Chapter Text

Documents slid across the table with ease, papers shuffled in the dim lighting of the room, nobody spoke. 

There was an organization that had infiltrated Yokohama, the “Green Emerald”, its operatives at various locations across the city, posting guard in front of large containers of artillery and explosives. Their goal wasn’t simple, as the Agency would have hoped, they wanted to get their hands on multiple things, including taking various gifted hostages and bargaining for a gifted organization permit in the process. Although, there wouldn’t be much bargaining it seemed- they would burn the government special division for unusual powers down with one or not. 

Then, they would burn the city of Yokohama to the ground. Kunikida’s hands tightened around the files with a newfound anger.

It wasn’t an easy feat, they didn’t come to play nice. Affiliates of the group had already begun their rampage and taken control of different storefronts around the city, cashing out their power under the dangerous ability of their leader, who had possession of a tablet, granting him the gift of ‘As Above, So Below’. 

The Agency members hadn’t left the safety of the office and their dorms since their emergence, the fear of exposing themselves posing too great of a risk. They weren’t naive, knowing even if they went in with full force, they would be shot down in an instant. This group wasn’t as easy as few before, and they had gained too many sharp affiliates to be any sort of a match for a detective agency that refused to kill. 

They had contacted the government for intel regarding the group and anything that might be of importance, Dazai’s connection within the government helping tremendously. Ango Sakaguchi, a high ranking official in the division for unusual powers, had sent telegrams of varying documents. 

“Let me get this straight,” Kunikida broke the thick silence in the room, “The tablet… it lets whoever is in possession of it make holograms?”

“Not holograms,” Ranpo replied, “Replicas.”

“Replicas?” Yosano asked, her head leaning against her hand.

“Think of clones,” Ranpo supplied, “Conjuring people from the dead, essentially.”

“Not zombies right?” Atsushi asked, already feeling eyes on him for the idiotic question. 

“Not zombies,” Dazai took an uncharacteristic breath, “Replications of people who have died, fully capable with their gift if they had one.”

“Oh,” Atsushi mumbled, now understanding the even greater risk this posed to Yokohama. Conjuring hundreds of deceased ability-users and being able to control them for personal gain was definitely a bigger threat than armed grunts on the streets.

“We can’t do this alone,” Yosano sighed, placing files on the table with a resigned voice, “I don’t want to be the one to suggest it, but we need backup.”

“I believe we would be able to work together with the help of the Port Mafia, given our truce.” Fukuzawa stated, “With a similar goal in mind, this shouldn’t be a problem.”

“They’ve taken over whole blocks of the city,” Kunikida’s voice was practiced, “They’re looking for something.”

“I’ve come to the same conclusion,” Ranpo looked up to meet Dazai’s eyes, “They won’t let up until they have it.”

“What could they possibly be looking for here?” Tanizaki asked, getting nervous with the way the conversation was going. 

“A singularity.” Kyouka said, her voice monotone as she flipped around the document in her hands. 

    Previous Threats:

Embezzlement, United States

Artificial Gift Experimentation, United States

Artificial Gift Experimentation, United Kingdom

Artificial Gift Experimentation, France

Embezzlement, France



Localized Threat: Suribachi City, Yokohama
        Obtain Artificial Gift
        Obtain Singularity



File Access Transcript:


Accessed, via Yokohama Official Government Code, Chuuya Nakahara


Sealed Code: YELLOW, via Yokohama Official Government Code, Accessible Only: Ango Sakaguchi, Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara


Opened Code: RED, via Yokohama Official Government Code, Chuuya Nakahara


Accessed, via Yokohama Official Government Code, Osamu Dazai


Accessed, via Yokohama Official Government Code, Ango Sakaguchi


Accessed, via Intel Transfer, Ougai Mori, Chuuya Nakahara, Osamu Dazai, Ango Sakaguchi


Accessed, via Intel Transfer, Ango Sakaguchi, Active Armed Detective Agency Members

Accessed, via Yokohama Official Government Code, Chuuya Nakahara

“A singularity?” Kunikida’s eyes widened as he grabbed the file from Kyouka’s hands, “I doubt we have ever even encountered one.”

“Why did Nakahara access this file?” Atsushi asked, leaning over Kunikia’s shoulder to read the file.

“Tell us, Dazai,” Yosano looked over at her coworker, “He’s your former partner after all.”

“Chuuya is a top performing Executive,” Dazai shrugged though his shoulders were tight, “It’s his job to find these types of threats.”

“And neutralize them,” Kenji added. 

“He wouldn’t be working with them, right?” Tanizaki asked, knowing how powerful the Executive was. 

“No, he’s not that dumb.” Dazai tried to joke but it came out wrong. 

“I can assure you he is not, although he would be an important figure in defeating them.” Ranpo said, eyes bouncing from Dazai to Fukuzawa.

“I agree,” Fukuzawa said, his voice authoritative, “Due to your past partnership with him,” He looked at Dazai, “And his gift, working with him seems to be a good play.”

“But why are they after a singularity?” Atsushi asked, looking up from the file in Kunikia’s hands.

“To gain control over it,” Ranpo supplied, “Imagine having all of that power under your fingertips.”

“And to replicate it,” Dazai added. 

“I suppose that makes sense, if they were to find a singularity here, they could experiment and create more,” Kunikida sighed, “Given they could find hosts.”

“Here’s another file, probably the singularity they’re after.” Kyouka slid another file across the table.

