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“You got it?” Chuuya called as the doorbell rang.
“Yes,” Dazai called back.
Chuuya closed the refrigerator and carried the vegetables over to the counter, setting them down by the cutting board. He heard muffled voices from the living room.
Smiling to himself as he chopped vegetables, he called out again, “Hey, Kunikida, it’s polite to come say hi to your host before you head off to play games.”
Kunikida’s voice came from the doorway, amused. “I’m well aware of that, Nakahara. Hi.”
Chuuya threw another grin over his shoulder. “Hi, Kunikida. Hi, Trouble.”
“Aw, thanks,” Yosano said, sauntering over to the other side of the counter. She set a bottle of wine down. “Anything I can do to help?”
Chuuya glanced at the label on the bottle. “Nice,” he said, and then answered her question. “You can pour yourself a drink and keep me company.” He glanced back up impishly at the two detectives still standing in the doorway, trying to pretend they weren’t in a hurry to get to the office. “I’m sure Tall and Taller are in a hurry to go play the video game. Don’t spill anything and don’t break anything, assholes. That includes my high score.”
Kunikida grinned boyishly at Chuuya and said, “I’ll make sure he behaves.”
Chuuya snorted. “That’s a good one. Since when did you become a god?”
“His apotheosis is still pending,” Dazai said slyly.
Chuuya tipped the contents of the cutting board into a pan. “Stop with the big words already and go play before he bonks his head on the doorframe bouncing. And I get the winner!” he called after them as they vanished.
Chuuya turned and set the cutting board and knife back on the counter, and then leaned across it for a hug from Yosano. “Been too long,” he said. “Hey,” he said, miffed, looking at her wine glass. “You could have poured me one, too.”
“And risk getting a lecture on how it’s the wrong pairing for dinner?” Yosano raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, right. What do you want?” she asked, pulling another glass out of the cabinet.
“Let’s try the one you brought,” he said, heading back to the refrigerator for the beef. He glanced cautiously at the door, and then relaxed as the shouting began from the office. “And hey, I need your help with something else, too,” he said, voice lowered.
“Oh?” she asked archly.
Chuuya’s mouth curved up in a lopsided smirk. “Yeah, I’m hoping you can give me some direction for White Day.”
“Ooo,” she said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Is it good?”
Chuuya’s smirk grew even more self-satisfied. “Yeah,” he said smugly. “So I’m getting him a set of whiskey tasting samplers from Masters of Malt,” he began.
Yosano frowned. “I’m more of a wine girl,” she said. “I don’t actually know anything about whiskey.”
Chuuya’s smirk grew lascivious, and Yosano’s interest was piqued. “Yeah, no,” he said. “The part I need your help with isn’t the whiskey, it’s the presentation.”
“I’m all ears,” she invited, and they both raised their glasses.
Dazai and Kunikida headed eagerly to the home office, already trash talking. Dazai was amazed once again to see how much younger Kunikida appeared when he didn’t have the cares of the world, or at least the cares of the Agency, on his shoulders. The effect was exacerbated by the fact that the tall blond was wearing jeans and a navy button-down rather than his usual work regalia.
Dazai followed Kunikida into the office and lunged forward, alarmed, as Kunikida halted abruptly and yelped, “Shit!” in a high-pitched voice.
Rounding the taller man, Dazai looked in the direction that Kunikida was resolutely looking away from, an intense blush on his cheeks.
“Oops,” Dazai said apologetically, hurrying forward to close the calendar. “Yes, February is very,” he said. “Sorry about that. Anniversary present.”
“Very what?” Kunikida said, turning around, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I promise I only got a glimpse.”
“It’s okay, Kunikida, it’s my fault for not clearing up,” Dazai assured him, and they continued over to the arcade machine. “And very yes,” he replied, amused. “Or should I say, very Yes, please. Which side do you want?” he asked.
Kunikida took his place on one side of the game, and Dazai took the other. They selected their characters, and Dazai hit the start button on his side.
“You ready?” Dazai asked, as there was a pause from the other side.
“Almost,” Kunikida said.
Suddenly there was a glowing ribbon of text spiralling up from Kunikida’s side of the game, and the tall detective suddenly loomed over the top of the arcade machine and yanked a hood over Dazai’s head.
Dazai laughed, one hand reaching for his head and the other for the joystick, as Kunikida slammed the start button on his side and began mashing buttons frantically.
