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Dazai and Chuuya bent their heads together over the first of the three notes.
Say goodbye to everyone you love.
“And this one came directly to Kouko?” Dazai asked.
“Not exactly,” Takechi said. “It was addressed to Kouko, but left on the bar in a nightclub two nights before she was scheduled to perform there. The management held it and gave it to her when she arrived, but we’ve got no way to identify who was there that night, other than the staff. They do have security cameras, but they only store footage for twenty-four hours.”
“Interesting,” said Dazai. “So someone who knew when she was scheduled to perform there, which is too broad a population, but who also knew that the nightclub only keeps their security footage for twenty-four hours. It’s probably a dead end, but we can start by checking out the staff that were on duty that night, and then we can try to obtain a list of everyone who had a credit card charge at the bar that night and run it past the management to see if there’s an overlap with people who might know their security arrangements.”
“Almost certainly a dead end,” Chuuya agreed. “If they were dumb enough to a, stay, and b, not pay cash, we probably wouldn’t be here right now. But check social media, see if someone tagged a photo at the club that night, and track through the pictures and see if anything pops.”
Dazai nodded and moved the ziploc bag holding the first note aside, and they looked at the second.
Did you tell him goodbye yet? You’re running out of time.
“And how did this one arrive?” asked Dazai.
“It was found on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building.” Takechi sighed. “In a dead spot in the security camera coverage, after the evening rush hour. A week ago,” he added. “The first one was two weeks ago.”
Dazai hummed and slid the second ziploc bag aside.
The third note was very different.
Did your beloved Kouko tell you? Enjoy her company while you can. Any performance could be her swan song.
“This one arrived by mail, addressed to me, the day that I called you. We were able to track down the person who mailed it, but as with the others, it had been dropped on the ground. The person who mailed it simply saw that it was sealed and stamped, and picked it up and dropped it in the next mailbox they encountered.” Takechi looked worn.
Chuuya watched as Dazai straightened the notes.
“I’d like you to give me all the details that you have,” Dazai said. “The name of the club and the date the first note was found on the bar. The names of all the staff who were directly involved in finding the note through to its delivery. The names of all the staff that were present that night, and if you’ve already obtained any information about any specific patrons, that information as well, although I will of course do my own investigating. The address of the apartment building and the date the second note was found, and once again the names of anyone involved in finding it. The name of the person who found and mailed the third note, and the location of the box it was mailed through.”
He leaned back in his seat. “Before we get into logistics, I’m assuming you can already see that this is directed at you, more than her.”
Chuuya watched Takechi’s eyes tighten in pain as he nodded shortly.
“Do you have any suspicions at this time?” Dazai asked. “Do you think there’s some piece of business someone might be trying to disrupt, or someone that you have information on who might want to blackmail you to protect their secret, or someone who might want to extort information about someone else you have information on, or a competitor…?” he trailed off leadingly.
“I have thought of a handful of possibilities,” Takechi said heavily. “But this seems… excessive for any of those purposes. I’ll provide you with a list of names, although I would prefer not to provide you details of their potential motives unless absolutely necessary.”
“Names will suffice,” Dazai assured him. “Now, for logistics.”
Chuuya spoke up. “So I’m gonna be her bodyguard while this is up in the air, and you said I’m to be Kousei so that I can protect her on stage. I take it she’s got performances scheduled in the near future?”
Takechi nodded. “Yes, she has a three-day run next Thursday, Friday, and Saturday at a venue that holds five thousand. Tickets are already close to sold out for Friday and Saturday, and around eighty-five percent full for Thursday. She’ll have rehearsals Monday and Tuesday at her usual space, and a dress rehearsal at the venue Wednesday during the middle of the day. I would like you to be present for all of those at the very least.” He hesitantly continued, “I expect she’ll need to do some shopping, and may want to go out for a few meals. I know that the last note implied that she would be attacked during a performance, but still-”
Dazai and Chuuya both nodded.
“No reason to take chances,” Dazai said. “Chuuya can escort her on her personal outings as well. Are you comfortable with the security at her apartment?”
“I am,” Takechi said. “Her apartment building has excellent security in general, and when she moved in I upgraded that of her own apartment further.”
Chuuya asked, “So I’m assuming you didn’t just say, ‘Hey, why don’t you invite Kousei to perform with you.’ She knows I’m gonna be her bodyguard, right?”
“Yes, she does,” Takechi confirmed.
“But nobody else,” Dazai stated, more than asked.
“Correct,” Takechi said. “But my security people are intelligent. They’ll certainly make the connection after this. I will swear them to secrecy; that’s the best I can do.”
“Of course,” Dazai said. “I’d like to speak with Tsuda before we leave, however.”
“You are welcome to do so,” Takechi said. “And you may speak to all of them later, if you wish. Kouko is spending the weekend at my home, and you are both welcome to spend the weekend as well. The security is tight, and it would allow you greater freedom to question both of us, and give you more convenient access to my resources, and would allow you, Nakahara, a safe opportunity to work with Kouko on a cover story, and to prepare for the concerts.”
“Well, that answered my next three questions,” Chuuya said with a professional nod. “We’ll take you up on that.” He looked at Dazai.
“That seems like an excellent idea,” Dazai said easily. “If Kouko is staying at your home this weekend, does that mean that all of your staff - both household and security personnel - are already aware that she is your daughter?”
“Yes,” Takechi said. “They’ve all been with me since she was a child, and have watched her grow up. They are not happy with the current situation, and will give you any assistance that you request.”
“Excellent,” Dazai replied. He checked his watch. “We’ll need a few hours to take care of some things first. Do you want to send your car for us again later this afternoon, or shall we just turn up on our own?”
“I am in your hands,” Takechi said simply. “Whatever you think is best.”
Since Dazai and Chuuya needed to collect supplies from both the safe house and the penthouse, there wasn’t really any time to discuss the case before they were collected by Takechi’s men again. Nevertheless, their baptism by fire as teenagers in the Port Mafia ensured they were of one accord on most aspects of the investigation, including which topics were safe to discuss in the car with Takechi’s men and which should await privacy.
“You got a cover story for why Kousei vanished, and why he’s back?” Chuuya asked. “You sowed all those conspiracy theories at the time, are we going with one of them?”