    ORIGIN: CHILD EXPERIMENTATION

Birth Place: Unknown, Japan, France

Experimentation: ? - 7 Years old

Current Age Given Survival: 22

Original Gift: Amplification

Current Gift: XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX {REDACTED}



Singularity merged with host XXXXXX XXXXXXXX {REDACTED} to allow XXXX XX XXXX XXXX XXX XX XXXXXXXX XXXXX XXX XXXX XXXX XXXXXXXXX {REDACTED}



Localized Threat: NONE



File Access Transcript:

Accessed, via Yokohama Official Government Code, XXXXXX XXXXXXXX {REDACTED}



Sealed, via Yokohama Official Government Code, XXXXX XXXXX , XXXXXX XXXXXXXX {REDACTED}




Opened, via Override Government Code, Ango Sakaguchi




Accessed, via Intel Transfer, Ango Sakaguchi, Ougai Mori




Accessed, via Yokohama Official Government Code, XXXXXX XXXXXXXX {REDACTED}




Accessed, via Intel Transfer, Ango Sakaguchi, Active Armed Detective Agency Members

Dazai reread the file, filling in the gaps with his own knowledge of what it was about. He straightened himself and passed on the document, not allowing his coworkers to see he could possibly understand what was truly going on.

“Most of this information is redacted,” Yosano sighed, “They might be after someone that is dead.”

“I highly doubt a group that has terrorized multiple countries is following a dead lead,” Kunikida replied as he passed the document, “Although with no information of where this person is, things can get tricky.”

“The government obviously knows,” Ranpo said, “They chose to redact the information.”

“Why would they do that?” Tanizaki asked. 

“What if you were living a normal life and didn’t know this happened to you?” Atsushi said. 

“I agree,” Kunikida replied, “I assume after the experimentation and merge to become a singularity you wouldn’t remember much.”

“They probably got picked up by an orphanage,” Kenji offered, “They might not even know they’re being hunted.”

“It’s probably better that way.” Atsushi said, his voice withdrawn as a slight shudder ran through him.

“File says they were part of a group called The Sheep,” Kunikida pointed out, “I don’t think they exist anymore.”

Ranpo slid a phone across the table and it hit Dazai’s open hand, a tattered and broken thing, something meant to be hidden under an old brick in a warehouse left untouched for years. It was a burner phone, something Dazai had placed in an emergency, a phone that connected directly to the man who could provide him with the power he needed. 

The question had been asked, the proposition had been extended. Dazai looked up to meet Ranpo’s green eyes, glimmering underneath his glasses before shooting a look to Fukuzawa. His superior nodded, placing the singularity files in his hand down on the table, knowing it was the only way to have a leg up in this war that was about to start. 

Dazai pressed the call button, putting the phone on speaker and letting one ring go through before it connected to the person on the other line. 

“I’ve been waiting far too long for this call,” The voice on the other end chuckled before turning darker, “Tell me, Dazai, what is it you are looking for?” 

“If you are going to allow the Green Emerald to overthrow Yokohama.” Dazai’s voice was polished yet cunning.

“Of course not, I have teams on the ground as we speak tracking their every move.” Mori responded, “I assume you have come to a conclusion on our shared problem? I would hate to let go of such great power.”

Fukuzawa drew a breath, the understanding dawning on him as he locked eyes with Ranpo, who held the same look. Mori’s hand in this was unknown, even to them. He could relent information, he could decide to continue the truce that had been long forgotten, or he could destroy the Armed Detective Agency along with the Green Emerald.

“They’re going after more than that.” Dazai responded, his voice serious. 

“I’m aware, they want to replicate it,” Mori sighed before continuing, “Will I regret the decision I’m about to allow?”

“Not this time,” Dazai said, his hands finding themselves gripping the side of the table tighter than he’d like. 

“Very well, although I have a feeling it wouldn’t matter what I say on the matter,” Mori said, “Unless you were hoping for your old protege to attend as well?”

Atsushi dropped the files in his hand. 

Dazai replied easily, “Unnecessary.”

“Understood,” Mori paused before continuing, “Goodbye for now, Dazai.”

The line clicked dead and the tension in the room grew. Dazai stood, his chair scraping against the tile making an awful noise. He pulled out his laptop, opening it with tense hands and typing steadily. The small projector on the wall began to whirl with a newfound energy, spinning and clicking until it lit up the room with photographs of people the Agency had never seen and official documents. 

“These are deceased ability users and high ranking officials in Port Mafia files,” Dazai said, “They are of utmost concern.”

The Agency spent a while going through the highly protected documents with Dazai acting as a liaison, informing his coworkers on abilities, strengths and potential weaknesses. Kunikida wanted to interject, and wanted to flippantly make a comment on just how much information Dazai had on the Port Mafia, but the tone of his partner’s voice stopped him.

They ranged between the Port Mafia’s own deceased affiliates and opponents they had faced in the past, Dazai recounting his own experiences with most of them. He continued flicking through different images and documents until he landed on a particular one, taking a brief moment before explaining.

This document got more attention from the group, Dazai’s hands flexing slowly on the keyboard of his laptop as he read out the names and explained their individual duties within the Port Mafia as well as an explanation for Lippmann’s ability.

“This was a particularly deadly division within the Port Mafia,” Dazai continued, “I believe they will be used in combat, among other things, the most.”

“It seems Nakahara is familiar with them,” Kunikida stated as he jotted things down in his notebook, “Under the truce, we should be able to employ his assistance since his name has been all over these files.”

“He would know combat strategies against them, right?” Yosano asked, chiming in. 

“Yes, it does appear so.” Ranpo said, locking eyes with Dazai.

This version of Dazai, the one in the Agency, did not want Chuuya to go up against The Flags. Maybe before, when his soul was drenched in Port Mafia black, maybe when he didn’t value human life the way he did now, he would’ve been more okay with this. But it would be their only hope, especially if Lippmann showed on the field- the Agency was strong, more than capable of holding their own, but not against this group. 

