“say … kyouka-chan , what was in that file that was so interesting?“ it’s a test of faith — words filtered from coarse pumice lips , silver tongue ensnared behind a liar’s teeth. he’s smiling , innocent and curious , but there’s nothing to his gaze ; this is an empty interaction. he’s asking questions he already knows the answers to. ( and does that not apply for all inquiries he brings to light? puzzles undone , pieces picked apart in the order that they have been placed. this is the ANATHEMA of his existence. ) the spoon in his cup of coffee is swirled once , and set to the rim with a soft clink before he takes a generous sip to warm his chilled insides. //@kaikanii.
◣ ✿ ◥ It wasn’t an unusual case; in fact, the story repeated itself over again in many different iterations: a mother who would do anything to protect her child. Kyouka only got halfway through the first page of the file before her thoughts trailed off, her eyes gazing lifelessly at the papers in front of her. It wasn’t what she expected when asking for her day’s assignment, so she hadn’t prepared to see something all-too-familiar. Someone probably messed up, for she doubted anyone in the agency would give this case to her on purpose. On the other hand, she didn’t want to pass off an assignment she’d already been given–how stubborn.
Dazai’s question snapped her out of her stupor. Turning her blank gaze to him, she collected her thoughts before responding. “If you’re not busy, do you mind helping me with this?” she asked, tone far emptier than her usual monotone.
no one’s standing near his desk and the weather is fine— dazai makes laments public to anyone that might overhear. lacking an audience, he’ll attempt to generate one. elbows on his desk smear ink on the parts of reports he’s actually filled out (quite the accomplishment for him, several sentences completed before noon !), leaving trails on the dilute blue pinstripes of his sleeves. dazai pouts, dazai presses the small of his back tighter against the support offered by his chair, picks up one foot and drops it onto wheel-capped spokes so he can lift and leverage his other foot against his desk and tip back, farther and farther, flirting with FALLING but mostly scanning for the first person that falls in his line of sight.
❝ ah! kyouka… you’re not terribly busy with anything, are you? it’d be good if someone would walk with me to the convenience store—. fresh air is good for us, after all, isn’t it? ❞
◣ ✿ ◥ Kyouka had been sitting at her own desk across the room, writing reports as the man’s complaints filled the room as background noise. If she’d not been so used to his antics at that point, perhaps she would be paying more mind to it; as it stood, her goal was to get all or most of her paperwork done before he turned his attention to her specifically, and she was almost there when he called for her. She didn’t look up right away, pen scratching away at paper as she finished up her last sentence. Once finished, she arranged her reports neatly and stood up.
“I can go with you once I drop these off.” She nodded to the papers. Padding over to his desk, she waited for his answer–no doubt he’d agree since her condition was only a slight delay to his procrastination. And, with any luck, lunch would be offered to her as well.
◣ ✿ ◥ In a swift movement, Kyouka moved the bag out of the other’s reach and almost continued on without acknowledging his presence. She kept walking, only sparing a glance. “Mine,” she said, declining his offer. They were tasty sweets, ones she had no intention of sharing with him.
Lovecraft has seen this girl before, which is not necessarily strange, but he cannot remember where or why he would remember her, which he does find strange. Usually if someone is familiar they are significant. (One of those messy conflicts…? Maybe. She reminds him of the awful bicoloured child, except she is cuter-looking and dressed more formally.)
He’s curious now, over what significance (if any) this kid has. But he doesn’t want to actually speak to her, that would be far too difficult considering Lovecraft’s anxiety-ridden method of dealing with strangers. So he’ll settle for tailing some distance behind her, internally still caught in debate over if he wants to be overtly noticeable or not.
◣ ✿ ◥ Due to the time she spent training both in the mafia and the detective agency, the girl picked up on her tail rather quickly, relieved that, if nothing else, it was no one she recognised from the mafia (and she did take great care to commit those names and faces to her memory just in case she ever needed the information; it came in handy to make sure her former affiliates weren’t stalking her around the city).
Ah, it was hard to get a good look at the man beyond being able to tell who he wasn’t. She walked passed a candy store before seeing her chance to turn back–catching a good look at the man in the process–and wander to the shop. She watched through the glass, as the reflection in it gave a good view of the streets behind her. If her suspicion was correct and he was following her for whatever reason, unless he decided to abort his mission, he’d have to stop too.
‘ kyouka-chan , don’t you think that’s too much cake ? ’ gentle smile settles upon his features , tainted with the tiniest bit of concern — of course his intentions are utterly pure , he worries that the youngest detective agency member might get a stomachache; it has nothing to do with how he’s been eyeing the sweet treat for the last five minutes .
◣ ✿ ◥ “I have two stomachs,” came the girl’s natural response to such an observation. Of course he’d think it was too much for one person (that wasn’t Ranpo), but Kyouka was tough. She could handle herself in this endeavor. She could; however, after a moment of contemplation, she cut a piece off of her cake and handed the man the extra fork she had. He obviously wanted some, regardless of whether or not it was too much cake for her to eat on her own. “But you can have some.”
a twisted grin spreads upon thin lips, black hues’ gaze landing upon the young girl as she walks towards him. a knowing smile it was, one that almost screamed some sort of confidence and superiority, a message of ‘ i told you so. ‘
“ what’s a traitor like you doing here? or did you come crawling back like the pathetic little rabbit you are? “
◣ ✿ ◥ The girl stared at him, any traces of fear hidden behind a blank expression as she appeared to contemplate the question. This is a public place, she felt like saying, but held her tongue. She didn’t intend to start a fight; instead, she held out her hand to show the loose change she held in her palm. “There’s a claw machine over there. It has rabbit plushies in it. I want to get one.” It wasn’t her fault that he happened to be standing in her path.
