Archive of Our Own

Prologue:

It had been nearly three days since Chuuya’s departure from the Port Mafia, and Akutagawa had only slept for about six hours during that time.  He had been run ragged, attempting to save as many Port Mafia assets - whether materials, personnel, or infrastructure - as possible from Dazai and Chuuya’s retribution.  The Black Lizard had been likewise occupied.  Their mutual successes had been regrettably few; Dazai was far too brilliant to leave any thread they could tug to unravel his plans.

But for now, Akutagawa was seated at his desk, to which he had been summarily recalled by Mori, and was attempting to keep himself awake as he awaited his turn for interrogation.  As an executive, he was prioritized high on the list due to the importance of assuring his loyalty, but Chuuya’s known friends took precedence over even him, due to the greater likelihood that they might have a conflict of interest.

Kouyou, of course, had been the first on the list, as both her importance to the organization and her fondness for Chuuya were indisputable.  Verlaine, Akutagawa had heard, was not being tested to see where his loyalties lay, presumably because Mori already knew the answer and accepted that there were no precautions he could take that would stop the Assassin King.  Inoue had been next, and presumably those other two men from their friend group.  Then it would be a toss-up between himself and Hirotsu, Akutagawa surmised.

A slim hand placed a large, lidded paper cup in front of him.

“Akutagawa, sir,” Higuchi began.

Akutagawa raised his eyes to see Higuchi looking down at him with concern.  “Higuchi, I’ve told you, you needn’t address me as sir in private,” he said, his voice raspy.  He coughed delicately into his hand.

Higuchi smiled a little despite her extreme exhaustion.  “I brought you some coffee.  Did you eat before you returned, or shall I go get you something from the cafeteria?”

“Thank you, Higuchi,” he said, picking up the coffee and pulling back the tab.  The cup was blissfully hot against his chilled fingers.  “Did you get one for yourself?”

“Not yet,” she said.  “I’ll get something later.  Can I get you anything to eat?”

He looked up at her earnest face.  She had had even less sleep than he had, and he doubted she would remember to get herself anything.  She should eat something, he thought to himself, and then excused the thought with a rationalization.  If she doesn’t eat or rest, she will be unable to execute her duties efficiently.

“Yes, thank you,” he said, and added strategically, “I will have whatever you are having.”

She looked startled for a moment, and then nodded her head, much less formal than the half-bow she would have given a year ago.  “I’ll be right back,” she promised, and hurried out, closing the door behind her.

Akutagawa warmed his fingers on the coffee again and took a long swallow.  It contained just enough milk to soothe his throat.

He drank his coffee as he checked his phone for incoming updates on the various missions - nearly uniformly failures, as expected when the organization had been caught on the back foot by Soukoku.

There was a knock on the door and it immediately opened.  He looked up, expecting Higuchi with his breakfast.

Hirotsu looked at him gravely.  “They are ready for you.”

Higuchi opened the door to Akutagawa’s office, a bag containing two breakfast pastries in her hand.  She stopped, hand still on the doorknob, and looked at the empty desk.

“Oh,” she said.

Akutagawa sat, primly upright and unruffled, on a hard wooden chair a judicious distance from Mori’s desk.  Elise hovered at the Boss’ shoulder, and the foreign ability user sat in a more comfortable chair at an angle to the Boss’ desk, a hood shrouding her face.

Mori spoke clinically.  “I will ask questions while you are under the influence of our guest’s ability.  The ability will cause you to answer, and to answer with the complete truth, whether you are consciously aware of that truth or not.”

“Very well,” Akutagawa said.  His hands remained folded on his lap, and Hirotsu and Inoue, both of whom had already been cleared, stood behind him.

“Honesty,” said the hooded woman, and a spiral of glowing golden text swirled up and outward from her, wrapping around Akutagawa and sinking into his skin, until he was surrounded by a matching golden aura.

Mori began bluntly.  “Are you loyal to the Port Mafia?”

“Yes,” Akutagawa said without hesitation.

“Is the Port Mafia your first loyalty?” Mori asked.

“Yes,” Akutagawa replied instantly.  Mori’s posture didn’t change, but the muscles in his face appeared to relax slightly.

“Name the people who are important to you on a personal level,” Mori ordered.

“Gin,” Akutagawa said instantly.  “Dazai.”  There was an infinitesimal hesitation, and then he said, “Atsushi of the Armed Detective Agency.  Higuchi.”  Akutagawa’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline in surprise as he heard himself say the latter, and Mori’s face grew severe again.

“What are your feelings about Nakahara Chuuya?” Mori asked.

“He was powerful and an asset to the Port Mafia.  It is a pity that he is gone.  I hope that he will still be willing to work for the Port Mafia on retainer.”  Akutagawa spoke calmly, and with a certain amount of relief that his answer to this question didn’t come as a surprise to himself.

“What are your personal feelings about Nakahara Chuuya?” Mori asked.

“I don’t understand the question,” Akutagawa said.  “I thought I just answered that.”

Mori appeared interested by that response.  “Do you consider him a friend?” he clarified.  “Do you like him, do you have any loyalty to him?”

“He was not a personal friend,” Akutagawa replied.  “He was a good coworker.  I respected his strength.  He led well.  Dazai cared for him and respected him, and so he had my second-hand respect and support.  But I neither have nor had any personal attachment to him.  I owe him no loyalty.”

“Good,” Mori unbent enough to say.  He steepled his hands, and his gaze sharpened.  “Now, back to your list.  Gin.”

Akutagawa waited for it to become a question.

“If Gin were to betray the Port Mafia, how would you react?” Mori asked.

“Gin wouldn’t betray the Port Mafia,” Akutagawa replied.

“I said ‘if’,” Mori reminded him, but he seemed pleased that Akutagawa considered Gin’s loyalty an indisputable fact.

“If Gin were to betray the Port Mafia, I would take whatever steps were required to fix the situation,” Akutagawa said.

“Including executing her?” asked Mori.

“Yes, if it were required to fix the situation,” Akutagawa replied.

“Very good,” Mori said.  “If I were to order you to kill Dazai, what would you do?”

“I would collect the appropriate resources and strategists, including Hirotsu and Inoue, and develop a plan to take out Dazai, and also to take out Chuuya, preferably before he activated Corruption in retaliation.  I would say my good-byes to Gin and Higuchi and make sure that my affairs were in order.  I would then execute the plan to the best of my ability, and hope that even if and when I failed, that I would have at least weakened them enough for someone else to complete the job.”  Akutagawa was perturbed that Higuchi had made an appearance in his thoughts again.

Mori continued with his questioning, but Akutagawa had no doubt that he had also marked the reference to his assistant.

“If I were to order you to kill Chuuya, what would you do?”

“I would verify that this wasn’t a test, and that you truly wished Chuuya dead.  I would ask if you had a plan in place to keep Dazai from destroying the Port Mafia in retaliation, or if I was tasked with handling that as well.  If you confirmed that you did indeed want Chuuya dead, then I would take the steps I previously laid out and would attempt to kill Dazai first.”

“Hmm,” Mori said, looking at Akutagawa thoughtfully.  He folded his hands on the desktop.

“Do you consider the Agency’s weretiger - Atsushi - a friend?”

“I don’t know the answer to that,” Akutagawa replied instantly.  “I was growing to like him somewhat, and starting to consider him a grudging friend, but then you asked me to befriend him and persuade him to work for the Port Mafia’s interests, and I am obeying without hesitation.  If I am manipulating him like that, that must mean that I am not his friend regardless of how I feel about him as a person.”

“Hmm,” Mori said, but it felt a little darker than before.  “What are your intentions regarding the weretiger?”

“To persuade him to work at least with us, and eventually for us, thereby replacing Chuuya’s firepower, although not Chuuya’s leadership.”

Mori tapped his lips with a fingertip.  “If I order you to kill the weretiger, what will you do?”

“Kill the weretiger,” Akutagawa said.  “Trickery will be required; he has grown strong.”

Mori continued remorselessly.  “If I order you to kill the weretiger, what will you feel?”

“Shame at having failed in my mission to recruit him.  A slight melancholy at his demise.  Disappointment that the Port Mafia will not gain his strength.  Regret that it proved necessary.”  Akutagawa was pleased that nearly all of his responses under the influence of the truth ability were the responses he would have given without it.

Mori put paid to that with his next question.  “What are your feelings for Higuchi?”

“She is helpful and supportive.  She is becoming a friend,” Akutagawa replied.

“Do you harbor romantic feelings toward her?” Mori asked, wording the questions carefully.