Halfway through dinner, the party was already several bottles in and growing quite convivial.
“No, seriously,” Yosano said, exasperated. “I’ve been trying for at least a year to figure out whether or not Ranpo and Poe were dating. Subtly,” she emphasized, mock-glaring at Dazai. She swiveled her gaze back and forth between Chuuya and Kunikida, and then said, aggrieved, “And then he just-”
Chuuya interrupted. “Why didn’t you just ask?” he asked, scrunching his nose in confusion.
Yosano froze, hand still outstretched, pointing at Dazai. Slowly, she swiveled her eyes and her finger toward Chuuya. The rest of the table watched, interested, as her hand slowly turned and her fingers outstretched, clawlike, in the direction of his throat, and then her hand began shaking in a strangling motion.
“Yosano, are you trying to force choke him?” Dazai asked, fascinated. “I didn’t peg you for Darth Vader.”
Chuuya made a brushing-off gesture. “So what happened?”
Yosano ground her teeth again and dropped her hand. “Your husband asked. And Ranpo said yes, wasn’t it obvious.” She picked up her wine glass and drank deeply.
“Cool,” Chuuya said. “So now you know.”
Yosano shook her head, and then gave up. Kunikida reached out and patted her hand consolingly.
“So what did you two do for Valentine’s Day?” he asked.
Chuuya smiled genuinely. “He made me heart-shaped pancakes for breakfast, and he wore this apron-” he blushed, and Yosano pounced.
“Maid apron?” she asked eagerly.
Chuuya looked at his husband to see if he was okay with this line of questioning, and seeing Dazai smiling, said, “Yeah, kind of.”
“Ha!” Yosano said, pointing her chopsticks at him. “And you said no to the maid costume.”
Dazai replied, unruffled, “And I didn’t wear one. And I did say perhaps an homage. So just the apron, but not a full maid costume.”
Yosano’s eyes sparkled. “Wait, just the apron?” she asked.
Chuuya yelped, “No, jeez, keep it in your pants!” Despite his blush, his eyes unfocused a bit, as if he were caught by the mental image.
Dazai noted Chuuya’s reaction and smiled. “That would be a little much for breakfast, I think,” he said. “I was wearing slacks and a button-down. When I said ‘just the apron’, I meant the only part of my outfit that could be construed as ‘maid’ was the apron.” Yosano made a moue of disappointment.
Chuuya and Kunikida, both bright pink, avoided eye contact with everyone. Kunikida drank deeply from his wine glass.
Chuuya cleared his throat. “Anyway, he made me heart-shaped pancakes, and chocolate-dipped strawberries. And after breakfast he gave me truffles and red velvet cake, and then we went to the zoo, and we went out for dinner.” By the end of the sentence, he was no longer blushing. “How about you two?”
Kunikida reddened again, and Dazai looked gleeful.
Yosano, with the look of a cat that got into the cream, said, “We had dinner at my place, and I gave him chocolates. We didn’t go out.”
Dazai’s expression grew even more impish, and he asked with faux innocence, “Did you make ice cream sundaes or something? I know you had a bunch of chocolate syrup left over that you brought in Monday.”
Kunikida, his voice strong and resonant, firmly redirected the conversation. “Well, that all sounds very nice. Is everyone done eating? Let me help with the dishes.”
Chuuya raised an inquiring eyebrow at Dazai, clearly wondering why Kunikida was deflecting. Dazai smiled again and gave a tiny head shake.
“No need,” Dazai said, having mercy on Kunikida. He rose. “We’ll wash the dishes after you’ve left. For now, cheesecake?”
There was an enthusiastic chorus of assent, and Chuuya sprang to his feet. As Dazai took the cheesecake from the refrigerator and began cutting slices, Chuuya removed four port glasses from a high cabinet, careful not to touch Dazai, and floated them over to the table. Once they were safely in place, he removed a tawny port from the wine rack and carried it over. As he poured, Kunikida rose from the table as well and went to help Dazai carry the dessert plates back to the table.
“Ooh,” Yosano said, looking at the swirl of colors on top. “That’s not plain cheesecake. What’s that on top?”
Dazai replied, “Irish cream liqueur and chocolate liqueur. Let me know what you think of it.” He picked up his fork and took a bite of his piece, which was half the size of everyone else’s.