As always, the city was filled with people, making the city scene dull during the daytime like a mass of grey despite what other colors people wore on them. Within the grey masses of people, a lone color stood out to him.
A single shade of red—much like a lotus floating in a river of people. Such contrast always caught his eye for he appreciates the beauty in a scene like that. He considered getting something like that for his Master’s granddaughter. Such beauty in traditional Japanese garbs will for sure bring out the elegance to her complexion.
He walked up to the young lady, giving her a compliment first.
「Duibuqi, xiao mei. Your kimono is really beautiful, where did you buy that? And also, I’m looking for this location here, 」he held out a map to where the location of the Armed Detective Agency is.
◣ ✿ ◥ An uneventful day of walking around delivering various things to various people–and window shopping a bit on the way–but a gut feeling told her that the monotony would end soon enough. Perhaps not that specific day, though the city never remained so quiet for too long, so it was only a matter of time before everything became a lot more lively.
She turned to face the man who greeted her, staring for a long moment before responding. “It was a gift.” Even if she got it for herself, there was no guarantee she’d remember from where. Approaching with a compliment before asking the real question was something new though. “Why do you want to go there?”
Hopefully he was just an average client, but recent events made her wary of anyone who may be looking to start trouble. Either way, she was on her way back to the office, so if he seemed innocent enough, she could escort him there.
’ DAZAI ’ && ’ ON TIME ’ && ’ responsible enough to be let on a mission without supervision ’ are syllables, letters, && words combined in what might as well be an ILLOGICAL construction. && when they are uttered, it is said with tongue in cheek, even the speaker unsure if they’re foretelling false omens from some distant utopia. but while its true dazai would’ve preferred a day of lazying around && exploring every crevice of his ever-so fascinating sofa, it was a different matter when the agency’s new member && mafia’s latest defect was concerned.
the case file’s tucked between his arm && torso. the mission’s nothing special, just some run-of-the-mill revenge story between spouses gone sore ( he’s figured the code- its crafted with the semblance of an ability user-based attack, but it really was just the husband ), but there’s no need to end the outing so quickly.
’ we’ll have plenty of time, promise, no worries ! a dead body or two won’t be running from the crime scene or anything- oh, that was a bit more morbid than i intended… wait, wait, this way. ’ he gives the girl a gentle pat on the head before steering her by the shoulders to an alleyway created by the space between two restaurants. eyes flit towards the blade stashed by kyouka’s side ( for situations where ability use would be ludicrous / unnecessary ), which he PLUCKS up with two fingers.
’ hmmm- ’ he taps his chin, tilting the blade up && down till the metal gleams in the light. the REAL purpose he’s bestowed into this outing: he wants to test just WHAT knowledge the mafia’s planted into their sheltered night lily’s brain, what she KNOWS, what she FORGOT, what she’s twisted to fit the RIGHTEOUS purposes of the agency, && to ASSESS- because, not saying he’s doubting her, but mafia blood is awfully hard to scrub away.
’ this is useful, but not a very practical weapon for someone like you… ’ head cants, eyes seem to LIGHT. ’ kyouka-chan, have you ever tried using a hairpin ? ’
◣ ✿ ◥
Overall, Kyouka enjoyed the chance to work with Dazai on a case; while the Agency members worked in pairs, it seemed that said pairs weren’t set in stone, and she’d get the chance to work with everyone eventually. She understood why. She understood that it was good to know her coworkers and how they operated individually rather than only knowing one other because if a situation arose where one had to work with someone they were unfamiliar with, things may not turn out well. In the end, it was better to be well acquainted with each other.
So when the time came that Dazai told her they had a case, she jumped at the opportunity. She had heard many stories about the man slacking off and not taking work seriously, but that didn’t bother her; in the mafia, she often worked alone (for the most part) for her missions. Assassinations often worked that way, it seemed.
Dazai was also a lot craftier than he let on. At first, she didn’t even notice him take the blade, only clued in by the shining off the walls a few seconds before he spoke. She halted and turned. “I’ve used hairpins to pick locks,” she responded. Ah, but he meant as a weapon, didn’t he? “That could work. If you,” pierced someone’s artery with it, the force of their blood pumping would open the hole further and they’d bleed out, “knew how you could make it work.”
She didn’t know too much about individual mafia members, but hadn’t she heard something of an executive who used a hairpin as a weapon? That was long before they took her in, however, so details were bound to be buried. As far as she knew (at least, as far as she had been told), Dazai’s only relation to the mafia was cases involving them, but she was aware of how ill-informed she could be by relying on others for information. The hairpin comment didn’t seem like a coincidence.
Well, it wouldn’t hurt to ask, would it? “Did you used to fight with a hairpin? I’ve heard of someone who did.” Surely he was smart enough to pick up on the implication; the girl didn’t have enough words to spell out exactly what she meant. “What makes the blade impractical?”
The last question was simply due to her wanting to improve and be a valuable member of the Agency, so if a different weapon would suit her better, she would accept any suggestions the man made to her. There were lines to draw in taking orders from others, of course, since she didn’t want to repeat her stay with the mafia.