“Not to my understanding,” Akutagawa said.  “As far as I know, I have never harbored romantic feelings toward anyone.”

Mori looked unsurprised.  “If I were to order you to kill Higuchi, what would you do?”

“I would kill Higuchi,” Akutagawa replied.

Mori laced his hands together in front of his face.  “And if I were to order you to kill Higuchi, what would you feel?”

“Sadness.  Regret that it was necessary.  Annoyance at having to find a new assistant.”

“I see,” said Mori.  He leaned on one elbow.  “Moving on…”

Higuchi sat in a side chair in Akutagawa’s office, triaging reports and prioritizing the actions that required Akutagawa’s presence.

The door opened, and she jumped to her feet.  “Akutagawa, sir,” she said.  “Are you done?”

Akutagawa stood in the doorway with his hands in his pockets and studied her face.  “Yes,” he said, and entered the room, walking toward his desk.  Hirotsu took his place in the doorway.

“Higuchi, please go with Hirotsu,” Akutagawa said.  “You are next.”

Higuchi looked at him in shock.  “Me?”

“Yes,” Akutagawa said, and sat at his desk.  He looked in the bag, and then looked up at her.  “Thank you for the pastry.”

Higuchi sat on the wooden chair, hands in her lap, terrified out of her mind.  Her panic was justified by Mori’s first question.

“Where does your first loyalty lie?”

Helplessly, she listened as her mouth opened and she replied, “With Akutagawa.”

Mori’s cruel voice asked, “And if Akutagawa were to betray the Port Mafia, what would you do?”

Higuchi closed her eyes, waiting for death, as she answered, “I would follow him.”

The death blow didn’t come.

“And if Akutagawa remains loyal to the Port Mafia?”

“I would stay and do my best for the Port Mafia as well, to please him.”  She cautiously opened one eye, and then the other.

“Do you think Akutagawa is loyal to the Port Mafia?”

“Yes,” she said immediately.  What is happening?

“How do you feel about Akutagawa?”

Her eyes closed again in humiliation at having her unrequited feelings publicly exposed like this.  “I love him.”

“Does he love you?”

“No.”  Please, please god, don’t let him hear this.

The questioning continued.

Akutagawa looked up from his desk as Higuchi entered the office, her eyes lowered and her expression a clashing riot of misery, shame, and confusion.

“Ah, Higuchi,” he said, a little less incisively than usual in deference to her emotional state.  “I see you survived.”

“Yes,” she said, subdued.  But how?  Or why? she wondered.

She squared her shoulders.  Without meeting his eyes, she moved to the side chair and opened her phone.  “Let’s see, the next priority that needs your input is one of the warehouses near the port…”

Atsushi (mid-April)

Atsushi returned to the Agency-sponsored residences, walking slowly, his stomach full.  When the work day had ended at the Armed Detective Agency, Kyouka had informed him she needed to run an errand and wouldn’t be home for dinner.  Rather than go home and spend the evening by himself, he had chosen to take advantage of a 50% off coupon he had been handed the day before for a restaurant on the opposite side of town.  The food had been delicious, and with his meager salary, the 50% discount was well worth an extra hour and a half of walking.

I wonder when Kyouka’s going to get home, he thought as he unlocked the door and stepped inside.  Before he could close the door, he yelped in shock.

A young woman in a deep blue kimono and an ivory obi with long black hair streaming down her slender but shapely back stood in the kitchen of their dorm, opening the refrigerator.

“Who are you?!?  What are you doing here?!?” he asked, his voice high-pitched.

The young woman turned around, surprised.  “I live here,” she said in Kyouka’s soft, breathy voice.

Atsushi stared.  Kyouka’s hair was up on the sides and down in the back, her usual twin ponytails gone.  The more mature style was echoed in her face; he hadn’t realized over the last couple of years her childlike features had thinned and refined.  The blue kimono she wore highlighted gentle curves that he hadn’t realized she had, and his face turned bright red.

As she looked at him curiously, he realized he was staring, and flinched.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you in- you look so different,” Atsushi managed.  His brows drew together in confusion.  “Are you standing on something?”

“No,” she said simply.

“You look taller,” he said.  He raised a hand level with his shoulders.  “I thought you only came up to here on me,” he said, lost.

“I did, when we met,” Kyouka said.  “But that was two years ago.  I’ve grown four inches in the last two years.  You were already nearly full-grown, so you’ve only grown one or two.”  She folded her hands in front of her, and the familiar posture, along with her usual self-possessed air, reduced the feeling of unreality somewhat.  “Have you eaten?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Good,” she replied, and turned back to the refrigerator.  As she gathered a small meal for herself, Atsushi removed his shoes and came the rest of the way into their rooms.  Trailing his way to the little galley kitchen, he watched as she busied herself.

“So- that was your errand?” he asked.  “You were shopping for clothes?  And changing your hairstyle?” he added, eyes gravitating toward the swinging fall of hair.

“Yes,” she said.  She turned her head to look at him, and for a moment her equanimity faltered.  “Do you like it?” she asked, her eyes uncertain.

“You look beautiful,” Atsushi replied honestly.  “I just didn’t realize that you’d grown up so much.”

Kyouka flushed with pleasure.  “Thank you,” she said softly, lowering her eyes.

Suddenly he remembered the lunch with Dazai and Chuuya a couple of weeks before, with Dazai’s revelations about the calendar, and his assumption that Kyouka was getting interested in boys.  His stomach churned.  He turned away hurriedly.  “I’m just going to go-” he stopped.  He didn’t have a separate room to hide in, and it would look strange if he went into his oshiire in the middle of the evening.  “Just going to go to the bathroom and wash up,” he said.

“All right,” Kyouka said.  “Would you like tea later?  We can watch the next episode of our show once I’ve eaten.”

“Yeah,” Atsushi said.  Yeah, that’ll be fine.  I’ll be looking at the tv, not her, so I’ll have time to get used to this.  He made his way hastily to the bathroom.

Atsushi (the following Saturday)

Saturday morning, there was a knock at the door.  Atsushi went to open it, and Kenji was waiting outside with a beaming smile.

“Hi, Atsushi,” he said.  “I came to pick Kyouka up.  We’re going to help some of my friends that have a small garden plot in the city.  Do you know if she’s ready yet?”

“Oh, come in,” Atsushi said.  “I’ll go see.”  He turned away from the door with a sense of uneasiness.  He made it only a few steps before Kyouka came out of the bathroom.

“Good morning, Kenji,” she said quietly.  “I’m sorry if I kept you waiting.”  She gave him a small smile.

“I just got here,” Kenji replied reassuringly.  “And it’s not like we have a set time that we need to arrive.  I appreciate your help.”

Kyouka turned to Atsushi and looked up at him.  “I will be home in time to make dinner,” she said.

“That’s good,” Atsushi said awkwardly.  “Have fun.”

Kyouka gave him a searching look, and then turned to Kenji.  “I’m ready,” she said, and followed him out the door, closing it behind them.

Atsushi went to the front window and pulled the curtain aside, watching them walk away.

Kenji’s gotten a lot taller, too, he thought.  Kenji and Kyouka were the same age, and both had begun their growth spurts.  By this time Kenji was already within a couple of inches of Atsushi’s height.  And at only eighteen to Atsushi’s twenty, he probably was going to keep getting taller for a while yet.

As the two reached the street, Atsushi watched as Kenji smiled brightly down at Kyouka’s upturned face.  He’s a lot more muscular than me already, Atsushi thought.  And he’s the same age as her.  His brow creased as he watched them walk out of sight.

Atsushi moved back into the room and lay down on the small sofa, curled up on his side.

Does she have a crush on him?  Does he like her?  Are they dating?  Is it okay for me to let them go out together, or should I be chaperoning them?  His mind went in circles for hours.

When Kyouka got home, she said good-bye to Kenji at the door and entered, finding their room gloomy as the late afternoon sun was partly obscured by nearby buildings.  She closed the door, removed her shoes, and turned on the light to find Atsushi lying on the floor in full white-tiger form, his head on his paws.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Tiger Atsushi turned his head away.

“Would you like me to make dinner?” she asked.

The tiger’s ears twitched slightly, but he didn’t move.

Kyouka moved forward and knelt next to him.  She wrapped one arm over his neck, and laid her head atop his, and raised her other hand to stroke the fur on his cheek.

Atsushi leaned into her for comfort.

Atsushi (April 23)

Five o’clock was approaching, and the detectives had been looking forward all day to going out for karaoke with Dazai and Chuuya after work.  Kunikida was diligently writing something at his desk, and Yosano was in her infirmary, and Atsushi’s eyes were on Kyouka and Kenji.