“No,” Dazai replied cheerfully. “We’re going to go with a more believable story. Kousei’s not your real name, and you did it on a dare. You vanished afterward because you thought it’d be fun to do the contest, but you didn’t want to throw away a steady paycheck when you figured people would lose interest a week after the contest was over.”
“Sounds good,” Chuuya said agreeably. “And why am I back?”
“During the competition, you chatted sometimes with Kouko, and after the finalists’ dinner, you told her all about the dare. She thought it was funny and kept your secret. And she thought you were fun, so she thought it might be fun for both of you if you showed up as a surprise performer just for this one gig, and also that it would be a draw to sell more tickets and get her a lot more press.” Dazai’s thumbs were flicking over the keyboard of his phone as he spoke.
“And I said sure because it sounded like a blast and hey, easy money and it’s only for three days like the contest, so I don’t have to give up my day job,” Chuuya said thoughtfully. “But if someone does take a shot at her and I have to stop them, it’s gonna be pretty obvious I’m not just some ordinary guy who works in a shop somewhere.”
“If there’s no way to avoid it, we’ll just have to deal with having Kousei outed as you,” Dazai said seriously. “But it’s unlikely that we’re looking at a full team with automatic weapons. It could easily be a single shooter with a sniper rifle or handgun. You can’t hide what you’re doing if you’re stopping a hail of bullets and sending them back to whence they came, but you absolutely have the fine control to divert a single bullet just enough to make it look like a near miss. And if you have to get physical with someone rather than using your ability, well, then I guess Kousei, whoever he really is, grew up in a rough part of town.”
Chuuya laughed. “Well, that part’s easy enough to remember, since it’s the truth.”
He stretched, and then cracked his knuckles. “You’ll let me know if you need anything from me?” he asked Dazai. “I figure you’re handling all the detective work, and I’m focused on playing bodyguard first, and then on learning whatever songs she wants me to do for the shows so that I don’t screw up her concerts and tank her reviews.”
“Yes, just as Takechi requested,” Dazai said, still intent on his phone. His thumbs flew, and after a few more moments he pocketed his phone and turned in his seat to look at Chuuya. “If you see anyone or anything suspicious, use your phone and act like you’re taking a picture of Kouko, and just get them in the background. But that’s the extent of your detective work. I don’t expect this investigation to present any challenges. You keep her safe, and I’ll find out who’s behind it and get the proof.”
“Good,” Chuuya said, and they both pretended not to notice Tsuda’s posture, neck stretched and head completely still as he listened from the front seat.
Some time later, they looked out through the tinted windows of the car as it pulled through a set of gates, and then continued slowly up a short driveway, and then pulled into a garage. The garage doors closed as the car came to a stop.
Tsuda and the driver got out and opened the rear doors for Dazai and Chuuya. As they collected their bags from the trunk, Tsuda spoke apologetically.
“I’m going to need to scan you both, and your possessions. However, this is just to make sure that no outside party slipped any surveillance devices into your belongings without your notice. We have no intention of interfering with any of your own equipment.”
Chuuya was impressed by Tsuda’s diplomacy, and left the task of replying to Dazai. The examination of their persons and belongings was completed without mishap, and their belongings were taken off to their room by the driver as Tsuda gave them a brief tour of the premises, winding up in a comfortable family room in which Takechi and his daughter Kouko were already engaged in quiet conversation.
“Ah, welcome,” Takechi said as they entered. As Tsuda bowed himself out, Takechi said, “Please, take a seat. Dinner will be ready soon.”
The concerned expression left Kouko’s face, and she looked at the newcomers in interest as they sat down side by side on one of the sofas. Her hair was currently pink, and she was casually dressed. Her eyes took in Dazai curiously, and then widened in excitement as they moved to Chuuya.
“Kousei!” she exclaimed. “You look so different!”
Chuuya grinned. “Fair’s fair, you do, too. Your hair wasn’t pink before.” He raised his hand to his head, fingers pushing his red curls back behind his ear. “This is the real me,” he explained.
“Father said that you are to be my bodyguard,” she said. “He thought I should continue to call you Kousei, so that I don’t slip up in public.”
“Smart,” Chuuya said.
Kouko turned her head to Dazai, and said hesitantly, “And Father said you are the detective who will find out who has been sending the letters?”
“Dazai Osamu,” he said smoothly. The corners of his mouth turned up. “I’m also Kousei’s husband,” he added.
Kouko smiled. “You’re a very lucky man, then,” she said. “And very talented, from what I hear. No one has ever breached Father’s security before. Considering the timing, I’m pleased that I wasn’t the weakness you exploited.”
“Ah,” Dazai said. Kouko had actually been the weakness, as it was her phone that he had bugged, allowing him to find out when and where her father was meeting the minister. “I’m-”
As Chuuya kicked him on the ankle, hidden by the coffee table, Dazai changed direction without a hitch. “-flattered to hear that.”
Chuuya watched as his husband employed that silver tongue of his, leaning forward, hands clasped before him and voice soothing. “Kouko, tell me, how many people know, or have reason to suspect, that the two of you have a connection? Even if they don’t know that you’re father and daughter, who might have reason to think that you are important to him?”
Kouko was drawn in by his voice, and unconsciously leaned in as well. “Everyone in this household,” she said decisively. “Perhaps some of my schoolteachers?” She thought some more, eyes trailing upward and to the right.
As she seemed to be having difficulty thinking of other possibilities, Dazai prompted, “What about people who might simply have seen you together? People who might have seen you come here for a visit, or who might have seen your father come watch you rehearse, or who saw the two of you out to dinner together?”
Kouko shook her head. “Honestly, I can’t think of anything like that. When I visit here, the car’s windows are tinted and I don’t get out until the garage doors are closed. And I’m always picked up in a private garage as well. Father doesn’t come to my rehearsals, so my voice coach and dance instructor have never met him. And we don’t go out to restaurants together. If we meet up for dinner, it’s usually in private, and his personal staff serve the food.”
Takechi suggested, “Perhaps someone who has access to our financial records?”
Dazai nodded at him. “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.”
Chuuya looked sharply at him, sensing the satisfaction underlying Dazai’s calm demeanor, and then they all turned toward the door as a servant announced, “Dinner is ready.”
