Chapter Text
Nine at night.
It's already dark out, so dark you could mistake the trees for people, but the treet lights are on to guide your eyes. Even with the darkness, the city's silence never seems to live longer than a few minutes. It's Yokohama, after all. Not a single day goes by where not at least one gun shot rings through the air. The alleys are littered with drug business and dead bodies. The only way to know if those dead bodies are the work of the Port Mafia or gangs is to see how spotless the alleyways are after the massacre. If it's a gang, then something'll always be missing from the corpse, the deceased's belongings, or both. If it's the Port Mafia, well... most of the time, they pick a more wide-range space to send their message, so maybe check the warehouses near the Port if you're that curious. But you aren't curious, so you never check.
Ever.
You know better than that.
Despite the horrors that plague this city, you find yourself walking alone to the bus station tonight. Every night, even. Who could blame you? Not your fault that the only peace and quiet you can get is after hours. It's not like you live in Yokohama, anyways. It also just so happens that you work at the café situated right under the Armed Detective Agency's main office. Sure, the organization's only existed for, what, five years or so? And already own the building! Sounds like a pretty safe area.
Working at Uzumaki's the safest thing that's happened to you in those last five years. Yes, the customers can be quite difficult(and creepy, at times), not to mention your boss is the smack-dab literary definition of the expression "pain in the ass", but it's the safest option. It isn't good, far from it, but you'd prefer that over moving to another town all over again. It pays well, too. You even go there after school whenever you have the time, sometimes to say hi or pick up some extra hours your coworkers left behind.
Speaking of, your colleagues have been way more welcoming that you anticipated. Had you known how nice everyone(but your stinky boss) is, you would not have been such a nervous wreck on your first day. Then again, you always work well under pressure, so the anxiety and uncertainty were perhaps for the better.
You've managed to rack up a decent enough earning that allows you to buy groceries every week when needed, as well as all the food you want! You've got near perfect grades in almost every subject, especially Literature and Political science. You make your parents proud, make your siblings happy, make your teachers happy and the waters stay calm. Nothing else and no one else matters.
Not even you.
Finally, after thirty minutes of looking over your shoulder and anxiously pretending to be on the phone at least three times, you make it to your bus stop and sit down on the nearest bench to wait. You pull out your phone to play some music, but just as you plug your headphones in...
"Excuse me, young lady?"
A sigh leaves your nose involuntarily as irritation and nervous grips you by the temple of your exhaustion and you tuck your phone away, snapping your head up to look at the strange man. You raise an eyebrow. The man, no doubt in his early 40s if the small wrinkles on his face are anything to go by, smiles down at you. He slightly tilts his head to the side and asks, in a deceitfully polite tone that you can't help but feel malice ooze off of; "Do you know which bus I need to take to get back to Uzumaki? I need to get there as quickly as possible."
You eye the man up and down, carefully assessing his features for a moment. Your eyes narrow and you glare at him in irritation. "You have a phone, don't you? Use it. You can find directions yourself, old man."
The stranger looks caught off guard by your aprehension, frowning. He then walks away, grumbling something about the new generation. Once he's gone, you sigh and put your headphones on, waiting for the bus. When it arrives, you get on, but can't help looking out the window one last time before it drives off. The man was on the phone, and kept on looking over ay you, no doubt mad. Next to him stood two kids, you guessed about the same age as you, one ginger and one brunette. They stare at you blankly. Whether with as much annoyance as the man on the phone- who you assume is their father or legal guardian- or just plain curiosity, you weren't sure. One of them- the chestnut-haired boy- smiles at you and waves. You roll your eyes at him and the bus drives off.
Once you're home, you make as little noise as possible and make your way up to your bedroom as silently as can be. You softly open the door to your little sister's bedroom and tip-toe all the way to the pastel yellow vanity near her bed. From your pocket, you pull out a blue bow hair clip and a stickey note with a "Happy Birthday! :)" written on it. You gently place it down on the wooden surface, then see yourself out, making sure you didn't close the door too loudly as you did so.
