “Miss Yor, we should—”

But before he could finish, the man at the front, now desperate, lunged at her with a rusty blade. Dazai felt a surge of panic, but again, she was quicker. With a swift motion, she sidestepped the attack and delivered a precise kick to the thug’s chest, sending him sprawling backwards into a wall.

“I must insist you leave,” she said, her voice icy cold as she stepped closer to the last remaining thug standing, who was now visibly shaken. The intensity in her gaze was unwavering, and her stance exuded confidence.

“Just leave us alone, and  this won’t have to escalate any further,” she pressed, her voice as sharp as the blade still clutched in the thug's trembling hand.

The man looked between Miss Yor and the crumpled forms of his companions, the fear evident in his eyes. With a stuttered curse, he turned and bolted down the alley, his footsteps echoing off the walls as he disappeared into the shadows.

As silence fell, Miss Yor exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing. She turned around, and her gaze softened as she spotted Osamu standing a few paces away.

“Um…” she smiled awkwardly and crouched in front of him “They are gone now.”

She looked at him in concern. “How are you?”

Dazai felt his heart still hammering in his chest, but he wasn’t sure if it was from fear or excitement. He took a deep breath.

Miss Yor looked troubled. “I didn’t mean to scare you…”

“That was so –” he tried to find the words for what he was feeling. “Cool!”

“Uh?” Miss Yor looked surprised to hear that.

“That bad guy was like come here, but then Miss Yor went pffff,” he imitated the way she punched the guy. “And then kaboom! The kick! And then the baddie went flying! And then! Boom! And they ran away just like that! I have the coolest mama in the world!” 

Miss Yor looked embarrassed to hear that. “It wasn’t all that!”

“But it was!”

Her cheeks flushed a light pink as she shook her head, a shy smile breaking through her initial concern. “I just did what I had to do to protect you,” she insisted, but the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her delight at his praise. “And it was my fault we ended up here in the first place.”

For a moment he was so full of emotions, he felt like he was about to burst if he didn’t do anything. Before he could think any further, Dazai threw his arms around Miss Yor, squeezing her tightly against him. The moment felt electric, a rush of relief and gratitude flooding through him.

“Thank you for protecting me,” he whispered, his voice muffled against shoulder.

He felt her arms wrap around him, by now a familiar and comforting weight.

“It must have been a long day for you,” she sighed. He silently nodded against her shoulder.

“Mn,” he agreed.

After they separated and got ready to leave, he thought that if only he could… Dazai shook his head. Before he could dwell on this any further, he reached out and grabbed Miss Yor’s hand.

Miss Yor looked at him in surprise and then smiled, her cheeks flushing with pleasure. “Let’s go home,” she said, gripping his hand tighter.

Home. He liked the sound of that.

“Let’s,” he agreed, a warm feeling settling in his stomach.

Chapter Text

“The maker does not want it; the buyer does not use it; the user does not see it.” Dazai grinned slyly at his new friend, eager to see her lose their bet. He had no doubt he would solve whatever riddled she had cooked up, so it was just a matter of her failing to solve his.

They were sitting in the dining hall, in between all the lessons. The school was dreadfully boring, but Dazai did his best to keep himself entertained.

Emily frowned in thought. “The user does not see it and the maker does not want it…”  

“Well, do you give up already?” he smiled cheekily at her, but received only a glare in response.

“I’m thinking.”

After a moment her face lit up in a realization. “It’s coffin, isn’t it?”

Dazai pouted. “Yes…”

She grinned at him victoriously. “Its my turn now,” she cleared her throat.

“This thing all things devours;
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats mountain down”

Dazai thought she was being way too dramatic about this. But the answer was obvious to him. It was the one thing that couldn’t be reversed.

“It’s Time.”

She looked displeased to hear him guess correctly. It looked like their little bet ended in a draw, Dazai thought with a pout. He should come up with some more elaborate idea for a bet next time.

“Guess it’s a draw then,” she huffed. A displeased look came over her face. “Did you already start working on the project? “

Dazai groaned. Right, the ‘Who I want to be when I grow up’ project. “Of course not. When I grow up, I don’t want to work! I just want to eat crab, drink sake, and slack off.”

She scrunched her face. “What sake? You are six.”

“I won’t be six then.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “You are in the first grade and already have the predisposition to becoming an alcoholic.”

He only stuck out his tongue in response.

“What do your parents do for a living?” she asked.

One was a spy on a mission, Dazai thought, amused. And the other one…

“My Father is a psychiatrist,” Dazai replied nonchalantly, noting the weird look on Emily’s face. He couldn't quite understand why she looked so surprised.  “And my mama works as a civil servant in the City Hall.”

A civil servant who is proficient in self-defense, enough to send a guy flying with a single kick. Huh. That was definitely... something to consider.

The more he thought about it, the weirder it seemed. He remembered how easily Miss Yor handled those street thugs, she had a calm precision and a sort of... readiness he couldn’t quite place.

Something was off, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Miss Yor was so nice, no way she had some secret spy life going on!

He shook his head. “And yours?”

“My papa is an ambassador from Great Britan, as I’m sure you’ve heard. And my mother was a housewife before…” her face went completely blank at that. “Well, I’m sure you’ve heard of that as well”

“I didn’t actually.”

She looked surprised to hear that.

“Doesn’t matter then,” was her only response.

He managed not to die from boredom during the rest of his classes and by the time he had returned home, the apartment was a whirlwind of activity. His new ‘parents’ were busily scurrying about, redecorating the place.

“I’m home!” he greeted them, walking towards the bedroom where he heard them talking.

He didn’t expect to see what he did. A pink blanket with a huge LOVE sign, a couple of photos and figurines of Cupid on both sides of the bed.

What?

“Oh, Osamu, you are home!” Miss Yor exclaimed, clearly surprised.

“Welcome back,” the old man greeted him.

Jiji came out to greet him and Dazai petted him, content to see that the kitten was doing well. At least his ribs weren’t showing anymore, and the cuts were healing well, leaving only scars behind. Osamu wondered if the kitten’s scars itched as his own did.

“What’s up with all this decor?” he asked, confused.

“Ah, about that…” Miss Yor smiled awkwardly. “My little brother Yuri is coming to visit.”

So that’s what the we-are-madly-in-love display was for? It made sense in a way, Dazai doubted anyone would be pleased to find out their sister married a literal stranger.

“When?”

“Tonight,” she answered. “And please call him uncle.”

“Okay,” he nodded.

“No detention today?” his old man asked, bemused.

“Sorry, but no. Maybe next time!” he replied d cheerfully before rushing off to his room, Mr. Spy’s admonishments completely lost on him.  

As he unpacked his bag, he wondered about what kind of person Miss Yor’s younger brother was. His earlier talk with Emily lingered in the back of his mind, and he couldn’t help but want to dig into Miss Yor’s past. And maybe the present? He wondered what information he was missing. He just needed to gather more pieces of the puzzle…

So far, he knew, that Miss Yor didn’t have any parents and most likely lost them during the last war, but she had a younger brother apparently. For two children to be left alone, with no one to provide to them…

He remembered the dark alleyway and the ease with each Miss Yor took down the thugs. Of course, they were just a bunch of nobodies with zero training, but still…

What if Miss Yor was a former mafioso, that left the violent life behind after a life-defining tragic incident?! But maybe he was just projecting.

If only he could snoop though her things, like with Mr. Spy, but he was never left alone at home now, so that would be a bit hard.

He was about to leave the room when he heard Mr. Spy and Miss Yor talking in the living room. The sounds were muffled, but he heard just enough to make out what they were saying.

“…I just want to put my brother’s mind on peace. And I never told him and we’ve apparently been married for a whole year.” After a pause she added. “And my brother is a bit… how do I put it… eccentric. He wouldn’t stand for me living with someone I don’t love.”

Dazai smirked. He wondered if anyone would ever discover the truth behind their arrangement. Maybe if Mr. Spy’s cover gets blown?

He felt the smell of dinner come from the kitchen, making his mouth water. He hoped it was crab!

“Its dinner time!” he called out, as he left his room.

Several hours later, his new uncle still wasn’t there.

“Is he coming now?”

“Not yet,” Mr. Spy answered from where he was reading the newspaper. Dazai tried to peek, but the old man didn’t let him, which he found ridiculous. He wouldn’t get a violet flashback every time he looked at the news!

Miss Yor was nervously passing the room. “He must have been hold up at work.”

“And now?”

“No.”

He pouted. “And now ?”

Suddenly the doorbell rang out. Old man sent him a bemused look. “Yes.”

 Miss Yor rushed to the entrance, Mr. Spy following only a step behind. Osamu peeked into the hallway from the corner.

“I’m Yor’s brother. Yuri! Thank you for having me!” the tall dark-haired man greeted them with a wide smile.

“Welcome! Come in!” his new ‘parents’ replied, way too cheerfully.  

“Yuri, its good to see you,” Miss Yor said, her voice warm.

“Please, come in, Yuri,” Mr. Spy said, and after seeing him peeking into the hallway, decided to introduce him too. “This is my son, Osamu,” the old man came to stand by his side, laying a hand on his shoulder. “He’s been looking forward to meeting you.”

“Yes!” Miss Yor exclaimed in excitement. “I suppose that makes him your nephew.” She looked pleased. “Osamu is such a precious little boy.”

This Yuri guy gave him a nasty glare.

“Hi, uncle,” Dazai waved to him in greeting, smiling as sweetly as he could.

“Pleased to meet you,” Yuri said, not sounding pleased one bit.

“If you don’t mind eating simple fare, I’ll whip something up,” Mr. Spy said with a welcoming smile, the picture-perfect host and husband. “Go ahead and make yourself at home,” and he showed himself out of the room.

Miss Yor took his own small hand in hers. “Why don’t the three of us go and join Loid? You should try Loid’s cooking, it’s good. You look a bit tense…”

Dazai silently observed the siblings’ interactions, while his old man busied himself in the kitchen, clearly also eavesdropping on the conversation.

“I’m fine, sis,” he said, looking displeased. “Its just,” Yuri dropped his head, his bangs hiding whatever expression he had. “I can’t believe you haven’t told me about your marriage for an entire year!” he exclaimed, looking at Miss Yor imploringly. “Your own brother! If you want my blessings, you better have a good reason…”

Dazai himself couldn’t imagine what kind of reasonable excuse Miss Yor might have come up with.

“But I do have an explanation!” Miss Yor replied, looking flustered. “You see, I just… completely forgot!”

Dazai sighed. Who could possibly forget about their own marriage? There was no way anyone would believe this.

“And then I forgot that I had forgotten to tell you I got married!” she added, sounding completely confident in her answer.

What.

He heard his old man stumble over something at the kitchen.

Yuri blinked. “Well, if you say so, that’s good enough for me,” he answered with a small smile.

Dazai stared at him in bewilderment. He actually bought that?

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Mr. Spy joined them, setting the snacks on the ctable.

“Its crab!” Dazai exclaimed, snatching a crab spring roll from the plate.

“No manners,” his new ‘uncle’ mumbled.

Miss Yor giggled, “Osamu is just an enthusiastic boy, Yuri, like you were.”

The man looked like he had eaten a lemon. “Please don’t compare me to the brat, sis.”

“I’m not a brat!” he denied. His old man snorted.

Well, maybe he was a bit of a brat, but this Yuri guy had just met him!

“Seriously, though,” Yuri said, crossing his arms as he looked at Miss Yor. “You really need to fill me in on the details. How did it happen? Did you elope? Was it a secret ceremony? How did you even meet?”

Miss Yor’s cheeks turned pink as she fidgeted nervously. “Well, it wasn’t exactly planned… We just—”

“We met at the boutique on The Third street.” Mr. Spy interjected with a polite smile. “At first I thought Yor looked really beautiful, but as we got to know each other I found we had a lot in common. In Yor I found a kindred spirit.”

Dazai continued munching on the snacks, content to leave the talking to the adults.  

Yuri still didn’t look satisfied. “How did your courting go? How many dates did you go on before marrying? Where? Name the reastarunts”

Was this an interrogation?

His old man had a perfectly polite and pleasant smile on his face, his body language not betraying even a sign of displeasure. Dazai also knew that it was completely fake, he was, after all, all too familiar with masking one’s true thoughts.

He also knew his ‘father’ was a huge liar.

So that’s what people meant by tense family gatherings…

“Oi, uncle,” he piped up. “Can you tell me funny stories about mama?”

“Mama?!” he exclaimed in outrage.

“Oh, so precious!” Miss Yor said, looking at him tearfully.

“Mama!” Yuri yelled, breathing deeply. He gulped the wine from his glass. “And you!” he pointed the finger at Mr. Spy. “How do you call my sister?!”

“Um, ‘Yor’?”

Yuri gave him a blank look. “Makes sense,” he nodded and turned to his sister. “And what do you call him, sis?” He had a wild look in his eyes. “Loidy? LoiLoi?  Kitten? Baby!?” Yuri looked like he was about to cry. “Oh, fuck!” he exclaimed, gulping down the rest of his wine.

“I just call him Loid!” Miss Yor denied, flustered.

“It’s ‘Baby’, isn’t it?!” Yuri had a wild look in his eyes as he practically wailed. “My sister calls someone ‘Baby’!”

This guy was too loud, Dazai thought. He also looked like he couldn’t hold his alcohol.

“Please, don’t swear Yuri,” his old man admonished. “There is a child here.”

Dazai rolled his eyes. He knew all the swear words already!

“Oh, right,” Yuri gave him a look, like he had just remembered Osamu was still here.

“So, funny stories?”

“Maybe next time.”

Dazai pouted.

“So, Yuri, your sister boasts quite a lot about you. I heard you are working for a Foreign Ministry! That’s amazing,” Mr. Spy tried to change the topic of the conversation.

Now that piqued Dazai’s interest.

Wasn’t Emily’s father a diplomat from what he heard? But more importantly, didn’t many spies work for the Foreign Ministry in almost every country? He wouldn’t be surprised if half of the Westalis Ambassy workers were spies too. As well as in other ambassies. But at he understood, this man spent most of his time in Ostania, so…?

Maybe he did just have a normal if prestigious job.

“When I saw Dominic the other day he told me you had gone to Hungary. I’m so jealous!” Miss Yor said.

“Oh, it was just for work. Though it’s a beautiful city, I would like to take you there one day, sis.”

“Oh, I was there too during my studies. There is a great restaurant near the embassy with an amazing stew,” Mr. Spy said.

“Kalpatia, was it?”

“Yes!”

Dazai observed them and couldn’t help but feel that something was off. His old man looked as welcoming as ever, though he was obviously lying his (ears) off.

“The wine is from there too?”

“Yeah, that wine is from there…”

“I hope it wasn’t too expensive!”

It almost seemed like Mr. Spy anticipated Yuri’s answers before they came. Was he testing him? Dazai frowned in thought.

“Oh, only about 200 dalc.”

“That’s quite pricey, thank you for sharing it with us.”

Nothing in Mr. Spy’s countenance changed, but the look in his eyes… The sharpness of it was intimately familiar to Dazai. To the part of him that knew far more than any six-year should. 

Was Yuri a spy too? Or maybe –

“Wow uncle is so cool!” he exclaimed, the perfect picture of childish curiosity. “When I grow up, I want to be like that too!”  Miss Yor looked pleased to hear that.

“What do you do at work, uncle? I heard we have a project coming up ‘Who I want to be when I grow up’ and I don’t want to be a doctor like dad, sounds boring!”

Dazai enjoyed the peeved expression the man did, every time he called him ‘uncle’.

“I do important work to ensure the safety of the country my sister lives in.”

That was an interesting answer. From the corner of his eye he saw Mr. Spy observing the man intently.

Did he notice something that Osamu missed? Most likely, since the old man still had more information than Dazai did.  But that dialogue they had earlier…

Dazai knew it was a bit of stretch, but what if –  

“Yuri, aren’t you glad you have a nephew now? Osamu is such an adorable child,he reminds me of you so much sometimes!”

Yuri didn’t look glad. He glared at him like he was his personal enemy. Osamu fidgeted with his bandages under the man’s harsh glare.

“I hope we can be on big happy family from now on!” Mr. Spy said, looking as fake and pleasant as always.

A loud bang! Interrupted him, making Dazai jump in place.  Yuri suddenly stood up, staring his old man down, Dazai’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, and he clenched his fists. Did the man have to be so loud?

Yuri pointed at Mr. Spy accusingly “One big family?!” He looked outraged. “You, who suddenly appeared out of nowhere! And saddled my sister with raising the other woman’s son!”

“Yuri!” Miss Yor exclaimed. “You are being rude. This was completely unnecessary.” She looked upset.

The man clenched his fists.

“Sis, I wanted you to marry one day and find true happiness.” He looked at Miss Yor, his eyes sincere. “But it hasto be someone who can protect you even better than I and someone who can make you happy. And this guy?! Who suddenly appeared out of nowhere?!” He turned to Mr. Spy then, looking like he was about to fight him. “And you! Loidy! Everything that I am is because of my sister! After our parents died, she worked herself to death just to raise me! But now that I’m grown, I can be the one who protects my sister!” the man ranted, without even stopping to take a breath. Dazai could admire his tenacity. “And are you up for the task?! Loidy?!”

Even Mr. Spy looked unsure what to answer to such a… passionate proclamation.

But Dazai’s thoughts lingered on one particular phrase. Worked herself to death, huh?

Worked where? He wondered what kind of job would let a teenage girl support both herself and her brother, to make sure he had enough time and resources to continue his education.

“I just… want what’s best for you,” he finally admitted, his voice quieter now. “I don’t want you to end up hurt or alone. We’ve been through so much together.”

“Oh. Yuri…” Miss Yor trailed off .  

Just as the argument between Yuri and Mr. Spy was about to reach a boiling point, Dazai suddenly stood up from his seat and marched over to a drawer. He pulled out a toy gun and pointed it at Yuri.

“Hands up, Uncle!” Dazai sayid dramaticall. “I’m afraid this family’s going to have to place you under arrest!”

Yuri, wide-eyed, stared at Dazai. “What? Arrest?”

Dazai nodded solemnly, though his eyes gleamed with mischief. “Yep, for being way too loud and way too suspicious. You’ll be interrogated at once. This is my duty as this family’s secret police.”

His old man, mortified, tried to calm things down. “Osamu, please, this is a serious situation.”

“Oh, it’s serious,” Dazai replied, still holding the toy gun. “We’re in a family crisis now.”

Yuri stared at him in utter disbelief. “What’s up with this child…”

“I can tell you’re concerned, Uncle,” he said, clutching his chest. “But you don’t understand, do you? This family is like a... well, it’s like a team. And in a team, everyone has their role.” He paused for effect, his eyes narrowing as he looked at his new ‘uncle’ “And your role, Uncle Yuri, is... to stop yelling.”

Dazai tilted his head, his toy gun still pointed at Yuri, but now his gaze became dramatically intense. He imagined he was a detective profiling the man for some kind of high-stakes investigation. If only he had a trench coat on!

“Hmmm, Uncle Yuri, you don’t look like a loud person... but your behavior tells me otherwise.” He circled Yuri, examining him from every angle. “Aha! The posture! The clenched fists! The deep breaths... clearly, you’re about to go on yet another rant. A loud one!”

Yuri raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What are you talking about, kid?”

Dazai paused and whispered dramatically, “You’re guilty of raising your voice in a family matter.” He nodded to himself, his eyes wide with fake realization. “This is a serious crime, Uncle. Only one thing left to do...”

Yuri blinked, unsure whether he should be annoyed or entertained, but Dazai ignored him completely and continued his investigation.

“Guilty!” Dazai announced, pointing the toy gun at him. “I knew it! I even didn’t need Super Deduction to solve this case!”

Yuri looked at him, trying to make sense of what’s happening. “You’ve got to be kidding me...”

Dazai struck a dramatic pose, spinning on his heels. “I, Osamu Forger, the greatest detective in this household, have cracked the case wide open!”

Yuri looked at his ‘parents’ for help, but his old man just shrugged nonchalantly, sipping his wine as though this is just another one of his son’s antics.

Yuri sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, unsure what to make of him. “You’re... impossible. And didn’t you say you were this family’s secret police? Which you aren’t, of course. And now you are a detective?”

Dazai smirked, pointing his toy gun at him. “I could be a secret mafioso too!”

“Whatever,” Yuri mutters, shaking his head. “Just... put the gun down already.”

Dazai grinned wider. “Oh, don’t worry, Uncle. You’ve been cleared of all charges. For now.”

He spun around and bowed as if he were on stage, looking pleased with himself. “And the case of the loud and suspicious uncle... is officially closed!”

His old man only gave him a deadpan look. The look Yuri gave him was the exact same.

Miss Yor clapped.

Well, at least someone appreciated his crisis-managing skills!

“And now I’m bored listening to you! Good night mama, papa! Bye Uncle!” he said with a proper dramatic flare before rushing off to his room, where he knew Jiji was already sleeping,

That was enough of crazy relatives for today!

He still had a lot to consider.

Chapter Text

The Berlint General Hospital was a place of renown in Ostania, known for the quality of care it provided. And though Loid Forger’s profession as a psychiatrist was merely a cover, he still took it seriously and fulfilled his duties diligently.

Today, however, bringing a six-year-old to the hospital was part of another duty—one that was essential to Operation Strix.

“Oi, old man,” Osamu piped up as they walked down the hall.

“Don’t call me that,” Twilight sighed, rubbing his temples in an attempt to calm his nerves. “I told my colleagues you would be coming, but don’t cause any trouble.”

“Sir, yes sir!” Osamu responded with an exaggerated salute.

If Osamu successfully completed his “Who I want to be when I grow up” project, he just might earn his first Stella, a reward Twilight had been quietly counting on.