Chuuya was the first to swallow. “It’s fucking amazing, babe,” he said sincerely, and took another bite as Yosano and Kunikida made muffled noises of agreement. His eyes narrowed in thought. “Now you’ve got me wondering what other liqueurs would work for that.”
Dazai’s expression was pleased.
Yosano sipped her port. “Wow, this is great, too,” she said, and took another sip. As she set her glass down and picked up her fork, she asked Chuuya, “Is this the one you gave me for my birthday?”
As their wine conversation grew technical, Kunikida spoke to Dazai. “It is always a real treat when you have us over for dinner,” he said. “Between Nakahara’s cooking, and your desserts, and Nakahara’s wine collection, I always feel as if I’m on some luxury vacation.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Dazai said. “It’s certainly a far cry from how I was living alone.” He glanced over at Chuuya, chatting animatedly with Yosano. “I’m not sure I would even call that ‘living’.” The look on his face made it clear to Kunikida that to Dazai, the luxury that made his new lifestyle worth living wasn’t the fine food and drink, but one compact, explosive, red-haired force of nature.
“I’m glad you’re happy, Dazai,” Kunikida said quietly.
Dazai looked back at Kunikida, startled, and then smiled. “Oh, I have a new whiskey that we’ll have to try tonight,” he said, changing the subject, and the serious moment passed.
Half an hour and another two bottles later, the dinner party was growing boisterous. Chuuya was enthroned in one of the armchairs in the living room, and Dazai had settled on the floor leaning back between his husband’s knees. Kunikida had settled at the other end of the sofa, and Yosano had started out next to him, but over the course of the last bottle had managed to insinuate herself between his legs, leaning back against his chest. Kunikida was sufficiently inebriated that he didn’t blush, let alone protest, and had even wrapped an arm around her waist.
Chuuya was giggling helplessly, and Yosano was snorting, as Dazai described their trip to the zoo on Valentine’s Day.
“But come on, I’m right, aren’t I?” Dazai demanded. “What did I say, what, dark quills with white tips, prickly on the outside, squishy inside-”
“Akutagawa!” Chuuya crowed and dissolved into laughter again.
Kunikida was clearly trying to be polite, but kept bursting into muffled laughter which he hid in Yosano’s hair.
Yosano gestured at Chuuya repeatedly. “You should tell Atsushi!” she said. “Ooo, ooo, I can send a picture to the group chat,” she said, and leaned over to set her glass down on the coffee table. She fumbled for her phone. “Porcupine,” she said slowly as she typed into the search engine.
Kunikida reached around and confiscated her phone. “No no no,” he said, wobbling slightly. “He hated the boy band thing. Don’t screw up our inter- inter-”
“Inter-organizational relations,” Dazai enunciated slowly and carefully.
“Yeah,” Chuuya said between giggles. “Don’t want him taking it out on Atsushi. Oh, hey!” he said. “What was the Atsushi thing?”
Dazai craned his neck around and looked at him for a moment, and everyone was silent, watching him.
About five seconds later, Dazai said, “Oh, tiger.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Chuuya said. He looked at Yosano and Kunikida. “Hey, do you know how tigers react to Atsushi? Like, do they think he’s human or do they know he’s a tiger too? And do they like him or think he’s a threat?”
“No,” Kunikida said.
Chuuya peered owlishly at Kunikida and drank some more wine. “No, they don’t like him, or no, they don’t think he’s a threat?”
“No, I don’t know how they react to him,” Kunikida corrected, and Chuuya made an “oh” of understanding.
“Me neither,” Yosano agreed.
“Huh, we’ll have to take him to the zoo,” Chuuya said.
“Awww,” Yosano said. “You should take Kyouka too.”
“And Kenji,” Chuuya said.
Kunikida looked wistful. “If you do, I want to go, too.”
Everyone looked soft for a moment.
“And we’ll take Akutagawa,” Dazai said, snickering, and everyone burst into laughter again.
As the laughter trailed off, Kunikida said, “I think-” and everyone waited for a moment, and then he said, “I think I’m too tipsy to do a pub quiz tonight. But it’s okay if you still want to, I can just lose.”
“Same!” said Chuuya, removing his hand from where it had been carding through Dazai’s hair and holding it up in the air as if in a classroom. Dazai made a little discontented noise, craning his head to look up at Chuuya mournfully, and Chuuya returned his hand to Dazai’s hair. Dazai smiled again and purred, and raised his glass again.