The dinner was restaurant quality, and Chuuya was quite pleased with the wine pairing. By unspoken agreement, they avoided the topic of the letters and kept the conversation casual. After dessert, Takechi folded his napkin and laid it on the table.
“It’s late,” he said. “Perhaps, for tonight, you’d like to just retire to your room, sweep it for electronic devices - I haven’t bugged it, but I wouldn’t expect you to take my word for that - and you can have any private discussions you wish. Tomorrow morning, Tsuda and I will provide you the information that you requested during our initial meeting, Dazai, and will also provide you with any equipment and access you need. Kousei, you can meet with Kouko tomorrow to start planning your cover, and the performances, and so on, and you can give her any rules that she should follow to help you assure her safety. Does that seem reasonable?”
“Eminently reasonable,” Dazai said. After making arrangements for who was to meet whom where and when, Takechi directed them to their room, and wished them a good night.
After locking the door to their room, Chuuya removed his suit coat and draped it over the back of a chair, and then sprawled on the bed to watch as Dazai conducted a perfunctory check for bugs.
“Clear,” Dazai said, belly flopping onto the bed and rolling over to lay his head in Chuuya’s lap. Chuuya reached down and stroked his fingers through Dazai’s hair.
“Anything we need to discuss about the case?” he asked.
“I expect we’re on the same page,” Dazai replied, eyes closing as he melted into the mattress under his husband’s touch. “The notes seemed a little off, as if the writer thought Kouko was Takechi’s mistress rather than his daughter. And they didn’t really bother to hide that he’s the target, not her. Superficially, that probably means all the staff are in the clear, since they all know she’s his daughter. While it’s possible that the wording is a red herring, it’s too subtle. Plenty of people wouldn’t read into the notes what we did.”
“Anything else?” Chuuya asked lazily, fingers still trailing through Dazai’s hair.
“She has a crush on you,” Dazai said without opening his eyes.
Chuuya snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Eyes still closed, Dazai smiled. “It’s not ridiculous,” he said.
Chuuya struggled upright and began to worm his way out from under Dazai’s head, to the protests of his husband. “Stop wasting my time talking about other people,” Chuuya said. He rose from the bed as Dazai rolled back onto his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows to watch, and walked over to the window and closed the curtains. Turning back toward the bed, Chuuya started unbuttoning his shirt as he prowled back toward Dazai. Dazai’s sleepy posture vanished, and he pushed himself upward and back onto his knees.
“That suit looks great on you,” Chuuya said, eyes raking over his husband. “Now, take it off.”
The next morning, Dazai, dressed in comfortable black slacks and a white button-down, and Chuuya, dressed in leggings and a dry-fit workout tee, entered the dining room together. Dazai collected a coffee and wrapped a pastry in a napkin and immediately vanished with Tsuda, while Chuuya filled a plate with his usual rice and fish and joined Kouko and Takechi at the table.
“Sorry if I’m holding you up,” he said, looking over at Kouko’s half-empty plate. “I’ll be ready soon.” He dived into his breakfast with his usual enthusiasm.
Kouko and Takechi watched, fascinated.
“I think it’s more likely I’m going to be holding you up,” Kouko said as she watched him inhale his food. She resumed her own meal at a much more ladylike pace.
“Oh, good,” Chuuya said between bites.
As Kouko had predicted, Chuuya finished first. He downed a glass of water and waited politely for her to finish. When she arose, he followed her example and left his dishes on the table for the server to clear, and nodded to Takechi as he followed her out of the room.
They made their way to the other end of the ground floor, and Kouko led Chuuya into a large room with a large wooden floor, a piano, a stereo system, and a mirrored wall. She stepped over to the far wall and began to pull two chairs away from it.
“Let me,” Chuuya said, and took the chairs from her by hand, setting them where she indicated. Kouko sat down in one seat and Chuuya took the other, crossing his ankle over his knee.
“So before we get started on the performance, what do I need to know or do as the person being guarded?” Kouko asked earnestly.
“You just need to trust me,” Chuuya said bluntly. He shrugged. “If I tell you to do something, do it, but honestly if I ask you to do something it’s most likely going to be to try to keep our cover intact. I can protect you whether you cooperate or not.”
“You’re very confident,” Kouko said, amused.
Chuuya shrugged again. “I’d wager your dad would tell you the same.”
She eyed him. “Very well, then. Let’s talk about the show.”
Chuuya uncrossed his legs and sat up. “Go for it,” he invited.
Over the course of the next two hours, Kouko reviewed the set list with him. It was a mix of covers, most of which he recognized, and half a dozen original songs by a local songwriter.
“We only have a few days to get you ready,” she said, her hands clasped together. “Since this isn’t your normal job, I’m not sure how fast you can get up to speed, so I was thinking perhaps we’d only do one or two duets. For the others, perhaps you could do backing vocals, or-” she hesitated, her fingers tightening.
“Or what?” Chuuya asked. “This is your show, neither of us wants me f- screwing it up. You got an idea that’ll work, let’s hear it.”
“Would it be an insult if, for some of the songs, you were a dancer rather than a singer?” she asked timidly.
Chuuya’s face lit up. “Aw, f- shit, that would be great!”
Kouko looked relieved. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course not,” Chuuya said. “Singing’s fun, but I’d rather dance any day.” He squirmed, resituating himself with one foot tucked under him and the other perched on the seat of the chair. His face fell. “Actually, wait, it’s not like I’m a professional at that, either. Would you need me to follow choreography, and dance in a group? I’m more of a do-my-own-thing kind of dancer.”
“That’s fine,” Kouko assured him. “I don’t have any dancers, so it would just be you.”
“Hot damn,” he said, uncurling himself from the chair. “Okay, let’s focus on what I’ll be singing for now, then, so we know what you need to get me up to speed on. I can listen to the others in my own time.”
Kouko narrowed the duet possibilities down to four songs right off the bat, two covers and two originals. They began with the two covers, since Chuuya already knew them. After a cold run-through of the first song, Kouko reviewed several sections with him, giving him pointers. She spoke in technical terms, and Chuuya had to request explanations a few times. Once Chuuya was clear on the adjustments, they tried another full-length run through, which Kouko pronounced as an improvement. They finessed the song for about an hour total, and then moved on to the other cover, giving it the same treatment.