“We’ll tour the hospital first, and then you’ll participate in a mini therapy session,” Twilight explained.

“What?!” Osamu squeaked, his face a picture of outrage. Twilight couldn’t suppress the slight smirk that tugged at his lips.

“So that you can see what a psychiatrist does. How else will you decide if you want to be one?”

Osamu crossed his arms and pouted. “Are you going to be my doctor today?”

“Of course,” Twilight replied with a firm nod.

In truth, Twilight was a little concerned. The scars on Osamu's arms, the sudden outbursts of hysteria, and the unsettling, vacant look the boy sometimes got in his eyes—none of that painted a pretty picture of the boy’s past. For Operation Strix to succeed, Twilight needed to be the best father and the best husband. Yet, he couldn’t help but wish Yor was with him today. If he pushed Osamu too far, he wasn’t sure how the boy would react.

Twilight sighed inwardly, shaking the worry from his mind.

He had stopped multiple terrorist attacks, disarmed countless bombs, fought in wars, and earned the title of Westalis’ best spy. Yet, understanding the mind of a child was still one of the most difficult challenges he’d ever faced.

“Are you going to lock me in a padded room?!” Osamu exclaimed, his eyes wide with mock horror. “Or dissect my brain?! I’ll let you know, I’m not afraid of any weird doctor stuff!”

“No,” Twilight snorted. “Where did you even learn of such things?”

“In a movie,” the boy mumbled.

Twilight and Osamu continued their walk through the hospital, with the child darting from one corner to the next, his curiosity bubbling over. Twilight kept a close eye on him, trying to maintain control while still allowing him to explore. The sterile, bright hallways of Berlint General Hospital were filled with nurses and doctors going about their work, patients and visitors.

As they passed a row of examination rooms, Osamu pressed his face against the glass window of one, watching a nurse gently adjust the IV of an elderly patient. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing.

“That’s an IV,” Twilight explained, his voice calm. “It’s used to give people medicine or fluids when they need them.”

Osamu frowned, clearly unimpressed. “So, no secret super serum?”

“No.”

“Oh, Mr. Forger!” one of the nurses greeted with a bright smile. “It’s good to see you!”

Osamu looked up at the nurse, his curiosity piqued.

“Good morning, Nurse Belina. How have you been?” Twilight replied smoothly, offering a polite smile.

“I’ve been well, thank you,” she said, smiling down at Osamu. “What a cute little boy! Is he yours?”

“I’m Osamu Forger, Miss!” Osamu chimed in proudly, puffing out his chest.

A few more hospital staff members approached, cooing over the boy, showering him with compliments. Osamu flushed under the sudden attention, clearly overwhelmed by the attention.

“Ah, thank you, everyone,” Twilight said, quickly stepping in to steer them along. “But we really must be going now.”

They headed to his cabinet, where no one would bother them. It was peaceful and quiet, which Osamu clearly preferred.

“How do you like the work at the hospital so far?”

“Boring,” Osamu answered, swinging his legs as he sat on the sofa. “No way I want to become a doctor.”

“And who do you want to become?” Twilight asked, genuinely curious.

“A serial slacker,” the boy replied, amused.

Twilight sighed. He doubted he would be successful in convincing the boy. “At least don’t write this in your essay.”

The boy chuckled. “I know.”

” Let’s play a game,” he offered, pulling out a box of toys. Osamu only gave him an unimpressed look. “You can play with the dolls and place them in the sandbox, and then tell a story about them.”

Osamu frowned. “Like a fairytale?”

“Exactly! Do you like fairytales?”

The boy looked away, but Twilight saw the tips of his ears turn red.” Miss Yor reads to me sometimes”, he mumbled. Osamu shook his head. “Tonight, I am a detective!”

Surprisingly, the boy took well to the exercise, looking completely engrossed in the task, oblivious to the world around him. Twilight half-expected him to protest and declare the whole thing boring and stupid and go bother the rest of the staff instead.

Dazai crouched low, looking over one of dolls with intense concentration, like he's on a stakeout. “Hmm, interesting. This doll is in a completely unnatural pose. Let me guess: it was caught in a lie? The doll’s guilty of keeping secrets. Look at its eyes—shifty, nervous. It’s holding something back, something it doesn’t want anyone to know about.” Dazai pulled the doll closer and inspected it thoroughly. “I’m guessing it’s a spy.”

Twilight almost jumped in place. This boy…

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “Did you watch Spy Wars on TV? I thought you liked the news better. Where is this suddenly coming from?”

Osamu grinned up at him. “Of course, I would be able to recognize a spy when I see one. And a secret police officer too! And hardly need Ultra Deduction for this case!”

Twilight doubted it.

“What is Ultra Deduction?” he asked instead. “You mentioned it yesterday.”

“It’s a superpower!” Osamu exclaimed, swinging his arms dramatically.

“Superpowers aren’t real,” he replied flatly.

Osamu gave him a mischievous grin, amusement dancing in his eyes. "You are right, of course. Ultra Deduction isn’t a real superpower.”

“And this one,” Osamu pointed to the doll in a form of a dog. “Is a chihuahua.” Osamu blinked at him. “Do you have a mini version of your tacky hat?”

“This again? My hat is not tacky.”

The boy only rolled his eyes. “Well, the tiny doggy is searching for his Master, though he doesn’t know it yet.”

Is Osamu implying he’s searching for something… or someone? Is he subconsciously seeking attachment or a connection he hasn’t fully recognized yet? Does he imagine himself as a dog?, he thought with no small amount of trepidation. And yet, it made sense, the boy must have lost his parents early, which no doubt impacted his mental health.

Loid watched as Osamu’s focus shifted, his gaze growing distant as he stared at the sandbox. For a brief moment, the boy seemed lost in thought, the usual mischief and energy draining from his expression. Loid followed Osamu’s line of sight, his eyes falling on a lone doll sitting in the very corner of the sandbox. It was slightly dirtied, abandoned in a way that was hard to ignore, as if it had been left behind, forgotten among the other, more cherished toys.

Osamu's expression remained flat as he studied it, his small brow furrowing ever so slightly. The doll sat alone, its empty eyes fixed forward, as if it observed the world but wasn’t truly part of it. Is that how Osamu feels? Loid wondered. Detached, apart from the others?

He knew all too well that Osamu had a tendency to hide his emotions, covering up with humor or mischief, but Loid had learned to read the subtleties in the boy’s behavior. The longer Osamu stared at the doll, the more Loid could sense a quiet shift in him—a moment of introspection, perhaps a rare glimpse of vulnerability that he usually kept buried deep within.

Twilight wished Yor was here. She and Osamu had grown close in the brief time they’d known each other. Yor's nurturing and motherly nature seemed to put the boy at ease, with Osamu always gravitating toward her like a flower to the sun.

But for Operation Strix to succeed Twilight needed to be a good father. The best father.

He crouched beside the boy, carefully observing him. “What about this one?”

Osamu’s gaze didn’t waver. “This one is always alone. Even if he joined the other the toys, he wouldn’t truly be part of them.”

Twilight hummed. “Why not?”

Osamu glared at him, as if the answer was obvious. “That’s just how he is.” He looked down, frowning. “The tighter he holds onto things, the faster they fall apart.” His gaze shifted to the doll, his voice growing quieter. “You have to hold onto happiness really tight if you want to keep it and…” The boy looked away, as if he saw something that no one else could. “The weak fear happiness itself. They can harm themselves on cotton wool. Sometimes they are wounded even by happiness.” He gave the doll a derisive glare. “This person is weak.”

Startled, Twilight saw that the boy was near tears, but Osamu was tightly clenching his fists, clearly determined not to cry.

Loid’s heart tightened as he watched, his instincts urging him to step forward and comfort the boy. But he hesitated, unsure of how to approach without making things worse. Instead, he turned to Osamu, trying to meet his eyes with a calm, reassuring gaze.

"Osamu," he said softly, his voice steady, "you don't have to hide your feelings, you know. It's okay to be upset."

Osamu’s fists tightened further, and he turned his head away, refusing to look at Loid. "I'm fine," he muttered, though the words came out strained. "I don't need anyone's pity."

Loid didn’t push. He respected the boy’s space, knowing full well that forcing him to open up would only make him retreat further. Instead, he gave Osamu a moment of silence, watching him as he struggled to regain control.

Loid didn’t answer immediately. He simply gave Osamu a look, as though to say, I’m here if you need me. Osamu let out a small sigh and looked away, not saying anything.

After a moment of contemplation, Twilight took a figure of a strict man in glasses, a lady with a knife, and a stuffed cat, and placed them in the corner next to the lonely doll. 'Now he is not alone. And if any of them has a weakness, the others will cover for them.”

Osamu sniffed and looked at him hesitantly. “I still hate this game,” he mumbled, looking away. “Do you have any others?”

Twilight allowed him to change the topic. “I have chess. We can play that if you want.”

The boy perked up at that. “Okay. I bet I’ll win!”

In the end, Osamu didn’t win their first match, much to the boy’s outrage, but Twilight had to admit the boy had a good head for strategy. Maybe he should enroll Osamu in some chess competition, which Twilight was sure the boy would win, and earn a Stella this way.

As they walked back home, the sun was already setting.

“So, did you decide, who you want to be in the future?”

Osamu scrunched his face. “Not a doctor. And definitely not a psychiatrist. I was thinking…” he hesitated and looked up at him. “I think… I would like to try to become a writer…” he said, barely more than a whisper.

“Oh?” Twilight was surprised. He didn’t expect this. The tips of the boy’s ears turned red.

“And I’m still thinking!”

Twilight only smiled in response. This was certainly better than ‘a serial slacker’.

But wasn’t this what he was fighting for? So that children could live in a peaceful world, could dream and play, and have hopes for the future.

The tighter he holds onto things, the faster they fall apart, he remembered the boy say.

With a twinge in his heart, he realized that one day the Forger family would have to fall apart too, once Operation Strix was over

Suddenly, Twilight felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. His senses were sharp, honed through years of experience, and something about the air felt wrong. His eyes flicked to the shadows, instinctively scanning the surroundings. With a start, he realized: they were being watched. The subtle tension in the air was unmistakable—someone, somewhere, was observing them.

“What would you like for dinner?” he smiled down at the child, his voice light.

Osamu looked over their surroundings . “Crab cakes”

“Alright.” Twilight nodded. “Why don’t we hold hands now?”

Osamu blinked at him. “Okay,” the boy said hesitantly, gripping his hand tightly.

He wasn’t sure who was watching, or why, but he knew this feeling all too well. It could be anything—an enemy, a rival agent, or even an innocent bystander. Either way, he couldn’t afford to let his guard down. Not with everything at stake.

He observed his surroundings carefully, but didn’t outwardly show it. Several hostile agents were on the roof, a few masquerading as civilians. Things were about to get ugly, he knew. If only he didn’t have a child with him right now—this was far too dangerous for the boy.

He needed to lose the people tailing him.

“I’m going to pick you up and carry you back. Hold on tight,” he said, lifting the boy into his arms. Osamu didn’t protest.

Twilight's eyes darted across the street, calculating every possible escape route, his mind working at lightning speed. His every move was deliberate, controlled—too controlled. The slightest misstep could cost them everything.

The agents were closing in. He could hear the soft scrape of shoes on gravel, the subtle sound of radios crackling to life. The danger was no longer just a feeling—it was a presence, heavy and unmistakable.

Twilight kept his gaze fixed ahead, but his peripheral vision caught flashes of movement.

"Hold on tight, Osamu," he murmured, his voice low but steady. The boy nodded and squeezed his arms around Twilight’s neck.

He changed his direction, going from enclosed spaces to public streets, but no matter what he did he couldn’t shake them off.

They were good. Very good.

Professionals, not some local gang full of amateurs.

If only Osamu wasn’t here, he could change his appearance and lose his tail, but –

He put one of his hands in a pocket, sending a distress signal to WISE.

It was getting dark.

Someone was following them from the left. He took a deep breath and made a sharp turn down an alley, trying to lose them in the winding streets.

Ten figures emerged from all sides, dressed in formal black suit, surrounding him. Twilight knew they were armed, though they hid it

He recognized two of them. Fujimoto Haruto, the Head Representative of Tsushima Corporations in Ostania, and the red haired woman by his side.

The man nodded in greeting. “Mr. Forger.”

So, he knew his name.

“We are not here to pick a fight,” Fujimoto continued.

“And what would create the need to corner me like that?” he asked.

“I merely wish to talk,” the man answered, his voice perfectly polite. “Our only wish is to take Shuji home and hope you will cooperate with us.” The man nodded in Osamu’s direction.

He heard Osamu gasp, gripping his jacket even tighter, face still hidden.

“I’m afraid, I don’t understand,” he lied to them.  He need to buy time, just enough time so that WISE agents would get there. Their earlier information was correct then, the Tsushima Corporation was a cover up for a mafia of some kind.

And… Shuji? Wasn’t that what the orphanage director called Osamu back then? His birth name.

I see, he thought. So that was what Osamu’s birth family was.

That was not how he expected their evening to go.

He felt the boy trembling slightly, and he gave him a tight squeeze.

“We are here at the behest of Shuji’s Father. It’s time he returned home,” the man looked at him with a hint of sympathy. “We understand you must have grown to care for the boy, but birth family takes priority. We are willing to go through legal channels if you agree. I’m sure there are a lot of other children in need of a home, you can find another child to adopt.”

“I’m afraid I must refuse,” he said, voice cold.

“A pity,” Fujimoto said, not sounding sorry. “If you don’t want to play nicely, then…”

He clicked his fingers. Men and women around him pulled out the guns, and at the same moment without a second of hesitation, Twilight pulled his own gun from its hidden holster, a practiced movement born from years of experience and pointed at the leader.

“Move and I will kill you,” he said, voice cold as ice.

The red-haired woman gave him a murderous glare, though she herself had no visible weapon on her, only an umbrella. A hidden weapon no doubt.

“You just signed your death warant,” she growled.

“Ozaki, please,” Fujimoto tried to placate her.

Osamu had gone deathly still in his arms. He didn’t move, didn’t even make a sound, seemingly completely frozen, only folding into himself, gripping Twilight’s jacket tightly.

Suddenly, a shot rang out and then another and another, killing several mafiosos behind him. In a split second both he and Fujimoto fell back to their allies, Twilight still tightly holding Osamu.

WISE was here.

A shootout broke out, he pulled out the gun, to eliminate the threat before him –

There was a flash of light, and the blade pierced his chest.

Who –

He spat out blood. The gun fell out of his hand.

The world came to light in a bright burst of blue and white, blinding him for a moment. He never felt the blade slide out, but the blood burst from the wound.

He heard Osamu gasp in his arms, a look of mute horror on his young face.

The boy –

He tried to check on him, to see if –

He fell on his knees, still holding onto his child.

Another flesh of gold and he heard his comrades drop dead behind him.

He never saw what killed them.

With a trembling hand, he reached out to check on the boy. Osamu had blood on him, all Twilight’s, but no wounds of his own.

He needed –

He needed to create a world where children could be happy.

The boy had a look of horror frozen on his face.

His vision swam.

“My apologies, Mr. Forger," he heard Fujimoto say, but only saw the man’s feet as he walked up to him. “I’m sorry it came to this.”

“No, no, no,” he heard Osamu whisper franticly, still clutching onto his jacket. “You can’t, you can’t, you can’t – “

Something wet fell on his face. 

“It’s time to return home, Shuji. Your Father is waiting,” was the last thing Twilight heard before his world went dark.

Chapter Text

In the Forger residence, the landline phone rang out.

Yor Forger picked up the phone, glancing at the clock. Her husband and child were late for dinner tonight.

“Hello? Can I help you?”

“Mrs. Forger? This is Berlint General Hospital.”

A cold chill settled in Yor’s stomach. Loid and Osamu spent the day there together. Had something happened?

“Yes, this is Yor Forger.”

“Your husband has been hospitalized with a severe stab wound. He is in a coma,” the voice on the other end of the line said, cold and mechanical. Yor felt her world begin to tilt. “He is undergoing emergency surgery right now.”

And that was how Yor found herself pacing anxiously outside the surgery room, the sterile white walls closing in around her. Waiting. Doing nothing. Her hands trembled, aching to do something, but there was nothing she could do.

The doctors hadn’t said much—only that there was a fifty per cent chance her husband would survive... and a fifty per cent chance he wouldn't. The words felt like a punch to her gut, each one sharper than the last. Her mind couldn’t process it. How could this be happening?

Suddenly, the thought dawned on her. Where was Osamu?

Her eyes darted around the hall, searching, but it was empty. She hadn’t seen him since she arrived, and the thought struck her like ice water to the chest. He should have been here with her. He should have been waiting, too.  Panic surged in her chest. But no one had mentioned him. No one had said a word about where he was.

Her breath quickened as dread settled deep in her gut. She turned to the nearest nurse, her voice trembling. "My son, where is he? Have you seen him?"

The nurse looked at her with vague concern, offering nothing more than a gentle shake of the head. "I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t know. But I'll check."

Yor barely registered the nurse's retreating figure. Her heart hammered in her chest as the sickening feeling of being utterly alone enveloped her. What if something had happened to him, too? What if he was out there, hurt or lost?

She felt a deep sense of shame for having taken so long to notice Osamu’s absence.

A failure of a wife, and a mother too.

Every part of her screamed to move, to search, but her legs felt like they might give way beneath her. She could do nothing.

Her whole world was unravelling, and all she could do was wait.

Eventually, a police officer showed up, to ask her questions.

“Sir, my son was with Loid, that day. Have there been any newa of him? Where is he?” she asked, desperate for an answer.

The officer looked at her with pity. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but there were no traces of a child at the crime scene.” He sighed. “"In truth, we didn't even know about the child until we collected the witness accounts from the hospital, which revealed that Mr. Forger left with his son. This is clearly a kidnapping case." The officer pinched the bridge of his nose, stressed. “Whoever attacked your husband, is most likely responsible for the kidnapping.”

She felt her heart stop.

A kidnapping.

Someone kidnapped her son.

Distantly, she felt her hands tremble, but she wasn’t sure why. Was it shock and despair? Or was it rage, simmering in her veins?

“Your husband is lucky to have survived. I haven’t seen such a massacre since the war,” the officer sighed wearily. “We will update you as the investigation continues,” he said before leaving, but Yor barely registered that.

She wanted to fight someone, to take up her weapons and –

But who would she fight?

Who took her son and almost killed her husband?

How would she find them?

She didn’t know. She was completely in the dark, and hopelessness weighed on her like an unrelenting stone pressing down on her chest, suffocating her with each breath.

The only sound in the corridor was the relentless tick-tock of the clock, each passing second stretching into eternity as she waited for news from the doctors—news that would decide whether her husband would survive the night or be gone forever.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

But weren’t they just a fake family? Weren’t the Forgers just for cover? Somehow it didn’t feel like that. 

She heard the footsteps of someone rushing into the corridor and saw that it was just Franky, Loid’s friend. The man looked frazzled and tired, clearly having run here.

“Oh, Yor!” he said, still trying to catch his breath. “I came as soon as I heard what happened. What do the doctors say?”

“He is in the operating room. If he survives the surgery, he will most likely live, but…” she trailed off, her heart heavy. “They have no prediction when he might wake up. If he ever does.”

Franky paled at that. “I see… And the kid?” he asked, voice quiet, as if he were speaking to a spooked animal.

“Missing,” was her only response.

"How long have you been here?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. "Here, please take this." He handed her a thermos, warm to the touch. Must be tea. It warmed her hands—and her heart, just a little.

"Thank you."

"I'm sure Loid will make it," Franky continued, his voice a little more hopeful. "If anything, he's always been a bit of a cockroach."

A thought was brewing in her mind.

She couldn’t help Loid here, but she could—

But she needed allies in this. For all her skill, it was not something she could do alone.

She stood up, feeling a new strength fill her.

Time was of the essence, and she wouldn’t waste it.

"Oi, Yor!" Franky exclaimed. "Please don’t do anything rash!"

Suddenly, the nurse came out of the operating room, nodding in greeting. "Mrs. Forger and—?"

"A friend of the family, miss."

"Very well, Mrs. Forger. The surgery has been successful. Your husband will live."

Yor couldn’t help but sag in relief at that. Loid would live.

"As for when he wakes up," the nurse continued, "so far, we can't give you any predictions. He might come out of the coma in a week... or a year."

“But he will wake up, yes?”

“Yes,” the nurse nodded.

“Then that’s what matters. Thank you.”

Franky gave her an uncertain look. “Uh, Yor… You alright?”

She tried to smile at him, but it came as more of a grimace. “I am well.”

“Would you mind me accompanying you home? I don’t believe you should be alone in this situation.”

They returned to the silence of her home. Where light and laughter had once filled the air, only emptiness greeted her now.

“You talked to the police?” Franky asked her. “What did they say?”

“Nothing useful. There were others involved in whatever happened, but Loid is the only one who survived. They said they would keep me updated.”

Franky snorted.

“What?”

“Uh.” He cleared his throat in embarrassment. “Look...” He gave her an uncertain glance. “Forger is my friend, even though he can be an asshole sometimes. And I’m concerned about you too, so... What I’m about to say isn’t exactly legal, so promise me you’ll keep it secret.”

Yor frowned. But he was Loid’s friend, wasn’t he? So, she decided to trust him. “I promise.”

Franky took a deep breath. “The truth is... I have access to all sorts of information, through my many friends, of course!” He waved his arms. “That is to say, I’ll keep you updated on the investigation because I doubt the police will do that.”