“Ooh, ooh, ooh, I know!” Yosano said, struggling upright. “Let’s do Never Have I Ever!”
“Yeah!” Chuuya said, raising his glass as if in a toast.
“What’s Never Have I Ever?” Dazai and Kunikida asked, and their significant others rounded on them and began explaining the game.
Dazai, even in his impaired state, was able to track both explanations simultaneously, but Kunikida struggled, hearing two different people trying to convey the same information, talking over one another.
“So we take turns,” he said eventually. “And we say something that we’ve never done but we think someone else has? And if you have done it you drink?”
“Yep,” Yosano said.
“And how do you win?” Kunikida asked.
“However you want,” Chuuya snorted. “You get drunk, and that’s fun, or you get other people drunk, and that’s fun, and you get to find out everyone’s embarrassing secrets, and that’s fun.”
Comprehension dawned, slowly. “Ah, I see,” Kunikida said ponderously. “It’s not a game like win or lose, it’s an icebreaker?”
“Exactly!” Yosano said.
Dazai looked around, calculating. “We’ll need another bottle,” he said decisively, and stood. Chuuya called out to him, presumably with the name of a particular wine.
Once he returned and settled back on the floor between Chuuya’s knees, the open bottle on the coffee table, Yosano spoke up.
“Okay, since it was my idea, I go first,” she announced grandly. “Never have I ever - wait, no, yes I have. Never have I ever - damn it, all the things I want to know about you I’ve already done. Oh! Never have I ever done anything sexual in a public bath.”
“What counts as public?” asked Chuuya, as Dazai raised his glass and drank.
“Public,” Yosano repeated. “Like where somebody could just walk in.”
“Okay, then no,” Chuuya said, petting Dazai’s hair.
“Dazai, you go next,” Yosano said.
Dazai carolled enthusiastically, “Never have I ever been in a singing contest!”
“You bastard,” Chuuya said, raising his glass again.
Yosano snickered, then gasped as Kunikida’s arm rose next to her and he drank. Spinning in his lap, she said, “Kunikida? When?!? Details!”
“Don’t get so excited,” he chided. “It wasn’t anything cool like Nakahara’s pop idol contest. I was just in the school choir when I was young, and we went to all the usual competitions.”
“Awww,” Chuuya and Yosano chorused in disappointment.
“Chuuya, you’re up,” Dazai said.
“Fine,” he huffed. “I’ll get you back,” he grumbled sotto voce. “Never have I ever drunk alcohol straight off someone’s body,” he announced triumphantly.
Yosano looked gleeful as Dazai smirked and drank, and then deliberately drank a second time. Kunikida just looked perplexed.
“How would you do that?” he asked.
“Navel shots!” Yosano guessed.
Dazai nodded, smirk widening. “Also,” he said in his most seductive voice, and then he turned, rising up on his knees between Chuuya’s. He reached up and tugged Chuuya’s collar aside to display his collarbone, and stroked his fingertip through the hollow.
Yosano’s eyes flashed. “Ooooh,” she said, turning. She reached up to check Kunikida’s collarbone and then murmured to him, “I know what we’re doing later.”
Kunikida slipped his fingers inside her collar and stroked her neck, and said in a deep growl, “I call dibs.”
Yosano planted a light kiss on his lips and said, “Deal,” as Chuuya hooted in the background.
“All right, Kunikida, you’re up,” Chuuya said as Yosano turned back around and settled back into her seat.
“Ah, never have I ever kissed a man?” Kunikida said uncertainly.
His companions snorted and drank.
“I see that you’ve opted to just get us all drunk rather than try to learn anything,” Dazai teased.
Kunikida shrugged. “I’ll get the hang of it, I’m sure.”
Yosano frowned, once again trying to think of something licentious that she had never done. “Never have I ever dressed in drag?” she asked, and then gasped as the other three all drank.
“Kunikida? Really?” Chuuya asked, awed.
“What?” Kunikida asked, his brows drawn together, and then realization flashed across his face. “Oh, no, sorry, my bad. I just like the wine.”
There was a chorus of disappointed boos, and Yosano punched him on the thigh. Turning her attention back to Dazai and Chuuya, she said, “Come on, details.”