He’s so friendly and helpful and kind, too, Atsushi thought morosely.  I’m sure he’ll be a good boyfriend.  She deserves to have a normal happy life.  Why does it bother me so much?  I know he would never hurt her on purpose.

His attention was caught by loud chatter near the door, and he looked over to see Dazai and Chuuya talking to Yosano.  I didn’t even see them get here, he thought.  He cleared his desk and got up to go join the rest of the detectives.

As he reached the group, Dazai and Chuuya complimented Kyouka on her new kimono and hairstyle.  When Chuuya told her how grown-up she looked, Atsushi shrank backward.

The group eventually made their way to the door and started out on their excursion.

Atsushi spent dinner quietly listening to the conversations of the rest of the group, his eyes frequently traveling to Kyouka.  Was she having fun?  She was seated next to him, and her attention seemed to be focused on him rather than on Kenji.  Does she not feel comfortable talking to him, with me here listening?  Should I have sat further away?

Atsushi continued worrying as they walked en masse from the restaurant to the karaoke facility.  He didn’t even register that Chuuya ceded holding the door to him for once, and he trailed along behind his coworkers and friends as they crowded through the hallways to their box.

He felt disconnected from everyone as they exuberantly ordered drinks and searched through the music catalog, and gradually everyone started finding seats.  He watched as couple after couple paired off, until only he and Kyouka and Kenji were left.  Kyouka sat on a sofa and Kenji sat down next to her.

I shouldn’t be the third wheel, he thought.  He dropped his eyes and began heading for a single chair across the room, when Kyouka met his eyes and patted the seat next to her.

She’s saying it’s okay for me to sit there, right? he thought.  She doesn’t mind?  He hesitated for a moment, and then took the seat she had indicated.  He sneaked a glance sideways, and Kyouka’s cheeks were pink - and very visible; with the new hairstyle, her hair didn’t hide her face.  Kenji looked as cheerful as ever, and didn’t seem bothered by Atsushi intruding.

Over the next hour, Atsushi cheered up a bit off and on.  Some of the performances were amazing, and some of the performances were bad enough that Atsushi didn’t need to worry about being the worst, and when Yosano dragged Kunikida up so that she could sing ‘Holding Out For A Hero’ at him, and then he actually dipped her and kissed her at the end, Atsushi decided that someone must have slipped a hallucinogen into his drink, and he cheered and roared with the rest.

Eventually, after everyone had sung once, people began departing.  Chuuya and Dazai and Yosano and Kunikida made it clear that they were sticking around, but Atsushi didn’t want to bring the mood down, so he stood and excused himself, only to see Kyouka stand to leave as well.

“You don’t have to come with me,” he said.  “You can stay if you like.”  Surely Kenji would walk her home.

Kyouka demurred and said her good-byes as well, and placidly stood at his shoulder, along with Kenji, as they started toward the door.

Dazai stopped Atsushi to ask if he was still interested in going to a bar with him and Chuuya for his twenty-first birthday, and Atsushi perked up.

“No, I don’t have any plans,” he said in response to Dazai’s inquiry about timing.  “My birthday would be fine.”  He waved and turned to leave.

As they walked home, Kenji was his usual extroverted self, but Kyouka seemed upset.

I can’t tell whether she’s angry, or about to cry, Atsushi thought.  I told her they could stay.  I didn’t mean to spoil their date.  His shoulders hunched in guilt.

When they reached the dorms, Kenji waved blithely and headed off to his own room, and Atsushi and Kyouka went to theirs without speaking.  Atsushi unlocked the door and held it for Kyouka, then followed her in and locked it behind him.  They removed their shoes and moved forward in awkward silence.  After a few moments, Atsushi bit the bullet and straightened his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Kyouka stood with her head bowed.  “No, I am sorry,” she said.  “You only turn twenty-one once.  It’s traditional to have your first trip to a bar on your twenty-first birthday.  My feelings shouldn’t be hurt just because I am not old enough to spend your birthday with you.”

“What?” Atsushi blurted.  “Wait, that’s why you’re upset?”

Kyouka raised her head.  “Why did you think I was upset?” she asked, frowning.

Atsushi hunched his shoulders again.  “Because I was a third wheel and got in the way of your date with Kenji.”

Kyouka looked at him, stony-faced.

Atsushi wrung his hands as he waited for her to speak.

After a few more moments, Kyouka said, “My what?”

“Your date?” Atsushi asked.

Kyouka stared at him again and then stepped forward.

Atsushi stepped back, and Kyouka pursued him until he was trapped against the back of the sofa.  She reached up and felt his forehead, and then placed her thumb below one of his eyes and pulled the eyelid down to check his sclera.

“What are you doing?” Atsushi quavered.

“I’m checking to see whether you have a fever or a concussion,” she replied.  She peered into his eyes, and then released him and dropped off her toes.  Placing her hands in her sleeves, she said, “You are clearly hallucinating.  I am not dating Kenji.”  Her words were bitten-off.

“You’re not?” Atsushi asked weakly.

“No,” she said.  For a moment it appeared that she would simply leave it at that, and then she clearly decided that an explanation was necessary.  Speaking to him as if to a child, she said, “I don’t like Kenji in that way.  He is a coworker and a friend, and I accompany him on some of his outings because it is nice to feel helpful.”  She watched his face for a moment and then added, “And even if I were interested in him in that way, I would never approach someone who already has a girlfriend.”

Atsushi was diverted.  “Kenji has a girlfriend?”

“Yes,” Kyouka said.  “The granddaughter of the couple who owns the garden plot that we helped with last weekend.”

“Why didn’t he bring her tonight?” Atsushi asked.  “Everyone else brought their plus-ones.”

“The outing tonight was for work friends.  He didn’t think she would be comfortable among so many strangers, almost all of whom are older than her.  And our work is dangerous; neither he nor her family want her exposed to the Agency more than necessary.”  Kyouka looked at him, some subtle emotion flickering across her face.

Atsushi felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and his expression lightened.  As he met Kyouka’s eyes, however, he remembered how the conversation got started.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, looking ashamed.  “I didn’t think you wanted to celebrate my birthday together.”

A flash of hurt crossed her face again.  “Why wouldn’t I?”

Atsushi didn’t have an answer to that.

Kyouka lowered her eyes.  Uncertainly, she said, “We could celebrate at lunch.  Unless you don’t want to-”

Atsushi impulsively stepped forward.  “I do,” he said.  “It would mean a lot to me.”

Kyouka’s eyes softened and she looked up at him.  “It would mean a lot to me, too.”

Akutagawa (May 2)

The weeks since Chuuya’s departure had been exceedingly busy, but not to the extent that the first few days had been.  Nevertheless, Akutagawa had borne a greater share of the increased workload than anyone else, as he was most suited to take over Chuuya’s role in combat missions, and twelve-to-fourteen hour days were more the norm than the exception.  Higuchi had been invaluable, coordinating logistics, scheduling missions to minimize travel time, ensuring they didn’t miss meals, and writing up the post-mission reports so that Akutagawa could get straight to planning for the next mission.

Akutagawa and Higuchi were once again burning the candle at both ends one Saturday.  It was seven pm, and they had just returned from shutting down an opportunistic group of mercenaries.  

“What do we have next?” asked Akutagawa, lowering himself into his desk chair.

“No more outings today,” Higuchi said.  “Just planning for tomorrow’s work.  You can rest for a bit.”  She didn’t look up, continuing to shuffle papers around and cross-check information on her phone.

“Let me order us dinner, then,” Akutagawa said.

“Thank you,” Higuchi said gratefully.

As Akutagawa logged onto his computer, he said, “We haven’t had a joint mission with the Armed Detective Agency in a while.  I need to try to find an opportunity to bring Atsushi into one of our objectives.  Mori wishes me to keep working on recruiting him, especially now that we are down a combat specialist.”

“Oh,” Higuchi said, “that reminds me.  Atsushi’s birthday is Tuesday.  He gave you a birthday present.  It would be polite to acknowledge his birthday in some way.”  After the miscommunication between Inoue and Akutagawa regarding the former’s relationship with Gin, Higuchi had realized that some - but not all - of her superior’s odd behaviors were the result of ignorance of social norms rather than rejection of them, and had taken it upon herself to keep her eye out for situations where he might need to be brought up to speed on such things.

“Ah,” Akutagawa said, pausing his search for a suitable restaurant that offered delivery.  He looked over at her.  “Perhaps I could take him out for dinner next weekend?  We could probably make time Friday evening.”