Yor blinked, her surprise evident. She hadn’t expected Franky to reveal such a thing, especially so casually. He was usually so eccentric and unpredictable—she hadn’t pegged him as someone with access to vital information. The idea that he could be a useful ally in her search for answers began to settle in her mind.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she considered the possibilities. Franky wasn’t just a friend of Loid’s—he was a man with connections, with resources.

"I see," she said slowly, her mind already working through the implications. "So, you can get information others can't."

Franky grinned. "Exactly. My friends know things, and I can get my hands on just about anything... “

Loid had interesting friends.

Her resolve hardened. In any other time, she wouldn’t even consider this, but is she wanted to find Osamu…

"Please, wait here," she said, her tone firm, before striding toward her room. There, she retrieved a long locked box from one of the compartments and carried it back to the living room.

“Uh,  what is that?” Franky said, as she settled the box on a table with a clank.

She unlocked it, hesitating for a moment before fully opening it… But she had already decided, hadn't she?

Franky froze, his eyes widening as Yor carefully placed the golden stilettos on the table in front of him. The sleek, shimmering metal caught the light, their sharp blades glinting ominously. His gaze flicked from the shoes to Yor, unable to make sense of what he was seeing.

“What... are those?” His voice was barely a whisper, disbelief lacing his words. He reached out instinctively, as if to touch them, but quickly pulled his hand back, as though the very sight of them made him uneasy.

Yor met his gaze, her expression steady, almost unreadable. “These,” she said softly, her fingers gently tracing the edge of one of the golden stilettos, “are my weapons. I’m an assassin.”

He stumbled back, his hands instinctively going to his head as if he could shake the truth out of his thoughts. “Wha... what the hell are you saying?” Franky sputtered, his voice a mix of disbelief and confusion. His eyes flickered to the stilettos again, as though they might somehow explain it all. But there was no explaining away what she had just told him.

She fiddled with her hair nervously. “I've been working as an assassin since the young age,” she began, her voice low and steady. “ And at first, the Forger family was just for cover, but now…” she looked at him resolutely. “I will not let anyone harm my husband or my child.”

Her breath caught in her chest for a moment, but she steadied herself. "I know better than anyone how useless the police can be in this country. So, I’ll hunt down the kidnappers myself. I’ll seek help from my employer to gather the information, but even if they refuse, I’ll do it alone. No matter what."

Franky’s eyes widened as the gravity of her words settled in. He could see it in her eyes—there was no room for hesitation, no doubt in her mind. She wasn’t just talking about saving her family. She was talking about bringing down whoever had done this, at any cost.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Yor nodded, her gaze unwavering. “I started this job to protect and take care of my little  brother. But now I want to protect this family too. And if anyone thinks they can take that from me...” She paused, her expression darkening. “They’ll regret it.”

Franky let out a slow breath. “So that’s why…”

Yor frowned at him in question, her brow furrowing as she studied Franky’s expression.  Franky shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flickering to the golden stilettos on the table before meeting her eyes again. He seemed to be weighing his words carefully, a rare moment of hesitation for the usually quick-witted man.

“Well, Loid once mentioned that you tend to go out for late-night ‘walks,’ or sometimes you get... caught up in things, and he thought—well, he thought you were involved in sex work!”

Yor’s eyes widened in disbelief, her mind struggling to process his words. She blinked at him, completely taken aback. “What? Loid... thought that about me?”

“He doesn’t think is bad!” Franky denied franticly. “He always admired how you worked to raise your brother all on your own, you know…”

Yor couldn’t help the blush that coloured her cheeks.

Franky took a steady breath. “Alright. I’m in. Whoever they were, they’re still in the city—or somewhere nearby. If we move fast, we can catch them before they ship the kid out. I’ll provide the intel, and you…”

Yor picked up her stiletto, the sharp edge catching the light with a cold gleam. “...I’ll handle the rest.”

Chapter Text

Berlint lay shrouded in darkness, its inhabitants deep in slumber, yet The Thorn Princess was awake.

She knew where she was going, a hidden location known only to a select few—the heart of the organization she had been part of since she was a girl. As soon as the news reached The Shopkeeper, she was called in. She wondered if he knew what she intended.

“Thorn Princess,” a butler greeted her at the entrance as he opened the door.

 A magnificent garden stretched before her, its carefully cultivated trees and flowers of all kinds bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. In the center of it all stood a lone figure of a tall man whose intense gaze was fixed on the closed blooms.

The Shopkeeper.

“Thorn Princess,” he welcomed her with a faint nod.

She bowed her head respectfully in greeting. “Shopkeeper.”  

He gave her an assessing look. “I heard what happened. I hope you do not  take any drastic actions.”

She stood straight, the weight of his words sinking in, but her resolve remained unshaken. “I cannot afford to hold back anymore,” she said, her voice steady, though the underlying tension in her tone was unmistakable. “I can’t let anyone hurt my family.

He regarded her with quiet assessment, his gaze sharp. "I know what you're feeling. This is personal for you now. But you must understand, The Garden does not operate on feelings."

He looked at her thoughtfully, his sunken dark eyes probing her every movement. “I thought this family was for camouflage?”

A breath caught in her throat, the weight of his words sinking deep.  "It was," she replied, her voice steady but tinged with something sharper beneath. "But now... “

The Shopkeeper looked away. “I see.” He smiled faintly and gave her a nod. “In truth, I have no intention to turn you away from this. But please consider this…” He gave her a sever look. “If your identity were to get out as a consequence of this, even if your boy was the one left living to tell the tale…” he sighed. “If you intend to continue work and remain part of the Forger family, please remember the need for discretion.”

Oh.

Maybe she should not have told Frany about her identity earlier. It was rash of her, she knew, but she hoped he would keep her secret.

He was Loid’s friend after all.

She wished Loid was awake right now, she wished she didn’t have to do it alone.

But wishes alone wouldn’t help her right now.

“I understand,” she nodded.

“Good,” the Shopkeeper said, extending a hand toward her with a stack of papers. She studied the file meticulously. “The main suspects behind the attack on your husband and the kidnapping of your son have been under observation by our Intelligence since their arrival in the city. Outwardly, they appear to be a Japanese medical company set on establishing foreign ties, but in truth, they are a foreign mafia operating in the underbelly of our country.”

“Mafia?” she was surprised. “But why would they want Osamu?”

"That is a good question, indeed. Regardless of their intentions, they have made even the most influential families of the criminal world nervous."

The Shopkeeper gazed thoughtfully at the closed blooms. "Tell me, Thorn Princess, have you ever heard of Ability Users?"

The room was opulent and tastefully furnished, containing every comfort one could imagine. It was also locked. He couldn’t leave the room, and to enter, one would have to go through the guard outside—a single guard, but few could fight an ability user. Even if he were to cancel The Golden Demon, he still wouldn’t be able to escape. Not with so many of the Port Mafia here, not when he was small and weak. He was useless, and he hated himself for his weakness. 

His stomach lurched.

He remembered his stupid stupid old man holding him, as he was surrounded by the Mafia on all sides, not letting go even for a second.

Now he is not alone. And if any of them has a weakness, the others will cover for them, he remembered the man say. 

But this wasn’t Mr. Spy’s fault, was it? Dazai had no one to blame but himself.

His clothes were still covered in dried blood. He pulled his knees closer to his chest, curling in on himself.

He heard the footsteps, before a man came in. Kouyou silently stood near the door, observing them.

"Shuuji-kun," Dazai twitched at the name. "You still haven’t changed your clothes." The man glanced at the bowl of porridge that Dazai had been offered earlier, still untouched. "Nor eaten anything. And you shouldn't keep sitting on the hard floor in the corner like that. "

The man sighed and crouched to be on the same level as him. Dazai refused to look at him.

"Do you remmeber me, Shuuji-kun?"

Dazai looked at him, frowning. Did he remember him? He wasn’t sure. He remembered so many things, he wasn’t sure if the blurry memories of his childhood were indeed the memories of this life.

The only things he remembered with stark clarity were the smell of antiseptic, knives glinting under the fluorescent lights, and hands tightly holding his limbs in place.

But there was something about this man that triggered something familiar. Suddenly, a realization struck him, as if a veil lifted. The man before him, the one crouched with that gentle expression, was the same one from his past—Fujimoto, his old babysitter. It clicked into place, like pieces of a long-forgotten puzzle. Fujimoto-san.

Fujimoto-san smiled slightly, just a subtle upturn of his lips.

"You've grown. Though still tiny."

Dazai blinked, surprised by the small flicker of warmth in his chest, but he pushed it away quickly. "And you got promoted," he said bitterly, his voice hollow. An Executive of Port Mafia, that much was obvious from his clothes and the way everyone followed his orders. "And now you want to take me back."

Fujimoto's gaze softened, but he didn’t respond right away.

"Boss’s orders," he finally said, his voice low.

Dazai felt his jaw tremble and his eyes burn, but he was determined not to cry.

"Boss had no problem selling me off to the military before, so what's his problem now?" Dazai’s voice cracked, betraying the anger and the pain he'd been holding in for so long.

He wished none of this was happening. He didn’t want to remember, to know. Didn’t want to think of Port Mafia, Yokohama  and abilities.

He wanted to read fairy tales with Miss Yor and eat crab cakes for dinner, which his old man cooked for him, and then go to sleep with Jiji and his crab toy, and...

I want to go home.

The man sighed, but didn’t say anything before turning to Kouyou, who was watching them curiously.

“Ozaki,” he began, his tone soft but serious. “I need you to look after him. I don’t trust the rest of the people here to look after a child.”

Kouyou raised an eyebrow, her gaze shifting from Dazai to the man. Her expression remained unreadable, but there was an understanding in her eyes. “You’re asking me to babysit, then?”

He nodded, his face set with determination. “I know it’s not your usual role, but he’s... The Young Master is still just a child, though not just any child. I’m not sure anyone else here will take the care he needs."

Kouyou’s eyes flickered to Dazai for a brief moment, her expression unreadable. She gave a small nod. “You’re asking me to look after him, then?”

“I’m not asking for a babysitter,” the man replied, his tone gentle but firm, steppinh closer to her. “I just want someone who can ensure he’s safe and doesn’t hurt himself. We can’t afford to let him get caught up in any more trouble.”

Kouyou studied him for a moment longer, her lips curving ever so slightly. “Alright. I’ll look after him.”

Dazai listened, his mind drifting through the conversation. The way they spoke to each other wasn’t like the cold, business-like exchanges  between a superior and their subordinate. There was something warmer, something... more familiar. The way they seemed to understand each other without saying much—small glances, the soft shift in posture, the way they communicated as if they had known each other for years—it suddenly clicked for Dazai.

They were a couple.

Kouyou’s voice broke his thoughts. “I’ll make sure he’s alright,” she said gently, looking at the man with a soft but reassuring smile.

The man nodded in response, visibly relaxing just a bit. “Thank you, Ozaki,” he murmured. “I appreciate it.”

Behind the wide sleeves of Kouyou’s sleeves, he noticed they were holding hands.

Bleh.

The man gave Dazai a stern look. “Don’t make this harder than it already is. Stay out of trouble.”

Dazai didn’t respond, his mind still occupied with the new realization. He watched them for a moment longer, trying to push past the strange, unsettling feeling.

Even if they weren't the worst mafiosi ever, they still had kidnapped him. They had control over him. That was the reality. And he was still trapped in it, no matter what else he discovered about them.

Chapter Text

The blueprints, photos, and all the intel laid out before her, courtesy of The Garden and Franky, were exactly what she needed. She was relieved to see that the information they had gathered aligned perfectly.

The Port Mafia—or Tsushima Corporation, as they were publicly known—had an office in the business district of Berlint, but their true base was a different matter entirely.

She studied the data carefully.

The Newton Castle, perched on a cliff in the isolated mountains outside of Berlint, held a commanding view of the surrounding area—an ideal vantage point for their operations.

She began prepping her gear, mentally preparing for the infiltration ahead.

“Yor…” Franky spoke up, his voice tinged with hesitation. “Once this is over… you know that Loid will eventually find out about your profession, right? One way or another.”

She shook away the memories. Now was not the time.

She needed to focus. There was no room for mistakes.

She had done this a thousand times before. Even if the enemy had an entire garrison here, that would not stop her. 

But they didn’t know she was coming, the darkness was her protection, shadows cloaking her.

At first glance, the castle was seemingly abandoned, but she knew better.

With a swift flex of her fingers, she gripped the twin stilettos, their blades gleaming under the muted light filtering through the castle's narrow windows. She steeled herself, the cool metal reassuring in her hands, as she stepped deeper into the heart of the fortress occupied by the enemy.

She would not let anyone walk away tonight.

One. Two. Three.

She spotted her first prey.

A quick breath. She moved.
Her movements were precise, calculated, instinctive. No thought, just action.

“An intruder! An intru –“but the man never finished the sentence as her stiletto was sticking out from his throat, painting the stone floors of the castle red.

Osamu stared at the floor before him blankly.  

He felt cold.

He wandered how much time had passed since he got kidnapped? Was it an hour? A day? He didn’t know, having lost a sense of time a long time ago. The room he was placed in had no windows, so he had no time to even check the time of the day. He heard footsteps of the mafiosi coming and going behind his door, though since the first visit from Fujimoto-san no one came to visit him, but he was sure Kouyou was keeping watch.

He wondered if his old man was still alive.

Must have been ill luck for him, to choose Dazai of all people among the children of the orphanage. And now he ended up like this.

Dead.

Dazai himself should have known better than to doom him by his mere presence.

Anything worth wanting is lost to me the moment I obtain it.

He felt weird moisture in his eyes.

Dazai scratched at his wrist beneath the bandages, the irritated skin breaking open and bleeding. The pain eased the gnawing guilt that consumed him.

He knew, in a way, he must have been cursed.

He wandered if Miss Yor was okay.

Distantly he heard a muffled sound of gunshots, making him jump in place.

What?

He looked at the door curiously. Was their base being attacked?

He heard the echoes of shouts and gunshots, but nothing definitive. He came closer, putting his ear to the door. Trying to hear more of what was happening.

“…yes, dear. Are you sure?” Dazai heard Kouyou say, butcouldn’t make out what the person on the other end of the line was saying. “Very well. I understand.”

Before he could eavesdrop any longer, the door suddenly opened and Kouyu came in, frowning at him.  

“Child. It is time for us to go,” she took his hand in hers, covering him from outside view with the voluminous sleeves of her kimono.  

“I don’t want to,” he mumbled.

“Such is the way of the mafia,” she answered cooly, but gave him a pitying look. Dazai hated her pity.

With a firm hand on his shoulder, she led him somewhere.

Dazai assumed it was his own doom.

Father, and the thought sent the chills down his spine.

He wondered if that’s how prisoners on the death row felt as they were led to the hanging noose.

But Dazai felt like a noose would be mercy in his circumstances.          

Peeking out from beneath Kouyou's pink sleeves, he observed the place he had been brought to. He had been so out of it the last time, he hadn’t paid it any mind before.

As they left the room, he and Kouyou walked down the long stone corridor. He looked out of the window and was surprised to find himself in a damn castle. He saw the sprawling landscape outside, rolling hills that stretched out into the distance, dotted with patches of thick forest, the ancient towers and stone walls looming high above the ground.

The sound of gunshots became more pronounced. There was fighting happening right now.

Someone was raiding the port mafia base right now. Why?

He gave Kouyou an uncertain look. Her hand on his shoulder tightened.

Kouyou led him down and down the round stairs of a tower, her steps silent. The winding corridors confused him, though he tried to keep track of where they were going, despite knowing it was a useless endeavor.

In truth, Dazai might have enjoyed a walk through the castle, if he wasn’t so numb. It was almost as if he was in a fairytale, except no gallant prince was coming to save him.  

Maybe he was just living out his own version of one of those old, morbid fairy tales,  the kind that always ended in tragedy.

He heard someone scream.

They came down to a garden, once cared for but now long abandoned, its paths hidden beneath a tangle of overgrown ivy and wild grasses. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves.  For a brief moment the wild roses caught his eye and almost stole Dazai’s breath away.

Their petals were a deep blood-red, and thick thorns lined their stems. The thorns curled like tiny claws, sharp and unforgiving, reaching out to catch anyone who dared venture too close.

" – go get her!" he heard distant screams and tried to look for the source, but all he saw was the untamed greenery surrounding them.

But the sounds of the battle reached him nonetheless – distant shouts, crack of gunfire.

Kouyou gripped his shoulder tightly, hurrying him along the road, her movements controlled and precise.

She was on guard and knew this was dangerous.

She placed a hand to the listening device in her ear. “Yes, we’re already on our way,” she paused. “Will you?” Her voice was soft, almost gentle.

For a moment Dazai thought she sounded… vulnerable.

Whatever the answer was, Dazai didn’t catch it. They continued their procession in silence.

As they reached the outer courtyard, Dazai heard Kouyou suck in a breath, and he himself could only stare in shock at the scenery before him.

Countless bodies of dead mafiosi littered the ground, all of them bleeding out from all kinds of wounds.

No one was left alive.

Who did this?

How many men were here?

Why?

“Let’s go.” She all but dragged him away through the piles of bodies,

The sounds of fighting continued in the distance and Dazai doubted Port Mafia was winning.

Serves them right.

They came to an open area, and he felt something twist in his stomach.

He thought they were going to hide him somewhere.

Not –

He didn’t want to go!

The helicopter stood on the landing sight, a pilot already waiting for them.

Reality finally fully sunk in and he couldn’t help the rush of panic gripping him.

“No, no,” he tried to protest, planting his feet into the ground and refusing to follow her. A lump in his throat made it hard to breathe, and he felt himself hyperventilating. “I don’t want to go!”

Kouyou frowned. “You must.”

“I don’t want to – “he let out an embarrassing whine, but he just couldn’t make himself take another stop. Once they were off, it was over for him.

There would be no going back.

She didn’t answer him, only taking his bandages wrist in a vice grip and dragging him to the helicopter.

He tried to bite, to whine, to scream and plead and beg, but it was no use.

She slid open the helicopter –

Suddenly, with a loud clank! a golden stiletto came flying where Kouyou’s head was half a moment ago.

The sound of the blade hitting the steel set his ears ringing.

He turned around to see who came for them –

“I’m afraid this is where you stop. I am here to take my son back,” he heard a familiar voice.

A breath caught in his throat.

“Mama!” he exclaimed in shock, but before he could blink, he felt Kouyou snatch him and roll to the side to dodge a knife flying at her.

“Osamu!” she gave him a look he couldn’t fully decipher. “I –“

“Kouyou-sama!” he heard a man shout out before she could finish the sentence, as a firing squad came rushing in. “An intruder! A sole woman – “

“Fire!” Kouyou ordered, pulling out her own sword, from the umbrella she was carrying.

“No!” Dazai couldn’t help but cry out in fear, he didn’t want to see his mama die-

Yet in the blink of an eye, the first man of the squad was already dead, sending the rest of them into a frenzy.  He saw his mother using the fresh corpse as a shield, before sending it flying at them.

He couldn’t keep up with the movements.

After a moment they were all dead, a pile of corpses bathed in red.

He could only stare in silent shock as Miss Yor – his mama – the one who sang lullabies and read fairy tales to him, and always held him so gently, pulled out a golden stiletto from the corpse of a mafioso.

She pointed her blade at Kouyou. “As I said already, I am here to take my son back. Step aside and no one else needs to die.” Her voice was cold, so unlike the gentle and warm way, she always spoke to him.

“You’re the one who took down all our men,” Kouyou stated matter-of-factly, her sword held at the ready. “It seems we’ve underestimated the enemy.”

Osamu held his breath.

Yor stated at the woman – the girl – in front of her, at the blade she was holding. For a brief moment, she saw herself, the girl she had once been, in her.

But it didn’t matter.

She was here to take her son back.

In one fluid motion, she lunged forward, her stilettos cutting through the air with precision. The girl raised her blade to parry, but Yor’s movements were quicker, more lethal. Each strike was calculated, a dance of death that she had perfected over years of training and experience.

Strike hard, strike first, no mercy.

"Step aside," Yor said, her voice steady and cold.

The girl faltered slightly, caught off guard by the overwhelming speed and power in Yor's strikes. But she didn’t relent—she wasn’t going to back down. Their blades clashed again, a sharp, echoing sound that filled the space between them.

Yor’s golden stiletto whistled through the air, the sharp point aimed directly at the girl’s chest. Her eyes were locked on the target, every muscle in her body poised for the kill. The blade was mere inches away from striking when—

The girl moved.

In a flash, she ducked to the side, narrowly avoiding the deadly thrust. Yor’s blade grazed the air where her target had been only a heartbeat earlier, the force of the missed strike sending a tremor through her arm.

The girl’s eyes widened, but she quickly regained composure, springing into a defensive stance. Sweat bead on her brow, but she wasn’t backing down.

“You are good,” the girl was still slightly heaving from the close encounter with death. Her girl’s eyes flickered with determination, and for a moment, the tension between them thickened. Yor could feel it—an energy shifting in the air around them. “But this ends now.”

Danger! her instincts seemed to scream.

“Golden Demon!”

“No!” she heard Osamu scream out in terror.

She didn’t have time to think, to consider. On pure instinct she jumped to the side, dodging the blade that came thrusting at her.

For the first time since she was a girl, only starting out as an assassin, she felt an animalistic sort of terror settle in her bones.

A predator.

A being made of gold and light towered over her, its sharp katana seemed to be made of the sun itself. The demon’s glowing eyes locked onto her.

"Thorn Princess, "she remembered the Shopkeeper say. “Have you ever heard of Ability Users?”

The sheer force of its presence sent a jolt through her body, rattling her focus for just a split second.

It was enough.