“As much as I would dislike working with Nakahara, he seems important to this,” Kunikida said as he pulled out his own laptop, “I will send a formal request for his presence.”

“Nakahara confirmed the bodies?” Atsushi asked, causing everyone’s heads to snap towards him. 

“Thats what the file reads, Atsushi,” Kunikida sighed in slight annoyance, “Keep up, kid.”

“So he saw his group… dead.” Atsushi continued, uncaring to Kunikida’s comment. 

“It’s common within the Mafia, don’t worry your head about it.” Yosano said, inwardly cringing at her own statement. 

“It’s an old file,” Kyouka tried, understanding why the document was affecting Atsushi so much. 

“How old?” Atsushi asked. 

“Six years old,” Dazai said, his lips pressing in a thin line, “He was sixteen during this.”

“You’re very well-versed in the Flags,” Kunikida pointed out, now turning his attention to the conversation fully, “Did you know them?”

“Not personally but through Chuuya, yes. We were in the Mafia at the same time, remember?” Dazai said, keeping his words trained and steady. 

“Can you access more information?” Kunikida asked, his glasses glinting with the reflection of the document, “Says it needs a code to retrieve further information.”

“Why would we need to do that?” Tanizaki asked, “I thought Nakahara was going to work with us on this.”

“Is he really somebody we can trust, Junichiro?” Kunikida turned, his voice hitting Dazai’s ears wrong, “Dazai only knows limited information, we need everything we can get.”

He wanted to say yes, that Chuuya was absolutely somebody they could trust on this matter, that Chuuya has the same goal in mind- save Yokohama, stop the Green Emerald while keeping his past a secret and stop any more kids from being turned into the monster he had been. In front of his coworkers, however, the script was much different, and he knew what was behind the firewall, the report written on the King of Assassins incident; he wrote it. It wouldn’t reveal Chuuya’s past, only his past with the flags. 

“I can try,” Dazai said, ignoring Kunikida’s comment outwardly, “Give me a minute.”

Dazai pulled his laptop into his hands from his standing position, fingers screaming as he entered his old Executive code into the document, silently hoping it wouldn’t work even though he knew it did. A string of intelligible numbers and letters were entered into the space before the projector showed his coworkers the loading screen. 

The room grew antsy waiting, deciding against commenting on the fact Dazai’s Executive code was still in the system. The file loaded, placing itself devastatingly in front of the detectives.

“You wrote the report?” Atsushi asked, stunned at how much information was redacted. The Mafia kept their secrets under lock and key. 

“I did,” Dazai said, his voice tilting, “Although I don’t remember it all being redacted.”

“Try entering your code.” Kunikida said, voice cutting through the room. 

“You do not have to do that,” Fukuzawa said, hoping he himself understood the gravity of the document in front of them, “We have enough information from your recollections, and we will gain more upon Nakahara’s arrival.”

Dazai typed on the document, knowing a few years ago he had full access to the report he wrote. He wondered why Chuuya had redacted so much information regarding the incident, knowing deep down his partner was most likely aware of the Green Emeralds true motive in Yokohama. 

Dazai stared at the screen as he was denied access to the synopsis he prepared all those years ago. He tried again, typing into another redacted area. 

“Dazai, what’s going on?” Kunikida asked, watching the system deny him access again. 

“It seems you’ve been removed from the file,” Ranpo smirked, “It did say that on the redacted report, the only person able to access this file is Mr. Fancy Hat.”

Dazai shook his head, uncaring to the obvious truth. Chuuya was aware of what was going on, obviously more than aware. Taking Dazai off the files was a deliberate move, something he wanted to understand the meaning of but couldn’t at the moment. Was he taken off because his partner thought the information would be used against him? Did he really trust Dazai so little that he thought he’d reveal sensitive information about his past to the Agency?

No, Dazai knew why he did this. His stupid, sentimental, emotional partner didn’t want information on the Flags to be revealed through the graphic description of their deaths.

He tried one more time, this time on a file he knew the only person with access to was Chuuya Nakahara himself.

The sound of the door opening drew everyone’s attention, armed and ready to deal with any potential threats.

“The absolute fuck are you trying to get into, Dazai?”

The Agency members calmed slightly at the sight of Chuuya, one hand on the door and the other holding a stack of files. He had his usual anger surrounding him, dressed in his typical Mafia attire and shooting daggers at Dazai. Under different circumstances, they would have remained afraid and ready for a fight, but given the state of Yokohama, a Port Mafia Executive during their truce was expected.

“Well,” Dazai said, trying his best to put on his normal light voice, “We needed more information on the types of replicas we might encounter.”

“What more information could you need on that incident? You were there.” Chuuya bit back, leaving out the part where he played into orchestrating it. 

“Yes, but my coworkers weren’t.” Dazai waved his hand to gesture to the group of individuals in the dark room who were looking at him expectantly.

There was a secret message underneath his words, something Chuuya picked up on instantly as he huffed and slammed the door behind himself. He walked over to the table and set down the large stack of files and placed a heavy hand on top of them, looking around the room with a slight hesitance. 

It was Dazai’s turn to understand, picking up on the protective hand placed on top of the files. To his coworkers, it would look like he was about to bargain, use the files as some chip for the Mafia to gain a little more pull in this truce, a quid pro quo. Dazai wasn’t his coworkers; he could tell by Chuuya’s choice in gloves today, elegant and thick leather, leaving plenty of material between his own marred skin and the documents on the table, that the information in those files had the potential to hurt him.

“I assume we’ve all come to the same conclusion,” Chuuya spoke, looking directly at Fukuzawa now. 

“Yes.” Fukuzawa nodded. 