“That sounds appropriate,” Higuchi said encouragingly.  She began typing up the most recent mission report.

“Will you accompany us?” Akutagawa asked.  “And we could ask Kyouka to join us.  She is very attached to Atsushi, and that way he might feel less outnumbered.”

“I’d love to,” Higuchi said, looking up, pleased. “Do you have a particular place in mind?  I can make the reservations once you confirm they’re available.”

“Let me order our dinner for tonight first, and then I will consider the matter,” Akutagawa said.

He located an appropriate restaurant and began scanning the menu, adding items to the order.  As he did so, it occurred to him that while Atsushi had given him a gift, so had Higuchi, and she had also taken them out to dinner to celebrate.  “Higuchi, when is your birthday?”

Higuchi smiled.  “Oh, today, actually.”  She continued typing.

Akutagawa was taken aback.  “Today?”

“Today,” she confirmed.

“Did you have an opportunity to celebrate in any way?” he asked.

Higuchi looked up and nodded.  “I had breakfast with my sister,” she said.  She raised a hand to her throat.  “She gave me this necklace,” she said, pleased.

Akutagawa craned his neck to see.  “Very nice,” he said politely, without any idea whether or not it actually was.  At any rate, Higuchi seemed happy.  He returned to the menu and finished putting together an order.  As he was just about to place it, he thought better of it and scrolled through the menu to the desserts, and added a slice of cake.

About forty minutes later, a runner arrived with their dinner.  Higuchi set her paperwork aside and pulled her chair up to the other side of Akutagawa’s desk.  They had snatched many a hurried meal in this manner over the last few weeks, and had taken to chatting as they ate in an attempt to achieve at least a few moments of normalcy amongst the chaos.

“Atsushi says that he and Kyouka would be happy to join us,” Akutagawa said after checking his texts.

“That’s very nice,” Higuchi said.  “Is there somewhere you prefer that I make the reservation?”

Akutagawa replied, “It is your birthday as well.  We should celebrate both.  Where would you like to have dinner?”

Higuchi colored.  “Oh, wherever you would like is fine with me,” she said, flustered.

“Very well,” Akutagawa said.  “Then I will make the reservation.  And I will arrange for a driver.  As one of the guests of honor, you should not have to drive.”

“Thank you,” Higuchi said, a wide smile crossing her face and reaching her eyes.

She dived back into her food, eating neatly and efficiently, and then carried her empty carton to the trash.  Returning, she reached to move her chair back to the side table she normally worked at.

Akutagawa rose, removing the slice of cake and a plastic fork from the bag, and followed her.

“I am sorry that you were not able to have a proper celebration this evening,” he said.  “But at least you can have some birthday cake.”

Higuchi reached out to accept it, touched.  “Thank you,” she said as she looked through the clear plastic top.  She looked up at him.  “It looks delicious.”  She set the container down on her side table and turned to smile up at him.

Akutagawa looked down at her.  She is very kind, he thought.  Should I-

His brow creased in thought.  At Christmas, she seemed to enjoy the mistletoe.  He leaned down to kiss her cheek.

As he drew close, he noticed little details as if in slow motion.  He saw her eyes widen, and her cheeks flush.  He saw her lips part as she drew a breath in surprise and then shakily released it.  He saw her head tilt slightly as she leaned into the kiss.

Why? He thought.  Why was he noticing these things, and why did they send a warmth through his chilled body?  What was this tingling he felt in his face as his lips approached her cheek?  This hadn’t happened at Christmas when they had been caught in Dazai and Chuuya’s mistletoe trap.  His lips pressed slowly against her cheek, and then equally slowly left her cheek, and still they tingled, his face warm.

He looked at her from mere inches away, his own lips parted in surprise, as she turned her head to look up searchingly at him.  And then, without a conscious decision, he leaned closer again, and she lifted her chin to meet him as he pressed his lips to hers.

He watched as her eyes closed, and he closed his own in turn.  He brushed his lips against hers, instinctive and uncertain, still feeling alternating waves of hot and cold flushing through him.  He was inordinately conscious of his own heartbeat.  Higuchi tilted her head slightly, and he followed her example, finding their lips fit together perfectly this way.

The feeling as he had brushed his lips against hers had been compelling, and he did it again.  He found that rather than easing the compulsion, it amplified it, making him want more.  He repeated it, and again, the motion losing its hesitancy as Higuchi responded in kind.

Akutagawa felt unbalanced, leaning forward like this, and reached out, placing a hand on her side to stabilize them.  Her waist felt simultaneously soft and firm beneath his hand.

After an indeterminate time, their lips stopped moving, and a few moments after that, they drew their heads back, looking at each other, mildly stunned.

Akutagawa observed that the tingling in his face hadn’t gone away.  He knew that Higuchi used to be infatuated with him.  Had she felt like this, felt these physiological reactions herself, all the time, back then?  If so, small wonder that she had always been so flustered in his presence.

Higuchi lowered her eyes and said shakily, “I don’t know whether that was kind or cruel.”

Akutagawa’s brows drew together in concern.  “I am sorry.  Was that unwelcome?”

Higuchi gave a small laugh with a hitch in it.  “It was very welcome,” she said in a low voice.  She bit her lip, and Akutagawa’s forehead creased further as his attention laser-focused on the action without any conscious intention on his part.  “Whether it was kind or cruel depends on why you did it.  And-”  She fell silent.  After another brief hesitation, he saw her shoulders tense up.  “Why did you do it?” she asked airlessly, not looking up.

Akutagawa had no idea what one was supposed to say in such a situation, but it didn’t matter.  He wasn’t one for meaningless politenesses, opting for simple truths.

“I kissed your cheek because I wanted to do something nice for you, and you seemed pleased by it when I did so under the mistletoe at Christmas.”  Akutagawa saw her shoulders tense further and her head duck slightly as if to hide her face.  Apparently that was the wrong answer.  Unfortunately, truth was all he could offer her, so he continued.  “But this time, it made me… feel things.”  Higuchi’s eyes flew to his own, her expression unguarded, and her shoulders dropped from their slightly hunched position.  “And then I kissed your- and then I kissed you, and I don’t know why.  But I wanted to keep feeling those things.”

He tried and failed to parse the expressions on her face, and gave up, and simply asked.  “Is that kind, or cruel?  Or something else?”

Higuchi gave an awkward little expulsion of air that might have been a laugh.  “So far, so good,” she said.

Akutagawa’s head tilted in inquiry.  “Is there more?” he asked.  “Something else that you need to know, to judge?”

Her face flickered through a series of emotions again.  This time he thought he saw concentration and indecision.  That lip bite occurred again, drawing his eye, and making something strange happen in his stomach.  Among the next flickers of emotion that crossed her face, the only one he recognized was resolve.

“Do you think,” she began, and then took a deep breath, “that it is something you are likely to ever do again?”

Akutagawa looked into her face.  Her cheeks were stained with a faint blush, but her eyes were determined.  In her own way, she is strong, he thought.  “Yes,” he said, and bent his head to hers once more.

Atsushi (May 5)

Atsushi emerged from his oshiire on his birthday to see Kyouka, fully dressed for the day, cooking at the stove.

“Good morning,” he said.

Kyouka turned and smiled at him.  “Happy birthday,” she said in her soft, breathy voice.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling back, and then he gathered his clothes and went to the bathroom to wash up and get dressed.

After putting his pajamas away, he went to kneel at the small table, where Kyouka laid out breakfast.

“It looks delicious,” he said.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said simply.  She knelt across from him as they ate pancakes in companionable silence.

Atsushi watched her, enjoying the domesticity of the morning.  Their former ease had returned somewhat, since their conversation after the karaoke night.  This is so nice, he thought.  This is the kind of life I never thought I could have, back in the orphanage.  I hope every day will be like this.

When they reached the Armed Detective Agency, a number of the office staff and detectives paused to wish Atsushi a happy birthday, and then the day got busy.  Atsushi was tasked with escorting Ranpo once again.  He dutifully said, “Yes, Kunikida,” but inwardly wailed, Can’t I escape the craziness just for one day?  Just for my birthday?

Surprisingly, the investigation went smoothly, largely because they were working for a private individual and not assisting the police, and as such were not required to work with the client, which meant that Atsushi didn’t have to run damage control on Ranpo’s antics.