The golden demon’s katana came down in a blinding arc, and for the first time in years, Yor’s reflexes faltered. The massive blade sliced through the air with a force so overwhelming that it seemed to distort reality itself. She barely managed to step back in time, but the edge of the katana grazed her shoulder, leaving a burning, jagged wound in its wake.

The shock of the hit was enough to force her to stagger back. Her breath quickened as she reeled from the immense power of the strike. The golden demon was more than just an opponent—it was an overwhelming force, its presence draining and suffocating.

Before she could recover, the spirit lunged again, its enormous katana swinging in a brutal horizontal arc. Yor barely managed to dodge, the blade slicing through the air where she had been, sending a shockwave that rattled her bones. The ground beneath her cracked as the katana cut through it like a hot knife through butter.  

She gritted her teeth, trying to regain her composure, but the demon was relentless. Each attack was more powerful than the last, and Yor found herself dodging, parrying, and retreating just to keep pace. The air was thick with the golden spirit’s energy, and each time she moved, she felt a surge of power that made her hesitate—if only for a fraction of a second.

The spirit’s katana slashed again; this time aimed directly for her head. Yor twisted her body, narrowly avoiding the strike, but the shockwave from the swing still sent her tumbling backward, her feet skidding across the ground.

She barely managed to regain her balance before the next strike came—an overhead slash so fast and brutal that it seemed to tear through the very air. Doubt crept into Yor’s mind. Could she really face this?

“Mama!” came a teary cry, and she barely heard it past the ringing in her ears.

Oh.

She couldn’t afford to hesitate.

Osamu was right in front of her.

Her child was right there.

She had to win this. She had to protect him.

Wasn’t this the reason she was fighting in the first place? To protect?

She needed to think. No matter what this thing she was facing truly was, she knew anyone could be killed.

The demon wasn’t her opponent – the mafia girl was.  She was the one who summoned it – if Yor got to her, it would be over.

An Ability User.

The demon slashed again, and she barely dodged it in time. She couldn’t get close to the other woman, and she couldn’t risk her last remaining weapon in a throw.

“Osamu!” she called out hoping the boy wasn’t too shocked to move. “Get out of here and hide. I will find you once this is over,” she tried to sound calm and confident, but in truth she knew she was getting tired. She has been fighting for a long time now and the thing – no, the girl – was a dangerous opponent.

The demon brought down its huge katana and ground beneath it cracked, sending dust and stones, flying and blinding her. She couldn’t help but cry out, her legs giving out.

For a moment, all she could see was the Golden Demon looming over her, its burning eyes focused entirely on her before –

Suddenly, the world came alive in a light of white and blue, completely devouring the monster, until no speck of gold remained.

She managed to catch the fall, immediately standing back up.

“You brat!” she heard the girl cry out.

Now was her chance. Among the field of dust and debris, Osamu was standing close to her enemy.

The world around her blurred as adrenaline sharpened her focus. In her mind, there was nothing but the target and her purpose.
The ground trembled beneath her feet as she sprinted forward, her last remaining stiletto pointed at her target. A single strike would be all it took.

In a split-second Osamu cried out in pain as he was sent flying to the side.

Fear flashed through girl’s eyes as Yor closed the distance in a heartbeat. She dodged the katana that was about to strike and lifted her blade to bring down into the girl’s chest-

But it never landed.

Instead, her blade struck the chest of the thing she was fighting before.

The Golden Demon.

It had blocked her blade to protect its master from a lethal strike.

And yet even an ability had its weaknesses, as it began to disappear in a gentle golden glow beneath her blade.

The girl fell back, clearly panicked at this turn of events.

Yor prepared to charge at her but then—

Crack!

The sharp sound of a gunshot cut through the noise of their fight, and Yor’s instincts took over. She twisted, her body flowing like water, just as the bullet zipped past her, close enough to feel the heat in the air. Without missing a beat, she dropped into a crouch, moving with fluid precision to avoid the next two shots.

“Ozaki!” the man rushed in standing in front of the girl – Ozaki, she now knew – shielding her. He was covered in blood and wounded to the side. It seemed she missed this one earlier. He pointed his gun at her.

She directed her blade at him.

“Mama!” Osamu cried out and coughed, running to her. She caught him with her free arm, pushing him behind her, still focused on the threat in front of her.

“Stand behind me,” she told him as gently as she could.  

They were at a standstill.

“It seems,” the man said, his voice measured. “We have underestimated our opponent.”  

“You brought this upon yourself, when you hurt my family.”

The man only hummed in response, giving her a thoughtful look. “Whoever claimed that ‘nothing cuts like a mother’ was right, indeed.”  She shifted to hide Osamu further from view.

He suddenly pulled out something from his, she braced to protect Osamu, but in the blink of an eye the smoke filled the area covering their escape.

She knew she should chase them down, she knew she would win now, but –

Osamu clutched onto her bloody skirt tightly.

She couldn’t leave him. He was the reason she was here in the first place.

She put her blade in a holster, crouching before the boy.

Osamu was covered in dust and grime, with blood—both old and fresh—staining his face, hands, and clothes. He heaved heavily, staring at her with wide shocked eyes.

She wanted to wrap her arms around him, to hold him but she hesitated. The blood on her hands felt cold

She looked at his wide eyes.

Was he scared of her?

It felt wrong to hold a child with blooded hands

The boy’s lips trembled, and before she could find the right words, she suddenly had an armful of a heaving six-year-old.

“M-mama,” he whispered, his voice shaking.

“Shhhh, I’m here.”

Suddenly, he was wailing, crying like she had never seen before—as if a dam had broken—clutching onto her like a lifeline.

“Hush, you are safe now,” she murmured, trying to console him, gently rocking him in her arms.

It must have been very scary, to be taken away like that. And he saw her kill all those people. She hoped that...

Now was not the time, she thought

After a moment, she began humming the lullaby she knew Osamu liked. It was also the only lullaby she knew.

Beneath their silver shine

And drift to sleep

O sweet prince of mine

Drift to sleep

I don't know the rest of the words

Hmm hmm hmm...

She continued to hum the rest of the tune. Osamu calmed down somewhat, sniffing occasionally, still holding onto her.

"Shhhh, there we go,” she wiped his face. "It's okay, they are gone now."

She noticed that his little hands were covered in blood from holding onto her and her heart skipped a bit.

He looked at her with wide hopeful eyes. "Are we going home now?"

She didn't know the answer. Should she lie to him?

As soon as she discovered Loid and Osamu were missing, her first priority became getting him back. But by exposing her identity like that, she also knew her time with the Forgers would inevitably come to an end.

She wiped bits of blood from his face.

She hesitated, and Osamu almost seemed to sense her uncertainty. His eyes widened, a mix of understanding and fear flickering in them, before he clutched onto her even tighter.

"I know Mama is an assassin, and I don't care!" he cried, his voice breaking with desperation. "I don’t want Mama to leave! I don’t want another Mama, and I don’t care about blood or dead people!" He clung to her, his sobs raw and frantic.

"Osmau..."

"So just don't go!"

Her own eyes teared up then, and she held him tightly. She couldn’t help but feel relieved that he wasn’t scared of her, even after all he’d seen.

The sun was rising, and the new day had come.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice just loud enough for the two of them to hear. "Let’s go home."

Chapter Text

Osamu was clutching onto her, as she raced to the extraction point, where Yor knew Franky was waiting for her. The wound in her shoulder burned, numbing the feeling in her entire arm, but she couldn’t afford to slow down.

The rising sun painted the sky red.

As she neared the car, hidden from sight, Yor let out a sigh of relief. Franky, watching the surroundings through the hidden cameras, froze as he saw her. A look of shock came over his face. And what a picture she must make, she wondered, covered in gore and blood, with a small child in her arms.

“Yor!” he exclaimed. “How is the kid?” He opened the back door for her.

“We are okay,” she answered. Osamu was still holding onto her, silent, and made no reaction to the presence of another person.

He must be in shock, she worried.  

She thought of all the corpses she left behind that night, of the Golden Demon and its blade. Her shoulder burned.

She hoped The Garden would handle the clean-up.

“Let’s drive you straight back home then,” Franky said still giving her an apprehensive look. “Are you injured?”

Osamu sniffed quietly and looked up at her. “Mama injured?”

She tried to give him a reassuring smile. “I’m okay.” It didn’t seem enough to placate the boy, but the exhaustion took the better of him as he laid his head on her, thankfully uninjured, shoulder, his eyes dropping slightly.

She hummed to him, and the steady rocking of the car eventually lulled Osamu to sleep.

Franky glanced at her through the reflection in the rearview mirror.

“So, about the cover-up…Here is what I came up with,” he cleared his throat. “Though you should probably clean up first. And-” he smirked slightly. “How good are you at lying?”

Not good, she thought.

After all, it took her less than a month of co-living and co-parenting with Loid to completely blow her cover.

Having changed out of her bloody work clothes, Yor sat down with Osamu on the sofa, holding his hand. Osamu was still in his grimy, bloodstained clothes from the day, but Franky had insisted on leaving them on—it was all part of his "plan."

“Listen up, kid,” Franky crouched down in front of him. “A nice police officer is going to show up and ask you some questions. And here’s what you’re going to say…”

Yor didn’t want him talking to the police in the first place, but she understood the necessity.

The bell rang out at the Forger residence.

“Hello,” someone knocked, and Yor opened the door. “This is the Berlint Police Department,” a young officer greeted her. “Um, Miss Forger?”

“Yes, please come in,” she gestured for him to enter.

“I’m here to ask you some questions about yesterday’s attack,” he said, stepping into the living room. “I understand your husband was injured, and the reports say your child was with him, but there were no traces of him at the scene. So we thought—WHAT is that!” The officer practically jumped in place as he saw Osamu, bloody and frazzled, sitting on the sofa.

“Oh, that, uh…” the officer stammered.

“Oh, hi!” Franky said. “We are always happy to see the police here! We are counting on you guys to keep us safe!  

“Ahah,” the officer laughed awkwardly, eyes darting from the boy to Yor to Franky and back. “So, Mrs Forger,” he cleared his throat. “If you would tell what you know… and about the boy. This is your son, I presume.”

“Yes. Osamu Forger,” she smiled awkwardly.

“And you are?” he looked at Franky in question.

‘Oh, I am friend of the family! Franky Franklin!”

“I see, thank you.” The man smiled at him politely.

The officer then squinted at the boy sitting on the couch, his eyes flicking back to Yor. Osamu looked like he had just stepped out of a battle, his clothes in tatters and his face smeared with blood, but there was no mistaking the confusion in his wide eyes.

"Osamu Forger?" The officer repeated slowly, still unsure how to handle the situation. He was trying, but there was no doubt he was thrown off guard by this peculiar scene. "He’s... injured, but he doesn’t appear to be in the same kind of danger as, well..." He glanced at Franky, who was still grinning like nothing was amiss.

Yor nodded, her smile tight but polite. "Yes, that's right. He's... fine, mostly. Just a little bump here and there." She motioned toward the boy as if it was perfectly normal to see him like this. "He’s had a rather eventful day, you see."

The officer seemed to struggle to make sense of her calm demeanor in the face of what was clearly a chaotic situation. "He was at the scene of the attack,I suppose..." he said, still holding onto his official tone, though his discomfort was evident. "We were told your husband, Mr. Forger, was seen with the boy during the attack, but there was no sign of him when we arrived. And no one knows where he went."

Franky, still leaning casually against the wall, piped up. "Oh, the kid’s a runner. You’d be surprised how fast he is when he’s in trouble."

The officer’s eyebrows furrowed. "He’s… that fast? And, uh… didn’t leave any trace? He was with your husband, you say?"

Yor tilted her head slightly, trying to keep her composure, but her voice wavered just a fraction as she responded. "Yes, he was with his father. But, um, Osamu isn’t exactly one to stick around when things get too dangerous."

Franky laughed, clearly enjoying the officer’s confusion. "He gets his speed from me!”

And what’s that supposed to mean? Yor wondered.

“Ah, so… do you mind if I ask the boy some questions?”

Yor's smile faltered for a brief moment, but she quickly regained her composure. She glanced over at Osamu, who was still sitting on the couch, looking both frazzled and unusually quiet, as if he were still processing everything that had happened.

"Osamu, dear," Yor began gently, "I don't think the officer wants to ask you too many hard questions. Just answer as best as you can, okay?"

Osamu nodded slowly, still staring at the officer blankly.

The officer, sensing the tension, cleared his throat awkwardly. "I just need to ask a few simple things, young man. It won’t take long." He looked at Osamu with a forced smile, trying to appear reassuring. "I just need to know where you were during the incident. Any details you remember could be helpful."

Osamu took a deep breath. “Me and dad were walking back home from the hospital, when some bad guys showed up. They said they ran away from the loony bin where that dad had put them to.”

“Ah…” the officer stared at him in shock.

“One of the bad guys said that the voices in his head told him to do it.”

“Then there were loud sounds and dad felt-” his lower lip trembled ah he tried to hold back tears. Yor didn’t think it was fake. She gently took his small hand in hers. “Dad felt sick. And I ran away. Really fast.” He sniffed and rubbed his eyes. “And then mama found me.”

The officer scribbled furiously in his notebook. His mouth hung open for a moment before he managed to stammer, “The… loony bin? You mean… the psychiatric facility?”

He gave Yor a questioning look. “Your husband is a psychatrit, yes?”

She nodded.

“I see… Well thank you for your answeres. Its been really helpful. Osamu, do you remember anything else?”

Osamu waved his head, leaning into her for comfort.

“My son needs rest. He’s been through enough already,” Yor interjected, her voice cold.

The officer scratched the back of his head, clearly unsure of how to proceed. "Of course, Mrs. Forger. I just... I need to get some answers. But we can always come back later, if need be."

Franky shot the officer a wide, reassuring grin. "See? No rush, pal. These things take time. We’ll be happy to help when the kid’s feeling a little less... frazzled."

The officer gave a quick nod, still looking uneasy. "Right. Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Please let me know if you remember anything important. Right... Well, thank you for your time." He gave a curt nod and slowly started backing away toward the door.

As the officer left, Yor exhaled softly, her eyes meeting Franky's with a look that combined both relief and caution. "That was too close."

She looked down at her little boy then, who was still holding onto her, seeking comfort and reassurance.

“Lets take a bath and then go to sleep, yeah?” she said to Osamu gently, taking him into her arms. He mumbled something ito her shoulder that he didn’t make out.

“What?”

“Is dad alive?” he looked up at her, unshed tears glistening in his eye. “He’s not dead?”

Oh.

“No, sweetheart,” she shushed him. “He is in the hospital for now, but he will be alright.”

Osamu hid his face in her shoulder and nodded silently.

Yor could only hope that what she said wouldn’t turn out to be a lie.

The first thing that pierced through the haze was the beeping. Rapid. Erratic. The rhythm was wrong. It was almost suffocating. The beeping felt too loud, too close, like it was inside the skull, pressing against the temples.

Eyes blinked open—too bright, too white. The fluorescent lights above stung as he tried to adjust, but the room was spinning, tilting, tilting too fast.

Where am I?

He tried to flex his fingers, but the movement felt strange, alien.

Distantly he heard gasps of surprise. Someone was in the room with him.

But who was he?

He tried to remember his own name.

My name is…

He struggled to remember.

Oh.

His name, his real name was [REDACTED]

But no, that wasn’t his name anymore.

He abandoned this name a log time ago.

He was Twilight now.

He was in Ostania on a mission…to do what?

The beeping got louder, and his head pulsed with it.

He needed to get a child and a wife for the mission.

A child.

Oh.

Suddenly he remembered everything.

“No, no, no,” he heard Osamu whisper franticly, still clutching onto his jacket. “You can’t, you can’t, you can’t – “

A sharp pain flared  in his chest, where he had been stabbed.

Where was he?

Where was Osamu?

He tried to sit up, to move, but his limbs felt like lead.

He needed –

“W-what—where?” The voice was barely a whisper, cracked, hoarse from disuse. The words scraped his throat as if he hadn’t spoken in years.

He needed to –

How long had it been? A day? A week? A year?

“Mr. Forger,” the doctor, dressed in all white, said. “Please lay down, all is well."

But all was not well.

He needed to know.

What happened to his family?         

Chapter Text

For a while he drifted in and out of consciousness, trying to use the brief moments he was awake to collect his thoughts, to find out what happened. He heard voices talking to him, about him, but nothing concrete.

When he finally came to, it was the harsh white lights and the sterile smell of antiseptic that greeted him. The steady beep-beep of the machine beat in rhythm of his heart.

A nurse was by his side, monitoring him. “Mr. Forger, you are awake.”

“I –” he cleared his throat and tried to speak, but the oxygen mask made it hard. “What happened? My family? And… my son?”

The nurse smiled kindly at him, while checking his vitals. “Your family just came to visit you. You missed them by the fraction.”

What?

“Who exactly?”

“Your wife and you son. Such a precious boy,” she smiled.

A wave of disbelief hit him, followed quickly by confusion. His mind scrambled, trying to piece together how this could have happened. The foreign mafioso that attacked them were after Osamu, of that he was certain. But now the boy was here and came to visit him with Yor. Had the SSS stepped in? Did Yor’s little brother speed up the process? Or was it something else entirely?

He didn’t know how but couldn’t help but feel grateful.

And yet, the gratitude that followed was bittersweet. He didn’t know how, but he felt an overwhelming appreciation, not just for the safety of the boy, but for the fact that, against all odds, he had been spared the boy from the cruelty of the world they lived in. Somehow, someone had protected him. And for that, Twilight would forever be in their debt.

For a moment, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for endangering the boy, but he also knew the mafiosi weren’t there because of Twilight. No, they were there after the Osamu himself.

Looks like I am not the one here with a shady past, he thought with dark amusement.

A doctor came to his medical room and Twilight resigned himself the following check-up.

He wondered about WISE, and what they were up to. The Handler must be tearing her hair out at this fiasco.

Thankfully, at least his brain hadn’t been scrambled up during the attack, but his chest hurt like something terrible. He was lucky to still have two of his lungs.

His thoughts drifted to that night.

There was a flash of light, and the blade pierced his chest.

His chest ached. What was it that almost killed him back then? There was nothing behind him at that moment, only his fellow agents covering his back. And yet…

It was almost as if something appeared out of nowhere right behind hm.

He thought of WISE agents that came to his aid and died for it. He thought of his past friends, long gone now—fallen victims to the chaos and carelessness of an operation gone horribly wrong.

Ignorance is a sin.

“Mr. Forger,” the doctor addressed him, his tone professional but gentle. "You’re lucky to be alive. The damage to your chest was severe— you took a serious piercing wound, but we were able to stabilize you in time."

Twilight's mind raced, but his body felt heavy. The doctor's words seemed to drift into focus, one after another.

"You will recover," the doctor continued, "but it’s going to take time. The wound was deep, and though the internal bleeding has stopped, and your vital signs are stable, it’s important that you give your body time to heal. The road ahead won’t be easy. Your stamina and physical capabilities might never return to what they once were, and you may face lingering pain or weakness for quite some time."

Twilight’s chest tightened. Never the same again? The words were a blow, far more damaging than the injury itself. He’d trained his entire life to be physically sharp, to push his limits—how could he function with these restrictions? How could he protect his family or complete his mission if his body betrayed him?

"You’ll need rest, physical therapy, and a gradual return to activity," the doctor added, as if sensing his concern. "But we’re hopeful. The human body can be resilient. With proper care, you’ll regain much of what was lost."

Twilight nodded, absorbing the information, but the weight of his situation pressed harder with every word. It was a new reality to confront, one he hadn’t prepared for. 

“You family has been notified that you’ve regained consciousness. I’ve been told they wish to come again. Do you agree on a visit?”

Twilight’s mind briefly flickered to his ‘fake’ family, then to WISE, then to his mission. And yet, he wanted to make sure, to see with his own eyes that they were alright. That Osamu was safe.

“It’s time to return home, Shuji. Your Father is waiting.”

The memory left a bitter taste in his mouth. He wondered what kind of life Osamu had even before coming to that orphanage.

Twilight doubted it was a kind one.

His mind flickered back to his own past, as he cried in the ruins of his home. But no matter how much he cried, no one came to save him.

He sighed.

“Yes, I agree,” he cleared his throat and gave his best polite smile.  “Also, would you be so kind as to raise the bed to a half-sitting position? Lying flat for an entire visit would be far too awkward.”

The doctor gave an understanding, if a little amused smile.

“Please don’t make any sudden movements, especially with your torso, as to not aggravate the wound. The surgery was successful, and the wound is healing nicely, but you need to be careful.”

Twilight nodded in understanding.

He settled on meditating while he waited. He had to collect his thoughts and regain his composure.  He had to think rationally, keep his emotions in check, and proceed with caution. He couldn't afford any more mistakes. He had to dig deeper, find the missing pieces.

It was his job as an Intelligence Agent.

A knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts.

“Please come in,” he said.

The door opened, and the sight almost stole his breath away. Yor looked at him with an expression that even he, an experienced spy, couldn’t fully parse out, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.  A small hand was clutching onto her dress and as a mop of brown hair picked out from behind Yor, two big brown eyes looking at him shyly. Twilight let out a relieved breath.

So, Osamu was okay.

“Loid,” Yor said, sounding breathless. “You are okay,” she sat by his bedside, “I’m glad.”

“Doctors say I will live,” he tried to sound reassuring. Yor gave him a relieved smile.

He looked at Osamu, who was still standing behind Yor and silently observing them.

“Hello,’ Twilight tried to give him his best reassuring smile. 

The boy’s jaw trembled for a moment, like he was trying his hardest not to cry.  