“Then the Port Mafia is in complete partnership with the Armed Detective Agency from this point forward,” Chuuya continued looking at Fukuzawa, his tone switching into one of both respect and authority, “We will not attempt anything to disarm you or your organization as long as you agree to truce terms.”

“We agree,” Fukuzawa spoke, “I ask that there is no unreasonable harm brought to my subordinates, and that the Mafia does not use this partnership as leverage in future conflicts.”

“We agree to the terms,” Chuuya bowed, hand still on the files. 

Dazai watched the interaction with a gleam in his eyes, Chuuya had become a powerful Executive, just like he was destined to. Whatever the files held, he would not waver in face of it. His Chuuya was not weak, not something to pity after. His Chuuya was a strong and respectable Port Mafia Executive, ability at bay, emotions hidden in the back of his chest. 

“Very well, we extend all Agency protections to those working on this with us,” Fukuzawa said. 

“I- We extend all protections to the Agency as well.” Chuuya nodded. 

The slip up was caught, only Ranpo and Dazai knew the full meaning of it. 

“These files contain the process used to successfully merge a singularity into a vessel, they are highly sensitive documents I suggest the kids don’t read,” Chuuya said, voice steady, practiced, trained, “The Green Emerald is tracking down a singularity here in Yokohama, hoping to experiment on it and recreate it to use in future endeavors.” 

He took his hand off the files and placed them in the middle of the table, watching intently as the older Agency detectives each took a pile until none were left. Dazai looked to his partner, hoping to catch a glimpse of his eyes so he could truly understand how the other was feeling, but Chuuya kept his eyes to the front of the room, to the blinking screen of files he had sealed, to Fukuzawa. 

“The Green Emerald operatives are stationed in a base in the countryside, an old-school Mafia base deep underground that was used for drug runs,” Chuuya said, his voice nothing more than informative, “Beside the gift of As Above So Below, there’s an amplification ability and a telepathy ability at play.”

“How do you know this?” Kunikida asked, holding onto the files in his hand with a hard grip, “Is it verifiable?”

“Verified by the two men from my squad who survived, yes.” Chuuya replied, voice dipping back into its normal emotion before correcting itself, “Ango’s information on the group shows three gifted, from what my squad encountered it’s very obviously amplification and telepathy.”

“You say this like you have personal experience with those two gifts,” Kunikida pushed back, “How are you so sure it’s those? Amplification is a broad term.”

“Amplification was the original ability of the singularity the Green Emerald is going after,” Atsushi pointed out, remembering the government documents. 

“Do you think the singularity they’re after has been hiding within their group the whole time?” Yosano questioned nobody in particular. 

“Ah, we should let you guys read these documents,” Ranpo stated and hopped off his chair, “I believe a few of us need to discuss proper terms within the truce.” 

Ranpo flicked his gaze between Dazai, Chuuya and Fukuzawa, taking a few steps before a voice rang out. 

“I should be part of this conversation,” Kunikida said, placing the files down on the table. 

“No need!” Ranpo easily deflected, “Your eyes are important for those documents.”

Kunikida sent a hard glare but relented, picking back up the file and opening it. Fukuzawa led the group out of the meeting space and into the hallway, quiet footsteps on the floor as they made their way to his office. Dazai, once again, wanted anything Chuuya would give him- a small tell of his emotions, something to tell him how the other was feeling.

Usually, Chuuya wore his heart on his sleeve; overly emotional about everything. Of course, he could keep his composure and cool in situations that required it, he didn’t get his title of Executive for acting rashly, but this was much bigger than anything they’d face- and Dazai had a feeling Chuuya was about to meet his maker sooner rather than later. 

The group entered the office, Chuuya standing slightly outside of it before being beckoned in by Ranpo. The door was shut heavily behind them and Fukuzawa circled his desk before drawing the curtains. Ranpo sat to the far left on an oversized green chair, where he draped a blanket over his legs. Dazai sat in the middle chair, and Chuuya sat to the one in the right, hands coming down on the armrests with a calculated tension. 

“As previously stated, the terms of the truce are gracefully accepted by the Port Mafia,” Chuuya started, “I will see to it that no harm is brought to the Armed Detective Agency.”

“We know you will, Nakahara,” Ranpo smiled, “You’ve got too much to lose.”

Chuuya tore his gaze off Fukuzawa and landed on Ranpo, who looked too smug for his liking, using his last name instead of the typical lazy ‘Mr. Fancy Hat’. He could see the tells in Dazai stiffening beside him, the minute crawl of his fingers on his pants, the tapping of his shoes. 

“Do you know who hosts the singularity the Green Emerald is targeting?” Ranpo asked, head tilting slightly.

Although Ranpo knew, and it was obvious Dazai also knew, he wasn’t quite sure if Nakahara himself knew. It had been obvious from the start they were targeting the Executive, the host of the singularity of Arahabaki, a secret hidden under bloodshed and trust, firewalls and password-protected documents. He had a hunch Chuuya’s original ability wasn’t gravity manipulation, but his name being scattered across every single document they’d seen was enough to seal his fate. 

“Ranpo-” Dazai was cut off by Chuuya’s deep voice. 

“Yes.” Chuuya responded.

Fukuzawa breathed deeply through his nose, watching the interaction. He knew Nakahara was explosive, but right now he looked nothing of the sort. He had a distant look to him, his eyes a bit more sunken than the last time he’d seen him, dark rings forming under his lashes. His body was rigid but attempting to display itself as relaxed. The only word Fukuzawa could chalk him up to was secretive. 

“Then tell us, Executive Nakahara Chuuya,” Ranpo said with a light voice when saying Chuuya’s title, “Who are they targeting and why?”

Chuuya didn’t open his mouth to explain, he simply continued staring through Ranpo. Dazai looked at his partner, noting the distant gaze of his eyes, all the tells in his body language that wanted to run, that wanted to fight. All the tells that showed he was resigned. 