As they alighted from the train at the station nearest the Agency, Atsushi made the ill-advised observation that they were on track to get back with time to spare before lunch, and the universe promptly punished him, as Ranpo insisted on going the wrong way once they exited the station.  No matter how hard he pleaded, or pointed out that they could literally see the Agency building from where they were standing, Ranpo refused to budge on the topic and walked away.  Atsushi had to follow him, lest he face Kunikida’s wrath upon returning without the Agency’s most valuable resource.

Ten minutes in the wrong direction, Ranpo abruptly became biddable and turned cheerfully around, heading in the direction Atsushi had begged, with the young man hovering at Ranpo’s shoulder.

Atsushi found Ranpo’s sudden tractability suspicious, and he had a eureka moment when, a block away from the Agency, he saw Yosano and an extremely over-laden Kenji disappearing into the front door.  Perking up at the idea of a free lunch and probably cake, he finished guiding Ranpo back to the Agency offices with considerably less complaint.

The birthday party was everything he could have hoped for, with cheerful good wishes, plenty of food, and a delicious cake.  Kunikida gifted him a small day planner, “To help you improve your organizational skills.”  Yosano gifted him advice about drinking plenty of water during his bar prowl with Dazai and Chuuya that evening, and a recommendation to stock up on electrolytes for the following day.  

Kyouka handed him a small box.  He opened it to find a braided black leather bracelet.  The clasp was a silver infinity symbol.

“Thank you, Kyouka,” he said, eyes wide.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“Yes, I do,” he said earnestly.  He began awkwardly trying to fasten it around his wrist but was hampered by the box that he was still holding.

“Let me,” Kyouka said.  Her slender, clever fingers adjusted the bracelet and manipulated the clasp.  Atsushi shivered as they brushed his skin.

“There,” she said, releasing him.

“Thank you,” Atsushi said, and held up his wrist to admire the bracelet.

“You’re welcome,” she said, her normally stoic face briefly lit from within.

The early afternoon consisted largely of paperwork.  Kunikida and Kyouka’s patient instruction had borne fruit, and Atsushi found the task far less daunting than it had been during his first year at the Agency.  Nevertheless, it was still a time-consuming task, and when Yosano started cajoling the other detectives to hop out for a trip to Cafe Uzumaki, he was happy to join in.

They all piled into the cafe, chatting loudly and happily, and sorted themselves out into two booths.  Atsushi, Kyouka, and Kenji shared a booth with Yosano and Kunikida, both groups relieved to not be sharing with the Tanizakis.

After the initial kerfuffle of ordering, Yosano said, “So, Atsushi, are Dazai and Chuuya coming to pick you up, or are you meeting them somewhere?”

“They’re going to pick me up at the office at five,” Atsushi said.  “I’m excited, but kind of nervous.”

Kunikida looked at him seriously over the top of his glasses.  “Just be sure that you practice moderation,” he advised.  “You will find that hangovers are very unpleasant.”

Yosano snickered.  “You would know,” she said.  “You got so hammered that night we went to their place.”

“Yosano,” Kunikida reproved, “you’re setting a bad example!”

“No, I’m using you as a cautionary tale,” she said, elbowing him.  “That’s the opposite of a bad example.”

Kyouka, seated between Kenji at the window and Atsushi at the aisle, looked up at her roommate and asked diffidently, “Do you know what time you’ll be home?”

As she spoke, Lucy returned to their booth with a tray and began setting drinks down in front of the detectives.

Atsushi tipped his head, embarrassed, and said, “No, not really.  They didn’t say how long we’d be out.”

“Knowing them, they’re going to want to make a night of it, with it being your first bar outing,” Yosano said, sipping her drink.

Lucy looked down at Atsushi, a disapproving expression on her face.  “You’re going to a bar?”

Yosano looked up at Lucy and gave a dismissive wave.  “It’s his twenty-first birthday,” she said.  “It’s traditional.”

“It’s your birthday?” Lucy asked Atsushi in surprise.

“Yes,” he said.  “It’s been really nice so far.”  He smiled around at his companions, and his hand went to the bracelet as he met Kyouka’s eyes.

Lucy’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Kyouka, and she said, “I see.”  She carried the tray over to a table in the corner and set the remaining two drinks down in front of another pair of customers.

As Yosano quizzed Atsushi on whether or not he’d ever drunk alcohol before, clearly forgetting the champagne they’d had at the yacht party after the Guild was defeated, he attempted to deflect the question, worried that Kunikida would scold him.

In the middle of another story from Yosano about a get-together between her and Kunikida and Dazai and Chuuya, Lucy returned to their table without her tray.  She fidgeted and spoke to Atsushi.

“Excuse me, can I talk to you for a minute?  In private?”

Atsushi looked up, startled.  “Oh?  Okay, I guess.”  He began to stand up, and Kyouka interjected.

“Do you not have customers you should be serving?” she asked.

“I’m going on my break,” Lucy said, jaw tight.

Kyouka stared her down briefly, and then turned to her seatmate.  “Atsushi, don’t you need to get back to work if you’re going to be ready when Dazai and Chuuya arrive?”

Atsushi looked around the table.  “Everyone’s barely started their drinks,” he said.  “I should have time.  I’ll be right back.”

As he rose, Lucy gave Kyouka a triumphant look, undaunted by the hostile glare sent her way.

Atsushi, of course, missed the byplay and followed Lucy docilely to the door.

As Lucy led him to the alley next to the cafe, Atsushi grew concerned.

Lucy came to a halt and turned to face him.  She tilted her head a little as if embarrassed, and tugged on the end of one of her braids.

“Is something wrong?” Atsushi asked.  “Do you need help with something?  If there’s a problem, I’d be happy to help.”  It was unusual for Lucy to be this uncertain; she was always so strong and commanding.  But he felt an affinity for her.  Their experiences as orphans had been very similar, and if there was anything he could do to help her, he was determined to do so.

“No, it’s not- I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday,” she said.

Atsushi was surprised.  He didn’t see why she felt the need to say it in private, but-  “Thank you,” he said.  “I appreciate it.”  He smiled at her.

The worried look on Lucy’s face eased, and she smiled back.

Atsushi started to turn back to the cafe, and Lucy urgently said, “Wait!”

He looked back, and Lucy reached out with both hands and clutched his shirt front.  Astonished, he looked down to see if something was wrong with his clothes, and suddenly she was stretching up, her face close, and then she kissed him full on the mouth.

Atsushi froze.

Lucy dropped back down off her toes and said desperately, “Happy birthday,” and looked at him almost frantically.

Atsushi stared back in shock, and then jumped as the cafe door opened behind him.  He looked around and saw Kyouka leaving the cafe, her pace quick and her head down.

“Kyouka, wait, I’ll go with you,” he said, desperate to flee the scene, and turned to follow her.

She didn’t turn her head, didn’t slow down.  Her voice came, strong and rough instead of her usual soft whisper.  “You haven’t paid your tab.”  Her feet sped up until she was nearly running.

“Oh,” Atsushi said, and looked back at Lucy.

The remaining hour and a half of the work day was uncomfortable for Atsushi, to say the least.  Before he could go back into the cafe to pay his bill, he had a brief but extraordinarily awkward conversation with Lucy followed by a brief but extremely painful slap to his face, for which he was secretly grateful.  At least she didn’t cry, he thought, counting his blessings.

When he did make it back to their booth, he was the subject of a number of knowing looks.  No one said anything outright, in consideration for Lucy’s feelings; she had had to come back in and resume work, which she did with a haughtiness that defied commentary, although she at least managed to trade tables with the other server.

Atsushi escaped as quickly as he could, but Yosano beat him back to the Agency, as she had had a head start, leaving while he was still outside earning his slap from Lucy.

When he reached the Agency, Kyouka was nowhere in sight.  Atsushi knocked on the infirmary door to ask Yosano if she had seen Kyouka, and was informed that Kyouka was feeling unwell and was resting in the infirmary.

“Oh, no, is she sick?” he asked.  “Should I cancel with Dazai and Chuuya?  I should stay home tonight and take care of her.”  Atsushi tried to peer around Yosano’s body to see Kyouka, but Yosano pulled the door closed a fraction to block his view.  She looked over her shoulder as she did so, and Atsushi’s keen tiger-enhanced sense of hearing could just pick out Kyouka’s voice saying, “No.”

“It’s not serious,” Yosano said.  “You go ahead and go out.  I’ll keep an eye on her and see that she gets home all right, and she can call or text me if she needs anything this evening.  But I expect she’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Atsushi said doubtfully.  He raised his voice and turned his head in the direction Kyouka’s voice had come from.  “I hope you feel better soon, Kyouka,” he said.  “Call me if you need me to come home early.”