“I’m s—” He sniffled, his small shoulders trembling just slightly as he looked up at Twilight with a mix of uncertainty and relief. “I’m sorryyyy,” he suddenly bawled, launching himself to the edge of the bed and crying his eyes out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Yor immediately crouched by his, laying her hands on his shoulders, trying to comfort him. Twilight sighed warily and after only a moment of hesitation gently patted his hair.

“It was not your fault,” he said softly, his voice calm yet firm, as he looked down at Osamu, who was still sobbing in Yor’s embrace.

Osamu's sobs came in uneven bursts, the weight of his emotions clearly too much for him to bear. “I didn’t want… I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he choked out between sobs, his small body shaking.

“You didn’t cause this.” He paused, searching for the right words. “Sometimes things happen that are out of our control. But it’s never your fault.”

The boy looked up at him then, giving him an uncertain look. “I suppose you are right. Sometimes bad things just happen…”

It was a harsh truth, but a truth, nevertheless.

“I’m glad you are okay,” the boy mumbled into the sheets, no doubt smearing his snot and tears all over it. Twilight only sighed fondly.

They chatted for a while and Twilight was ashamed to admit it to himself, but his heart felt just a little lighter. He was a spy, he wasn’t meant to get attached, but…

Well, he wasn’t too attached, right?

He was just looking out for them. They were at risk because of his mission, and he could hardly leave the boy to the mafia of all things.

He sighed to the silence of his medical room. It was night already, and he hoped someone from WISE would give him a follow up soon on what he missed.  But no one came and eventually the sleep took him.

The following week passed in a blur of medical procedures, dull conversations with nurses, and occasional visits from family. But it was Franky’s visit that really gnawed at Twilight. The man had come by, as he always did—casual, grinning, and full of his usual antics—but something in his eyes had been different. There was a tension in his shoulders, a weight to his words that hadn’t been there before. Franky didn’t say anything concrete, no cryptic messages, no outright warnings, but Twilight had learned to read the subtle signs over the years. Something was off.

Unfortunately, discussing anything of consequence in the hospital room wasn’t an option. The walls felt too thin, the nurses too attentive. There was no telling who might be listening, and that was too dangerous, given the nature of his work.

When he asked him, and then Yor when she came on her own to visit him, how exactly Osamu got rescued, all he got in response were embarrassed looks and awkward attempts to change th topic of a conversation. Yor looked particularly uncomfortable.

Interesting.

And the only message from WISE he got was ‘everything is under control’ , which was not particularly reassuring. At least there were no emergencies at that moment

To his chagrin, Osamu was also skipping school, but Twilight knew it was understandable. The boy had been through a huge stress and pressing him with studies wouldn’t get them anywhere, Twilight knew, but it still vexed him.  

The morning of his transfer was less dramatic than Twilight had expected. The doctors came in early, their usual checks confirming that he was stable enough to move out of the Intensive Care Unit and into a general ward. They assured him that he was recovering well from the chest wound, and though the recovery would take time, it was now mostly a matter of getting his strength back.

Twilight didn’t feel much of a difference in the move. The machines were fewer, and the lights seemed a little dimmer in the general ward, but that only gave the place a dull, monotonous feel. But it didn’t matter, because he was back in his own hospital, if only as a patent instead of a doctor. And here, WISE had a foothold. It was time for him to catch up on everything that he missed.

He gave Nightfall a nod in greeting, while he was chatting with the rest of his ‘colleagues’. Yor and Osamu were with him that day too and the rest of the staff gave them curious looks.   

The first night of his stay in the General Wing he came to his own work cabinet, the only place in the hospital equipped against any kind of eavesdropping. He closed the door behind him with a click and turned around to greet his old friend?  Acquaintance? He wasn’t sure what to call them, but he and Franky knew each other for a long time and he knew he could count on him.

“Hey, mate,” was the greeting he got. “You look like shit.”

“Nice to see you too,” Twilight muttered. “I’m glad we can finally talk properly. No one has been telling me anything.”

“For a good reason too. WISE has been scrambling after the death of their agents, and the near-mortal injury of the best one. And, well…” he cleared his throat. “And the other reason is, well… Yor knows the two of you will have to talk eventually, but I figured I might give you a heads-up. As well as show you what else I found out.”

Twilight frowned. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

Franky gave him an uncertain look. “Well, Forger, maybe you should sit down for that.”

Twilight frowned but complied.

“First,” Franky started. “What do you know of the kid’s kidnappers?”

“A foreign mafia group, of that I am certain,” Twilight answered. “One of them called Osamu ‘Shuuji’, so that must be his birth name.” Twilight considered it. “The orphanage director called him that back then. But Osamu was against me calling him that,” he frowned, remembering that night. “One of the men said, ‘Father is waiting for you,’ so the boy is most likely the son of some Japanese Yakuza, or something similar. The real organization behind the front of ‘Tsushima Corporations.’

Franky gave him a considering look. “I see. Well, I suspected as much, minus the ‘son of the head of the Yakuza’ part. But that’s where things get messy,” Franky gave him a confused look. “How did you get fake-married to Yor, exactly?”

“I don’t see what it has to do with the kidnapping.”

“It has everything to do with a kidnapping!”

Franky let out a frustrated groan. “The night where I got the news of the attack, I rushed immediately to the hospital, and Yor was already there. She was beside herself with worry, I might add. And shocked too. So when she realized that Osamu was missing, well…” Franky gave him a wild look. “We had a conversation back home. Apparently… how do I put this…”

“Get to the point.”

“Yor—your wife—is an assassin!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

My wife is a—

What?

“What?”

“After I told her that I have shady contacts, so I could keep her updated on the investigation, she said I had to give the information to her! So she could hunt down the kidnappers herself!” Franky continued.

“Are you joking?” Twilight felt an irrational surge of anger. “Is this some big jest to you?”

“Look, mate, I am being completely serious.”

A pit settled in Twilight’s stomach, cold and heavy.

Twilight’s mind was racing, trying to process the bombshell Franky had just dropped. Yor? An assassin? It didn’t make sense. She was warm, kind—everything that seemed to contradict that notion. But then, didn’t everyone think him to be a laid-back, social Loid Forger, not Westalis’s best spy? Masks, secrets, lies. Was it so impossible that Yor—his Yor—could have hidden such a dangerous truth?

“I need to talk to her,” Twilight muttered, standing up from the bed, his mind spinning. The thought of Yor being involved in something so violent, so deadly, struck him with a mixture of disbelief and… unease.

“Hey, hey, sit down!” Franky settled him back on the sofa. “You barely walked here. Wouldn’t want to you to die now!”

Twilight swallowed a lump in his throat. He felt nauseous.

Yor lied to him.

(He lied to her too.)

But what was worse, weren’t the lies, no. The worst thing was, she lied to him, and he didn’t know.

How had this happened?

How could he not know?

Had he lost his edge?

“This can't be true,” he muttered. “Tell me it isn’t true.”

Franky gave him a pitying look.

Twilight closed his eyes and tried to collect his thoughts.

His mind kept circling back to the same cold realization: I invited an assassin into my home.

The woman he thought he knew. The woman who showed a whole different outlook on life, on parenting.

Something in his chest hurt, he was unsure if it was the wound.

He thought of Yor singing lullabies to Osamu and rocking him to sleep.

He thought of Yuri, and Yor saying, I just want to put my little brother at ease.

Was it all just part of the act? Had he ever really known her at all?

(Had she ever really known him, at all?)

“And then,” he asked Franky, his voice tight. “What happened then?”

Franky pulled out photos from his bag and laid them out on the table. On the photos was the Newstown Castle from above, but it was filled with carnage. Dead bodies of men and women in suits littered the ground. The photots were taken from up high, and he couldn’t see all the gory details, but it was enough. This couldn't be –

Yor couldn’t possibly have been the one to do that.

He remembered The Handler’s words. Don’t view everything in terms of black and white. Don’t try to make everything fit into your preconceived notions. And don’t rationalize!

“After that, I tracked down the real hideout of the Tsushima Corp. Whatever sources provided Yor with information, their information matched with mine. And then, well…” he gave Twilight a weary look. “She raided the hide-out. I didn’t see any back-up or any other assassins, and I observed from the above.”

Twilight felt cold. He looked at the photos and whatever files Franky provided on Tsushima Corporation. By all accounts, an entire battalion was here, all heavily armed.

“Single-handedly?”

Franky gave him a grim look. “Yes.”

Twilight let out a breath and looked at the ceiling, trying to get ahold of himself and his thoughts. He allowed him this one moment of weakness.

Ignorance is a weakness. Ignorance is a sin.

How could he have missed this?

He invited an assassin into his home, and had no idea.

“There is more, but at least process this first,” Franky frowned in thought. “Whatever the circumstances, the kid knows obviously, and he’s practically glued to her now. Really clingy, but understandable, considering everything that happened.”

He thought of his own words. Enduring a merciless job for the sake of someone else was not something that just anyone would do.

He couldn’t help but let out an incredulous laugh.

Franky gave him a concerned look.

What were the odds, he wondered, of a secret spy marrying a secret assassin?

Oh, the irony.

He sagged in the sofa and closed his eyes, trying to reconsider every encounter, every moment with Yor from this new perspective.

It made sense, in a way.

“After the, uh – rescue operation – I got them home, and we handled the cops. As far as everyone else is concerned, Osamu ran away and hid from the assailants, until Yor found him nearby. The entire castle was cleaned up soon after. I don’t think even WISE or SSS know of the slaughter.” He chuckled. “Well, your kid does.”

“I see.”

“What – ah? That’s all?” Franky gave him an incredulous look.

“What else am I supposed to say?”  This was exhausting. He had a lot to consider, mostly how to proceed from this point onward. “You said there is more?”

Franky gave him an uncertain look. “Yes. You were taken down by a piercing weapon, yes?”

“Yes.”

Franky opened the laptop and turned it to him, then pulled out more photos from the folder.

“First, take a look at this. This is the footage I got from one of my drones, the quality is not the best, but it shows enough.”

He turned on the video. The same castle, he saw groups of men, and a single black shadow, leaving corpses behind it.

That was, ah –

Well, that was his ‘fake’ wife.

Of, course.

Mh.

This was fine.

He continued to observe the footage. A helicopter, and a lone figure walking towards it. He squinted, looking closer. No, not a single figure. Was that –?

Osamu?

Then, before the helicopter took off Yor showed up. Franky paused at that and Twilight carefully picked the image apart. The quality wasn’t the best, but he recognized the mafioso that was with the boy.

Ozaki, that man had called her.

“I know her,” he pointed at the woman. “Red hair, pink kimono. She was there during the attack.”

Franky gave him a heavy look. “Look at this then,” he resumed the video.

He saw the woman and Yor engage in a close-combat fight, before getting some distance between them again. Then –

Twilight’s heart skipped a beat.

In a burst of golden light, a being that seemed to be spun from the sun itself materialized before Yor, a glowing sword in its hand.

Twilight immediately paused the video and stared at the screen in shock.

“This –” Twilight had no words.

Back then, in that accursed alleyway, there was a flash of light as the sword slid through his ribcage.

Franky didn’t say anything.

“What is this?”

Through his years in the military and working as a spy he had never seen anything like that. Nothing even close.

And yet, a suspicion gnawed at the edges of his mind. Old rumors, that he never took seriously. Nothing more than urban legends. A superstition. It should be impossible, and yet what he was witnessing was impossible. 

The Gifted.

“Continue, please.”

They continued watching, as Twilight carefully absorbed and analyzed every minute detail.  

Yor fought it. The creature was unnerving even from a far distance (and what a revelation it was! Twilight hadn’t been unnerved by anything since he was a child), he couldn’t imagine what it was like from up close. What stood out, was the moment when the being vanished just as it was about to strike Yor.

Why would it vanish? It didn’t seem intentional, because it was the most opportune moment for the final strike, and it reappeared later to protect the woman.

Was the redhead the one controlling it? She was there during the attack at the alleyway, and had no visible weapons on her.

How much control did she have over the thing?

Did it disobey her at that moment?

In the end, though, the smoke bomb blocked the vision of the scene, as two mafiosi slipped away.

Twilight stared at the black screen, grim.

“Yor has been tight-lipped about what exactly transpired, and she doesn’t know I have the footage of the fight itself, so…”

“I will ask her about it.”

“You should. Whoever these people are, they are after the kid,” he paused. “And only gods know what else.”

“Is that all?”  

“For now, yes.”

“I see,” he said as he stared blankly ahead.

“You okay in there, mate?”

“I just need time to think.”

He needed time.

“Well,” Franky packed up all his things. “Do you need me to walk you to your room? Don’t want you to bleed out on you way there.”

“No. I will need this footage later, though.”

“No problem, so…” he hesitated. “Goodnight.”

“You too.”

That night, sleep never found him.

Twilight was ashamed to admit it, but a part of him was dreading the next ‘family visit’. The lack of sleep was gnawing on his mind, and the exhaustion slowed his thoughts. He felt off-clitter. Unstable.

Dangerous, for a spy.   

“Hey, old man, look!” Osamu was the first one to barge into his room, waving a piece of paper around, Yor following steadily in his footsteps. “Mama and I made this for you!”

“Good morning to you too.”

The boy pranced to his bed and handed him the paper with his usual dramatic fanfare. Twilight was glad to see him so lively.

He looked at it and was surprised to see that it was a get-well card. A tacky drawing of the three of them with a black blob resembling a cat in the corner, get well soon! scribbled in childish handwriting.

It was sort of sweet.

“Did you and Yor do it?”

“It was mama’s idea!” he beamed. “I did the card!”

“I see, thank you.” He gave Yor his most practiced grateful smile. “Thank you too, Yor.”

She looked at him with a smile so joyful and beautiful, for a moment Loid seemed stunned into silence. He could see no hint of lie and deceit in it.

Hold on, Twilight! What are you thinking?!

He cleared his throat.

“How are you, Loid?”

“I’ve been better, thank you Yor. The doctors are hopeful I will be able to go home soon. So Im looking forward to it.”

She clasped her hands together. “That’s good to hear!”

He laughed in embarrassment. “It sure is! Since the hospital food not that good…”

“Oh!” Yor’s eyes lit up in excitement. “How about I cook for you?”

For a moment, Osamu looked like he had eaten a lemon and gave her an exasperated look. “Mama… Maybe it's not the best idea…”

Yor flushed. “Ah, you might be right."

Osamu patted her on the hip in comfort.

What was that about?  Twilight wondered and gave them a questioning look, but Yor only looked away in embarrassment and Osamu looked vaguely amused.

In the end, he didn’t ask Yor anything about her job, and she didn’t mention it either. If anything, she didn’t seem aware that he knew.

Yor knows the two of you will have to talk eventually, but I figured I might give you a heads-up, Franky had said.

Twilight appreciated the heads-up now.

The following month passed slowly, his days filled with resting physical therapy, resting and reading. This had been the most uneventful month of his since he was a child, and it left him restless. WISE sent him a get-well card, but ultimately nothing useful.

At least Osamu had gone back to school now and resumed his studies. The midterms were coming, and Twilight hoped the boy at least would pass them and wouldn’t get himself expelled.

The day he was finally discharged from the hospital, half of the staff saw him off with flowers and gifts, and Yor and Osamu greeted him, the boy waving to him and holding a – was that his hat?

“Look, I even brought your tacky hat!” Osamu said with a mischievous grin, clearly pleased with himself.

"Thanks," he said, ruffling Osamu’s hair before adjusting the hat onto his head.

“How are you, Loid?” she asked tentatively.

“Better than I’ve been in weeks, though mostly I just glad to be out.”

Yor gave him an understanding smile. “I called the cab. The doctors said you shouldn’t exert yourself.”

“Thank you.”

As they returned home, Twilight couldn’t help but feel a little relieved.

Only a little, though.

Osamu’s cat came out to greet them, and he was glad to see that it looked much better than the first time they picked it up. Jiji’s ribs weren’t showing anymore, its fur was soft ad shiny, even if the scars were still showing. 

Osamu picked it up and they both looked at him with wide eyes. “I’ve been teaching him to do tricks,” the boy grinned at him mischievously.

This can’t be good

“You will have to show me later.”

Osamu only looked up at him in amusement. “I will.”

“How is school?”

Osamu gave him a disgruntled look. “Don't remind me of it."

Oepaion Strix might just become the first mission he had ever failed.

The rest of the day passed quickly, but as always ever since the wound, he was preoccupied with his own mind. Thinking. He carefully observed Yor and Osamu, picking up every detail. They seemed even closer than before, and Osamu seemed much more open than Twilight had ever seen him. Even with Twilight.

He remembered his own childhood.

He always loved being in his mother’s arms. Even on nights they could have been bombed at any moment, his mother still made him feel safe.

He tried to think rationally.

The implications of Yor’s job were interesting too. On the one hand, it could be too risky for Operation Strix. If she were to be discovered by someone, it would put the entire Forger family under suspicion and his mission and his own secret identity would be sabotaged. But the same could be said for him too. And, on the other hand, Yor was the one who saved Osamu from the foreign mafia, and the boy was attached to her too… Having her on his side, could be a significant advantage. Her skills, her strength, and her unwavering loyalty to the family—he couldn't deny that they made her a formidable ally. Yet, that very same loyalty could be a double-edged sword. If she were to be compromised, the repercussions could be devastating.

He had always been one to analyze risks, to weigh the costs and benefits. But with Yor, things were different. For Operation Strix to succeed he had to be the best Father and family man, didn’t he? To create a family where a child could thrive. And perhaps it was the way she cared for Osamu, or how she never hesitated to protect those she loved. Or maybe it was the quiet, unspoken understanding they shared as a family—something that felt like it was growing stronger by the day.

And yet, the more he considered the situation, the more he understood the delicate balance he had to maintain. He could not afford to let his emotions get in the way. His duty came first.

But the truth was, despite the potential dangers, he couldn't help but feel a certain level of gratitude toward her.

What a mess, he thought.

“It’s late already, you should go to sleep. It’s a school night,” he said to Osamu. The boy glanced up from the drawing he had been working on. The drawing was childish, but better than any other six-year-old could manage. It depicted a girl with dark blue hair, wearing a red dress—maybe a kimono? And behind her, a huge white and blue shadow loomed, holding a blue katana in its hands.

A sharp pain shot through his chest.

He remembered the grainy footage of a golden shadow raising its gleaming sword up in the air –

Osamu was there, wasn’t he? During the fight, he saw that thing too. Maybe he heard and saw even more than that. The thought turned his stomach.

“But I don’t want to!” the bot whined.

“Loid is right, dear, it’s getting late,” Yor said. She frowned as she saw the drawing.

Osamu looked between them uncertainly and picked at his bandages. “Can you read me a fairytale?”

Yor smiled at that as she led him away. “Which one?”

“The Girl without Hands!”

“Oh, sounds interesting!”

Twilight watched them walk away. The Girl without – what?

Osamu turned to him with a stubborn look on his face. “I want mama to read me a fairytale tomorrow too!” he said and frowned slightly. “And good night!” the boy chirped as he skipped away.  

As Twilight was left alone in the room, he couldn’t help but let out a wary sigh.  He focused on his breathing instead. Breath in and out. In and out. Breathing with a full chest still hurt but the pain felt grounding.   

He listened to Yor and Osamu in the boy’s bedroom, the sounds muffled, before everything went quiet as the boy drifted off to sleep.  

Yor closed the door to the bedroom with a soft click, the sound lingering in the air for a moment before she stepped into the living room. She gave Twilight an awkward smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her hands fidgeted slightly at her sides, her usual composure lost in the tense silence that had settled between them.

"Osamu is asleep now," she said, her voice a little too bright, like she was trying to mask the unease in her own chest. She looked at Twilight as if unsure of how to proceed, her gaze darting briefly to the floor before meeting his again. "I’ll make us some tea." Her words hung in the air, the gesture feeling almost forced.

Yor hesitated, then turned towards the kitchen. As she moved, her footsteps were softer than usual, almost as if she were trying to be quieter, to avoid disturbing the stillness that had settled between them. She reached for the kettle, her movements slow, deliberate.

But the main question that Twilight had—how much did she think he knew?

He wasn’t good at this. He wasn’t good at waiting, at letting things unfold without direct confrontation. But something about her vulnerability, the way she was standing there, with her back to him, made him hesitate.

The kettle let out a loud woosh, its steam hissing violently as the water inside began to bubble to a boil. The sound startled Yor, making her jump slightly. She had been lost in thought, her gaze unfocused as she stood by the stove, lost in a whirlpool of anxiety. The unexpected sound of the kettle broke through the quiet tension in the room.

"Careful!" his voice was immediate, sharp with concern. He was already there, a flash of movement as he reached out, grabbing the hot kettle with a rag before it could get too close to her hand.

"Loid!" she exclaimed, a mix of surprise and gratitude in her voice. "Thank you."

He offered her a soft, reassuring smile, as if what had just happened was nothing more than a routine gesture. “You are welcome. I am glad you are alright.”

But despite his calm tone, something about her—about the way she was standing there, her shoulders slightly slumped—caught his attention. There was an undercurrent of sadness in her eyes, a distant, almost haunted look that lingered.  Her expression was open, but there was a vulnerability in it that he hadn’t seen before.

"I am glad you are alright too, Loid," she said softly, her voice carrying an unexpected weight. "After everything that happened… I was very worried. About you and Osamu." 

“Yor –“

"I know the police haven’t said anything about the perpetrators, or why they might be after Osamu, but—" She looked away, taking a deep breath as she steeled herself. After a moment, she met his eyes again, her expression now determined. "That’s because those people, whoever kidnapped Osamu, they, well…no longer breathe our air."

No longer breathe our air, huh. She had said it so casually, as if she were stating a fact, but the implications were anything but casual.

