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After their soak, Chuuya headed back to the study to look at the watercolor Dazai had painted of him and Kouyou having tea. He gazed upon it thoughtfully, trying to decide whether he wanted to send it out to be professionally framed, or whether he wanted to do it himself, sacrificing a little quality as the price he’d have to pay to not have the painting leave his hands.
I’ll do it myself, he thought, and went looking for a measuring tape.
As he was back at his desk taking down measurements, his phone rang. He checked the caller ID and smiled.
“Hi, Kouyou,” he said warmly. “How’s it going?”
“Smoothly,” his friend answered, and Chuuya laughed.
“Of course,” he said. “After all, you’re in charge.”
Chuuya could hear the smile in Kouyou’s voice as she said, “Flattery is an accepted diplomatic tool, but you mustn’t go overboard.”
“And I’m not,” he said sincerely, smiling down at the painting of the two of them together.
“Charmer,” she said. Her voice grew businesslike. “I’m actually calling to ask a professional favor,” Kouyou said.
“I’m listening,” Chuuya replied, growing serious as well.
“When you sent us all the video tour of your offices announcing that Soukoku was open for business, you mentioned that your conference room was spacious and, if I recall correctly-” and Chuuya had no doubt that she did- “suitable for large inter-organizational groups.”
Chuuya could see where this was going.
“The Port Mafia would like to arrange a meeting with the Armed Detective Agency, the Special Operations Division, and, of course, the two of you, to announce the change in leadership and discuss its impact upon inter-organizational relations. I hoped that we could hold the meeting at your offices as a relatively neutral location.”
Chuuya turned to look at the door and smiled wryly to see Dazai standing in it, nodding. “Of course,” he said, spinning his chair so that he could remain facing his husband. “When would you like to meet?”
“I would like to meet this afternoon at tea-time,” Kouyou said with a sniff. “However, I doubt the other attendees work weekends.”
Chuuya sighed silently. Kouyou could wield diplomacy like a katana, and was as refined and proper as it was possible to be, but she was relentless in disparaging the members of the Armed Detective Agency. He frowned at Dazai and made a vigorous brushing-away motion to indicate he should leave.
Dazai raised an eyebrow, but turned and walked away from the door, pulling it shut behind him.
He’s absolutely still listening, Chuuya thought with resignation, but at least he’s making a token effort to hide it.
“Kouyou,” he said gently. “The ADA may disapprove of your career choice, but they respect you.”
He could feel the sharp silence from the other end of the phone.
“You don’t have to try to get the first licks in,” Chuuya said. “They might be wary of you being a criminal, but they’re not gonna look down on you or think you’re inferior. They know you’re strong, and smart, and refined, and all the rest of it. If they give you the hairy eyeball, it’s just ’cause they know you’re a criminal and that you keep trying to kill Atsushi.”
The silence continued from the other end of the phone, and then Kouyou said in an uncharacteristically sincere voice, “Chuuya, I am so very glad that things turned out as they did. I feared for a while that our friendship might end up a casualty of Mori’s paranoia.”
Chuuya, a lump in his throat, said, “Me, too,” in a small voice.
They remained silent for a few moments more, and then Chuuya cleared his throat and said, “Thank Higuchi for me.”
“I will,” Kouyou said.
“All right,” Chuuya said, determinedly upbeat, “let’s try this again. When do you plan to meet?”
Kouyou’s voice returned to her normal no-nonsense crispness. “As early as is feasible tomorrow,” she said. “Perhaps ten o’clock? I should certainly be able to get messages to Taneda and Fukuzawa today, and then it will be up to them to coordinate their subordinates.”
“Sounds good,” Chuuya said. “Anything you’d like me to prepare? I mean food and drink-wise?”
They devoted a few minutes to logistics, and once everything was settled, Chuuya asked, “So, does the organization know he’s gone?”
“Yes,” Kouyou said. “We told everyone that he died of cardiac arrest during the night. We’re keeping Higuchi’s ability secret, and in a week or two she’ll ‘discover’ it on a mission.”
“Nobody actually believes he had a heart attack, do they?” Chuuya asked dubiously.
“Of course not,” Kouyou said complacently. “They’re all assuming that I killed him. After all, I declared myself the new boss.”
“So how much trouble does it look like you’re going to have?” asked Chuuya.
“It’s too early to say,” Kouyou said. “There are definitely patriarchal, or more bluntly, misogynistic elements that I will have to put down harshly. And we who called you in to meet with us this morning certainly aren’t the only members of the Port Mafia that would have preferred you as the next boss.”
“I would start swearing at you again, but I don’t have to because it’s already too late,” Chuuya replied cheerfully. “The Port Mafia already has a new boss, and she’s my friend and has my support.”
Kouyou gave a ladylike laugh.
“So what about Dazai’s suggestion?” Chuuya asked. “Giving the executives more authority behind the scenes and stuff?”
“We’re going to try it,” Kouyou said. “As he suggested, we’ll keep their increased power confidential; the rank and file will think that the system is the same as before: one Boss with indisputable authority, and a group of executives to whom I delegate initiatives. I have already publicly announced the new executives. Akutagawa had already replaced Ace, but your position was still vacant, and now mine is as well, so I told them that Verlaine was stepping down, and that the executives would now consist of Akutagawa, Hirotsu, Inoue, and Gin.”
“Higuchi not getting a spot?” Chuuya asked. “I know she didn’t want to be boss, but I think she just proved she has great judgement about what’s good for the Port Mafia. I thought you might make her the fifth advisor.”