He heard a small sniff in response, but that was it.

Atsushi returned to his desk and attempted to finish his work for the day, but had difficulty concentrating.  His mind was in turmoil from his first kiss.  It wasn’t at all how he had imagined it, and his face flamed.  The press of Lucy’s lips against his was burned into his memory, and he felt an overpowering sense of guilt.  He could feel the other detectives’ eyes on him, and as he sneaked glances around he saw Kunikida looking at him with sympathy, Kenji with concern, and Naomi - why was she even in the bullpen? - glaring at him.  Why is she mad at me? he wondered.  I didn’t think she knew Lucy well enough to be mad at me for rejecting her.  And anyway, it’s not my fault!  With an internal wail, he dropped his head to his desk and covered it with his hands.

“Sleeping on the job?” came Dazai’s dulcet tones.  “Aw, you really did learn from me, didn’t you, Atsushi?” he teased.

Atsushi raised his head to see Dazai smiling down at him, hands in the pockets of his dark slacks.  “Dazai!” he said, his mood lightening.  “Chuuya!”

The redhead grinned down at him.  “You look fucking miserable,” he said.  “Come on, let’s go fucking fix that.”

Atsushi jumped to his feet.  “Right!” he said.  He hesitated.  “Just give me one second,” he said, and headed over to the infirmary.

He knocked at the door, and after a few moments Yosano opened it.  She glanced past him.  “There you are.  Have fun, and don’t give him alcohol poisoning,” she said to Dazai and Chuuya.

“Perish the thought,” Dazai waved dismissively.

“We’ll get food into him first, and keep him hydrated,” Chuuya assured her.

Yosano eyed Chuuya from her vantage point blocking the infirmary door.  “You don’t look like you’re going clubbing.  That’s an unusually restrained outfit, from you.”

Atsushi glanced back.  Now that Yosano pointed it out, yes, Chuuya was simply dressed compared to usual, just black stretch jeans and a fitted long-sleeved shirt.

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause we’re not going clubbing.  You think Atsushi’s gonna want to dance?  Have you met him?  We’re gonna teach him to play pool instead.”  Chuuya hitched a hip up onto the corner of Atsushi’s desk.

“Good idea,” Yosano said mildly.  She turned her attention back to Atsushi.  “What do you need, Atsushi?”

“I just wanted to see how Kyouka’s doing, before I left.  And to let her know I’m heading out.”  Atsushi dipped his head bashfully.

Yosano’s stern demeanor eased, but she continued blocking the door.  “She’s doing okay.  I’ll let her know.  Have fun, stay hydrated.”  She smiled wryly.  “Happy birthday, Atsushi.”

“Thanks,” he said.  Raising his voice, he called around her, “Bye, Kyouka.  I’m heading out with Dazai and Chuuya now.  Have a nice evening, I hope you feel better soon.”

Yosano stepped back a pace and shut the door.

Atsushi stood for a second, listening, but heard nothing with his enhanced senses.  He turned to find Dazai and Chuuya eyeing him speculatively, and he headed back over to join them.

“All right, let’s get this show on the road,” Chuuya said, clapping him on the shoulder.  “This is gonna be fucking great, trust me.”

Their birthday expedition began at a small restaurant.

“Normally we’d probably start at an izakaya, but this is your first time and you’re scrawny as hell, so we should get a full meal into you first,” Chuuya said cheerfully.  “All right, what kind of drinks do you like?”

Atsushi said hesitantly, “I mean, I don’t know, this is really my first time drinking.  I guess I had champagne at the party after the Guild, and at your wedding, and you gave me wine when I helped Dazai move his things in.  I liked them.”

“Good to know,” Chuuya said, “but I actually just meant like ordinary drinks.  Like, do you like sweet stuff, or fruity stuff, or milk?  Do you put anything in your tea or coffee?  I’m basically trying to guess whether you might like beer or whether it would be a waste.”

“Oh,” Atsushi said.  He thought for a moment, and Chuuya waved a hand.

“You know what, never mind.  Beer sucks.  You’re having sake with dinner,” he announced.

As he spoke, a waitress approached, and they ordered.  As she left, Chuuya leaned back, hanging one elbow over the back of his chair, and looked at Atsushi appraisingly.

“So, why were you doing an impression of a turtle when we got there?” he asked bluntly.

Atsushi reflexively dropped his head to the table again and covered it with his hands.  “Sorry,” he said, his voice muffled by the table.

“Wow,” Chuuya said, his voice fascinated.

Atsushi felt a sharp pain on the top of his head as Chuuya flicked him, and he uncurled himself from the fetal position, his eyes still lowered.

“Something happened today, when we went down to the cafe this afternoon,” he said, his voice small.

“Oh?  Do tell,” Dazai said, his voice low and amused.

“We were all talking about my birthday, and this,” Atsushi gestured vaguely around at the restaurant, “and Lucy was our waitress, and when she found out it was my birthday, she asked if she could speak to me in private.”

Dazai burst into melodious laughter, and Chuuya joined him.

“Chuuya!  Our boy got his first kiss!” Dazai caroled.

Atsushi was scandalized.  “How did you know?!?” he screeched.

“Oh, come now, Atsushi, she’s had a crush on you since the day you met,” Dazai said.  “I’m surprised it took her this long to make a move.”  He smirked evilly.

“You knew that?  Why didn’t you warn me?!?” Atsushi felt betrayed.

Chuuya was snickering.  “So, what, he walked into the cafe one day and she just fell for him?” he asked Dazai.

“No, she was the girl with the red pigtails who worked for the Guild, the one who captured Mori,” Dazai explained.  “She fell for Atsushi and helped him escape from Moby Dick with Q’s doll.  After she left the Guild, she got a job at Cafe Uzumaki so that she could see Atsushi every day.”  He turned his face back to Atsushi, wearing that mischievous expression that always made Atsushi wish he had the nerve to smack him.  “And now her stalking has paid off, and they’ve had their first kiss-”

“Stop teasing me!” Atsushi hissed, wanting to scream but not wanting to draw any more attention.  “I didn’t want it!”  His voice cracked.

Dazai and Chuuya immediately sobered.

“Ah,” said Dazai, his tone now serious.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“I don’t-” Atsushi clamped his mouth shut as the waitress returned with their food and drink.  Once she left, he started over.

“I don’t like her like that,” he said in an undertone, trying to keep his voice from carrying.  “I thought we were friends.  We were both orphans, we- went through a lot of the same stuff, as orphans.  I admire her, she’s smart and strong and brave.  But I don’t feel that way about her.”

He hunched his shoulders.  “She asked to talk to me privately, and I thought she might need help with something, so we went outside and she told me happy birthday and I said thanks, and started to go back in, and she grabbed me and kissed me and said happy birthday again.  And I was so embarrassed, and wanted to get away, and Kyouka came out and I was going to leave with her but she said I needed to go back in and pay my bill, but Lucy was my waitress and she was still outside, so I had to talk to her, and I told her I thought of her as a sister, and she hit me, and then it was finally over.”  A little bitterly, he said, “That’s not what I wanted my first kiss to be.”

“I’m sorry,” said Chuuya sympathetically.  “That’s rough.”

“I could have avoided it, too,” Atsushi said.  Hindsight sucked.  “When Lucy asked me to talk, Kyouka suggested that we needed to get back to the Agency, but I thought we had time.  I wish I’d listened to her.”  He stared at his plate.

An arm appeared in his line of view, and he looked up to see Chuuya pouring him a cup of sake.

“Eat something,” Chuuya said, and pushed the cup over to him, and then poured for himself and Dazai.

Atsushi began eating.

“So, Atsushi, I gathered Kyouka was unwell when we picked you up?  Had she been ill all day?” Dazai asked casually.

“No,” Atsushi replied.  “She seemed fine up until our trip to the cafe.  But she left it early and went straight to the infirmary.  I asked if I should cancel our trip tonight, but she and Yosano said no.  I hope she’s okay.”  His forehead creased with worry.

Dazai and Chuuya exchanged glances.

Dazai spoke in his serious voice this time.  “I’m sorry that your first kiss wasn’t what you’d hoped,” he said.

“Yeah,” Chuuya seconded.  “It sucks that it happened on your birthday, too.”

Atsushi ate some more, and Chuuya dug in as well.  “Can I ask,” Atsushi hesitated, then forged on, “what was your first kiss like?”  He looked back and forth between the two.