Yor seemed to notice his pause, and without giving him a chance to speak, she pushed forward. "You know that I asked you to marry me because, as a single woman, I could be seen as suspicious to the SSS. And you agreed because you wanted someone to act as a mother during the interview, so your son could get the best education he possibly could. But the real reason I needed this arrangement—" She seemed to lose her breath, trailing off for a moment.

"Yor, please, I—" Loid began, but he never got to finish the sentence.

"Osamu knows already, of course, and Franky does too," she sighed, her shoulders slumping. For a moment, she looked so tired, and Loid wasn’t sure what to do. "Back then, it was an emergency, and I couldn’t just do nothing."

The air between them thickened as she took another breath, a shiver running through her. "I didn’t want to involve either of you in this," she continued, her voice quieter now, as if the weight of the confession had left her raw.

"I didn’t think I had a choice," Yor whispered, more to herself than to him. "I had to protect him, and that meant eliminating the threat. I knew if I didn’t, they would keep coming, and they wouldn’t stop until they got what they wanted." She looked up at him, eyes wide with a mixture of regret and resolve. "I didn’t want you to know, Loid. But… you deserve to.”

Loid’s heart clenched. Twilight’s secret weighed heavily on him.  

“Yor, in truth, I…” he tried to find the right words to say. He didn’t know how to express all the confusing mess of emotions he was feeling, didn’t know what the right words were. And as he spoke, he didn’t speak s Twilight, the spy on a mission, or Loid Forger, the happy family man, but as someone whose name and identity he had discarded a long time ago.

(The part that still remained to be the real him)

“Back then in that alley, I failed.”

Yor looked horrified for a moment. “Loid, none of what happened is your fault!”

He gently shook his head. “Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. Yet the fact remains, that as a father, I failed to protect our child, so when I woke up and I found out that Osamu was okay, I knew that I would be forever grateful to whoever made it so.”

Yor flushed.

“In truth, ah… Franky told me the gist of what happened, but nothing concrete of course!”

She looked at him with wide, shocked eyes. “Loid, you mean – ”

“I meant what I said back then at the party. ‘Enduring a merciless job for the sake of someone else is not something that just anyone would do,’” he quoted himself. "One of the things Osamu told me while I was still in the hospital was that even if he's in danger, his mama will come and save him, so he'll be okay," he said, and Yor seemed surprised to hear that. "And I don’t care if you have blood on your hands, and I know Osamu doesn’t, either."

“So you know – ” she gasped.

He thought of his own mother, her warm embrace, the sounds of explosion outside their house.

He bowed in half, a gesture that spoke volumes of his deep gratitude. “So thank you, Yor, for rescuing him and caring for him when I couldn't be there. I... I can never express enough how much it means to me.” he said, his voice soft but heavy with emotion. He looked into her eyes, a sincere smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’m glad I married you.”

She looked at him uncomprehending, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. She sniffed and hid her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

Loid’s smile faltered, his heart aching as he watched her. He stepped forward slowly, gently placing a hand on her trembling shoulder. His touch was light, hesitant, as if afraid to break the fragile moment.

She lifted her face, her eyes brimming with emotion. “I didn’t want you to see that side of me. I thought if you knew, if you understood, you’d hate me.”

We are more alike than you think.

And that thought struck him like thunder amid the clear sky. It was a disconcerting thought, yet strangely comforting.

He looked into her eyes, a sincere smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’m glad I married you, Yor.’

He watched as her expression softened, a tear slipping down her cheek before she quickly wiped it away. Her smile was small but genuine, and the weight of her relief was palpable, as though she had been carrying something heavy for far too long. Her shoulders slumped, the tension in her body finally easing.

"I am glad I married you too, Loid." 

Chapter Text

“…Blackbell, 85 points!”

Dazai felt like his brain might melt from boredom. As he slumped over his desk, he hoped to catch a nap while he was at it.

After the excitement of the past weeks, schoolwork just felt…anticlimactic.

“Emily Bronte, 97 points,” the teacher droned on and Dazai felt like dying.

“Osamu Forger,” Mr. Henderson paused, his voice grave. “Zero points…”

The class quieted down, and a few of the brats snickered as Dazai proudly marched to pick up his paper, the big red zero on the front glaring at him.  He could already see his old man’s constipated expression once he saw it. His grin didn’t falter as he took the paper from Mr. Henderson’s hand, unfazed by the harsh judgment.

"Zero points, Mr. Forger," Mr. Henderson repeated, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Do you even try in this class?"

Dazai shrugged, his usual playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Of course, I try. It's just that my genius can't be confined to simple assignments, Mr. Henderson. You should be honored to witness such brilliance."

A few students rolled their eyes, while others stifled their laughter, waiting for Mr. Henderson's response.

"Well," Mr. Henderson sighed, shaking his head, "it looks like you’ll be staying after class again, Mr. Forger. I suggest you at least try to get a passing grade by the end of the semester."

Dazai tilted his head, still grinning cheekily. "I'll consider it, but no promises. School’s just... not my thing."

"Clearly," Mr. Henderson muttered under his breath, his patience thin.

The brats snickered as he went back to his seat, but Dazai paid them no mind. His desk mate raised an eyebrow at him before snatching the test from his hands, her movements viper-quick.

“Give it back!” he sputtered, reaching for the paper unsuccessfully, while Emily shuffled through it, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

“This was a test with multiple-choice options,” she said, shoving one of the sheets into his face. “Even if you guessed randomly every single one, you would’ve gotten at least some correct. But in these, there are only two options to choose from, and somehow, you pick the wrong one every single time,” she smirked. “Truly a mystery how could this happen.”

Dazai pouted. “Are you implying I failed on purpose?”

“I am implying it will be funny to see you get kicked out.”

“That’s mean,” he whined.

An amused smirk was his only response.

“Class!” Mr. Henderson called, having finished grading. “I’d like to remind you that your midterms are approaching. The grades you receive will be the result of your efforts and will reflect not only on you but also on your families and Eden. Make sure you're putting in the effort now," Mr. Henderson continued, scanning the room. "Because when those grades come in, there's no turning back."

The class began to whisper in excitement, mostly about studying and Stella stars and other nonsense Dazai paid no attention to. It was all school stuff anyway.

“As for today, the rest of the lessons are cancelled,” Mr. Henderson announced, and the class whispered in excitement. Even Dazai perked up. “Today, our school has the honor of hosting a venerable guest. You will be granted an opportunity to listen to his speech.”

Dazai stifled a groan.

“Now, stand in pairs, and we will head out.”

As the children shuffled to their places, Dazai couldn’t help but feel like he was just some stupid sheep, following the herd without question.

If only the Sheepdog was here too, ah!

He exchanged a glance with Emily, who shot him a knowing smirk.

“Guess we’re going to be enlightened today,” she said dryly, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders.

“Great,” Dazai muttered under his breath. “Another boring speech to add to the collection. Just what I needed.”

Despite his sarcasm, he couldn’t help but wonder who this “venerable guest” was, though he had a sinking feeling it would only add to the endless parade of tedious events that seemed to define his school days.

“Lord Damian, I heard your father was here too!” the brat who looked like an overgrown hamster whispered in excitement.

Oh? Dazai eavesdropped, though he didn’t show it.

“Will he give the speech?!” the one with the tacky hairdo asked, leaning forward with obvious enthusiasm. Damian only smirked, not bothered by the attention.

“No,” he replied coolly, adjusting his collar with a nonchalant flick of his fingers. “My father’s too busy to waste his time on speeches. He has other... matters to attend to.”

The two kids exchanged disappointed looks, but they quickly rallied, clearly determined to keep their hopes alive. “Then who’s giving it?” the hamster-brat asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

Damian only shrugged.

Dazai couldn’t help but frown at that.

Wasn’t the old man’s target super secretive or something? Apparently, it was unusual for him to show up like that.

Dazai, still pretending not to care, felt his interest piqued despite himself. Whoever this guest was, they certainly had the privilege of being associated with someone like Desmond. He wasn’t sure if that made them more or less interesting, but he couldn’t deny the growing feeling of anticipation.

“Let us head out,” Mr. Henderson called, snapping Dazai from his thoughts.

The class shuffled to their feet, some of the students whispering excitedly, others dragging their feet as if they'd rather be anywhere else. Dazai followed the group, letting his mind wander. Whatever this speech was, he had a feeling it wouldn’t be nearly as exciting as they were making it out to be.

The auditorium was large, with several classes of different ages already gathered there. The atmosphere was thick with low chatter and the faint rustling of students settling into their seats. The air felt charged, like a palpable anticipation hanging over the room.

Damian had already taken a seat near the front, his posture perfect, as if he believed his presence alone demanded attention. Emily, however, plopped down beside Dazai, rolling her eyes as she glanced at the stage.

“This is going to be so thrilling,” she said dryly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I can barely contain my excitement.”

“Preparing for a nap?”

She swung her feet as she sat. “Maybe.”

The time moved slowly, but Dazai was used to the slow pace of his school days.

The lights dimmed, and the murmurs in the room faded as the doors at the front opened. Some school staff came in whispering among themselves, before quieteing down and strengthening in place. Dazai turned, crurious to see who it was that these people were expecting.

But as he caught the first glimpse of the man, he felt his stomach lurch.

He felt like throwing up.

The man was tall, imposing, with a commanding presence that seemed to press down on the room the moment he entered. Every step he took was deliberate as if the ground itself had to yield to him.

He wore a dark green military uniform, the fabric sharp and clean, clinging to his tall frame. His sharp features were framed by grey hair, and his face wore a battle scar, a visible proof of violence. A katana hung at his side, its hilt resting at an angle that spoke of familiarity, of a man who had wielded it with purpose countless times.

Dazai’s fingers dug into his seat, as he fought the urge to flee.

Not again.

He felt Emily’s curious eyes on him but couldn’t muster the strength to hide his reactions.

The man stepped into the light on the stage and the school headmaster came to announce him.

Dazai tried to take a steady breath to ground himself, but it came out as more of a quiet gasp.

He needed –

“Hey, Osamu?” Emily poked him on the shoulder, but it was enough to startle Dazai from his thoughts. He cast her a brief glance, before lowering his head, hoping to hide his face under his bangs.

He wished his hair were longer.

“You okay?”

Dazai didn’t answer.

He wished –

If only Mama was here.

Unease coiled around his chest.

“Students of Eden,” the Headmaster began, his voice steady and commanding, “Today, I am honored to introduce to you a guest from afar, a man whose courage and sacrifice have earned him a place of distinction in history. He is a war hero who fought valiantly for his country, during a time of great conflict.”

There was a brief pause as the Headmaster gestured toward the imposing figure standing at the front of the room.

“Please welcome, Fukuchi Ouchi,” he continued, his tone filled with reverence, “a man who has given much for the sake of his nation and whose bravery on the battlefield has become legendary.”

Everyone applauded, some were truly enthusiastic, and some were just polite, but Dazai could only stare ahead dumbly, a singular thought gnawing at him.

What is he doing here?

The Headmaster continued, his voice severe. “As you know, Japan has been in the state of conflict until recently, and it is only through dedication of men like Mr. Fukuchi can a nation prevail.”

Conflict, Dazai thought with unease. A mild choice of words for a devastating war, even if Ostania has been in the state of a cold war for a decade now.

He continued. “Fukuchi Ouchi’s service to his country exemplifies these ideals. His bravery and unyielding commitment to Japan in its most trying moments should serve as an inspiration to each and every one of you. Remember, it is through such dedication that a nation endures, and through it, we can ensure that the legacy of our country remains unbroken”

Fukuchi stepped forward and took the microphone.

Mirror Lion, Dazai’s inner voice whispered.

Dazai thought of butterflies, a little boy held in a water tank, all for the sake of creating a weapon of war.

His own scars itched like something horrible.

The strong smell of antiseptic in the air mixing with the iron stench of his own blown made Shuuji want to vomit. The men in white cloth argued around him, above him.

“To replicate an Ability – “

Fukuchi nodded. “Thank you for inviting me, sir.”

Dazai couldn’t breathe.

"Why did the soldier bring a pencil to the battlefield?" he addressed the audience.

A few confused murmurs floated around the room, and even Dazai was thrown off for a moment.

"Because he wanted to draw his weapon!" Fukuchi said with a grin and laughed at his own joke.

The students showed no reaction, and only Emily by his side snickered.

Dazai let out a shaky breath.

Fukuchi cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, kids, good day to you all!” he looked across the audience full of children and paused for a moment as if in thought. “I am sure your teacher here wants me to speak to you of patriotism, of doing what is good for your country,” he paused as his voice grew weary.

“I do not wish to speak to you of battles and glory and sacrifice. My only desire is for the children of this world to have a bright future…”

Osamu’s breath caught in his throat.

His other self, taller, older, and wiser than Osamu, watched Fukuzawa-san, noting the sadness in his grey eyes. The age lines on his face were more pronounced than before, as if grief had aged him by a decade. His hand rested on the katana at his side, a silent reminder of days long gone.

Dazai couldn't imagine the pain of losing a partner.

“Hey, Osamu,” he felt someone pinch his hand, making him jump in place. His head immediately snapped to the side and –

Oh.

He needed to focus on the present.

Emily was watching him with a frown, concern clear in her dark eyes. “You looked like someone killed your cat in front of you,” she whispered.

Dazai shook his head. “If anyone tries, Jiji will claw their eyes out,” he whispered back. “And did you have to pinch that hard? It hurts,” he scrunched his face.

She only hummed noncommittally and watched him thoughtfully. The feeling of being observed made his skin crawl, but Dazai shook away the feeling.

She is just another six-year-old, he told himself. What does she know anyway?

Fukuchi and the headmaster were still talking about something, but Dazai only listened with half an ear.

Why is he here? It was a question he desperately wanted to know the answer to, but came up blank.

He remembered what the boys had said earlier.

“Lord Damian, I heard your father was here too!”

“My father’s too busy to waste his time on speeches. He has other... matters to attend to,” the brat said. Dazai knew the boy had no idea what his Father was actually up to, but even that was enough to set alarm bells ringing in his mind.

The feeling of unease didn’t leave him for a very long time.

“I am home!” he called out, closing the door behind him.

“Welcome back!” his mama’s voice chimed from the living room, making Dazai’s heart flutter in a way he couldn’t quite explain. The feeling bloomed inside him, warm and comforting, even though his cheeks always flushed in the most embarrassing way.

But he welcomed the giddy feeling and rushed to the living room.

His old man was sitting on the sofa, reading some newspaper, Jiji curled up by his side.

Traitor, he thought.

The man gave him a wry smile. “Welcome home.”

Osamu couldn’t help but preen, a strange warm feeling settling in his stomach, pushing away the unease from earlier. It was funny, how something so small could make him feel this good.

Mama came out to greet him, her smile as warm as ever. Without missing a beat, Osamu leaned in eagerly, waiting for her to embrace him as she always did. And to his satisfaction, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close.

For a moment, he allowed himself to melt into her warm embrace, the rest of the world with its dangers and sorrows forgotten.

“How was school?” she asked.

Dazai only shrugged in response, unwilling to dwell on it any further.

Suddenly, Dazai noticed his old man pull out the papers that had been half-hazardly sticking out of his bag. His expression froze as he glanced down at them, the color draining from his face. Then, the look of horror overcame him.

Uh-oh.

“Loid, what is it?” Mama asked, her voice tinged with concern as she approached. Even she was surprised to see the grade.

“Osamu, am I hallucinating?”

Dazai felt heat rise to his cheeks and slowly edged closer to the direction of his bedroom. In truth, he had failed on purpose, hoping that if his old man decided to divorce Mama, Dazai could use the bad grades to blackmail him.

In the end, it turned out to be unnecessary, as the two of them had figured out the whole assassin dilemma without him.

“Em…” he hesitated, unsure of what to say. “It was a really hard test?”

His father didn’t look convinced.

“Oh, dear!” Mama exclaimed, her voice laced with concern. “Was it terribly stressful?”

Dazai nodded earnestly, making sure to sniffle a bit. “Mama, it was so hard! I panicked through the whole thing!”

She rushed to hug him again, and he rubbed at his eyes for good measure. “It was horrible!”

Mr. Spy—his stupid dad—observed the scene with a deadpan expression.

“Oh, it will be okay,” she patted his back consolingly. “It just means it will be easier for you to get a better mark in the future! Even if it’s only one point! Anything is better than zero, after all…”

Osamu peeked out from behind her shoulder.

The old man looked like he was ready to give up on life entirely.

Chapter Text

“Paul, please be careful,” Arthur Rimbaud said, his voice carrying a note of concern, though he knew it would fall on deaf ears. It was true that their relationship had been strained ever since—ah, how should he put it?—the incident.

The King of Assassins, his one and only partner, Paul Verlaine, ignored him completely.

“Come, little brother!” Paul cheered, the words still strange to Arthur (though not unwelcome), as he tossed a laughing six-year-old into the air.

The sound of the boy’s delighted giggles filled the air around them, his fiery red hair glinting like flames in the sunlight. The warmth of the moment was almost enough to make Arthur forget the distance between him and Paul, the unspoken tension that lingered like a shadow.

Throwing a child in the air to make them laugh and catching them safely wasn’t an uncommon game for kids – except for one crucial detail…

As Paul tossed the boy into the air, his small frame surrounded by the dark aura of Paul’s power, the boy’s gravity lightened, sending him soaring about one hundred meters up, laughing all the way. But at the peak of his ascent, the black glow of Paul’s ability shifted to a deep red, the mark of For The Tainted Sorrow. Suddenly, the boy's descent became catastrophic, as gravity intensified, and he plummeted back to the earth like a heavy stone, the force of the fall magnified.

The only reason Paul wasn’t crushed into a pulp by a six-year-old slamming into him like a wrecking ball was because of his own gravity-manipulation ability.

Arthur couldn’t help but sigh warily.

One gravity manipulator was more than enough for him.

But two?

That was too much. Arthur could feel his hair greying already and he thought he might as well die early from sheer stress alone. The explosion didn’t do him in, but this just might.

“Ah, Chuuya, mon-cheri,”  Paul crouched before the child, prepping his chubby face with kisses, the boy still giggling wildly from their game.

Arthur watched them in silence and couldn’t help the fondness that creeped into his chest. The boy was growing on him too.

He was glad to see Chuuya’s cheeks were actually chubby, as proper for a child. It was a far cry from the gaunt, exhausted look he sported as Paul first took him away from the laboratory. The ensuing explosion almost killed them both, and Arthur still had the burns from it, but even after the pits of hell had opened up Paul still refused to leave the child behind.

Paul’s care for the boy grew steadily, and with it, an intensity that wasn’t there before. He wasn’t just protecting Chuuya anymore; he was nurturing him with a fierce devotion. It wasn’t just about feeding him or keeping him safe—Paul watched him like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. Every meal was prepared with care, every moment spent with Chuuya seemed like a small treasure, and Paul’s protective instincts grew sharper by the day.

There was something almost obsessive in Paul’s actions, though. He hovered over the boy too closely, as if terrified to let him out of his sight for even a moment. Paul would often go quiet, lost in thought, watching Chuuya play or sleep, his eyes darkening in a way that hinted at the weight of everything they had been through. Arthur could see it—Paul’s calm demeanor occasionally cracking, slipping into something more frantic.

He knew Pau saw himself in the boy – an experiment.

(Not human)

And yet his care was genuine, it might just be exactly what the boy needed after everything he had to endure.

And despite their confrontation (the betrayal, a part of his mind whispered) before the inferno enveloped him, Athur refused to leave his partner.

Even by the cost of betraying his nation.

So here they were, living a farce of a domestic life in the French countryside, on the run from everyone. He knew if their own government found them, (or the Transcndents, but he tried not to think of that), they would be forced to flee, despite their abilities.

Their relationship was still strained, and often, Arthur felt like an unwelcome addition to Paul and his new-found little brother, but there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be.

He knew Paul wouldn’t wish to risk the child and would fight to the death if he had to protect him. If anyone dared threaten Chuuya, Paul would fight to the death for him – and Arthur would be right there beside him.

“If he gets too overexcited now, he won’t be able to sleep during his nap time,” Arthur said.

Children required a steady routine and consistency, as it helped them feel secure and understand what to expect throughout the day. It was important to establish regular patterns for eating, sleeping, and playtime, as it fostered a sense of stability and made transitions smoother for both the child and the parent. He had read that in the parenting books he had recently picked up.

He knew Paul had read them too.

Despite his efforts, all he received was a sharp, reproachful glare. "Let him play," Paul declared, spinning around with a flick of his blonde hair, his hat still firmly set on his head.

“Rimbo!” Chuuya smiled toothlessly at him and waved cheerfully, peaking out from behind Paul’s shoulder.

Arthur gave him a slight smile, his eye barely twitching the creative version of his name.

Arthur gave him a slight smile, his eye barely twitching at the creative version of his name. “You’re a handful, you know that?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. But the playful sparkle in Chuuya’s eyes made the words feel lighter, almost like a quiet, affectionate joke.

Paul grinned. "Don’t listen to him, mon cheri," he said, brushing the back of his hand across the boy’s messy red hair. It was a stark contrast to Paul’s normally composed demeanor—one could almost forget he was an assassin, a killer. “You are a joy to be around.”

The boy smiled back at him unabashedly.

But that moment, standing in the sun-dappled field with Chuuya’s giggles echoing in the air, made it almost feel like they were just a family.

Somewhere in Yokohama, Fukuzawa Yukichi sighed warily as he watched Ranpo idly play with his bottle of ramune soda, completely ignoring the crime scene while the policemen scowled at them both.

Being a father was hard work.

Chapter Text

The sun was bright that day, its gentle warmth feeling like kisses on Osamu’s cheeks.