“Well, from my point of view, she is the fifth advisor,” Kouyou said. “But she didn’t think she should have the role, so she’s acting as Akutagawa’s advisor for now. She’ll offer him insight into some of the more, shall we say, people-oriented questions that he might not understand, which will influence his vote. Perhaps, depending on how this experiment works out, and after she has ‘discovered’ her ability and proven herself to the rank and file, she may at some point grow comfortable enough to take on an official executive role.
“As is, then, there are four executives or advisors. If I am unavailable, if three of the four reach a consensus on a topic, they will have the authority to enact it. If I am available, and three of the four disagree with a decision I make, we will discuss it in depth until we reach a compromise that at least two of the four agree with me upon. And, should I fall victim to the hubris that brought down Mori and his predecessor, they will be prepared to remove me from power in a similar fashion.” In a matter-of-fact voice, Kouyou added, “One additional benefit of this private understanding is that if we need to have dealings with another organization that won’t recognize a woman as leader, Hirotsu or Inoue can step in and handle the negotiations as my proxy.”
“Not Akutagawa?” Chuuya asked with a chuckle.
“Don’t be flippant, Chuuya,” Kouyou reproved him, and he laughed again.
“Well,” Kouyou said regretfully, “I should hang up now and issue the invitations to Taneda and Fukuzawa. Or, more accurately, have Mori’s secretary do so. If I were to call myself, it would raise questions about why I am calling rather than Mori or his secretary, and I don’t wish them to learn of his passing until the meeting.”
“Oof,” Chuuya said. “That’s gonna be something to see. So I guess you’re gonna be busy with the transition for a while, huh, so we’ll have to postpone our weekly tea.”
“On the contrary,” Kouyou said austerely. “As Boss, it is my responsibility to meet with the leaders of other powerful organizations to foster good relations and maintain alliances. I will expect you on Thursday, as scheduled. We will simply be having tea in my new office at headquarters, rather than at Ozaki House.”
“Glad to hear it,” Chuuya said warmly.
“I will call you later today to confirm how many people are expected to attend,” Kouyou said. “Or to let you know that they were unable to make time for this meeting.” Her tone of voice boded ill, should the latter occur.
“Talk to you then,” Chuuya said, and they ended the call.
Chuuya set his phone down and spun the chair back toward the door. “You can come in now,” he said without raising his voice.
The door opened and Dazai walked through wearing the ghost of a smirk. “Did you have a nice conversation?” he asked leadingly.
“You tell me,” Chuuya said, one side of his mouth turning up.
Dazai laughed. “All right,” he said. “So the official story is that we don’t know what happened. All we know is that we were summoned to the Port Mafia headquarters, where they told you that Mori had died, no mention of how, and that they wanted you to take his place. You told them when hell freezes over, and they said thanks and sent us home. They asked us to host a meeting to discuss the future, and we’ll know what they have to say when they say it.”
“You got it,” Chuuya said. He glanced away for a moment and bit his lip.
“You’re looking shifty,” Dazai observed with amusement. “What is it?”
Chuuya kept his eyes downcast. “Um, you heard I’ll be having tea with Kouyou Thursday, right?”
“Yes,” Dazai said invitingly.
“Well, it’s our first time having tea after she got promoted to Boss,” Chuuya said.
“Yes, that is how time works,” Dazai said, and he was pleased to see that even if Chuuya didn’t look up, his expression flickered from meek to mildly irritated.
“So I want to give her a gift as congratulations,” Chuuya said, his voice firming a bit.
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that,” Dazai said soothingly. “What’s the problem? I’m sure that you can afford whatever it is.”
“Yeah, well, I want to give her something special,” Chuuya said. “And what I’d like to give her is something I can’t buy.” He looked up and met Dazai’s eyes.
Dazai reached out, curling a finger beneath his husband’s chin. “Chuuya, just spit it out,” he said gently.
Chuuya turned to look at the desk top, and Dazai looked past him. “Oh,” he said, genuinely surprised. “You want to give it to her?”
“No!” Chuuya said sharply, stretching his arm out automatically as if to protect the painting of Kouyou and himself from Dazai. At Dazai’s startled expression, his own turned apologetic.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I meant - would you be willing to draw or paint something for her? It could be like this, or - you know that quick sketch of me you did, if you could do something like that of Kyouka, or - I don’t know, I don’t know if I’m asking too much of you, it’s just-”
Dazai leaned down and stopped Chuuya’s words with a kiss.
After a minute he pulled back and knelt in front of Chuuya’s chair between his knees so that they could be on eye level. In a low, husky voice, he said, “Sweetheart, I am overwhelmed that you would ask me this. That you think I could do something you deem good enough for Kouyou. It’s quite possibly the biggest compliment I’ve ever been given.”
Chuuya looked at him shyly, even pleadingly. “Then… is that a yes?”
Dazai couldn’t help himself, and leaned in to press another kiss to Chuuya’s lips. As he drew back, he said, “Of course, Chuuya. It would be my honor.”
“Thank you, Osamu,” Chuuya said, and the look in his eyes made Dazai miss a breath. Chuuya reached out, wrapping his hand around the back of Dazai’s neck, and pulled him close for another prolonged kiss.
The side tables in the conference room were laid out with a variety of hot and cold drinks. Kouyou had decided not to have food available, as she did not wish it to appear that they were celebrating Mori’s death.
Kouyou and the new executive lineup, including Higuchi in her role as Akutagawa’s assistant, had all arrived half an hour early. Dazai and Chuuya had remembered to notify their security firm, Shugo Security, in advance, and as a result the Port Mafia delegation’s arrival had been uneventful.
Kouyou walked through the waiting room, Chuuya at her side, and after completing her inspection she moved into the conference room, nodding in approval at the arrangements.