“All right,” said Kouko. “Let’s take a break and go grab some lunch.”
Chuuya agreed wholeheartedly and followed her back to the dining room, where he was pleased to see a very healthy lunch laid out.
With his plate filled, Chuuya settled at the table and began eating. Kouko joined him, eating more slowly from a much emptier plate.
“Do you think your husband has already eaten?” she asked, surveying the empty room.
Chuuya shook his head. “I doubt it,” he said wryly. “He’ll probably get so caught up that he’ll forget lunch.”
“But he didn’t eat breakfast,” Kouko said, concerned.
Chuuya swallowed. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “If we’ve got time when we finish eating, I’ll go track him down and drag him back here and make him get something more than coffee into himself.” In the interest of ensuring he’d have time to do that, he sped up his eating.
Kouko took a sip of her tea and asked, “How long have the two of you been married?”
Chuuya looked up and a wide smile spread across his face. “We just had our first wedding anniversary in January,” he said.
“That’s sweet,” Kouko said. “Were you dating long before that?”
“Dating? Maybe six months, I guess?” Chuuya said. “But we’d been partners since we were fifteen.” He dug back into his food.
“‘We’?” she said, surprised. “Are you the same age?”
Dazai’s voice came from the doorway. “Technically, he’s two months older than me,” he said as he entered. “He’ll be twenty-five in a couple of weeks.”
Chuuya spun in his seat. “Hey, babe! You actually going to eat something?” His head tilted upward as Dazai approached, and then Dazai stood behind him, looking down, and rested a warm hand on his shoulder. In deference to the fact that they were in their employer’s home, in the company of his young daughter, he forwent the usual kiss of greeting. Kouko blushed, not realizing how much worse the PDA could have been.
“Maybe,” Dazai said. “I mostly just wanted to check in and see how you were doing.” He looked at Kouko slyly. “You thought he was younger than me?”
“Yes,” Kouko admitted. “I thought he was my age.”
Dazai’s smirk deepened. “Ah, Kousei, this opens up all sorts of undercover opportunities-”
He was cut off, laughing, as Chuuya reached up and yanked him down by his collar.
“If the words ‘high school’ pass your lips, I’m gonna smack you into next week,” he said balefully.
“Of course not,” Dazai said mirthfully. “I was going to say-”
His voice was cut off as Chuuya twisted his collar, pressing his knuckles into Dazai’s throat and cutting off his breath. “That goes triple for ‘middle school’,” the redhead growled.
Dazai mimed zipping his upturned lips, and Chuuya released him.
“Now go get some food, idiot,” Chuuya said affectionately. He resumed eating, and then paused once again. “Undercover,” he murmured to himself. “Hey, we still haven’t talked about that,” he said suddenly, looking up at Kouko. “Too many people know what I look like. I’m gonna need to be undercover.” He gestured at his face and hair. “What color scheme should I be so I don’t clash with you? I don’t think the teal I did before would work with the pink.” He pointed at her hair with his chopsticks and then resumed eating. “I could go blue hair and keep my eyes natural, but that might make us too cotton candy. Or blond with gold eyes? I don’t know.”
Dazai, seating himself at the table with a plate even emptier than Kouko’s, froze halfway into his seat and eyed his husband appraisingly. After a moment, he settled into his chair and began eating.
Kouko surveyed Chuuya with a similar intensity as she continued to eat delicately. After a minute or so, she shook her head.
“Not blue,” she said. “And lavender or purple wouldn’t work with your coloring. But magenta, I think that would suit you very well.”
Dazai spoke up, his attention focused on Chuuya. “Magenta would suit you very well,” he said in a husky voice, and Chuuya’s body tightened immediately at the sound. “But it’s too close to your normal coloring. It wouldn’t be enough of a disguise, even with tinted contacts.”
Kouko nodded, although pink once again from the intimacy of Dazai’s voice. “That’s fair.” She eyed Chuuya a little longer and then said decisively, “Then we should go for the blond with gold eyes you suggested. It’s very different from what you have now, especially if you straighten your hair again. There’s no need for us to match, we just need to not clash.” She ate her last bite of lunch and pushed her chair back to rise.
“Correct,” Dazai murmured, eyes on his food. “No need for you two to match.”
Chuuya cast an exasperated look at him and rose as well.
This time Kouko carried her dishes over to a sideboard and left them, and Chuuya followed suit once again. They headed out of the dining room with a cheerful good-bye, and while Kouko’s back was turned, Chuuya paused behind Dazai’s chair and leaned down to plant a quick kiss on the top of his head, and then lightly cuffed him.
“Have fun with the investigation, idiot.”
The afternoon was similar to the morning for Chuuya, although since the two afternoon songs were originals, the process of learning and tweaking them was much longer, especially when Kouko learned that Chuuya couldn’t sight read sheet music. They managed by having her sing her part while playing his on the piano. By dinnertime, Kouko had settled on two songs: one cover and one original, and had reordered the set list so that the cover would be the second song she performed, and the original would be the last official song, not counting the one she had set aside for an encore.
They rejoined Takechi and Dazai for a late dinner, where in deference once again to Kouko’s spirits, the conversation was focused on lighter topics, particularly their progress on integrating Kousei into the show. After dessert, Takechi and Dazai excused themselves so that Dazai could provide an update on the progress of the investigation, and Chuuya and Kouko relocated themselves to the living room to discuss wardrobe.
Just under half an hour later, Dazai and Takechi rejoined them.
“All set?” Chuuya asked, looking up at Dazai.
Dazai nodded, and Chuuya rose from the sofa. Looking at their host and his daughter, Chuuya said, “We’re going to head back to our room now and review progress. Thank you for dinner. Kouko, can we get an early start tomorrow? I’m going to need to leave by noon tomorrow, to have time to arrange my cover.” He gestured at his hair and clothes again.
Kouko agreed, and watched as Dazai escorted Chuuya from the room, one hand resting on the small of his husband’s back.
Back in their room, after another cursory check for listening devices, Chuuya asked, “Anything I need to know before we’re back home? Other than that you’re a jealous idiot?”
Dazai bent his head to Chuuya’s. “No, that pretty much covers it,” he said in a low voice as his large hands encompassed his husband’s waist, and then his lips claimed Chuuya’s.