Like the soft kisses of his Mama, and the thought filled him with warmth from the inside out. In that moment, he felt light and happy, like one of those birds that sang above him, flying freely, free of all worries.

The soft rustling of the leaves was like a quiet murmur, a lullaby carried by the breeze, soothing him as he lay on the soft grass.

And just for a moment, he knew no worries and felt as free as one of the birds chirping above him.

But nothing could stay perfect for long.

The sudden pain shot through his arm as that brat dared to pinch him! Again!

“Stop it! It hurts!” he screeched in outrage, launching his school bag at the girl. Emily only laughed in response, dodging the bag.

Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten involved with her. Sure, that would mean he would be a complete loner stuck among pampered brats, but at least he wouldn’t have to deal with constant pinching.

He was the one who was supposed to harass others, not the other way around!

“You still haven’t told me why you wear those sleeves under the uniform, all the time. Do you have scales or something?” she asked looking down at him imperiously. Then she frowned and looked almost worried for a second. “Are your parents… Treating you alright?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you know it's impolite to ask such questions? Aren’t you supposed to be a proper English little lady?”

She made a face at that, as if tasting something sour. “I’m not my sister!” she exclaimed, offended by the mere thought of it. Her dark hair stuck out in wild, untamed strands, as if she had just woken up or been caught in a storm and not lounging in the fancy school yard. “And forgot I asked anything! You are just stupid!”

“Your sister seemed quite proper that one time I saw her,” he mused. “Charlotte, was her name?”

She only huffed in response, still sulking. “The older one, yes.”

Osamu wondered what it would be like to have siblings but quickly shook away the thought. The idea was quite disconcerting… The mere thought of his Mama hugging and singing to some other brat, or even his old man cooking for someone else left a bitter taste in his mouth. Would he have to share his cat too?!

No way.

“Shouldn't you be preparing for the exams? You skipped a lot,” she asked.

“Shouldn't you be preparing for the exams?” he parroted, but got another pinch in response, if a bit lighter this time. “Ow!”

“And you still haven’t said why you’ve skipped either!” she stomped her foot on the ground as she stood up.

“I just have a terrible allergy to school and had to take the break!” he whined, still refusing to stand up. The ground was far too comfortable.

“Come on, the exams are about to start,” she glared daggers at him, as if he had forced her to come here with him. When he had pointed that out to her before, she only muttered something about it being better than being around those losers.

Privately, Dazai thought she just didn’t want to be stuck all alone at school all the time and he was a charming company, of course. A part of him that dreaded going to school shared the sentiment.

“I still haven’t figured out if I should fail them or get the highest grade. Give me a moment to decide,” he plopped further onto the ground, enjoying the blue sky above him.

He had never noticed how pretty it was before.

Before he could receive the kick to the ribs, he rolled to the right, barely dodging it. “Rude!”

“Why would you want to fail?”

“Because I would get expelled, of course!”

Her face went through a series of weird expressions, that Osamu found hard to interpret, before she only tsked “I will just get those stupid stellas before you do! And what do you know anyway?” she snapped and stomped away.

“More than you that’s for sure!” he insisted as he hurried after her. “Hey, wait for me!”

“No way!”

“What have you gotten yourself into, Twilight?”

The Handler’s face turned ghost-pale as she stared at the screen, unable to hide her shock.

Twilight sympathized with her greatly. Operation Strix was shaping out to be more than he had initially anticipated, but even then, he was determined to proceed despite all the unknowns… and the secrets that were hidden right under his nose.

(How could he have missed this?)

“So, this is your wife…” she murmured. Despite the revelations, The Handler looked both worried and, oddly enough, impressed. “How did you marry her exactly?”

Twilight cleared his throat. “Well, it was she who proposed…” For a second, he thought The Handler looked amused as she raised an eyebrow at him, but he knew better. “But it was an accident, I truly had no idea,” he admitted, and couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed, but didn’t show it. But he knew, The Handler saw through him all the same.

“Even then, despite the risks, I believe Yor would be a valuable asset for Operation Strix. Her strength is undeniable, as is her care for our son. She is—”

The Handler interrupted him with a raised hand. Twilight thought she looked a little sad. “I understand your reasoning, and perhaps it would be far too risky to remove her now, but you must not become emotionally compromised.”

Emotionally compromised.

He wasn’t.

He could never be.

Becoming compromised meant mistakes. It meant discovery. It meant failure.

Unconsciously, he strengthened his posture even further, the stance of a soldier. “I know better than that.”

The Handler didn’t say anything in response, only looked at him with the same penetrating gaze, as if silently weighing every word, every movement.

With a sigh, she turned back to the screen. “But the assassin you married is not even your biggest problem,” she added, grim, replaying the video.

The picture was blurry (though he was grateful to Franky they had this at least), but the image of a golden—being? Creature?—still unsettled him as much as it did the first time he had seen the footage.

“You understand what that means, don’t you, Twilight?”

He swallowed hard, trying to push the knot of unease down. The figure on the screen wasn’t just strange, it was… otherworldly. Something that didn’t belong in the world he knew. And yet, here it was, unmistakable.

And denying reality was never his habit, even if his logical mind rebelled against it.

Of course, he knew what it was, no matter how much he refused to believe it. There was only one thing it could possibly be.

Supernatural.

Unexplainable.

Out of this world.

Abilities were as much a myth as they were a looming threat. Of all the foul things the war had wrought upon their land, the tales of The Gifted being sent to the battlefield were the most chilling.

Back then, he was only a foot soldier.

He never saw anything supernatural with his own eyes, only the devastation left behind.

Even then, the ability users were like a mist—forever just out of reach, lurking unknown in the background, until they brought devastation in their wake.

Of the ability users that took part in the war, the WISE knew scarcely more than the rumors whispered by soldiers on the front lines.

Hugo, Goethe, and Shakespeare had clashed, resulting in the greatest number of casualties and the most widespread destruction in history, WISE’s intelligence said.

And yet, there was nothing concrete. Not nearly enough.

Only the scorched land in the middle of Europe and dead bodies – dead, not from bullets or bombs, but from something else entirely.

Some hid in plain sight, some were deeply integrated with their governments, so deep it was nigh impossible to decipher them, before they showed themselves.

Unknown.

Ignorance is a sin.

His hands clenched into fists, unable to contain his frustration.

The military conflict still waged in the parts of their world. Was this the sign of the war that might reignite all over again for them?

He was still a just boy. He and his friends were supposed to play soldiers today (even if his Father always scolded him for playing soldiers), his mother was supposed to greet him tonight and hug him as she always did.

But all he saw was the ruins of what once had been his house

If such a thing were to happen again –

“Twilight,” Handler’s strict voice startled him out of his thoughts. “Focus.”

Immediately, his mind snapped back to the present. “My apologies,” he bowed his head slightly in acquiescence. “My mind wandered.”

She watched him with a frown

The question loomed larger now—why was one of their kind after Osamu?

His mind raced with fragments of possibilities. What had this boy’s connection been to the Gifted? His origins, clearly tied to this foreign mafia, a Japanese yakuza of some kind.

Your Father is waiting, Shuuji-kun, the man had said.

Whatever this Mafia was, they were more of a threat than some gang, not with an Ability User on their side. They knew for sure of one, but what if there were others?

“Regardless, thanks to your lovely wife, their entire squad was wiped out. Only those two escaped. And you,” her gaze softened “Focus on the recovery and your family. Just for now I won’t work you to the bone.”

“My deepest gratitude, Handler,” he replied, not sounding grateful at all.

“And we are still awaiting the progress on the school front.”

He couldn’t help the fond sigh that escaped him at the mention of “school”.

“That boy doesn’t have a passion for academics, that’s for sure.”

The Handler found this amusing for some reason. “Then you best go and encourage his love for studying, then. As for those two… We shall keep an eye on them.”

Second lieutenant Yuri Briar walked through the halls of the SSS Headquarters, his uniform immaculate, heels lightly clinking against the polished floor.

His eyes remained forward, scanning the faces of the agents passing by, but his mind was elsewhere, focused on the urgent briefing that awaited him.

Idly, he mused he should clean his nails better next time, the dry blood still stuck to them. It was a successful interrogation.

He was determined to do his best to serve the country where his Sister lived.

“Second Lieutenant Yuri Briar,” his senior officer greeted him, his scarred face looking more grim than usual.

“Good day, Lieutenant,” Yuri saluted him. “May we proceed to the meeting?”

“We shall. First, however,” he frowned. “Don’t be rash. We must handle this carefully. I recommended you for this operation for your skills and efficiency as an Intelligence Officer, but this situation is a bit… different, from what we normally deal with him.”

Yuri’s eyes sharpened at his superior officer’s words, the subtle weight of caution in his voice not lost on him. He had always prided himself on his ability to handle high-pressure situations, and it was rare for him to see even his battle-hardened seniors hesitate. This assignment was clearly more complicated than he had anticipated.

He straightened, his tone steady but resolute as he responded, “You can count on me, sir.” There was no hint of doubt in his words, and his expression remained calm—almost cold—as he spoke.

The officer’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, scrutinizing, as if weighing Yuri’s resolve. He nodded, though there was a trace of lingering concern in his eyes.

“Let us proceed then,” his superior nodded in approval.

As they entered the briefing room, Yuri was startled to see all the upper echelons of SSS gathered. Subconsciously he strengthened his posture further. The Director greeted them with a nod.

But even with the entire commanding circle of the SSS gathered in the room, the most curious was the presence of the two foreigners who stood at the center of it all.

The first was a tall man, his features unremarkable at first glance—nothing particularly striking about him. Yet, there was something about the way he carried himself, a quiet confidence that suggested he was no stranger to leadership. His posture alone spoke volumes, as if he were accustomed to commanding rooms like this one, and he held himself with an air of someone who was always two steps ahead.

Beside him stood a young woman, her bright red hair a vivid contrast against the more muted tones of the room. In truth, if Yuro had to guess, he would say she was even younger than him. Her attire was simple - a pink kimono, elegant in its simplicity—but there was an undeniable grace in the way she stood. She radiated an aura of quiet strength, her gaze sharp and calculating, though she said nothing. Her hand rested on her umbrella, tense.

The Director sat behind the table, his gaze sharp as it flicked between them. “So, we have a deal?”

The two foreigners shared a brief, silent glance before nodding in agreement.

Are they a couple or something? Yuri wondered.

“Second Lieutenant Yuri Briar,” the Director addressed him.

“Yes, sir!” Yuri responded, snapping his hand to his forehead in a sharp salute.

“From now on, you will serve as the liaison between our guests and SSS.” The Director’s gaze was heavy, locking onto Yuri with an intensity that made his spine straighten. “I expect nothing less than the best performance for you. You will get a full debriefing in private.”

“Yes, sir!”

Yuri was determined to make sure the country where his sister lived was a safe place.

Ah, he hoped he would get to see his Sister soon!

Chapter Text

“Children, get in pairs and board the bus one by one!” one of their teachers called, some class tutor or something. Dazai didn’t pay attention. The chattering and buzzing of children pressed against his ears uncomfortably, and he resisted the urge to pick at his sleeves.

Annoying.

But he wasn’t the only one who felt out of place. Emily stood a step away, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her dark eyes flicking nervously to the crowd around them, her gloved hands hidden away. Dazai smirked, nudging her with his elbow, even so subtly he pressed himself closer to the closer instead

“If you frown even harder, your head might explode,” Dazai said obnoxiously, grinning widely as he stood closer to the rest of the children to push them aside a bit.

Emily huffed, her lips pressing into a thin line. But then, just for a moment, she glanced at him, her eyes softening just a little – a brief look that almost seemed like gratitude before her pride returned.

“Cecille Hall, this way!” Dazai felt like a little sheep following a herder, but he did.

They were to go on school trip to some fancy museum to get ‘culturally educated’ , but he found the whole thing just tedious. Distantly, he wondered what they would have for dinner tonight, but so long as his Mama wasn’t the one cooking, he was good…

The bus rode along, the chatter of kids filling the space. Dazai leaned back in his seat, letting his thoughts wander. He felt the rhythmic hum of the bus beneath him, the way it swayed, like a lullaby that could almost make him forget about the world outside.

But then, something felt... off. He glanced up, barely paying attention to the chattering around him, when he noticed how the driver’s hand gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles pale. The change in the air, the sudden tension, made him sit up straighter.

The rest of the kids were still chatting between themselves.

“Oi, Osamu,” Emily called out from where she sat beside him, staring at the window. “We just passed the museum.”

She looked out of the window as she clutched her seat. “Another bus broke off too,” she cast him a confused glance, her face pale.

Quickly, he scrambled over her to look out of the window to see what was happening.

The second bus broke off the caravan as did theirs, while the other two were by the museum.

Uh-oh.

The class tutor mumbled to the driver. “Uh, maybe we took the wrong turn?”

Suddenly, the bus stopped, and the doors opened.

“Ah, you can’t come here, it’s a school bus –“ but he never got to finish his sentence as he cried out, the taser pushed into his stomach.

Two men and a single woman came in, all armed.

Dazai’s heart stumbled over itself. Emily’s breath hitched, pressing her hands against her head, but he only had eyes for the men before them.

One of them shot their escort car.

They are after me, was his first thought.

But –

“Good morning, Eden Academy students. As the nation’s elite, you’ve probably figured out what is happening,” the leader’s voice rang through the shocked silence inside the bus. He looked at the rows of scared children with cold eyes. “We are Red Circus, and we’ve hijacked your but if you want to live, you will do exactly as we say.”

Inside Eden campus, a secretary got a call, and his insides went cold.

“Mr. Henderson!”

The room went quiet.

“We’ve got a situation, Handler! The school bus has just been highjacked!”

“And?”

“Damian Desmond and Osamu Forger are among the hostages!”

At Berlint Hospital, Dr. Loid Forger had just finished his shift – still shorter than usual, as his recovery demanded strict rest. He was still off duty on his assignments, too.

Yor Forger was still at work in City Hall. She hoped Osamu’s field trip would go well.

In the private estate by the English embassy, the girl startled from her book with a sharp gasp.

Dazai hated it. The armed men were not all that bad, but the panic of children around him was.

These people weren’t after him, or specifically him, and that made him breathe just a little easier, despite the danger of the situation.

The man paced the aisle, gun at the ready.

By his side, Emily watched it all with a pale face but stayed composed.

The bus kept driving.

But as the sniffles and muttering between the children grew, suddenly, some tall kid stood up. “Everything will surely be alright! Remember, a lot of our parents are important people; my daddy is high in command in the army! I’m sure he’s mobilizing right now!”

The man pointed his gun at him, and he sat down with a yelp. “Shut it. Yeah, everyone knows exactly how powerful and important your parents are. Isn't it right, son of Chairman Desmond? Or you, daughter of Blackbell’s CEO? Or you, son of  Central Bank executive?” His eyes were cold as he looked over the bus of children. “So you better pray your daddy and mommy use their power to pressure the government to negotiate.”

His voice turned mocking as he continued. “And if they comply, you all will head home to eat your five-star dinners in your palatial dining rooms.”

Some kids cried out that surely their parents would never let these people hurt them.

Dazai’s breath caught in his throat because surely –

The sound of the blade hitting the steel set his ears ringing.

He turned around to see who came for them –

“I’m afraid this is where you stop. I am here to take my son back,” he heard a familiar voice.

A breath caught in his throat.

“Mama!” he exclaimed in shock.

The memory brought comfort to him, and he knew his old men wouldn’t leave him here either.

He remembered how the man held him and never let go even when –

“It’s time to return home, Shuji. Your Father is waiting.”

He shook away the memory as he felt the sick feeling rise in his stomach.

But the thing was –

He was alone right now.

And even if his parents knew where he was or what was happening.

They might not arrive on time.

In the SSS Headquarters, the Captain gave his orders.

“The suppression of rebel groups is our top priority. The hostages, the people, the information. Cover it all up.”

Yuri Briar rushed through the halls.

His sister’s brat was on the bus!

But his superior only frowned. “You can’t show your face there, your sister’s kid might recognize you.”

That left a sour taste in his mouth. But what did he care if that sisterstealer’s kid got killed. And he was sure even Yor would –

For a moment, his sister’s crying face flashed before his eyes.

No way!

“Captain! Captain!”

The bus rode on.

Dazai carefully observed the hijackers. The leader still paced the bus, as the driver drew them in an unknown direction, and the woman watched them.

Their tutor was lying in his seat, completely useless.

Some boy started crying, and Dazai heard a hushed voice of a girl voice coming from behind them. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. We’ll be okay. Our parents won’t let anything happen to us.” The Blackbell girl, Dazai recognized.

“Keep quiet, girl,” one of the hijackers, the woman, barked, making the girl flinch.

Eventually, they arrived at some kind of park, passing past trees and greenery before driving to an old wooden pavilion, under the tall dome roof, surrounded by thick greenery on all sides.

A strategic placement then, Dazai thought, swallowing the lump in his throat. They mean to keep us hidden until their demand, whatever they are, are met.

“Oi, Osamu,” Emily turned to him, her eyes intent. “What is the name of the park?”

“Hm?” he tilted his head, remembering the map of Berlint. “Papier Palace Park. Why?” It was outside the main city, with hardly any people there.

She only nodded, determined, before turning away and looking back at the window.

He had a feeling they would be stuck here for a while.

“Now, kids,” the leader announced, taking out piles of dak fabric. “Take these and cover up the windows, leave no gaps, or I’ll put a bullet in you.”

The voice of the Head of the English Embassy cut through the room. "A school bus has been hijacked. A child of our nation is aboard, headed to Papier Palace Park. We expect immediate action."

The Ostanian official's eyes narrowed. "How do you know this?"

"Reliable sources," the diplomat snapped, unwavering. "We expect swift action."

The government official stared at the phone in disbelief as it rang. With a sharp breath, he picked it up.

“This is Red Circus. We’ve got hostages. The children? They stay safe if you do exactly as we say,” the voice on the other end hissed.

The official’s hand gripped the receiver tighter. “What do you want?”

“Release our comrades.”

The call ended.

Suddenly, a secretary rushed in. “Sir, there is information on the bus’s location!”

The time passed slowly, the shut windows, the stale air and the smell of sweat inside the bus made it hard to breathe. The skin under his sleeves itched, and he wished he could wear his favorite bandages to school, too. It’s been hours already, and even Dazai was wary.

Suddenly, the low thrum of a helicopter sliced through the tension, growing louder and closer. Dazai tensed, his eyes flicking toward the windows.  The hijackers stiffened, children perked up, but the windows were still covered by dark cloth, making it impossible to look outside.

Suddenly, outside the loudspeaker boomed through the park. “This is Berlint Police! Attention Hijackers! We know you’ve taken a bus full of Eden Academy students!”

“What!” the driver yelled in shock. “How did they find us?”

Even Dazai was surprised, asking himself the same question.

How did the police find them?

“Cease pointless resistance and surrender at once!”

The startled gasps filled the bus as the leader grabbed the Desmond brat and dragged him to the entrance. “Screw with us and you’ll find out! We’ll take the bus down with us!”

“What do you want?”

“Release our comrade. For each of them, five children go free. And the safe passage>”

Dazai worried his lip as he listened to them, finding their optimism almost ironic. Whoever those imprisoned comrades were, he was willing to bet most of them had already been dead. Executed? Tortured to death? Denied healthcare? All sorts of things happened behind the closed doors of a prison.

He wondered if the bus would be stormed.

If the SSS or police or whatever special forces were sent, would they prioritize their lives or the suppression of hijackers.

He wasn’t optimistic.

If he had to guess, they had until dawn. If the authorities refused the hostage exchange, they would use the cover of the night to storm the bus.

The time tickled by, minute by minute, hour by hour.

At Berlin Hospital, Loid Forger received a message, leaving him cold. The feeling of shock and helplessness was familiar, sending a sharp pang of pain through his chest.

Yor Forger headed home, eager to spend her evening with her family.

The air was thick with tension as Henry Henderson stood outside the makeshift barricade, his gaze fixed on the darkened bus.

 Mr. Blackbell arrived, anxious for his daughter and –

Oh.

Martha.

She worked for the Blackbells now.

She looked surprised to see him, her aged face lightening up just slightly. “Henry, what are you doing here?”

He sighed wearily. “My students are inside. The situation is in a deadlock as we await the government’s response. I am unsure how much longer the students will be able to endure it. Mentally or physically.”

She nodded in understanding.

Suddenly, a new car arrived, sleek and expensive, but Henderson’s eyes caught the British flag on the car’s hood, the emblem of diplomacy unmistakable. As the doors opened, his gaze flickered to the man stepping out, the father of one of his students, looking tense yet determined. Beside him, an unassuming young lady followed, her eyes sharp and unreadable.

“I want crab cakes.” Dazai sighed, leaning into his seat with a sigh. Even if he didn’t mind going hungry for a bit, losing out on his old man’s crab cakes was a hard blow.

He wondered if he was outside wearing some disguise, if he worried about him.

By his side, Emily was looking intently at the window despite it being covered.

“What are you looking at?” he asked, confused.

Her head whipped back to him, flushing slightly as if being caught.

"Just thinking," she muttered, not meeting his eyes.

The leader of the hijackers was still outside negotiating with the police when suddenly he stepped in. Their teacher came in.

"Mr. Henderson!" the children cried out in relief, while their tutor, still half-delirious, was led out.

An exchange of hostages—Dazai had to commend the old man for his courage. With him, he brought packaged rations and water, all bearing the Blackbell Company logo, which was distributed among the students.

"You may not wish to eat, students, but force yourselves; you’ll need the strength."

The military rations made Dazai queasy, and more than ever, he longed for the comfort of his home’s food. He drank the water, unable to force himself to eat.