“A very attractive room,” she said graciously. She eyed the enormous conference table - or tables, technically, as there were two enormous tabletops butting up against one another - currently prepared to receive twenty in comfort, but able to seat twenty-four without being particularly crowded.
Chuuya stepped to the head of the table and pulled back the chair, holding it for Kouyou. “May I get you something to drink?” he asked.
“Tea would be lovely, Chuuya,” she said, taking the seat. She motioned to her companions, indicating how she would like for them to flank her.
Hirotsu nodded respectfully, and the five of them of one accord congregated around one of the side tables, collecting bottled drinks. They returned to the table, setting the bottles down at the seats that Kouyou had designated for them, and then began to inspect the conference room and waiting room, performing their own security checks.
Chuuya poured tea for Kouyou and brought it over to the table, setting it down before her.
“Thank you, Chuuya,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, and smiled crookedly at her.
Kouyou smiled back, and examined him. He was dressed today in dark slacks and a white shirt, with a teal-colored suit coat and choker. “You look very handsome,” she said.
“And you look lovely as ever,” Dazai beat Chuuya to the punch.
Kouyou turned in her chair, eyeing Dazai warily as he stood in the doorway. “Thank you, Dazai,” she said neutrally.
Dazai was dressed less formally, with dark slacks and a white shirt, and a tie patterned in miscellaneous jewel tones that Chuuya had picked out for him. Apparently he passed muster, as Kouyou moved on without criticism.
“Thank you for allowing us to hold this meeting at your offices,” she said.
He bowed his head politely, but then raised it to smirk at her. “Of course,” he said. “How could I refuse Chuuya’s mentor and friend?”
“Oh, I’m certain you are capable of refusing, if you were motivated to do so,” Kouyou replied.
Hirotsu returned, the others filing in behind him. “The premises appear clear, Boss,” he said, bowing to Kouyou.
“Thank you, Hirotsu,” she said composedly. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Hopefully our guests will begin arriving soon,” she said.
Dazai eyed the seating arrangements, rapidly doing the math. Kouyou had placed Akutagawa and Higuchi on her right, with their backs to the window, and had placed the Black Lizard squad leaders to her left in order of seniority: Hirotsu, Gin, Inoue. He moved around to the seat next to Inoue, reaching out to set his bottle next to Inoue’s seat, and looked up inquiringly at Chuuya.
Chuuya nodded, recognizing the message. It might have been more natural to place him next to Inoue, with Dazai next to whichever Agency member was closest on the other end, but by switching their positions, it emphasized the fact that their former affiliations were no longer a factor.
“Excuse me,” he said, and popped back out to the waiting room to make himself an espresso. Returning, he placed the small cup at the seat next to Dazai’s.
Their phones buzzed simultaneously, and Dazai checked his to view the camera feed from the elevator.
“Looks like everyone’s here,” he said, and smoothly left the room, followed by Chuuya.
As they crossed the waiting room to the front door, Dazai looked down at his husband with a small smile. “Ready for some excitement?” he asked.
“Always ready,” Chuuya replied confidently.
They reached the door and Dazai opened it, waiting patiently as the elevator on the left finished counting up nine, ten, eleven, and then dinged as the doors opened.
The first elevator disgorged the Special Operations Division contingent: Chief Taneda, Ango, and Tsujimura; as well as the senior Armed Detective Agency members: President Fukuzawa, Kunikida, and Ranpo.
Dazai and Chuuya greeted them politely, and Dazai led them to the conference room as Chuuya waited for the second elevator. It arrived almost immediately, and the remaining detectives of the ADA filed out: Yosano, Junichirou, Kenji, Atsushi, and Kyouka.
“Hi,” Chuuya said. “Good to see you. Come on in.” He held the door as the milling detectives sorted themselves out and entered the waiting room, and then he closed and locked the door and led them to the conference room.
Dazai’s group had already obtained or refused drinks. Taneda had seated himself opposite Dazai and Chuuya, with Ango and Tsujimura to either side, and Fukuzawa had, at Dazai’s direction, taken the seat at the foot of the table opposite Kouyou. Kunikida had taken the seat to his right and Ranpo had taken the one to his left.
Chuuya gestured to the open seats at the table, and Yosano and Junichirou filed around the window side to sit between Ranpo and the Special Operations Division contingent, while Kenji, Atsushi, and Kyouka took the seats between Kunikida and Chuuya.
As Chuuya took his seat at the table, he looked toward the foot and saw Fukuzawa’s face. He looked tired and drawn, unlike when he had emerged from the elevator.
Ah, Chuuya thought with sympathy. I guess it was pretty obvious.
Nevertheless, Fukuzawa opened the discussion with a question, as if he hadn’t already figured it out, or as if he were hoping to be proven wrong.
“And where is Doctor Mori?” he asked.
Chuuya looked at Kouyou. For the first time, she was showing pity rather than hostility.
“The wake will be tonight, and the funeral will be tomorrow,” she said gently. “I know that you were partners once. You are welcome to join us.”
Fukuzawa bowed his head for a moment. “Thank you,” he said. “I will do so.”
Kunikida looked anxiously at the president. Chuuya’s eyes, however, fixed upon Yosano, who was clearly fighting to conceal some strong emotion.
All right, he thought, making a mental note. Not letting her leave till I’ve talked to her.
As if they heard his thoughts, Fukuzawa and Kunikida both glanced sideways at Yosano as well, and Kunikida’s hand on the table clenched into a fist.
Chuuya looked up to his right at Dazai, who turned his gaze from Yosano to Chuuya. He didn’t smile, or nod, but Chuuya was reassured.