Sunday morning flew by, with Chuuya working diligently on the two duets and Dazai continuing to take advantage of Takechi’s expansive resources. At eleven thirty, they packed up their belongings and made their farewells, waving off the offer of lunch. Tsuda accompanied the driver once more, and the couple asked to be dropped off at the penthouse.
It had been less than a week since the assassination attempt, but it felt like much longer as they entered their apartment. Chuuya detoured to the kitchen and found that the repairs to the ceiling were complete, and the debris had been removed. The kitchen table, while clean now, was damaged beyond repair.
“I know we just came so I could pick stuff up, and so they wouldn’t know where the safe house is, but do you think we could come back and stay here until the new place is ready?” Chuuya asked wistfully. “It’d just be so much more comfortable. I’m sick of the futon and stupid tiny shower.”
Dazai wrapped his arms around Chuuya from behind, and Chuuya folded his arms over Dazai’s, grasping his forearms.
“If you let me call Katai in to check for bugs, sure,” he said.
“Really?” Chuuya asked, twisting his head around.
“Of course,” Dazai said. “I still like the idea of finding a new place, though. And we’re going to be pouring any opened bottles down the sink,” he said, his voice darkening.
“Agreed, across the board,” Chuuya said, his grip on Dazai’s forearms tightening.
They held each other for another minute, and then Dazai disengaged.
“Let me call Katai and see how soon he’s available,” Dazai suggested. “And if he can come today, I’ll oversee that and then collect our things from the safe house while you’re doing your makeover. Make sure you wear a hoodie so nobody sees you coming and going as Kousei.”
“I will,” Chuuya said. “We should have a little leeway right now, though. Kouko’s doing the social media posts today, but she’s not going to include any pictures, so anyone looking for Kousei will still be assuming teal on teal. People won’t start tracking me until I’ve actually shown up for the first rehearsal, at the earliest.”
“All right, then,” Dazai said. “You head out. Text me when you’re done and I’ll let you know whether it’s clear here or not.” He took Chuuya’s hand and raised it to his lips, and then released him and took out his phone. As Chuuya walked out of the kitchen, he smiled as he heard Dazai gaily exclaiming, “Katai! How are you? It’s Dazai.”
Monday morning, Chuuya and Dazai awoke in their own comfortable, king-sized bed, well-rested. The evening before had been quite pleasant, with a home-cooked meal, a very enjoyable personal time, and then a long soak in their comfortable bath as they had discussed the case. While at Takechi’s house, Dazai had largely cleared the staff of the nightclub where the first note had been found, as well as Kouko’s schoolteachers (which had already been a long shot). He had reviewed credit card charges at the nightclub during the requisite period and identified a number of attendees in that manner. He had located social media posts that tagged the club and had ID’d everyone in the photos, and then had searched the social media posts of all of those people to find additional photos that didn’t tag the nightclub. Running background checks on all of those people had turned up no links to Takechi or Kouko, nor to any of their associates, nor to any of Takechi’s suspects. Eight of them, however, popped as having questionable backgrounds or associates in general, and upon very illegally reviewing the cell tower pings from their phones, Dazai had determined that four of those had been in the area near Kouko’s apartment on the day that the second note had been found.
As Chuuya ground fresh beans to make coffee, he asked, “So you’ve made a hell of a lot of progress. What’s next for you today?”
Dazai sat at the table, his chin resting in his palm. “My current problem is that while I can see motives for any of the four that I’ve narrowed it down to, I can’t see any links from them to anyone who would know about Kouko’s connection to Takechi.”
Chuuya measured out the ground coffee and started a brew cycle. “Yeah, and we already suspected it wasn’t someone who actually knew, ‘cause it seemed like they didn’t know it was a father/daughter thing. And they both agreed, they haven’t been seen together by anyone but his staff in the last six months.”
Dazai’s eyes widened. “But they have! I’m an idiot,” he said, and rose with alacrity, striding quickly out of the kitchen.
Chuuya turned, startled, and then smiled. He shook his head and returned to making the coffee.
Chuuya wandered into the home office and over to the desk. He placed one cup of coffee, pale with cream and sugar, within Dazai’s reach, and then perched, one hip on the corner of the desk and the other foot on the floor, sipping his black coffee as he watched his husband’s hands and eyes moving rapidly, using two laptops synchronously.
Dazai was ready to kick himself. He had known Kouko was Takechi’s daughter, back when he set up the sting operation, but he very much doubted anyone else but Ranpo or Dostoyevsky could have made the same connections. However, after the mission -
“Kouko’s his daughter?” Chuuya had asked, brows raised in startlement. “Huh, that explains it. I thought maybe he was just a dirty old man, the way he kept getting all on edge whenever she talked to me. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Dazai collected a phone number, and then checked the pings on that phone beginning the date the first note was received, and then working backward, comparing them to the phones of the four suspects.
Chuuya finished drinking his coffee and slid off the corner of the desk. “I’ve gotta go get dressed and head out now,” he said. “You have fun. And fucking eat something today.”
“Absolutely, sweetheart,” Dazai said absently, his attention still on the screens in front of him. “Be safe. And discreet.” He looked up for a moment and locked eyes with Chuuya. “Very discreet,” he said with emphasis.
Chuuya went to the kitchen to wash his coffee mug and then headed for the bedroom. He dressed in a hoodie, jeans, and sunglasses, and packed a lightweight duffle bag with two changes of clothing and a large messenger bag. As he exited the bedroom, Dazai emerged from the home office, eyes alight.
“Quickly, before you leave-”
Chuuya, impressed, exited the apartment building unobtrusively and made his way to a train station. Popping into a men’s room, he changed into comfortable leggings and a long shirt, and squished the thin canvas duffel and clothing into the heavy messenger bag, along with the sunglasses, and exited the men’s room as Kousei. He headed to Kouko’s apartment to pick her up and escort her to her usual rehearsal space.
Mayumi entered the ramen shop she normally frequented for lunch and stood in line.
After a moment, a voice - a very low, sexy voice that immediately made her flush - spoke from behind her. “Excuse me, but you’re Mayumi, aren’t you?”
She turned and looked up, and further up, to see a face every bit as gorgeous as that voice looking down at her with a charming smile.
“Yes,” she said with a smile of her own. “Have we met?”