“Or you could tell us why your name was all over every single document we saw, I bet we could piece it together from that.” Ranpo continued, leaning back in his chair.

“Nakahara, all intel should be shared if we have any chance of defeating our shared enemy.” Fukuzawa stated, his voice steady and remained authoritative. 

“I am the vessel for Arahabaki, they’re after me, they want to replicate merging a gift with a god to create a singularity… to create more weapons of mass destruction.”

Before anyone could respond, the unmistakable sound of wretching and vomit hitting a trashcan was heard from behind the door, along with Atsushi’s voice carrying through the wood saying ‘oh my god, i don’t think i can read any more of this,’ before Yosano’s voice soothed him, ‘it’s more than anyone can handle, it’s okay, look around.’

“Nakahara-” Fukuzawa started but was cut off by Chuuya.

“Call me Chuuya,” He said, “Nobody uses that name.”

Fukuzawa took a moment to consider before deciding he would break the honor code of his language and respect the Executive in front of him- the man subjected to child experimentation, the man who hosted a deadly singularity and could level the building without breaking a sweat. 

“Chuuya then, how do you think they will achieve this?” Fukuzawa asked, dodging the obvious line of questioning the man thought he would go down.

Dazai could tell Chuuya was relieved by this question if the subtle lean into his chair meant anything. He didn’t want to speak about the experimentations, the questions of his own humanity, the obvious trauma that came with being some lab-made thing. Dazai was grateful the president wasn’t dense, or blunt as Mori had been, even though he knew Chuuya wouldn’t have let it bother him. 

“They’re going to try and capture you, using your dead friends against you,” Ranpo supplied. 

“They’re going to try to kill me,” Chuuya responded, his typical anger returning to his voice, “Like they could even touch me.”

“I agree with him,” Dazai finally spoke, “They will try to capture Chuuya to assess how he was able to merge with Arahabaki, then they’ll kill him; it’s a win-win.”

“They want a pawn to use at their disposal while they’re in the process of creating more,” Ranpo said, building off of Dazai’s theory, “Smart move considering their gifts.”

“We obviously cannot let this happen,” Fukuzawa sighed, leaning back in his chair, “This means the end of Yokohama as we know it.”

“Infiltration is the obvious plan and the one I’m going with,” Chuuya crossed his arms over his chest as he spoke, “If they want me, they’ll get me.”

“You seem confident.” Ranpo observed.

“I am,” Chuuya replied, though it was now obvious his anger wasn’t directed at the group, maybe only a fraction at Ranpo, “I was born with an amplification gift, telepathy is childs-play and to hell with As Above, So Below.”

“Now imagine all three, at the same time.” Fukuzawa stated, “You will not go alone.”

“I don’t need protection-” Chuuya tried but was cut off by the authoritative yet soft voice of Fukuzawa.

“This isn’t for you, it’s for the entirety of Yokohama,” He sighed as he looked down before meeting Chuuya’s eyes, “I understand the weight of the situation, and your secret will not leave this room no matter what happens in the future with organization conflicts, I appreciate your honesty even if your hand was forced in the matter.”

Chuuya nodded stiffly. 

“We need to formulate an infiltration plan with the rest of the group, you three will decide who stays and who goes,” Fukuzawa continued, “None of this conversation is to leave this room.” 

With the obvious dismissal, the three stood and began walking out of the room. Chuuya allowed Ranpo and Dazai to leave first, holding the door half-shut in his hands with an obvious hesitancy in his body. 

“Is there something you want to say, Chuuya?” Fukuzawa asked. 

Chuuya turned his head but didn’t meet his eyes, his back on full display to the Agency president, a sign of timid trust Fukuzawa understood. From his view, he could also now see the turmoil in the Executive’s body, the way his hands were balled into fists, the iron grip on the door, the downcast eyes. 

“Thank you,” Chuuya said, his voice low enough so nobody could hear before he walked out of the room and shut the door. 

Fukuzawa took a few moments to sit at his desk and scrub his hands over his face. The most powerful Executive in the Port Mafia just became even more powerful with the newfound information, and then had thanked him. He was an interesting case, and he could clearly see why Chuuya and Dazai’s partnership had worked so well, and continued to work well, despite opposing organizations- especially in situations where Chuuya could have absolutely blown the Agency off the map with a singular flick of his wrist. 

He finally stood and made his way out of his office, thoughts of trust and partnership fleeting the moment he made it to the meeting room. 

Files were scattered across the table. Atsushi looked sick as he continued reading one of them, Yosano had a hand over her open mouth and Kunikida looked deeply conflicted, the smell of vomit light in the air. Tanizaki and Kyouka had left the room, obviously following the suggestion Chuuya had given in regards to the younger members not reading the files.

Fukuzawa felt his mouth dry at the contents of the document, eyes stuck on the line detailing Chuuya was only four years old when this all started. He shook it out of his mind, keeping his composure. With heavy steps, he made his way to where Atsushi was reading with a sickly green hue adorning his face.

Fukuzawa’s eyes widened a fraction, stepping away from Atsushi in favor of Yosano, who had her mouth ajar with a hand slapped over it. She was the doctor within their organization, this must have to hit her a little harder knowing she could understand more than her coworkers.

He grimaced at the wording in the letter, how Chuuya had been described as a terrible little boy rather than just a little boy. A feeling escaped through his chest, something volatile and protective- he looked up to see his subordinate’s- Dazai’s- eyes look exactly the same. He walked behind Kunikida, reading over his shoulder at the two documents in his hands.