Everyone had remained silent, allowing Fukuzawa time to process the news. He raised his head, hands still in his sleeves, and asked Kouyou with no animosity or accusation, “A coup?”
“No,” she said calmly. “Natural causes.”
Every member of the Special Operations Division and the Armed Detective Agency raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
Kouyou frowned austerely. “I did not kill him,” she said.
A number of eyes turned to Dazai and Chuuya.
Kouyou’s voice grew barbed. “Neither Dazai nor Chuuya harmed or killed him. No outside enemy killed him, nor was there any internal disloyalty. He simply died naturally.”
Chuuya thought, Well, the first sentence is true. And technically, him dying is the natural outcome of his stupid fucking bullshit, so- yeah, natural causes. Or suicide, maybe.
Kouyou continued, “I have asked you here today to inform you of the new hierarchy, and to discuss future relations. The Port Mafia’s leadership has been completely upended over the last several months. First Ace betrayed the Port Mafia and was executed for his crime, and as a result of that crime, we lost Chuuya. Upon learning of Mori’s death, one of our other executives chose to step back from his role, leaving me as the only executive with more than a few months’ tenure.”
Serenely, she said, “We asked Chuuya to be the next leader of the Port Mafia, and he refused vehemently.” She paused briefly at the tumult that resulted. Most faces turned to Chuuya, some of them quite eager, and he glared them down with the most intimidating expression they had ever seen.
As the whispers subsided, Kouyou resumed her explanation. “I am now the Boss of the Port Mafia, and Akutagawa, Hirotsu, Inoue, and Gin are the Port Mafia’s executives.”
With exquisite poise, Kouyou regathered everyone’s attention. “In the months since Chuuya’s separation from the Port Mafia, Mori chose to pull back from our alliances, which had the result of contracting the Port Mafia’s sphere of influence. I will not bother to speculate on what drove that decision. I plan to pursue a different approach. Yokohama has four very powerful organizations, and while we all have our differences, I believe we share one fundamental goal: a thriving Yokohama.”
Kouyou certainly had everyone’s attention, Chuuya observed with pride. His eyes moved constantly, scanning everyone’s expressions and posture, evaluating their reactions.
“I would like to foster cooperation. To see our groups work together more frequently,” she continued. “Work together, train together, share intelligence on outside threats. Sometimes we will be at odds with one another. Just last week, the Port Mafia came up against Soukoku and the Special Operations Division because we had conflicting objectives. I feel that it would be short-sighted and unproductive to allow the occasional disagreement to prevent us from benefitting from each other’s knowledge and skills when we have common goals.”
Kouyou paused, raising her teacup for the first time during the meeting, to allow others to speak their mind.
Dazai and Chuuya looked over at Fukuzawa, to give him the first opportunity.
Fukuzawa said heavily, “The Port Mafia has many objectives and actions that the Armed Detective Agency cannot and will not support. However, we have had ample proof over the last year or two that there will be threats to Yokohama that both of- I apologize, all of our organizations are unwilling to tolerate. I am willing to work together when we have common cause against an external threat. And, of course, in order to do so effectively, I agree that some amount of shared training and intelligence is necessary.”
He looked at Kouyou sharply. “However, some amount of trust is also necessary. If we were to be deceived, believing we were working with the Port Mafia toward a shared end, and then find out later that either the Port Mafia was working against us or that the objective was not what we had been led to believe, that would be unacceptable.”
Kouyou replied equally sharply, “That is a sword that cuts both ways. I am willing to commit that the Port Mafia will not misrepresent an objective to trick you into participating in a joint mission, or tell you that we are working together when we are actually working against you. Provided, of course, that you will commit to the same.”
“Very well,” Fukuzawa said, and the two leaders didn’t go so far as to smile, but they allowed the expressions of wary mistrust to fade.
Now that Kouyou and Fukuzawa, the most problematic alliance, had come to an accord, Dazai entered the conversation. “Chuuya and I are in agreement with this approach as well.”
Chuuya chimed in, “Yeah. It’ll be nice working with someone who has a broader vision. Someone who understands violence is a tool, but it’s not the only tool and it’s not always the best one for a given job.” His focus was primarily on his friend, but he still noticed the interest his statement garnered, and the speculative looks sent Kouyou’s way.
Kouyou smiled genuinely at Chuuya. “And it will be a pleasure working with such a reliable business partner,” she said. “I recognize that there will be many occasions when the course of action that provides the best return on investment is to contract with your organization for services, especially while we are in the process of rebuilding after the losses we sustained in the wake of Ace’s attempted coup.”
“Looking forward to it,” Chuuya said. “We’ll want to discuss this in more detail later,” he added. “As we said when we set up our company, we’re being selective in the jobs we accept. There are some types of work we won’t take. That said, I think we offer a broad enough range of services to still be a useful connection for you.”
“I have no doubt of that,” Kouyou said. Considering the matter closed, she turned toward the one organization that hadn’t spoken yet.
Chief Taneda’s face was pleasantly inscrutable.
“Chief Taneda,” Kouyou said. “Do you have any questions or concerns at this time, or can we expect the Port Mafia’s relationship with the Special Operations Division to remain unchanged?”
“I don’t foresee any problems,” Taneda said simply.
“Very well, then,” Kouyou said, “I won’t take up more of your time. Thank you for meeting with us.”
Taneda stood, still with that bland expression, and Ango and Tsujimura stood as well. “My sympathies on the Port Mafia’s loss, and congratulations on your promotion,” he said, bowing his head.
“Thank you,” Kouyou said, and she remained seated, perfectly composed, as Dazai stood and walked the Special Operations Division personnel out of Soukoku’s offices.