They both shook their heads. “Can’t give you details,” Dazai said. “All I can say is that we have each had missions for the Port Mafia that required us to disguise ourselves as female.”
They sat, completely unfazed, as Yosano and Kunikida scrutinized them, clearly trying to imagine them in drag.
“Bet you both pulled it off really well,” Yosano finally opined.
“Of course,” Dazai said lightly. “My turn?”
Over the next several rounds, they discovered that Yosano had kissed another woman, that Kunikida was the only one who had never drunk himself sick, that Yosano was the only one who had ever kissed someone in a movie theater, that Kunikida and Chuuya had never made out with a stranger in a bar, that Dazai was the only one who had been slapped by someone he was flirting with - and also the only one who had been punched by the date of someone he was flirting with - and that Chuuya was the only one who hadn’t kissed more than one person in the same night. The latter revelation led to an extended interrogation of Kunikida, especially when it turned out that he had done this multiple times, usually from spin-the-bottle during his school years but once by some complicated anecdote involving an orange with whole cloves stabbed into it.
By this point the entire group was thoroughly drunk. When Dazai’s next turn rolled around, he eyed Kunikida to decide how relaxed he was, and then went for it.
“Never have I ever worn a stripper outfit,” he announced. He and Chuuya cackled as Kunikida raised his glass, only slightly pink, and then they hooted as Yosano drank as well.
“No, wait,” Dazai said. “I changed my mind! Never have I ever ripped someone’s clothes off! For sexual purposes, not first aid,” he clarified.
Chuuya protested. “Wait your turn, asshole, you don’t get to do two in a row!”
Yosano, clearly remembering Dazai’s remarks long ago about Chuuya ripping off his clothes, said, “No, no, it’s fine, he can do that one!” She pointed at Chuuya and said, “Drink!”
He did so, wrinkling his nose impudently at her, and she cackled until suddenly she felt Kunikida’s hand close on her wrist. She turned her head, startled, and he smirked as he raised her glass to her lips. “Halloween,” he said.
She broke into a smile. “Oooh, yeah.” She eyed him up and down in satisfaction as she drank.
Kunikida, inhibitions thoroughly lowered at this point, said, “Never have I ever been in a sexy calendar.”
He smirked as Chuuya raised his glass and drank.
“What?” Yosano said. “I thought you meant Dazai’s thing he did for Chuuya last year.”
“Huh?” Kunikida asked. “No, when we went to the library there was a calendar out on the desk, and it was Nakahara.” He blushed.
“No fair!” Yosano said. “I want to see! Did you get to see the ones of Dazai, too, or was it just Chuuya’s?”
“Just Nakahara,” he said. “And I only got a glimpse, and then Dazai closed it.”
Chuuya, well and truly drunk, protested, “That’s not fair, why just me? Dazai’s pictures were so much hotter.”
Dazai untangled his arm from where it had been twined around Chuuya’s calf, and he turned, rising up onto his knees again and wrapping his arms around Chuuya’s waist. “No they weren’t,” he complained, equally drunk. “Yours were hotter because they were you.”
As the two squabbled, Yosano strategically yet drunkenly pressed her advantage. “You should show me and let me judge,” she said.
“Yeah,” Chuuya said, pulling his legs up into the chair and climbing over the side. He weaved his way to a side table, and as he opened the drawer to take out a box, Dazai clambered to his feet and made his way to the home office, considerably more steady on his feet.
As they reunited, they set the box and calendar down on the coffee table. Yosano turned to sit upright on the edge of the sofa so that she could reach, but then tugged Kunikida over, maneuvering him until she was seated back between his legs.
She pored over the two offerings, making many appreciative comments, to which the opposing party generally reacted with “See? She likes yours!” Kunikida watched over her shoulder, occasionally glancing away in embarrassment, but paying more attention than Dazai expected.
Finally, Yosano set the album and calendar back down. “Tough call,” she said. “You ought to make a greatest hits album with the best shots from both.” She turned around and kissed Kunikida, who was still sufficiently plastered to not protest the PDA.
Trailing her hand down Kunikida’s chest, and then stroking his shoulder and bicep, she told him, “But I think you should do the calendar option. That way I get more pictures of you.”
Kunikida’s eyes widened in shock. “Me?” he asked. “Why would you want me to make a calendar?”