Chuuya looked at him wryly.  “Pretty fucking great, sorry,” he said, casting a glance at his husband.  “And I guess I have you to thank for it,” he added, turning back to Atsushi.  “If it weren’t for you showing up, he wouldn’t have tricked Kyouka into bringing him back to the Port Mafia, and it might never have happened.”

Atsushi was diverted, and didn’t know what question to ask first.  “I actually meant your first kiss in general, not your first kiss as a couple,” he clarified, waving his hand between the two of them.  “But, what do you mean, he tricked Kyouka into capturing him?”

Chuuya looked surprised.  “You didn’t know that Kyouka was the one who brought him in?”

“Yeah, I did,” Atsushi said.  “But I thought she just captured him on her own.”

“Kid,” Chuuya said pityingly.  “How the fuck would she have done that?”

Atsushi said loyally, “Demon Snow is pretty powerful.”  He ate some more.

“Listen to yourself,” Chuuya said, laughing.  “Atsushi, Demon Snow is an ability.  It literally can’t touch Dazai.  No Longer Human, remember?”

“Oh!” Atsushi said, eyes wide.  How had he never thought of that?  He looked at Dazai, picking at his food and smiling benevolently at him.  “Wow.”  He shook his head.

Chuuya reached out and tapped Atsushi’s cup.  “This is sake,” he said.  “Your first legal drink.  Try it.”

Atsushi picked up the cup and drank.  “I like it,” he said, pleased.

“Good,” Chuuya said, smiling.  He drained his own cup and poured for everyone again, and dived back into his own food.

Atsushi gained a little courage.  “So was your first kiss- good, too?”

Chuuya looked embarrassed.  “Yeah, no, I knew what you meant.  That was my first kiss.  So I was twenty-two, for mine.”

Atsushi gaped.  “You?  But you’re so extroverted.”  His mind filled with romantic theories.  “So were you just always in love with Dazai, and you were waiting for him?”

Dazai grinned like a gleeful pixy, and Chuuya glared at him.  “Shut up,” he said preemptively.

Dazai tamped the smile down a little bit and explained to Atsushi, “Chuuya was either very humble or very oblivious.  He had many options, for as long as I knew him, but he just never realized.  He didn’t think anyone was interested in him.”

“Wow,” Atsushi said.  “You’re so good with people, I never would have guessed you could be that blind.”  He realized what he’d said as Dazai guffawed.  “Sorry, sorry!”

Chuuya tapped the rim of Atsushi’s sake cup, and Atsushi obediently picked it up and drank some more of it.  Atsushi transferred his attention to Dazai, lest he put his foot in it again.  “What about you?” he asked diffidently.

Dazai’s smile didn’t move.  “Ah, I’m not a hundred percent certain that I remember my first kiss,” he said, and Atsushi saw Chuuya look at him sharply.  “And I’m not a good example.  Before I - reunited with Chuuya?  My amorous adventures weren’t motivated by romance.”  His voice softened, becoming the one Atsushi associated with Dazai’s rare moments of honesty.  “But I remember everything about my first kiss with Chuuya.  So hopefully you can take some comfort from that.”  His smile was sweet.  “Your first kiss may not have been what you wanted.  But if I don’t remember the first one, but I remember the one that really mattered, there’s a good chance it will be the same for you.  Once you get the kiss you wanted, you’ll forget that it wasn’t the first, and you won’t mind.”  He raised his cup and drained it.

Chuuya, his plate already empty, refilled their cups, and then reached over to put his hand over Dazai’s.  They looked at each other, and then Chuuya smiled and pulled his hand back, lifting his cup to the center of the table.  “Kanpai,” he said.

Atsushi looked at them, feeling much lighter at heart, and raised his cup to join theirs.  “Kanpai,” he said, and they all drank.

Atsushi’s birthday evening was a success after that.  The conversation grew cheerier, and dinner was quickly finished.  They moved on to a pool hall, and tried Atsushi out on various lower-proof drinks - other types of sake, wine spritzers, a few cocktails.

“I don’t think you’d like whiskey,” Dazai said, “and it’s pretty strong, so I think we should save it for when you come over to the new apartment.”

“Oh,” Atsushi said, “have you found one?”  He listened, fascinated, as they described their new place.

“So you’re turning the top floor of an office building into an apartment, and the floor below that is going to be your company office?” he said slowly, already a little buzzed.  “I didn’t know you could do that.  Do you have to get permission from the owners of the building to remodel it like that?”

“In a way,” Dazai explained.  “We bought the whole building.  So the tenants are renting from us now, and we can do what we like.”

“You bought an entire office building?”  Atsushi had known Chuuya was rich, but this was insane.

“Yeah,” Chuuya said.  “As soon as the remodel’s done, we’ll have a housewarming party.  We can try you out on whiskey there.  Okay, grab your drink, we’re taking the table in the corner.”

When they reached the pool table, Dazai explained to Atsushi how to pick a pool cue, and Chuuya racked the balls and explained the rules of the game.  Atsushi watched the first game, marveling at how easy his companions made it look.

After the game, Dazai racked the balls once more and said, “Okay, Chuuya’s going to break, and I’m going to talk you through this.”

Atsushi found that it was more difficult to sink the balls than it looked, but with Dazai’s direction he caught on quickly.  Dazai made his explanations simple and easy to understand, for which a tipsy Atsushi was quite grateful.

“Try this,” Dazai said.  “Come stand so that the ball is on a straight line between you and the pocket, and make a note where you would hit it with the cue stick if you were hitting it directly.  See the spot?”  He hovered a finger over the spot on the ball.

“Yeah,” Atsushi said.

“Okay, now go around and line yourself up so that the cue ball is on a straight line between you and that spot, and then just try to hit that spot with the ball.”  Dazai looked at him expectantly, and Atsushi bent over the table, concentrating.

Atsushi was pleased as, over the course of the evening, he began sinking more balls, and he quite enjoyed the buzzing feeling in his head.  As they drank, they all grew louder and more boisterous, laughing, and after a few more hours, Chuuya straightened.

“All right,” he said regretfully, “you’ve got work tomorrow.  We should go ahead and get you home.”

Atsushi checked his watch.  “Yeah,” he said.  He smiled at Dazai and Chuuya.  “Thank you.  I’ve had a great time.”

Dazai and Chuuya walked a very unsteady Atsushi to his door.  He fumbled with his key, and eventually got the door unlocked.

Looking back at them, he said once again, “Thank you.  I had a great time.”

“So did we,” Dazai and Chuuya said, slightly out of synch.

“Can’t wait for the next time,” Chuuya said.

Dazai nodded.  “Oh, Atsushi, try to stay quiet.  It sounds like Kyouka had a rough day, you don’t want to wake her up.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Atsushi said.  “I almost forgot.  Thanks.”

Dazai laid a hand on his shoulder.  “Thank you.  Take care until we see you again.”  He patted his shoulder, and then he and Chuuya turned and headed back toward the street.

Atsushi turned back to the door and carefully turned the knob, easing the door open with excessive caution.  He stepped over the jamb and immediately stumbled, his knee crashing into the wall and making a loud noise.  He cringed and stood still for a moment, hoping he hadn’t woken Kyouka.  If she was sick, she needed her sleep.

When there was no reaction from inside the room, he eased the door shut, but misjudged it and shut it too hard, making another loud noise.  Wincing, he fumbled with the latch and successfully locked it.

He tried to get out of his shoes and stumbled again.

Gah, I’m going to wake her up! he thought, distressed.  He stood still, trying to gather himself, and suddenly had a thought.  Byakko could heal injuries, all the way through regenerating lost limbs.  Alcohol was technically a poison, right?  Maybe Byakko could clear the alcohol out of his body.  Without pausing to give it another thought, he transformed into the white tiger.

His head was immediately clear, and his footing stable.  Wow, he thought, proud of himself.  I had a good idea.

Encouraged, he prowled further into the room, doubly pleased by the fact that the tiger had excellent night sight, so that he could move without crashing into anything.

As he proceeded, if the tiger’s face could have frowned, Atsushi would have.  Where’s Kyouka’s futon? He wondered.  The lights are off, so she’s not still up.  Is she not home?

He regretted not checking in with her on his phone during the evening.  Raising his head, he opened his mouth, drawing in air over the roof of his mouth in flehman behavior.  She’s here, he thought, and turned his head in the direction of her scent.  He padded quietly over to where Kyouka was curled up in a ball on the couch in her nightgown and robe.

Leaning in close, he saw that her mouth was drawn down at the corners, a crease between her brows.  Are those tear stains? he wondered, looking at the signs on her face.  She must feel really, really bad, he thought.  I wonder if she’s had anything.  Yosano must have treated her, right? he thought uncertainly.