Once she heard the exterior door close, Kouyou turned and asked, “Chuuya, who was that young woman with Chief Taneda and the traitor?”
“Her name’s Tsujimura,” Chuuya said, amused that Kouyou still wouldn’t deign to speak Ango’s name. “She’s our new liaison. I gather Taneda figured out that Doc Glasses wasn’t, um, effective at working with us. She’s working out really well. Professional, competent, reasonable, polite. Knows her stuff and doesn’t go out of her way to put our back up.”
“Really,” Kouyou said with interest. “I wonder if we could request her as our liaison as well, instead of the traitor.”
Dazai returned to the conference room as she spoke. “I highly recommend it,” he said. “And I would do so even if it didn’t have the added benefit of humiliating and annoying Ango.” He took his seat next to Chuuya once again.
Kouyou returned her attention to the Agency end of the table. “I would like to address a delicate matter,” she said gently. Her eyes shifted from Fukuzawa to Yosano. “I understand, Doctor, that you had a very traumatic history with my predecessor.”
Chuuya felt as if he could see the waves of homicidal rage flowing from Yosano as she grated out, “If I had killed him, everyone would know it.”
Kunikida and Fukuzawa were scowling protectively, but Kouyou kept her eyes on Yosano’s. “I apologize, Doctor, I did not mean to give the wrong impression. I was not accusing you. As I said, Mori died of natural causes. I regret any pain I may be causing by bringing up the subject, but I wished to tell you that his actions and intentions with regard to you were his own, and are not shared by the Port Mafia.
“I know that you have used your skills to save our personnel in the past on joint missions, and you have my gratitude,” she continued, glancing at Akutagawa. “It is my hope that, now that Mori is gone, you will grow more comfortable with working with us. That is all.”
Yosano’s posture and expression were unchanged, but it no longer felt to observers as if she were about to snap. “You are a diplomat, aren’t you?” she said. She exhaled. “And you have the respect of someone I respect,” she said, glancing at Chuuya’s anxious face. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
“That is all I can ask, and more than I have any right to expect.” Kouyou returned her attention to Fukuzawa. “Is there anything else you would like to discuss in this open setting? I would be happy to arrange a monthly or quarterly private meeting if you wish to discuss ongoing progress in the future.”
“No, Ozaki-san,” Fukuzawa said. “I think that concludes this meeting. Please let me know about the arrangements for Doctor Mori’s wake and funeral. And I agree that a regular meeting would be beneficial.”
With the official meeting over, people pushed back their chairs and began standing. Some, however, appeared to have an unofficial agenda.
While Fukuzawa made straight for the door, Yosano had clearly locked on to Kouyou, radiating every intention of staying behind to speak to her personally, and Kunikida was plainly warring with himself over which of the two he should be supporting.
It was also clear that his attention was further divided, as he kept glancing at Chuuya as well. Atsushi was similarly torn, looking back and forth between Kouyou and Chuuya. Kyouka’s attention was firmly on Kouyou, but she didn’t have the anxious air that the others sported.
Yosano broke the tension. “Ozaki-san, may I have a word with you before you leave?”
“Yes, certainly, Doctor,” Kouyou replied instantly. She moved smoothly around the table past Akutagawa and Higuchi to meet Yosano in the middle. Turning to look at her executives, she flicked her eyes toward the corner, and they all moved back to give the women some semblance of privacy.
The exchange made up Kunikida’s mind. He stopped Junichirou and took out a car key.
“Here,” he said, offering the key. “You drive the President back to the Agency. Take-” he scanned the Agency personnel, and continued, “Ranpo and Kenji with you. I’ll drive the others back once Yosano is done.” Junichirou traded keys with him and, with a quick nod of understanding, hurried out to join Fukuzawa.
Kyouka moved down to the end of the table to wait her turn, and Kunikida and Atsushi gathered near Dazai and Chuuya on the opposite side of the table from Yosano and Kouyou.
The illusion of privacy was just that, an illusion. However, it seemed sufficient for Yosano, as she asked in a low, emotional voice, “Did he suffer?”
Kouyou spoke softly. “I am no doctor, but the conclusion was that he died in his sleep. He did not wake or suffer, to my understanding.”
“I see,” Yosano said, still fighting for composure. “Thank you for your time.”
“You are welcome,” Kouyou said. “If you have anything else you wish to ask me later, Chuuya will be able to put you in touch with me.”
As Yosano turned to see who was still present from the Armed Detective Agency, Kouyou looked past her to Kyouka, standing at the end of the table, clearly waiting for the opportunity to speak to her.
“Kyouka, child,” she said, and Kyouka came forward.
“Congratulations on your promotion,” Kyouka said quietly, looking up at the taller woman. “Please be careful, and stay safe.”
“Thank you, Kyouka,” Kouyou said fondly. “I will.” She enfolded the young woman in her arms, and then released her. “I must go now,” she said, and Kyouka nodded and stepped back. As Kouyou turned toward the door, she said, “Chuuya, I will expect you for tea on Thursday. Kyouka, Saturday?”
As they nodded their agreement, Kouyou swept toward the door, her executives flanking her fore and aft.
Dazai, seeing that Atsushi and Kunikida both wished to speak with Chuuya, who equally clearly wasn’t letting Yosano out of his sight till he was convinced she was okay, smiled and followed the Port Mafia contingent out of the conference room, seeing them safely to the elevators.
As soon as everyone heard the outer doors close, Kunikida and Atsushi pounced on Chuuya.
“They asked you to take over the Port Mafia?” Atsushi asked, wide-eyed. “Why didn’t you do it?”