“No,” the gorgeous brunet demurred. “I’m just another one of your fans. I apologize, I shouldn’t be bothering you, but I just wanted to see if it was really you.”
Mayumi’s heart fluttered. She had had encounters like this since the pop idol contest, but not nearly as many after the first few weeks, and never from anyone so charismatic. “Please, don’t apologize,” she said. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
The incredibly hot guy’s smile deepened, and so did his voice. “Would it be impertinent if I asked you to allow me to buy you lunch?” he asked.
“That would be lovely,” Mayumi said with a demure smile.
The hot guy smiled and moved forward to stand beside her. “Nakahara,” he introduced himself.
“Mayumi,” she said with a teasing smile.
As they ate their ramen, Mayumi’s fan raved about her performance in the Yokohama Pop Idol competition.
“You were amazing,” he said. “It was such a shock that you didn’t win. Everyone at my office said the same thing. We all thought you had it locked up.”
Mayumi smiled a little tightly. The support was nice, but being reminded of her loss less so. “Well, honestly, so did I,” she said, and took a sip of her drink.
“Honestly, it almost seemed like it was rigged. Afterward we all thought there must have been a fix in,” Nakahara said, echoing her own thoughts.
“I won’t deny that I’ve considered that myself,” Mayumi said bitterly. “There was a dinner after the finals, with the three finalists and the judges and some rich man that must be the sponsor of the whole thing, and he clearly was obsessed with Kouko. He was watching her like a hawk, and got really miffed whenever she talked to that Kousei guy.”
“You mean he knew her and had the judges pick her? That’s so unfair,” Nakahara exclaimed. “People should know the show was rigged! Have you told anyone?”
Mayumi shrugged, a little embarrassed. “I mentioned it to someone in a bar a few weeks ago.”
“Ah, a friend?” he asked.
“No, another fan,” she said. “Like you.”
“Like me?” Nakahara asked, the corners of his mouth turning up in an alluring smile. “I very much doubt that.”
Mayumi shivered at that husky voice. Fair enough, she thought, and leaned forward, eager to continue their conversation.
Dazai gracefully escaped from a disappointed Mayumi after they finished their ramen. Once out of sight, he slipped his wedding ring back on his finger and the agitation that had been boiling within him calmed down significantly. He glanced down. While the gold and ruby ring he’d given Chuuya could pass as ordinary jewelry, his own plain gold wedding band couldn’t be mistaken for anything else, so he’d had to remove it entirely rather than simply moving it to his right hand the way Chuuya had as Kousei.
After a little ducking through alleys, Dazai was confident he hadn’t been followed, and took out his phone to call Chuuya.
The phone rang, and Chuuya answered, “Yeah?”
Dazai smiled wickedly. “I know who, and why, and where, and when. But to really put a stop to this, we’ll need to wait and let them make their attempt, and catch them in the act.”
“Go on,” Chuuya said.
Kouko paused the music as Chuuya answered his phone.
“Yeah?” he said simply.
He listened briefly.
“Go on,” he said.
He listened significantly longer.
“Got it,” he eventually said. There was one last brief pause, and then he broke into a smile. “I love you, too.” He hung up.
“Is everything all right?” Kouko asked.
“Yeah,” Chuuya said, setting his phone back on top of his duffel. “Progress.”
“Is there anything I need to know?” Kouko asked, feeling somewhat left out of the loop.
Chuuya tilted his head. “Like I said before, just trust me. You’re safe. Some new cover: You’re probably going to see Dazai in public at some point. If you do, you don’t know his name, but you know that he’s the security consultant that your father brought in after he got that last threatening letter. Play along with him, if so.”
“All right,” Kouko said, nodding.
“And if anyone asks if your father is coming to your concerts, you don’t know yet.” Chuuya looked at her expectantly.
She nodded her understanding again.
“Now,” he said, breaking into a grin, “you wanna see if you can keep singing while I do that lift?”
“Yes!” Kouko said eagerly.
When five o’clock rolled around, Kouko and Chuuya packed up their bags and left the studio, heading down the street to a nearby restaurant. They ate dinner and chatted about the show, ignoring the phones pointed their way snapping pictures and video. Once they were done eating, they paid their bill, and Chuuya escorted Kouko home.
Dazai made a note of the number that his target had called, as he listened through his headset.
A panicked voice said, “She’s got a new boyfriend! I mean, she spent the weekend with the rich guy, so maybe she hasn’t broken up with him yet, but if he finds out she’s got a boyfriend, he’s not gonna care if she gets killed, is he?”
A considerably less panicked voice replied. “Are you sure it’s a boyfriend?”
“I saw the way she was looking at him! He might be playing her, he didn’t look interested himself, but she’s definitely into him.”
The calm voice said, “Where are they? I’ll send a couple of men over to you, and you just need to catch the guy alone and scare him off.”
The first man, relieved, said, “He’s walking her home.”
“All right, I’ll have someone there in fifteen.”
Dazai removed his headset and texted Chuuya.
Chuuya checked his phone and pocketed it. He smiled reassuringly at Kouko and held the door to the apartment building for her. He escorted her up to her apartment door without incident and said, “Have a good evening. Keep your door locked, and I’ll pick you up in the morning for rehearsal.”
“Thank you,” Kouko replied. She smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chuuya walked back down the hallway and took the elevator back to the ground floor, whistling. He tamped the anticipation out of his expression as he exited the building and turned toward the nearest train station, relieved to see that there were no fans watching for him. He palmed his phone.
After a couple of blocks, the trio of low-rent wanna-be thugs made their move, shunting him into an alley.
Chuuya sighed and looked bored. “What?” he asked bluntly.
The least confident looking of the trio tried to look intimidating and said, “Leave the pink-haired chick alone. She already has a boyfriend.”
“Fuck off,” Chuuya said mildly. “I know for a fact she doesn’t. Her dad did a whole security workup on everyone who knows her recently, when he got a threatening letter about her. He was ballistic. No way he wouldn’t have found out if she had a boyfriend. And by the way,” he added, “I’m not looking for the job, either. I’m just gonna be a dancer in her show. My interests lie - elsewhere.”
He watched, unconcerned, as they processed this. Finally, after some lip-biting and heavy thought, the dimwit spoke up again.
“Fine,” he said. “We’ll let you off this time. But keep your mouth shut about this.”