Emily frowned from where she was munching on the flavorless meal, her expression thoughtful, but her attention was elsewhere.

Then, without warning, a new voice crackled through the hijacker's comms, and his expression darkened.

The second bus had been captured.

A cold shiver went down his spine. Anxiously, he couldn’t help but glance at the rest of the children. The Desmond boy, clearly afraid but putting in a brave face for his friends, the Blakbell girl, as usual, sitting alone in her corner, at –

“You,” he said, pointing directly at Emily. “You’ll do.”

Dazai’s breath caught in his throat, his heart hammering like a bird in a cage.

She paled considerably, but her voice didn’t tremble. “What do you want with me?”

“Your father is already outside with the rest of British retinue. Think if the Queen of England gave these idiots a call, would they do what is best for everyone?”

Dazai’s gaze locked on Emily as the hijacker yanked her arm, pulling her toward the open door. His body tensed, his pulse quickening. The students watched in tense silence, eyes wide with fear.

For a split second, Dazai felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, the need to act. But he stayed still, watching her face twist in a mix of fear and confusion. Damn it, he thought, feeling an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. He didn’t like this. Not one bit.

They stayed inside the bus but close enough to the entrance so that everyone outside could see what was happening.

The hijacker’s gaze shifted to the people outside the bus, his face twisting with frustration. His voice was low but threatening as he yelled, "Anyone tries to move, and this one goes down first!" He yanked Emily’s arm, pulling her roughly into his chest as he pressed the barrel of the gun to her head.

The children gasped, Mr. Henderson stood up, his posture rigid barely hiding his agitation.

"Once a foreign national is dead, you think the government will move any faster? Huh?!" His words rang out, desperate and raw, directed at the crowd outside, the tension palpable in the air.

A rush of panic surged through Dazai, his mind racing.

He needed –

He pressed the gun tighter against her head.

“I’ll kill her! I swear I will!”

She never wished for this. She didn’t want to be here.

I just want to go home

Home – where the smell of fresh grass and wildflowers filled the air. To run with her sisters like a girl half-savage where her father smiled indulgently and her mother laughed brightly, her eyes free of fear.

“This won’t be for long," the Knight Commander said in her usual silky voice, the teacup clinking gently against the plate. Her Papa’s hands were tight against her shoulders, her elder sister’s posture was rigid but proper as ever, and her Mama sat tense beside them.  “All she must do is go to school and excel there. Not a hard task for such a bright girl.”

Emily couldn’t face the room and instead stared down at her bare hands in silence – back then, there had been no need for gloves.

 She did not want to leave her home, did not want to go to a strange country. Before, her whole world was her family, her parents’ love, and the games she shared with her sisters, and now that was about to change.

“Lady Agatha, you must understand my worry, surely,” Her mother tried to argue, voice tight. “She is but a child. Even if the assignment is only to get into that school, the risk –“

But with the raise of Agatha Christie’s hand, the room fell silent. “Your daughters won’t be in any danger. Our agents will follow you. We merely need a foothold there, and your family is perfect for the task.” Her smile turned sharp, predatory. “After all, a prophet ability user foresaw –“

Here, everything was wrong. Her heart thudded erratically in her chest, her breath too shallow.

Her hand trembled as she began to slip off the glove, the fabric pulling slightly, the fabric against her skin—

Her mother –

She could still hear her scream.

Something inside her burned.

The hijacker’s voice rumbled low, cruel. "Any of you brats move, and this one goes down first. Once a child of a foreign nation is dead, you think those government dogs will move faster, huh?" His breath smelled like smoke and desperation, his grip on her arm tightening.

“Let go, you bastard– “she tried to yell, but her voice cracked and broke, coming out more as a useless, frightened cry.

“She is more valuable alive,” that stupid, stupid boy, Osamu, said, his wide and frantic eyes locked onto her, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.

“Let’s handle this calmly,” their teacher said with forced calm.

But Emily’s focus was shattered, her vision clouded by the heat in her veins, the panic crawling up her spine. The weight of the cold gun against her head sent tremors through her whole body.

Her chest tightened.

She didn’t want this – didn’t want to hurt anyone, to make this worse – but her body refused to listen to reason. It was a part of her, it was in her veins, in her flesh and blood, in her very soul.

The hijacker laughed, tightening his grip on her arm. “Think you can stop me, little girl? Or your daddy and mommy?” he sneered, his hot breath in her ear. “When children are trampled over and die, do you think anyone cres?!”

Her breath hitched, ragged. Stop... please, just stop...

The glove slipped off her hand.

Her heart pounded, each beat slamming against her ribs as the man’s grip tightened—a silent threat, a promise of worse to come. “Don’t even think about – ”

He never got to finish.

Before her mind could catch up, before she could even process what she was doing, her hand lashed out.

 Skin met skin.

A spark – no, a wildfire – ignited beneath her skin.

With a roar that only she could hear, Wuthering Heights surged.

At that moment, Dazai felt so so useless. His stupid little body couldn’t stop anyone, and all he could do was watch as the hijacker’s fingers twisted around Emily’s small wrist, his grip iron-tight, her frame shaking like a leaf in the wind.

But it was the gun. The cold metal pressed against Emily’s head that made Dazai’s blood run cold. He couldn’t move.

I need to do something.

But he couldn’t. His tiny hands were useless. His feet felt like they were glued to the floor.

He needed to find the right words, but a lump was stuck in his throat

The hijacker sneered. "Think you can stop me, little girl?" His voice was dripping with venom. He pressed the cold barrel closer to her temple, making her flinch.

When –

Emily,  with a frightened desperate cry slapped her hand against his, the useless attempt of a little girl to do something, Dazai thought.

Suddenly, the air went still.

The hijacker’s eyes went wide, blank, as though something snapped deep within him. His pupils stretched impossibly large, swallowing his irises, leaving nothing but dark voids in his sockets. His mouth fell open, gasping for air that didn’t seem to reach him. A twisted, guttural sound ripped from his throat.

A scream? A howl? It didn’t matter. It was a raw, animalistic sound, like something dying inside him, unraveling. The air around him seemed to warp. Dazai could feel it, something dark, something wrong, curling its way into the man’s soul.

Then he laughed.

But it wasn’t a laugh. It was broken, jagged, twisted – like the sound of a human cracking.

The hijacker’s laughter turned into a snarl, a horrible, twisted thing. His grip on Emily’s wrist faltered, his fingers loosening as if he’d forgotten what they were meant to do.

With a cry, Emily pushed herself back from the man’s grip, stumbling back as Mr. Henderson caught her in her arms, but Dazai could only watch as the hijacker's face twisted in agony as he clutched his head, crying laughing and howling all at once.

“What—” His voice splintered as he clutched his head, nails digging into his scalp, fingers pulling at the hair like he was trying to tear his own mind apart. The skin of his forehead wrinkled in horror as he shuddered violently.

His entire body trembled. His breath came in gasps, erratic, as though his lungs couldn’t find the rhythm anymore. His legs buckled, and he crumpled to the floor with a sickening thud, barely able to hold himself up.

But his mind was spiraling. He wasn’t in control anymore.

Dazai could see it in the hijacker’s eyes. The terror. The confusion. The loss of self.

The man was unraveling. Completely. And Emily… She had done it.

All air left Dazai’s lungs as the realization struck him.

No way.

This couldn’t possibly be –

“Oi, Billy, what’s up with you?” another of their group asked.

“Stay away from me!” the man snarled, pushing his accomplice from himself. His eyes were wide, frantic– crazed. Sweat poured from his forehead, dripping down into his eyes as he swiped at it desperately, but his movements were frantic, erratic, like an animal caught in a trap. His hand shot up to his throat as if trying to choke down the panic clawing at his insides. “No! I can’t – no! Get it out! Get it out!”

The hijacker started scratching at his skin now, his nails dragging across his face, leaving red streaks behind as he fought against something – anything. His mouth was moving, but the words came out as gibberish, a mess of incoherent sounds, and the jagged, broken laughter that had twisted into something desperate.

He was completely gone.

He wasn’t just losing control –he had already lost it. Every part of him was unraveling, his movements that of a wild crazed animal.  Suddenly, there was silence.

The gun – still in his hand –dropped to the floor with a hollow clink, as did the man his eyes lifeless.

From Mr. Henderson’s arms, Emily watched it, her expression blank, eyes glazed over as the man was reduced to nothing but an unthinking, ravenous beast.

“What the hell happened to him?” driver hissed, backing away, clutching a gun in his trembling hands, his face pale.

Everyone stared at the man as he collapsed on the ground, now nothing more than a husk. He still lived, breathed, but his eyes were empty.

Dazai’s heart pounded in his chest, but his eyes took in everything. Suddenly, he felt a shiver run through him, the familiar cold feeling of No Longer Human enveloping him, startling him. There should be nothing here to nullify, unless –

The thought struck him, making a cold chill pass down his spine.

 It’s not just the hijacker. It’s spreading. Rippling.

“Fuck, fuck it!” the woman, voice trembling, eyes darting around the bus and erratically pointing his gun at different directions as if seeing he threats that aren’t there.

The tension snapped as another of the hijackers whirled toward the others, his patience completely gone. His face was contorted with rage and fear, his voice booming through the bus.

“What the hell are you doing? Get your shit together!” he yelled, his finger pointing accusingly at the woman who was backing away. “Are you really gonna cower now? Look at Billy! He’s gone! Completely useless”

A moment after their leader hit the ground, the children closest to Billy began to sob. First, a single wail – sharp, piercing – then another, and another, as if the air itself had cracked open with their fear.

Like ripples in water, the panic spread. One child clutched their head, shaking violently. Another let out a choked, breathless sob, gasping for air between hiccuping cries. A boy curled into himself, hands fisting in his hair as he rocked back and forth.

The Desmond boy cried out in fear and anger both, shaking, joining the cacophony of voices around them.

Their fear, their terror, their confusion – whatever little emotional control they had was gone.

A girl, barely able to form words, wailed, “I –  I wanna go home!” Her shriek sent another wave through the group, and suddenly, children were clinging to each other, grasping at sleeves, at hands, as if caught in the storm of emotion.

Dazai watched, heart pounding.

Meanwhile, the third hijacker, the last of the hijackers, backed away slowly, eyes darting around as if the shadows were closing in on him. “Stay back... stay back!” he muttered, his breath shallow and uneven.

Crap

Dazai pushed himself out of the crowd of first graders straight to the man muttering at various corners. Through his haze, he seemed to notice him as he pointed his shaking gun at him, but Dazai didn’t flinch.

“Osamu Forger!” he heard his teacher call out, his voice shaking but still trying to protect his students.

“You can't stay here”, he said to the man. All he needed was a little push, and all would fall into place. The gun, though shaky, made him queasy, but he stood his ground

“There is a beast in here,” he looked the man straight in the eyes.

At the mention of a beast, the hijacker staggered backward, his eyes darting around, searching for threats that weren’t there. Step by step, he stumbled toward the entrance, paranoia twisting his face.

Dazai immediately shifted to the side, careful not to draw attention, watching as the man reached the door, trembling hands fumbling with the handle. He was too lost in his fear to notice the real threat lurking just behind him.

The door creaked open.

Bang.

A single gunshot.

The man jerked, his body slumping as blood splattered across the steps. He collapsed instantly, lifeless.

Dazai expected that much. The SSS snipers, no doubt.

His hands didn’t shake. They didn’t.

Some boy went into hysterics.

The screams were deafening, suffocating, pounding against his ears, bouncing off the walls of his skull as he struggled through the bus.

Around him there was only chaos, screams and madness.

Quickly, he made his way to Mr. Henderson, who was still shaking from fear as he held Emily in his arms. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her small body trembling as she pressed her hands hard over her ears, trying to block out the madness surrounding them. Her breath came in shallow gasps, each one ragged and uneven, even as the teacher held her tightly.

For a moment, he considered reaching out to her.

All I need is a single touch and then –

Instead, he held onto Mr. Henderson’s hand.

The touch must have felt like a bucket of cold water to the man, and he gasped as if taking his first breath after drowning. No Longer Human hummed under his skin, a steady presence.

“Osamu Forger,” he sounded breathless, but his eyes were clear

“Sensei,” he said quietly, startling even himself. However, he couldn’t deny that the man was someone he could rely on even now.

The driver’s breath came in ragged gasps, his eyes darting wildly as if the walls of the bus were closing in on him. His fingers trembled around the trigger, sweat dripping down his face.

“No –no, no, no! Stay back!” he shrieked, his voice cracking under the weight of his unraveling mind.

Then – BANG!

The gun went off, the bullet tearing into the ceiling with a sharp, deafening crack.

Screams erupted. Children ducked, clutching their heads, wailing in terror. Someone sobbed outright, hands clamped over their ears.

 The scent of gunpowder filled the air, thick and choking.

But he could see nothing but the floor before him – before he could even blink, a big, warm body shielded him, pulling him down as they hit the floor.

Mr. Henderson.

The teacher’s arms locked around him, firm and unyielding, his breath sharp in Osamu’s ear. The scent of cologne and chalk dust clung to his uniform, and he could still hear Emily’s  labored from where she was held by his side

Another gunshot might come. Another scream.

Osamu felt so small all of a sudden, like the child he was, but at least he wasn’t alone.

He heard the woman, one of the hijackers, yell something in rage. He shrank, bracing for another shot, for the smell of blood.

But suddenly the warmth above left him.

He looked up just in time to see Mr. Henderson move.

The teacher lunged, his grip firm and unyielding as he tackled the raging man to the ground.

The teacher’s arms locked around the hijacker, muscles straining, holding him down.

A sharp grunt. A curse. The clatter of a gun skidding across the floor.

Suddenly, the bus lurched, and the air shifted.

Sharp movement – shadows flickering past the windows.

Boots on metal.

By his side, Emily whimpered.

“DOWN! HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!”

A sharp rack – the last of the hijackers standing – fell to the ground with a strangled scream.

A blur of movements. Mr. Henderson stood up as an agent held up the man struggling on the ground instead.

“It’s over.” The agent’s voice was cold, unwavering.

The bus, once filled with screams, fell into an eerie silence – only broken by the quiet, hiccupping sobs of terrified children.

Chapter Text

I am really sorry guys, I really thought I would stick to the story till the end, but I guess it is not working out. Life is busy and I don’t really get the inspiration to continue this.

But I know the pain of a fanfic you’ve been reading being abandoned, so here is at least some closure.

So let’s start from the lore and some background plot points.

What was Babyzai doing in Ostania? Dazai Osamu, born Tsushima Shuuji, is the son of Old Port Mafia Boss. And per bsd lore and kind of SxF lore, there was war happening until recently, so some governments conducted experiments on abilities. (Like Arahabaki Project :) )

Babyzai was a subject of a similar experiment in the military. Since the Japanese and Ostanian governments are implied to have close ties (hence the Fukuchi cameo and some other mentions), Babyzai ended up in an orphanage through a series of mishaps, probably during transportation to Ostania.

And why would Ostania want him as the subject of one of the experiments? They were trying to create artificial abilities for warfare instead of just utilising the Gifted. And they sort of succeeded. Because ( and I decided even before it was revealed as canon!), they did succeed in giving Donovan Desmond a mind-reading ability. Obviously, it’s not a real Ability but an imitation of one, but it works. (Extra headache for Twilight that he is not aware of) 

So let’s say something happened during the transportation and ended up as just another nameless orphan.

In the orphanage, he came in contact with The Book because it is Fate (Plot), so that’s why he is aware of his canon and other selves. But mostly I just needed him to know things that the SxF cast doesn’t know to make things more interesting. And because I like parallel universes and this is just one of the worlds inside the Book :) The one little Osamu gets a loving family and a happy childhood desite the rough start

Regarding Kouyou and her Executive boyfriend storyline, the guy (Fujimoto) was Kouyou’s lover who,, in canon, she tried to escape Port Mafia with, but he was killed. In this universe, after Yor slaughtered their entire team, they escaped, made some deal with SSS, mostly regarding information on Ability Users, but they are still on the run from Mafia. As far as the rest of Mafia is concerned, they are dead along with their subordinates. So the endgame is that Kouyou opens her teahouse in Ostania with her bff and lives happily ever after, and later Babyzai and other kids hang out there, and she is a begrudgingly good Ane-san to him (even if he is an annoying brat)

Ahem, so continuing from the last chapter with hijacking and Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights going highwire. It’s been rather obvious that they're a part of the Order of the Clock Tower of British Ability Users because I wanted some canon bsd antagonists, and at least these guys made a cameo in canon. (And I love Emily Bronte and have a coherent OC of her lol). So the reason they are snooping around through the Bronte Household is because they are investigating the Artificial Abilities project (not unlike Twilight with his Forger persona to keep an eye on Desmond, except Order knows about artificial abilities ), and they might have a hint to Book’s whereabouts too.

Which leads to the scene I’ve had in my mind from the beginning (along with Yor as Thorn Princess rescuing her baby boy (I really had fun writing that one!) and Wuthering Heights exploding). The reveal of No Longer Human and Loid getting traumatised :)

Closer to the climax of the story, the reveal of Twilight’s identity and NLH would be happening at approximately the same time. So let’s say some plot and action is happening and Loidis is escaping with his baby in his arms(Babyzai probably has The Book with him and that’s the Order is chasing them) and there are his allies from WISE with him too, maybe even Frankie, and then bam! Agatha Christie appears.

An elegant, confident Lady with no weapons visible on her body (I imagine baby Emily is there too with guilt and pain obvious in her eyes.). Not a threat to a dozen or so agents. Except.. :)

Agatha Christie. The Head of the Order of the Clocktower. Ability: And Then They Were None. She can choose ten people within close range and after saying her famous poem from the book (“…One little Indian boy left all alone; He went and hanged himself and then there were none.”), her chosen victims drop dead one by one. There is no escape.

Except light blue lights break out around Loid as he watches his comrades fall one by one, and he is the only one left standing shielded by No Longer Human.

(If I wanted to make it REALLY angsty, Yuri would be there too and would die from Agatha's ability and babyzai wouldn't be able to reach him in time without abandoning his old man. So the angst of not protecting his Mama's little brother and causing her grief, but I don't want  Yor to go through all that and that would probably be too much angst in the end honestly)

Anyway, I definitely had fun writing this story, especially Yor and Babyzai being Mama’s boy and getting all the affection he deserves. I suppose I just really love family dynamics and the comfort these characters find in each other, as well as giving little Osamu a loving family and a chance to grow up in a non-violent environment. He and Loid grow much closer as heavier things from the past come out and Loid can be someone Osamu with all his confusing painful memories, both from this life and memories of other lives, can lean on and find understanding. Loid is definetly the kind of dad Osau would go to for an advice on an important and emotionally complex decision or problem. He is also someone who could keep up with Osamu's mind thus becoming someone who could undertsnad him and someone Osamu could rely on, especially as he is growing up.

The IMPORTANT part is that through the story, Babyzai is growing more and more bratty. The safer and more secure he feels, the more of a vrat he becomes and honestly, good for him. 

So this Dazai grows up to be much softer than Caanonzai and much more of a mischievous brat. Honestly, as he grows older and he is secure and life is calm, I imagine him pursuing the arts as a way to express himself, to create and to live. Once things calm down, as a kid, he picks up music, maybe they regularly draw together as family, and eventually, as a young adult, Dazai picks up writing.

In daily life and officially, he goes as Osamu Forger, but his pen name is Dazai Osamu, though people mostly refer to him as Osamu.

As a brat of 15 he eventually tracks down Chuuya in the French countryside and they have their first teenage puppy-love with sneaking around when Dazai is in France (he leaves a note to his parents that he is searching for his dog and in secret runs off to France, thankfully France is closer than Japan since they are both in Europe. He gets caught eventually by his parents, but not after bothering Chuuya for almost two weeks (to  Chuuya, this is also a new and eexciting experience and this kid is just so much fun. And his life with his overbearing guardians is kind of boring). Yor and Verlain, as two mama bears, have a stand-off. Verlaine is sure the brat is a bad influence on his precious little brother.)

Though they are mostly texting and calling each other, because they still live rather far away most of the time. They ARE obnoxious about it in a way normal teenagers are. Eventually, as adults, they totally get married because I looooove Soukoku, and in this kinder universe, their relationship is softer too.

So the way I imagine the epilogue of the story: Dazai as a young adult is on a plane ride to Yokohama, he wears soft, comfortable clothes, hair tucked between one ear, cheeks rosy and eyes light but thoughtful. As they land, he sends a message with a cheesy selfie to his parents, checks on new messages from Slug, and hesitantly goes into the city. He has no plans to settle here, there is nothing here for him. But so many of his other selves had lived here, and Dazai just needs closure.

One evening, he is walking through the night streets of Yokohama alone, and unconsciously, he finds his way to bar Lupin. Hesitantly, he walks in, his heart aching. There is a man is sitting alone at a bar table, drinking. Dazai’s breath catches.

He comes to sit next to him and says hi. The man’s name is Oda Sakunouske, and he is an aspiring writer working on his first story. And what a coincidence, Dazai is a young author too! They talk through the night, share stories and joke as if they’ve known each other forever. They meet again and again during Dazai’s stay in Yokohama and exchange numbers. Dazai promises to write to him once he departs Yokohama. Though he will make sure to visit too, and they could come to this bar again, and he would be honoured to call Odasaku his friend.

Odasaku agrees.

That’s about it! It’s a bit bittersweet to say goodbuy to this story, because I love it but have no energy to continue it.

Thank you everyone who read, left kudos, bookmarks and commented, or just read and enjoyed it! Special thanks to Nnioop, Cherrybeautiful and Gabiastri who followed the story since the beginning. Your comments are a big part of how I wrote even this much!

Have a nice day everyone!