“Because I don’t fucking want to, dipshit,” Chuuya said, annoyed.
“But you’d be so much better than her-” Atsushi began, and then quailed as Chuuya stalked forward, backing him up against the wall.
“Kouyou is my mentor, and my friend, and she is going to kick fucking ass at this job, and you will fucking respect her,” he growled. “The absolute fuck, asshole. What the hell kind of question is that, anyway? You fucking wanted me fighting against you?”
“Obviously not,” Kunikida said. “But you could have led the Port Mafia to be more-”
Chuuya left Atsushi and turned his ire on Kunikida, grasping his collar and yanking him down to eye level. “The Port Mafia is needed. There’s always gonna be a criminal underworld, and it’s better if it’s an organized one that wants to keep Yokohama intact and profitable. The Port Mafia is synonymous with crime. You fucking saying you think I’d accept a leadership role and then turn around and betray my fucking oath? You think my word’s not worth shit?” He glared into Kunikida’s face from mere inches away.
“Ah,” Kunikida said, realization dawning across his face. “I apologize, Chuuya. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Me either,” Atsushi said, twisting his hands together as Chuuya released Kunikida.
“Yeah, I know,” Chuuya said, his anger coming down several notches. “Happens to the best of us. You’ve had a lot of shocks in a short time. I’ve had a little extra time to process it.” He reached out and put a hand on Atsushi’s shoulder. “And I know you in particular have plenty of reason to wish it were me and not Kouyou. But she may still insult you non-stop, but she’s not gonna try to kill you any more,” he said, glancing Kyouka’s way before turning back to Atsushi and Kunikida.
“But seriously,” Chuuya said, a little hurt bleeding through in his tone, “don’t wish that shit on me. I’ve spent my whole life, or at least the parts I can remember, killing for other people, with no real choice of my own. I’ve finally got my freedom and am getting to make my own decisions. I’m getting a chance to feel like a good guy, not a monster. Why would you want to take that away from me?”
As Kunikida and Atsushi stared at him in shock, rapidly followed by remorse, Dazai’s arms wrapped around him from behind. “They answered already,” he said softly. “They weren’t thinking.”
Chuuya shrank back against his husband’s body, wrapping his arms over Dazai’s.
“I’m sorry, Chuuya,” Kunikida said, blinking rapidly. “I should have thought of it from that perspective. I assure you, I don’t wish to take that from you. I’m honestly glad that you finally have the opportunity to be your own man, and I never meant to-” he was silenced as Chuuya leaned upward, Dazai’s arms still wrapped around his waist, and slapped a hand over Kunikida’s mouth. Kunikida recoiled, but thankfully shut up.
“Okay, okay,” Chuuya said, embarrassed by his own breakdown and Kunikida’s emotional response. “You weren’t thinking, and you get why I didn’t want it, and you’re happy to have me stay on the side of the angels. Rah, rah, you’ll all come over for dinner again and we’ll have a party.” He glanced at Yosano out of the corner of his eye and saw that she was looking much more normal after watching the byplay.
Chuuya said, “Hey, Yosano, do you mind coming with me for a minute before you leave? I need to show you something in the office.”
Yosano rolled her eyes at him and said, “Sure.”
The two of them walked out of the conference room, with Kunikida and Atsushi still looking worried about both of them.
“Wow,” Yosano said as they crossed the waiting room to the joint office. “You are terrible at making excuses.”
Chuuya pulled the office door shut behind them. “Come on, like everybody didn’t know what this is about. Why waste a good excuse when nobody’s gonna fall for it anyway? Make yourself comfortable,” he said, waving at the room.
Yosano headed over to his desk and hopped up to perch on the corner. “I’m assuming this is the bit where you go all protective and won’t let me leave till you’ve quizzed me about my feelings.”
Chuuya rolled his chair back from his desk and flung himself into it, spinning briefly. “Yeah, pretty much.” He squirmed a bit and resettled himself so that he was leaning against one armrest with his legs dangling over the other one. “So? Get on with it. You okay?”
Yosano threw back her head with an exaggerated sigh of annoyance. “You are an unstoppable force of nature, aren’t you?” she asked rhetorically. “Fine,” she said, dragging the word out. She looked at him, a genuine smile on her lips vying with the emotional strain in her eyes.
“Dazai doesn’t have this room bugged, does he?” she asked suddenly.
Chuuya frowned. “Don’t know, but I’ll follow up with him the moment you leave, and if he does, I’ll make him delete the recordings without listening.”
“Good luck with that,” she sighed. She lifted a hand off the edge of the desk and waved it dismissively. “Fine, whatever.”
Yosano looked Chuuya dead in the eyes. “I hated him. I hated what he made me do, and how it hurt people I was trying to help. I’m so glad he’s dead. And I wish he’d suffered, as much as they did, and I wish I’d been the one to kill him. Except I don’t really, I’m glad I didn’t do it. But I still do wish it, and I don’t know which one is real. And it helps, that he’s dead now. But it doesn’t fix things. It doesn’t bring back-” she cut off.
Chuuya looked at her from his slouch across the chair. “Sounds like all your reactions are appropriate, at least.”
Yosano gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah,” she said.
“So, time for another appointment with your therapist?” Chuuya asked.
“I suppose so,” Yosano replied. She swung her legs a little. “Honestly, maybe not. I don’t know that I have a problem with how I’m feeling. I may be fine with this. It’s an ending.” She looked upward, her face scrunched in thought. “I don’t feel cheated or anything, that I didn’t see it or participate in it. I’m just glad it’s over and I’ll never have to look at his evil face again.”