Once you've brushed your teeth, changed into your pajamas and closed the door, the first thing you do is flop onto your bed. Normally, you'd open your backpack and read, maybe get a head-start in tommorrow's lesson and start doing the homework before it's even assigned, but you simply don't have the energy tonight. You close your eyes and hold your stomach, ignoring its grumbling. It takes a few minutes, but sleep finds you and drifts you away.
(￣o￣) . z Z
Somewhere else, in Yokohama...
"She was right there, damnit! Why didn't we just grab her!?" The firey boy boy exclaims in irritated confusion. The dark haired boy, lying on a couch that looked much too luxurious for someone of his disheveled appearance, huffed and rolled his eyes.
"Stupid, stupid slug! As rash as you are loud!" Dazai sat up at lightning speed, swiftly dodging the heavy ball of blue metal aimed at him. It instead hits the couch, denting it. Chuuya winds it back towards him, half-scowling.
"That doesn't even make sense, dumbass."
Dazai looks at him like he's just denied the existence of the earth itself, an eyebrow raised.
"Uh... Yeah, it does."
"No, it doesn't!" Chuuya retorts in annoyance, stepping forward. "You can't be a slug and be rash at the same time. You're either slow or quick, you can't be both!" Dazai waved a hand dismissively, turning his head away and lying back down onto the couch.
"Pleh, stop that! I can't stand the sight of Chuuya being rational! Intelligence isn't a good look on you."
The redhead grumbled some incoherent insult under his breath and stepped back a bit. "You didn't answer my question."
To that, Dazai sighed heavily and whined, practically dragging his torso upwards in a way that made it look as if his bones carried too much weight. He leaned back on his forearms and looked up at him, his tone condescending and lazy as if he were reciting common knowledge to a toddler. "Clearly, the best coarse of action would be to test her intellect first, then her instincts! God, you're insufferable, Chuuya..."
"Could've told me that beforehand, you fucking bastard-"
"Meaning--" Dazai continued, purposefully ignoring his angry grumbling and speaking louder over his rightfully ticked off friend. "--that whatever comes before the "ambush" part is my responsibility and a small think like you shouldn't-" dodge "--overwork its peabrain thinking about it."
"Would've still been nice to know, Dazai!" Chuuya exclaimed, indignant. He glared at the insolent boy and sighed. "And how exactly are we planning on testing her deductive skills or whatever?"
"Correction, Chuuya!" Dazai put a finger up, waving it side to side in a chastising manner. "We are not planning anything. I tell you what to do, you follow along just like an obedient dog and everything goes according to my plan."
The dog comment earns him another yoyo attack, which he dodges once again, much to Chuuya's annoyance. The ginger crossed his arms, eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled into a frown. "Fine, then." He stepped forward again, staring Dazai down. "What's your grand plan, mister genius?" He mocked bitterly, a hint of curiosity beneath his sarcasm.
"I already told you." Dazai replied as he lied back down, hands behind his head, his voice back to its playful nature. Frankly, it probably wasn't even its true nature. Chuuya wasn't sure how Dazai felt at all. He could never tell. "Don't worry your tiny head about it."
Chuuya clicked his tongue, bringing his foot to the bottom of the couch in a harsh kick and sending it toppling onto its back, taking Dazai with it, who yelped in startlement.
"Owh! Chuuya's so mean! Bad dog, bad! I deman that you help me up this instant!"
"I'M NOT YOUR DAMN DOG!" Chuuya stomped forward and leaning over to look at the fallen boy. "Only thing I'll be helping you to are the gates of heaven!" He then paused, pensive for a moment, before shaking his head, eyes narrowed. "No, scratch that. You're definitely going to hell." He grumbled, shaking his head. "I bet even God's sick of you." He the shot the yoyo, the string toy coiling around the couch and encaging Dazai in it before he pulled, lifting them up. He then unwrapped the yoyo and winded the rope back into place, tucking it into his pocket. Dazai looked up at him, smugly grinning.
"Good boy!"
And face first to the floor Dazai was kicked, couch be spared this time.