Chuuya snorted. “You overestimate how interesting you are. Who the fuck cares what you do, asshole?” He shouldered past one of the thugs and turned out of the alleyway, and continued walking to the train station. His phone, glowing red, floated back down to his hand, and he checked the video. He’d had to guess, so the thugs were mostly out of frame, but there were a couple of moments where they were visible and in focus. Good enough, he thought.
His change of clothes and bag in the men’s room was as successful on the way home as it had been on the way out, and once again in his jeans and hoodie and sunglasses, he made his way back to the penthouse.
Opening the front door, he walked in and called, “Honey, I’m home,” as he locked it behind him and divested himself of his shoes. Dazai came to greet him.
“I picked up cheesecake and chocolate gateau for you,” Dazai said. “And you did a lovely job setting the target straight. He called his contact right away to let him know Takechi’s her father and not her sugar daddy.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t get to beat anyone up,” Chuuya huffed. “Honestly, I better get to kick some ass at some point.”
Dazai chuckled sympathetically but said, “I’m afraid that’s unlikely.”
“Aw, being a good guy’s no fun,” Chuuya complained.
“There will be other missions,” Dazai consoled his husband as he steered him toward the sofa. “And I picked up a nice safe shiraz on the way home. That Leasingham one that you liked so much. And a new aerator to replace the one we had to throw out.”
“Aw, thanks, babe,” Chuuya said as he settled in on the couch. He reached out to the coffee table and poured himself a glass of wine, and then reached for the cheesecake. “Can we have a soak later? My muscles are sore as hell, we worked on dance stuff all day.”
“Whatever you desire,” Dazai promised. “We’re largely in a holding pattern till the dress rehearsal at the venue, now.”
“Great,” Chuuya said, and began eating.
Tuesday, as promised, was much like Monday, with the exception that pictures of now-blond Kousei with Kouko had hit social media overnight, so Chuuya was recognized when he was out without the hoodie and glasses. Other than that, however, Chuuya and Kouko prepared for the concert series, and Dazai eavesdropped on phone calls and made extensive arrangements with Takechi’s organization and various security and law enforcement agencies. Chuuya escorted Kouko back to her apartment after rehearsal, where she offered to make dinner for them both, and Chuuya thanked her but excused himself to go home and have dinner with his husband.
Wednesday started later in the day. Chuuya met Kouko at her apartment and they went to the venue together, and found Dazai waiting, in unfamiliar clothing and with his hair slicked back and held in place with gel, making him nearly unrecognizable.
Dazai bowed his head to Kouko. “Miss Kouko,” he greeted her. “Your father has hired me as a security consultant given the recent- communications- that you have received. I will be patrolling the venue while you’re here.”
“Thank you,” Kouko said. “I’m glad to hear-”
She was interrupted by Dazai’s phone ringing.
“Excuse me, it’s your father,” he said. He stepped away as he answered the phone, and after a short exchange, he returned, his face somber.
“Another letter has been received,” he said gravely. “It said, ‘Your daughter’s final performance is a must-see.’”
Kouko looked frightened but determined. “I’m not going to be scared away,” she said. “This is my big break.”
“Very well,” Dazai said, and bowed his head again. “I will be nearby.” He walked away at a measured pace.
Kouko turned to look at Chuuya. “All right, Kousei, we have three hours for the dress rehearsal. Let’s get going.”
Chuuya had been exposed a certain amount to lighting prep during the pop idol contest, but this was a new level. He did his best with the duets and the dancing, and there was about half an hour left in their rehearsal time when the shot was fired.
As Dazai had anticipated, the shot was a deliberate miss, and Chuuya didn’t have to deflect the bullet. For show, he leaped toward Kouko, covering her body with his own, and began soothing her with quiet reassurances as Dazai’s voice shouted from the outer hallway as he pursued the shooter.
Dazai returned empty-handed after a few minutes and checked on Kouko, who had, in accordance with Chuuya’s whispered briefing, called her father to tell him what had happened. After a brief conversation, she handed her phone over to Dazai, saying, “He wants to speak to you.”
Dazai stepped away from Kouko, still shivering with Chuuya’s arm around her, and spoke in a voice that could clearly be overheard by the many onlookers who had assembled.
“Yes, sir.” “No, sir.” “I can’t recommend that, sir.” “Very well. But if you’re going to attend the performance tomorrow, I would ask that you bring your full security complement with you. I will double the number of guards we had planned to send from our organization as well, so that we can cover you as well as your daughter.” “Yes.” “All right, we’ll see you here at seven tomorrow.” “Yes, I’ll have a report to you this evening.” He hung up, and handed Kouko’s phone back to her.
“Your father is sending a car for you,” he said quietly. “We’d like you to stay at his home tonight. We will escort you.”
Kouko nodded in understanding.
Chuuya murmured once again, “Trust us. It’s all under control.”
Kouko nodded again.
Thursday morning, Takechi and Kouko stayed close together. Chuuya remained nearby, as Dazai was busy coordinating with Tsuda et al and the authorities.
Takechi reassured his daughter. “Everything is all right. I promise that you are safe. You just concentrate on performing your best.”
Kouko looked back and forth between her father and Chuuya. “Yes, Father. I trust you. Both of you.”
Chuuya gave her a bracing grin. “And especially Dazai.”
“And Dazai,” she echoed, a little less confidently.
Chuuya’s smile twisted. Ah, well, she’ll see. She doesn’t know him like I do.
Takechi’s car dropped Kouko and Chuuya off at the venue, where screaming fans were already waiting outside. They waved as they entered the venue.
“Well, that’s a good sign,” Chuuya said as they entered the dressing room. “Doesn’t look like anybody got scared off by that business yesterday.”
“And - and you don’t think the shooter is going to come back?” she asked hesitantly.
“Absolutely not,” Chuuya said firmly. He looked at her, and made a decision. She was just a kid, and not accustomed to violence. It was a bit too much to expect her to take their word for it that she was safe. And after all, one of their objectives was to not disrupt her big break. If she didn’t know what was going on, her performance would suffer. He gave her what reassurance he could.
“All right,” he said quietly. “You need to keep this to yourself until it’s over, but I’m gonna tell you what I can.”
She looked at him, eyes pleading.