Fukuzawa stepped forward and grabbed a stack of the many documents on the table. From their condition, he wouldn’t doubt these were from Chuuya’s personal collection of files and documents. They looked as if they had been touched once since their recovery from the ominous Suribachi city facility. He flicked through the documents in his hands.

Chuuya had been nicknamed, or identified before being given a government tracking number, after experiment A258, the successful experiment. Something must have caused him to merge with Arahabaki before this Dr. N could do it himself, explaining why the government document had listed that number under its gifted registry number on the Arahabaki page. Fukuzawa sighed as he looked around the room to his subordinates fretting over the documents, sick with disgust over what they were reading. 

One look at Chuuya, standing next to Dazai, told him everything he needed to know. His stance was tight, arms crossed over his chest in a protective manner. His face was neutral, almost too neutral, as if it had been practiced a hundred times over. Despite everything he was, his temper, his anger, his destruction and devastation- Fukuzawa saw a small boy with mellow auburn hair and striking mismatched eyes. With freckles splayed across pale skin, light clothes flowing off his young frame, smiling up at loving parents that got snatched away from him. He saw tubes and wires engulfing a frame too small to handle them, he saw a restrained and gagged child, shaking in fear, screaming out for anyone to hear despite the attempts to quiet him. Fukuzawa couldn’t see anything other than the child that was stolen and replaced with the over-reactive and expressive Executive standing at the far side of the room, who finally now had a voice that was being stifled by his past on display for one his his organization’s ‘enemy organization’ to read and react to. 

At the end of this, Chuuya would go back to the Port Mafia, hold his title as an Executive and remain a threat to the Agency. Or maybe he wouldn’t, maybe he never had truly been a fully-fledged enemy. Fukuzawa reasoned there had to be an impactful reason he stayed within the Mafia, especially considering his original faction had been deceased in his presence. The Agency was emotionally strong, yes, but to see five of your coworkers, maybe even friends, dead and have to report your findings was enough reason to retire from the field entirely. 

Fukuzawa remembered how Dazai had drawn up a report about his partnership with Chuuya during the fight with Shibusawa. How Dazai had written in detail his partnership with Chuuya during the fight with Lovecraft and the Guild. How Dazai had reported his partnership with Chuuya during their most recent debacle, how he had pretended to be a vampire to infiltrate the prison and ultimately break Dazai out.

Chuuya was a Port Mafia Executive, but he had not lost his humanity. Drenched in fury most of the time, Fukuzawa decided he earned the right to be angry, Chuuya had well earned the right to be vicious and volatile and violent, even if he disagreed with it. 

He understood this was probably only the tip of the iceberg when it came to things Chuuya had experienced.

Something cold and unwanted latched itself into Fukuzawa’s chest, breaking through everything in his mind and pushed through his rational thoughts. Of course, defeating the Green Emerald was for Yokohama, but, after he glanced down to see hundreds of more files, all detailing the gruesome and disgusting things Chuuya had gone through, he’d be lying if he said a small part of it wasn’t for Chuuya.

He could see it now, in the way Dazai had absentmindedly placed himself slightly in front of Chuuya, how his stance took up a bit more space than usual. How Dazai’s personality had been exceptionally grim, how he’d remained almost silent during their small meeting in his office. Fukuzawa recognized that; he had once experienced it before, in a past life, with someone he was now also an enemy with.

But Dazai and Chuuya did not seem to be enemies, not to his trained eye. They argued, fought, hated each other but it was deeper, in how Dazai looked protective, how Chuuya had jumped off a plane in the off-chance Dazai was alive. It was devotion. 

“I assume you have all read enough for the day,” Fukuzawa’s voice tore through the room, “We have decided an infiltration of the Green Emerald’s base will be the best way to end this.”

Files dropped at once, as if a trance had stopped and the room was snapped out of some sick game. They were pushed forward on the table and Kunikida tidied them back into the large folder Chuuya had brought with him for easy transportation. 

“Now that we know how they can create singularities, we need to completely disarm them,” Fukuzawa said, “Tonight, I would like a plan formulated. Take any measure necessary and don’t leave any stone unturned. Please work in full cooperation with Chuuya, we shall not be in opposition of each other during this time.”

With that, Fukuzawa stepped out of the room to let his subordinates and Chuuya discuss the details of the plan. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Atsushi said, his hands holding up his head as he slumped forward in the chair. 

“Those files were disgusting,” Kunikida agreed, looking more resigned than ever, “I can’t believe someone is walking around after surviving that.”

“More than surviving it,” Yosano said, her head resting on the table, “They now have to live with the repercussions.”

“How did you even get these files, Nakahara?” Kunikida asked, looking to Chuuya for an answer. 

“Being an Executive has its perks,” Chuuya shrugged, walking stiffly to pull out a chair and sit. 

“Not worth the bloodshed,” Yosano mumbled, “One look at these files and I’d burn the Mafia to the ground.”

“Moving forward with a plan,” Ranpo said, derailing the conversation at play, “We need to think of one, and fast.”

“Do we know the range of As Above So Below?” Yosano asked, sitting up straight now.

Dazai flicked the projector back on and powered up his laptop, pulling up a map of Yokohama in the process. He made a large red circle around Suribachi city and another around a part of a field in the Yokohama countryside. 

“It can only reach about a quarter mile, which isn’t far considering how powerful the gift is,” Ranpo said. 

“This,” Dazai pointed to Suribachi city, “Is where the singularity they’re after was created, and this” Dazai pointed to the patch of countryside he circled, “Is where their gifted are residing.”

“In the countryside?” Atsushi asked in bewilderment, conjuring images in his mind of a shack with three people with insanely powerful gifts hanging out, then images of a child strapped to a chair with tubes hanging out of him flooded his psyche and he shook his head. 