“Because you’re hot,” she pouted. “Come on, give me a sexy calendar so I can ogle you all the time.”
Chuuya and Dazai cheered encouragement. Dazai leaned over and said, in a stage whisper behind his hand, “Plus when she sees it she’ll be all over you.” Chuuya nodded enthusiastically and gave him a big thumbs-up.
Kunikida kept his arms wrapped around the woman in his lap, and his eyes strayed back to the cover of the calendar.
The next morning, Chuuya and Dazai awoke gradually, groaning in misery.
“I’m getting too old to drink like that,” Chuuya said, his voice raspy. “Gatorade and bananas for breakfast.”
“Too loud,” Dazai whimpered into his pillow. His brows drew together. “Did we show them the racy photos last night?”
Chuuya winced. “Yeah. We were pretty drunk.”
Dazai tried to smooth his brow, as frowning made his head hurt. “Well, so were they,” he said, trying to reassure himself. “Even if they remember, it’ll all be fuzzy,” he said hopefully.
Chuuya sighed. “Yeah.”
A few minutes later, Chuuya made a pained noise and said, “Fuck. All right. Gatorade and ibuprofen and bananas.” He levered himself upright with a colorful string of curses, and then set foot to floor and hobbled urgently to the bathroom.
Epilogue: Monday
Dazai and Kunikida had traded sheepish, strained smiles upon arrival at the Armed Detective Agency that morning. Partway through the morning, Kunikida stopped by Dazai’s desk and asked diffidently, “You want to go down to the cafe?” He glanced around and kept his voice down so they wouldn’t be overheard.
Dazai was intrigued. “Sure,” he said, rising from his desk.
They ambled down the stairs to the cafe and placed their orders.
After a few moments, Dazai said, “I had fun Saturday, but I can’t drink that hard any more. That was not a pleasant hangover yesterday.”
Kunikida gave a genuine half-laugh. “Me, too, on both counts.” He fiddled with his napkin.
“Something wrong?” Dazai asked encouragingly.
Kunikida looked up, and down, and up again. “I don’t know how much of it was the wine, but did Yosano insinuate she’d like me to make her a sexy calendar? Specifically, with me in it?”
Dazai grinned. “She didn’t insinuate, she demanded.”
Kunikida grinned back, and it was a good look on him. But his voice was hesitant as he continued.
“But, I’m not like the two of you. I don’t look like a model, and I don’t think I could pose for some of those pictures. But it would be nice for White Day, if she really does want something like that.” He looked at Dazai uncertainly.
Dazai replied with confidence. “I bet she would love something like that for White Day,” he said. “And you don’t have to try to match us, or what we did. Yes, Chuuya’s exotic and fit and very confident in his body. But he’s him, and she’s with you for a reason. And I’m not muscular like you two; I’m more androgynous. Honestly, if I were shorter, the Agency would probably be putting me in a padded bra and wig for all the undercover missions that require a woman. You’re very masculine, and very much a boy scout, and you should certainly know that you’re classically handsome. Do a more wholesome sexy calendar for her. Like-” he cast around for ideas. “Swim trunks and a float, to take a picture as a lifeguard. Do a sexy teacher one, where you’re perched on the edge of a desk and just have your sleeves rolled up above your elbows, and one too many buttons undone, taking your glasses off or something. A romance novel cover shot, with your hair down and a white shirt completely unbuttoned. A pair of gi pants and practicing katas.”
He was pleased to see Kunikida relaxing and looking more confident.
“Yes,” Kunikida said thoughtfully. “I could do that.”
Dazai accepted his coffee from the waitress, and watched as Kunikida accepted his own with a polite thank-you. And then I will have returned Yosano’s favor, he thought, smiling.
“Oh, and wear one of the outfits when you give it to her,” he advised.
Kunikida nodded, determined. “Thanks, Dazai,” he said. “I appreciate the advice.”
Dazai’s expression softened. “I’m glad that you felt comfortable talking to me about it.” He smiled slyly. “But seriously, next time we’re going to have to set out the alcohol in advance and lock the wine cabinet so we don’t get carried away.”
From over his shoulder, Yosano’s voice came.
“What, you two came down to the cafe and didn’t invite us? Shameful.” She crowded into the seat next to Kunikida, and they slid over as Atsushi and Kyouka and Junichirou all maneuvered for space, and everyone began placing orders and talking about their weekend.