Chuuya swung his feet as well in unconscious mimicry. “Well, that sounds healthy to me, but you have to consider the source. Probably wouldn’t hurt to either have a session with your therapist, or at least talk it out with a friend.”
Yosano smiled crookedly back at him. “Isn’t that what I just did?”
Chuuya grinned at her. “Yeah, but I’m not exactly a pillar of society.”
“As a good friend of mine would say, ‘So fucking what?’” Yosano replied, and her smile reached her eyes. She stretched. “I think I will set up an appointment with my therapist,” she said. “Not because I’m struggling or anything, but just because there’s no denying that this is a big deal.”
Chuuya slouched even further down in his chair, to the point where his shoulders were nearly on the seat. “You good for now, then?” he asked.
“Yes, Chuuya,” she said, rolling her eyes again. “You can entrust me to my fiance and coworkers.” She hopped off the corner of his desk, and Chuuya wormed his way out of his rolling armchair, and they headed toward the door.
“Hey,” she said when they were almost there.
“Yeah?” he asked, looking back at her.
“Hug?” she asked, looking a little less confident.
“Hug,” he said, and wrapped his arms around his friend. They leaned together for a minute, and partway through she began shaking a little, and a few tears spilled on his shoulder. He tightened his grip, and after another minute she stopped shaking.
“Sorry about that,” she said.
“Don’t be sorry, dipshit,” Chuuya said, and Yosano laughed. “All right, run over to the washroom and wash your face,” he said, waving a hand toward the lavatory at the far end of the room. “Don’t want Kunikida thinking I made you cry.”
A few minutes later, they emerged from the office to find their friends all seated in the waiting room.
“Sorry to hold you up,” Chuuya said briskly.
Kunikida’s eyes had gone straight to Yosano, and he was apparently satisfied by what he saw. “Not a problem,” he said. “Shall we head back to the office?” he asked a little uncertainly.
“Of course,” Yosano said. “They’re probably wondering what happened to us.”
There was a jumbled confusion of good-byes, and as the Agency members turned to leave, Chuuya called out, “Hey, I’m serious, you guys want to come to dinner soon?”
Their friends all turned back to agree enthusiastically. Dazai and Chuuya walked over to the door, and waited until the elevator doors closed behind them, and then shut the door to their office and headed back inside.
Chuuya made for the conference room to start cleaning up, and Dazai followed.
“So I promised Yosano that if you’ve got the office bugged, you’d delete the recordings without listening to them,” Chuuya said as he briskly collected unopened drinks to return them to the chiller. “Don’t make me a liar.”
“Conveniently, I didn’t have the office bugged,” Dazai said. “You’re free and clear.” He ambled around the conference table at a more leisurely pace, collecting empty bottles and disposing of them. “Ah, Atsushi noticed that Higuchi was panicking and hiding the whole time,” he said. “I convinced him that she probably felt out of place since all the other Port Mafia representatives were executives.”
“Good job,” Chuuya said. He looked over at Dazai. “You okay with me inviting everyone over for dinner again? I should have asked you first, but we didn’t set a date so I can push it out if you want.”
“No need,” Dazai said. “I’m quite happy to have them over.”
Chuuya collected the tea cups and the teapot. “Yay,” he said mildly.
Dazai asked, “So are you going to the wake and the funeral, or are we going to the wake and the funeral?”
Chuuya set down his burdens and turned to look at Dazai searchingly. He crossed over to stand in front of his husband and looked up into his eyes, his hands on Dazai’s waist. “What do you want to do?” he asked. “I can’t tell if you’re asking if you have to go and don’t want to, or if you’re asking if you can go and aren’t sure you’re allowed.”
Dazai looked into Chuuya’s eyes and said, “I would like to go, for Odasaku. I want to see it all ended.”
Chuuya rubbed his thumb reassuringly over Dazai’s hipbone. “Then you’re welcome to come,” he said. “As long as you’re just coming to watch, and maybe gloat silently. I’d rather you not start laughing maniacally, or screaming, ‘Take that, bitch!’”
Dazai spluttered with laughter. “I wasn’t actually planning to act unhinged,” he said. “Just to stand there, and be alive, while he’s dead.”
Chuuya pulled Dazai closer, wrapping one arm around his waist and raising the other hand to pull Dazai’s head down onto his shoulder. “We are so fucked up, aren’t we?” he murmured.
“Yes,” Dazai agreed, holding Chuuya tightly. His voice changed, becoming low and tentative. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Me?” Chuuya asked, surprised. “I’m not particularly traumatized by his death.”
“That’s not what I was talking about,” Dazai said. “I meant-”
“Oh, fuck,” Chuuya said, his eyes widening. “That. Yeah, no, I’m good. They didn’t mean it that way, and they apologized, and now I’m embarrassed that I made a big deal about it. If you want to make me feel better, pretend it never happened, and never bring it up again.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” Dazai said. “Bring what up?”
“Me freaking out about-” Chuuya began, confused, and then he saw Dazai’s mischievous grin and pulled back, punching him in the chest. “Bastard!”
“Obedient bastard,” Dazai corrected.
“My obedient bastard,” Chuuya agreed, and leaned up to kiss his other half.
Epilogue:
Neatly dressed in a charcoal grey suit and hunter green tie, Chuuya walked through the halls of the Port Mafia headquarters to the Boss’ office, having been assured by her that he was welcome to come straight back upon arrival and needn’t await an escort. Many of his former fellows greeted him in the halls, some looking with interest at the flat package he carried.
Chuuya took note of one who appeared disgruntled or rebellious.
Upon reaching Kouyou’s office, formerly Mori’s, the guards to either side of the door nodded to him. “Go right in, sir,” one of them said. “The Boss is expecting you.”