“Yes,” Chuuya replied, “There’s an old underground Mafia base there, my men attempted to infiltrate two days ago.”

“What measures did they take?” Kunikida asked, writing furiously in his notebook to quell his mind of images of a child being cut open and reassembled. 

“They infiltrated from the west, going underground at coordinates here,” Chuuya walked up to the screen and pointed to a spot, “They got about halfway before the assault began.”

“How many entrances does it have?” Kunikida asked.

“Three.” Chuuya replied. 

“So we should infiltrate from the west again, they’ll expect something from the other two entrances.” Ranpo said, staring intently at Chuuya.

“I agree,” Dazai said, taking a seat at the table finally, “There should be a safehouse a half mile from the base, we should stake out there until we’re ready to make our move.”

“I don’t want to stay in a Mafia safehouse,” Yosano said sternly, “I’ve had my fair share of Mafia-sanctioned shit.”

“It hasn’t been used in decades,” Chuuya supplied, as if it made it any better, “And we probably won’t be there long, it’s out of sight from the city and they’d never find it.”

“How can you be so sure?” Atsushi asked, “They found the old underground base.”

“The underground base was used for drug smuggling,” Chuuya said, “It’s known by anyone with a brain.”

“And the safehouse isn’t?” Yosano asked, unimpressed. 

“Go ahead, try to guess where it is.” Chuuya bit, his patience running thin. 

Nobody spoke for a moment after that, mainly because the only three people able to point out exactly where the safehouse was located were all in silent agreement; this was the most feasible plan. Finally, with hesitance, Yosano nodded and agreed to the plan, as did Kunikida and Atsushi. 

The next hour was spent diving into different infiltration tactics and if they would go in together or separate. The sun had long set from what could be seen through the cracks in the blinds, stars and streetlights illuminating the city below them. Chuuya had grown tired of the conversation but continued putting his best effort in to stay level-headed and helpful; Dazai took notice when it crept closer to midnight. 

“We’ve done enough,” Dazai said, faking a yawn, “Let’s plan to arrive at the safehouse tomorrow morning at six sharp.”

“How are we getting there?” Atsushi asked, a real yawn coming out of his mouth. 

“I’ll drive the Agency,” Kunikida said, voice strained and making it obvious he wasn’t taking a Port Mafia Executive with him, “Or we can take a cab.”

“I vote cab,” Ranpo said, leaving no room for argument, “I have got to sleep.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Yosano sighed, standing to leave the room. 

Chuuya nodded in agreement and collected his files, heading straight to the door. 

“Six sharp.” Chuuya stated before swinging open the door and letting it shut heavily behind himself. 

“I don’t understand him,” Yosano rolled her eyes as she approached the door, “How he isn’t afraid to go out there with all these monsters on every block and three abilities that are too much for a single person.”

“Do you think the title of Executive is just given out like candy, Yosano?” Dazai smiled tiredly, “C’mon now.”

She tsked in response before seeing herself out. Kunikida made a comment to Dazai about being on time for the cab in the morning, reminding him it would be about an hour drive and he couldn’t keep them behind schedule. Through his promises, Atsushi left the room as well until only Ranpo and Dazai were left, faces illuminated by the map of Yokohama on the projector, a whizzing sound the only thing that could be heard for a while before they spoke.

“I know you’re angry,” Ranpo started, taking in the sight of someone who matched his intelligence, knowing he could read almost every emotion on the other man’s body, “But I did what needed to be done.”

“I’m not angry,” Dazai said easily and Ranpo realized- maybe the line of ‘almost’ was greater than he thought, “You needed to do what you needed to do.”

Ranpo sighed at that, “I don’t fully understand what is between you and Mr. Fancy Hat, I’m not going to pretend I do,” Ranpo paused to flick his eyes around the room before continuing, “But they are going to try and destroy him.”

“I know,” Dazai replied, “And he knows.”

“And I know it won’t happen,” Ranpo said, his voice honest and straight-forward, not a single drip of his usual cockiness in it, “But they will try to pull out every stop,” He paused for a moment again, “Again, I’m not going to pretend I know what is between you two, but you need to understand it’s going to be used against him.”

“I figured as much,” Dazai dropped his head slightly to stare at his hands, he didn’t have much to add to the conversation except a question, “You dislike him tremendously, so why are you talking about this?”

“Because you don’t,” Ranpo smiled now, “Dislike him tremendously.”

“Ah, the greatest detective in the world is now specializing in emotions?” Dazai attempted to joke. 

“There’s a very important conversation you need to have,” Ranpo deadpanned, not falling for Dazai’s usual facade, “If this is going to work.”

Dazai grimaced, he knew that but being told was a different story. Ranpo stood before thinking something over in his mind, his hands landed on the back of the chair to look down on his coworker. 

“You should know, Chuuya thanked the president.” Ranpo said before turning to walk out of the door.

Dazai understood that, he caught the meaning his partner had left in between the lines of that interaction. He sat for a moment and fiddled with the edge of his bandages, feeling the rough texture and allowing it to hold his emotions at bay. It was likely everyone had vacated the office and retreated to their dorms for the night.

He pulled one piece of fabric tight enough for it to dig into his skin a bit as his eyes clenched shut, a mountain of regrets and what-ifs piled inside his chest and held him down. This was an absolute mess, one he knew he’d get out of, along with everyone else, but not without consequence.

He pulled himself up from the chair, remembering himself, and made his way out of the office. Dazai took one glance at the dorms and knew he wouldn’t be residing in them for the night, placing hands in his pockets as he slipped into the alley behind them. 