“Here’s the deal,” Chuuya said. “We know who fired the shot. You’re not their target. They deliberately missed, they don’t want to go to jail for murder. You’re a distraction for something else. The shooter has been identified, and is being watched, and isn’t even in the city any more. The whole group is going to get scooped up this evening, very much elsewhere. Nobody, and I mean nobody, is going to get hurt.”
Kouko’s eyes were wide. “You promise?” she asked.
Chuuya nodded. “I promise.” His voice rang with conviction. His mouth curled in a smile. “So come on, time for hair and makeup and wardrobe. You’re gonna fucking kill it out there.”
Kouko’s expression grew determined, and her eyes sparked. “Yes!”
At seven o’clock, all the audience was at, if not in, their seats, including Takechi. Security guards were conspicuously placed around the corners of the room and in the wings. The sound checks were complete, and a light show began. Kouko ran out onto the stage to the screams of the crowd, waving and hyping them up. She performed her opening song, and was nearly drowned out by the cheers of the crowd.
After the first song ended, Kouko raised the microphone. “I have a very special guest tonight!”
The crowd roared again. “Do you want to see him?”
The crowd roared even louder. “I can’t hear you!”
The crowd cheered again, and Kouko smiled and said, “Let’s give it up for Kousei!”
Kousei ran out onto the stage, all blond hair and gold eyes and black garb, and took the second mike off the stand, and the noise faded to a dull roar as they began their duet.
Takechi watched his daughter’s performance, heart clenched seeing her glowing in the changing colors of the spotlight. As the song reached the final chorus, the spotlight stayed red, and Kousei effortlessly lifted her into the air, seating her on one shoulder as she sang the final lines.
Kouko egged the audience on, drumming up more applause for Kousei, and then moved into her third song as Kousei alternated between hyping up the crowd and dancing, periodically swooping in to spin or lift her before setting her back down to resume her pre-planned choreography.
At 7:30 pm, the insecure thug who had confronted Chuuya, accompanied by four more professional thugs, received a phone call.
“They’re all at the venue. Move.”
The men used a ladder to climb over the gate to Takechi’s darkened house and ran to the front door. Confronted with a security pad, they elected to go with the simplest method, and moved aside and broke a window. They climbed through it and turned on their flashlights. As they attempted to orient themselves, the lights came on.
“Drop your weapons!” said the lead policeman.
Dazai smiled upon them, catlike, head tilted, with his hands in his pockets. “Cooperate, and you might get a reduced sentence,” he invited, voice silky.
Takechi’s burner phone vibrated. He checked his texts.
One broken window. They’ve rolled.
Takechi looked around the venue, and saw two security guards moving toward a severe, middle-aged man at the end of his aisle. He watched as an argument ensued and they took him away.
About two minutes later, his phone vibrated again.
Received confirmation the leader is in custody. Enjoy the concert.
Takechi smiled to himself, and then raised his face to smile at his daughter. As she finished her next song, he stood and applauded, cheering, with the rest of her fans.
Nearly two hours later, Chuuya and Kouko left the stage after their final duet. Kouko went back out to deliver her encore, and Chuuya waited in the wings, just in case.
When she came off stage, they headed back to the dressing room. Chuuya was the first to finish changing, and as he waited for Kouko, he checked the messages on his phone. He smiled in satisfaction upon reading the updates from Dazai, and then opened the next text and laughed aloud.
Let me check with Dazai, he typed. He pocketed his phone and set himself to wait patiently for Kouko.
By the time Kouko and Kousei had finished taking selfies and signing autographs, and had piled into the back of a liveried vehicle, and had made the long drive to Takechi’s estate, it was nearly midnight. Exhausted, hair limp and makeup streaked from sweat, they gratefully accepted tall, iced glasses of some electrolyte/fruit juice combination and collapsed onto the furniture in the living room. The window had been boarded up, and two security guards were rotating on duty outside until it was repaired. Dazai sat down next to Chuuya on the sofa, and Takechi and Kouko sat together on the other sofa this time rather than in separate armchairs.
Chuuya swigged half of his glass in one go and then rested it on his thigh. Dropping his golden head onto the backrest of the sofa, he flopped it to the side and said, “Hey, babe, do that thing they always do in the movies.”
Dazai laughed. “Unfortunately, this wasn’t some evil mastermind. It doesn’t merit a smug monologue. A random delinquent was in debt to a small-time gambling organization, and tried to pay it off by passing on a rumor he’d heard in a bar that ‘some rich guy’ was acting like a guard dog over Kouko at the finalists’ dinner. They decided to use the threats - which weren’t real, they had no intention of harming your daughter or anyone else - to lure you and your security away from home during one of her performances so that they could rob the place. They didn’t even know you were her father, much less what you do for a living.”
He shrugged. “We identified the delinquent, then tapped his phone, got plenty of recordings of their plans, made sure they knew you and your security would be at the concert as they hoped, and waited with a police contingent to catch them red-handed.”
Chuuya rolled his eyes. “And by ‘we’, he means himself.”
Dazai nudged his shoulder. “You got the video footage of the delinquent when he and his thugs came to threaten you,” he consoled his husband.
“They threatened you?” Kouko was wide-eyed.
“Yeah, but Dazai said I couldn’t beat them up,” Chuuya said, aggrieved.
“How many were there?” she asked.
“Only three,” Chuuya said, disgusted. “So lame.”
“But you were outnumbered!” she said.
Chuuya raised his head and looked at her, completely nonplussed.
Dazai spoke up, amused. “He was your bodyguard for a reason, Kouko. Once we’re gone, ask your father to explain.”
“Gone?” she echoed. Her brows drew together in concern. “Then - are you not going to do the other two shows?”
Chuuya grinned crookedly. “That’s up to Dazai. Hang on.”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. Opening the last text, he handed it to Dazai.
Yosano: So, you look kind of busy. Switch to brunch Sunday? Or push off dinner to next Friday?
The text was accompanied by a link to an Instagram post showing Kouko and Kousei on stage.
Dazai laughed and scrolled past Chuuya’s reply of ‘Let me check with Dazai.’ He typed ‘Brunch Sunday’ and hit Send, then handed the phone back to Chuuya.
“He’s in,” Dazai said, putting his arm around Chuuya’s shoulder.