Chuuya nodded his thanks. He knocked once and then opened the door, walking in and greeting Kouyou with a smile.
“Welcome to my new office,” she said wryly.
Chuuya stepped up to give her a one-armed hug. “It looks a lot better already,” he said, smiling as he looked around.
The room itself had never been unpleasantly decorated; it had merely seemed dark and foreboding because Mori was some weird vampire who seemed to think he’d melt away if he ever turned on the damned lights. Now that Kouyou had taken possession, the room was well-lit and the walls were revealed to be a faded jade color. He wouldn’t describe it as warm and welcoming; that would be an inappropriate vibe for the office of the head of the Port Mafia, and Kouyou was never inappropriate. But its formality was now tasteful and elegant rather than oppressive, especially as Kouyou had already replaced a number of the furnishings and artworks.
Kouyou sniffed. “Well, I had no intention of spending most of my days in a cave,” she said as they walked over to a small table laid out for tea.
Chuuya set his parcel down on the table and held Kouyou’s chair for her. As he moved back around the table, Kouyou looked at the package.
“And what is this? Paperwork? Don’t tell me you’re bringing me documents to sign,” she said as she rang for Mizuki.
“No, no documents,” Chuuya said, smiling. Instead of taking his seat, he began to carefully open the package. “You remember that triptych you admired at my housewarming party?”
Kouyou nodded, a knowing look in her eye.
Chuuya’s smile faded a bit. “When it was looking like you might get pressured to drop the connection,” he said, “the ‘local artist’ who did that piece, painted me something else. I wanted to show it to you.”
He moved a few items out of the way, and then picked up the watercolor Dazai had painted of the two of them at tea. He carried it around to Kouyou’s side of the table and placed it on the table in front of her, standing next to her as she looked at it. He was gratified on Dazai’s behalf by Kouyou’s reaction.
Her eyes widened and she caught her breath. “Oh, Chuuya,” she said, one long-fingered hand reaching out toward the framed picture.
He stood next to her, smiling in silence.
After a minute or so, she looked up at him, her face soft and her eyes full. “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “I haven’t the words to admire it properly. He is truly an artist.”
“Yeah,” Chuuya said, his eyes watering up a little bit in return.
Kouyou looked down at the painting once more, and then looked back up at him. Her voice strengthening, she said, “Thank you very much for sharing this with me. Where will you hang it?”
“The living room or the study,” he said. “I haven’t decided yet.” He lifted the frame carefully and moved it back to his side of the table.
“I asked him to make you something as well,” Chuuya said, and picked up a tall, narrow painting from the package next, carrying it around and setting it in front of Kouyou. “It’s our gift to you, to congratulate you, and to thank you for being my friend.”
It was another watercolor, this time a full-length portrait of Kouyou.
“Lad, you shouldn’t have-” she began, touched, and then stopped in surprise as he made another trip, bringing the remaining contents of the package.
He arranged the three portraits side-by-side, with Kouyou’s in the middle and his own and Kyouka’s flanking hers.
“They’re not framed,” he said. “I thought you’d want to do that yourself, and I didn’t want to risk picking something that might not be to your taste.”
Kouyou reached up and gripped his hand, squeezing tightly.
“Thank you,” she said, letting go. “I needn’t tell you how much this means to me.”
The door opened and they both turned to see Mizuki approaching with the tea tray. Kouyou immediately assumed a dignified manner, betraying no potential weakness even to her most trusted assistant. Chuuya collected the portraits and moved them over to Kouyou’s desk, and then returned to take his seat.
“Thank you, Mizuki,” Kouyou said clearly and incisively. “So, Chuuya, how has your week been?”
Chuuya returned from tea with Kouyou carrying his package, now with only his own painting inside. Dazai rose from his sprawl on the sofa to greet him. Chuuya set the package down on a side table and met him with a kiss.
“Did you have a nice tea?” Dazai asked.
“Yeah,” Chuuya said. He reached into his inside coat pocket and took out an envelope and handed it to Dazai.
Dazai raised an eyebrow as he took the envelope. The outside held nothing but his name in exquisite calligraphy. Turning it over, he unsealed it and took a folded letter out. As his eyes traveled over the writing, they widened. Once he finished reading the letter, he scanned back over it, and then folded it and slipped it back into the envelope, looking down at it studiously and avoiding Chuuya’s eyes.
“She asked me to wait while she wrote it,” Chuuya said. “She wanted to thank you right away.”
“I’m not sure how to deal with a sincere compliment from her,” Dazai said. He delivered the remark as if it were a joke, but it was obvious to Chuuya that he was speaking the truth. “Especially not one so-” he broke off.
Good job, Kouyou, Chuuya thought. She had never approved of Dazai, never thought he was good enough for Chuuya, but maybe, the more she saw of who he had become after shedding the Port Mafia, maybe she was finally seeing who he really was.
“What do you want for dinner, babe?” he asked, and Dazai looked grateful for the diversion.
“Hmm, does it have to be food?” asked Dazai mischievously, as he reached out to slide Chuuya’s suit coat off his shoulders.
Text of Kouyou’s thank-you letter:
Dear Dazai-sama,
I hope you are well.
I wish to express my thanks to you for the portraits you painted. They moved me, and will give me great joy and peace when I need it most.
I am very happy for you. It is a rare thing indeed for someone who has lived a life like ours to have the opportunity to find out what they were truly meant to be. I hope that you will nurture your talent, and treasure and ply it like the gift that it is. I hope to some day see more of your work, and am honored that you have graced me with these pieces.
Respectfully yours,
Ozaki Kouyou