Dazai’s destination was one he’d been to many times before, a luxurious penthouse suite in an apartment off-grid from his organization, high enough in the sky to see above the clouds at the right time of year. He weaved through back alleys with a practiced ease, his shoes smacking the same places he had many times before. It had been tricky, seeking solace in the Agency dorms for the past few days because he knew Chuuya would be holed up in his office, but he made it work, and he was glad Chuuya had come to the same conclusion as him.

He really needed to stop doubting his partner’s intelligence. 

Soon Dazai stood in front of a door, one guarded with a hefty security system that required a fingerprint to enter and was bolted into the wall as if someone’s life depended on it. Every time Dazai saw the mechanism a small smile played on his face, laughing at the fact the most powerful and deadly person he knew felt the need to protect his home with an overpriced and overpowered security system. 

Dazai didn’t let the feeling stay as he remembered it had been installed when they were freshly seventeen and Chuuya had gotten his first big paycheck, how it had come coincidentally at the same time Dazai had begun staying over at Chuuya’s place more often, after a particularly difficult interaction about Dazai’s sleeping habits and living quarters.

A finger was pressed to the scanner and the system disarmed as Dazai pushed himself inside, making sure to reengage the system before toeing off his shoes and hanging his coat on the hooks. 

Chuuya’s apartment was quiet, save for the soft noise coming from the large television in the living room. It looked the same as it always did, throw blankets haphazardly placed on the big couch, no dishes in the sink, pictures and drawings on the fridge, and two coffee mugs already set out in front of the machine. 

What wasn’t normal was Chuuya’s shoes tilted over on the floor and his coat crumpled next to them, looking like they were tossed off in anger. Dazai knew his partner was angry, as always, but it rarely extended into the safety of his home. Chuuya was emotional, yes, but he had made it a point to keep the fury outside of his dwellings, to keep the most treacherous part of his personality outside.

Well, Dazai knew inwardly the most treacherous part of his partner’s personality wasn’t his anger, but his grief. Chuuya had a lot of that, grief, the thing that swallowed him whole most days and spit out an irate version of himself instead. He was the epitome of grief in anger’s clothing. 

Dazai picked up the black coat and hung it on the hook, straightening out Chuuya’s shoes before walking deeper into the apartment. In honesty, he had gone through quite a few different scenarios on what he would find, ones of Chuuya punching holes in the drywall, ones of Chuuya drinking himself to death, ones of Chuuya curled up on the couch with a blank stare in his eyes. 

None of them quite fit the partner he knew, so it wasn’t a surprise when he pushed open the bedroom door to see Chuuya, dressed in only sweat shorts and white socks, standing in the connected bathroom brushing out his hair, looking normal. 

“Good even-” Dazai was quickly cut off by his partner, who shot him a look that betrayed his original deductions; normal was one way to put it.

“Don’t fucking do that right now,” Chuuya growled, brush coming down harder through his curls now, “I can’t deal with that shit.”

“Okay,” Dazai hummed, walking into the bathroom and directly behind Chuuya, locking eyes with him in the mirror, “What shit can you deal with right now?”

“Going to bed,” Chuuya bit, the brush continuing to come down harshly, “We finally get rid of that fucking rat and now this shit happens.”

Dazai nodded in understanding, knowing Chuuya didn’t need his commentary at the moment. He knew Chuuya knew how hard the fight with Fyodor had been on him, and he knew how hard it had been on Chuuya. 

“I can’t ever catch a goddamn break, why is this happening?” Chuuya asked nobody in particular.

“We need to agree on a plan,” Dazai said, ignoring the rhetorical question. 

“I thought we agreed on Setting Sun, asshole.” Chuuya bit, the hairbrush slamming into the bathroom counter as his hands came down. He looked up to meet Dazai’s eyes, “No, I’m not doing that shit.”

“I believe The Moon and A Bone would be the better option,” Dazai said, forcing his normal theatrics out of his face and silently glad Chuuya had understood his meaning when he recalled his coworkers hadn’t been present for what happened to the Flags.

Their field codes were old, only reworked when it was absolutely necessary. The understanding they had of one another ran deeper than even they could grasp at times- the way Chuuya picked up Setting Sun from what seemed like a simple disagreement, the way he picked up on The Moon and A Bone just from the look in Dazai’s eyes. It went the other way, too, in the way Dazai shut his big mouth during their private meeting, in the way he knew to expect this version of his partner tonight. 

“I hate that one,” Chuuya replied, huffing as he dropped his head slightly to break their eye contact, “You know I do.. And I hate that you’re right.”

Dazai hummed in response, reaching around Chuuya’s stiff body to place a hand on the hairbrush. It was a silent question, an admission of trust in the plan they had concocted when they were seventeen and in far too deep. Chuuya’s hands tightened on the brush before he relaxed them, letting Dazai pull it from his hands. 

It wasn’t a usual thing he was able to do, both of them having times they didn’t invite physical touch, but it seemed tonight there was a feeble consent hanging in the air. Dazai lifted the brush and began the art of untangling Chuuya’s hair, swiping it through the auburn strands with a kind of gentleness reserved for Chuuya alone. 

He took his time, running it through the drying hair in practiced and reminiscent. Dazai thought over the emotions he had kept at bay the entire day, the anger that bubbled deep within his chest at the mere thought of someone else knowing anything about Chuuya’s past. It was something that belonged exclusively to the Executive, and something that only Dazai was allowed to know the full extent of. 

“I’m so fucking angry.” Chuuya said, voice raw and strained against his throat. 

“I know,” Dazai said as he finished brushing out the last knot, “I am too.” 

Chuuya raised his head at this to meet Dazai’s eyes in the mirror, the red-rims showing underneath the fluorescent lighting. Dazai let out a small breath and pressed his lips in a thin line, a silent conversation happening in the mirror. 

They laid in bed that night staring holes into the ceiling, coming to the same conclusion on the mess they’d face in the following days.