Kyouka’s eyelids fluttered, right in front of his own.  “Atsushi?” she said sleepily, her voice sounding lost.

Unable to talk while in full tiger form, he leaned forward and brushed her cheek with his muzzle.

She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his fur.

She seems upset, he thought.  What can I do to help?

Kyouka stilled completely.  Her face still buried in his fur, she spoke, muffled.  “Do you- are you in love with her?” she whispered.

What? Atsushi thought, stunned.  Wait, does she mean-

He wasn’t going to be able to have this conversation in tiger form.  He transformed back, forgetting that her arms were around him.

Human again, he was much smaller, and he fell into her, no longer supported by the tiger’s massive body.  He scrambled backward.  “I’m sorry,” he said as she curled back into the couch, facing away from him.  “I’m sorry, I should have warned you before I changed.  Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she said in a small voice.

“Are you sure?” Atsushi asked, concerned.  “You don’t look like you feel well.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, and her tone made it clear that the subject was closed.  She wrapped her arms around her waist.  “Are you?”

Am I what?  “Okay?” he asked, having already forgotten her initial question.

Kyouka turned her head for a split second and graced him with a look of anger, then turned away again.  “Are you in love with her?”

Fuck, thought Atsushi, for the first time in his life.  “Lucy?” he hazarded, as if she could have meant anyone else.  “No, I’m not.”

She peeked back over her shoulder, even though she probably couldn’t see him in the dark.  “Then why did you kiss her?”

“You saw that?” he asked, and then kicked himself mentally.  Obviously she did, or she wouldn’t be asking.  “I didn’t.  She kissed me.  I didn’t know she was going to do that.  I should have listened to you and not gone with her, but I thought she needed help with something.”

Kyouka uncurled a little.  “It took you a long time to come back to the Agency,” she said neutrally.  “What did you say to her?” she asked, her voice unusually hesitant.

Atsushi flushed, remembering how uncomfortable the conversation had been.  “I told her that she’s like a sister to me.  And then she hit me.”  He realized belatedly that he shouldn’t have shared that last fact, as Kyouka tended to be very protective of him.  But this time, she let it slide.

She looked in his direction in the dark.  “She’s like a sister to you?”

Atsushi nodded, unsure whether she could see the movement.  “We had a lot of the same experiences when we were growing up.  It made it kind of like being siblings, or foster siblings in the orphanage.”

Kyouka asked, her voice soft, “And am I a sister to you, too?”

“No,” Atsushi said without thinking.

Kyouka waited.

Atsushi reached for an answer, but the first word he thought of wasn’t really a relationship.  He struggled for a few moments, but kept coming back to the same word.  He gave up.  “You’re my home,” he said.

The tension in Kyouka’s shoulders eased for the first time since he’d gotten home.  “Okay,” she said.

Ensemble (May 8)

Friday evening, Atsushi sat on the couch in their rooms, dressed in his one suit.  He tugged at the sleeves a little bit, as he had grown since it was purchased, but it still fit reasonably well.

The bathroom door opened, and he turned to look at Kyouka, and was briefly mute.

He stood and gawked for a moment.  Pulling himself together, he said, “Wow, you look beautiful.  I’ve never seen you in anything like that.”

The day after his birthday party with Dazai and Chuuya, Kyouka had informed him that she was going shopping after work to get something to wear to dinner with Akutagawa and Higuchi.  She had asked Gin to accompany her.  Perhaps he should have realized that she meant contemporary clothing, but he was so used to seeing her in kimonos, he had expected another kimono in a different pattern.

But she was wearing a dress, seafoam-green that clung to her slender waist and swirled out into a full, knee-length skirt, with a chiffon overlay.  She wore some sort of wrap over the top.  He had never seen her bare legs before, nor seen her in heels.  He tore his eyes away from the thin straps of the heels buckled around her dainty ankles and looked back up at her face, her eyes bright and cheeks pink.  And her lips were quite pink, too, was she wearing lipstick?

“You look beautiful,” he said again.

“Thank you,” she said, and stepped forward.  They walked to the door and went down the stairs to the street to wait for the car.

As the group emerged from the car at the restaurant, Atsushi noticed Akutagawa offering his arm to Higuchi.

Akutagawa always looks so poised and sophisticated, he thought.  Except when he’s trying to kill me, I mean.  He knows the proper way to behave.  He decided he should try to copy the mafioso’s mannerisms, and offered his arm to Kyouka, who accepted it.

What he didn’t anticipate was how nervous he would feel, with her hand resting lightly on his arm, or how conspicuous he would feel as people’s eyes followed her.  They probably think it’s strange that she’s here with someone so ordinary, he thought, and tried not to hunch his shoulders.

When they reached the table, Akutagawa took Higuchi’s wrap and held her chair for her.  Atsushi reached up with trembling fingers to take Kyouka’s wrap and nearly dropped it when he saw her slim, bare shoulders and ivory arms.  The top part of her dress was fitted, and the chiffon overlay was gathered up to a ruffle high on her neck.  He gulped and then continued copying Akutagawa, folding the wrap over his arm as he held Kyouka’s chair and scooted it up to the table, and then hung the wrap over the back of the chair.

As he took his seat next to her, he watched her out of the corner of his eye, admiring her poise.  She never seems to feel out of place, he thought.  She’s always so confident.  Why can’t I be like that?

But somehow, some of her assurance bled over into him, and he enjoyed the dinner.  Every time he saw Akutagawa outside of missions, he got a little more comfortable, and Higuchi was probably the most human mafioso he had met, if he didn’t count Chuuya.  The conversation was lively, and Kyouka spoke up much more frequently than she tended to at Agency events, although that may have been simply a factor of the group being so much smaller and peopled entirely by introverts.  Akutagawa ordered champagne, with sparkling grape juice for Kyouka, and the meal was excellent.  After about twenty minutes, Atsushi forgot that he was at a fancy restaurant, and forgot to worry that he didn’t belong.  He simply enjoyed himself, and enjoyed watching Kyouka’s usually inscrutable face mobile and engaged.

At the end of dinner, Akutagawa gave Atsushi a wrapped gift box, and he opened it to find a watch.  Atsushi experienced a moment of panic; this was a much more expensive gift than the embroidered handkerchief he’d given Akutagawa for his birthday.  But none of the others blinked at the extravagance of the gift, and Atsushi chalked it up to the difference in salary between a Mafia executive and an uneducated detective.

Atsushi continued to copy Akutagawa, holding Kyouka’s chair and draping her wrap back over her shoulders, and then offering his arm again.  Her hand was warm through his sleeve as she sedately walked next to him.  He glanced down at her, and it was as if he were seeing a completely different person.  Different hair, contemporary clothing, subtle makeup, and the high heeled shoes brought her even closer to his height.

Kyouka felt his gaze on her and she looked up, smiling with her eyes.  “Did you have a nice birthday party?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, his voice unaccountably scratchy.

They reached the car and took the rearward-facing seats, since Akutagawa and Higuchi would be dropped off last.  The conversation continued, a little subdued, as they were driven back to the Agency dorms, and Atsushi felt an unreality to the evening.

At the dorms, Atsushi stepped out and held his hand out for Kyouka to alight, and they thanked Akutagawa for the dinner and wished Higuchi a happy birthday as well, and then turned and made their way, side by side, back to their rooms.

Atsushi unlocked the door and held it for Kyouka, and then followed her inside and locked it again.

Kyouka bent sideways to unfasten the straps of her heels, taking them off one by one, and then carried them to the closet, where she placed them, along with her wrap.  Atsushi took off his own shoes more slowly, and followed to hang up his suit coat.

Still wearing her new dress, Kyouka glided to the kitchen.  “I’m going to make tea,” she said.  “Would you like some?”

Atsushi looked at her, busying herself in the kitchen, completely at home.  It was an echo of breakfast on his birthday, when he had wished that every day could be like this, for the rest of his life.  Idiot, he castigated himself.  Did you even listen to yourself?  His chest ached.

“I think I need to move out,” he said.

Kyouka’s head snapped around.  “Why?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“Because,” he swallowed around the lump in his throat, “because I think I’m in love with you.”

Kyouka set down the teapot and inhaled deeply.  A wave of relief flooded over her normally enigmatic face.  “Good,” she said.  “Don’t leave me.”

Atsushi drew a shaky breath.  “Did you hear me?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” she said.  “Did you hear me?”

“You are a young girl.  You shouldn’t be living alone with a guy who has feelings for you,” Atsushi tried.

“I am a young woman, and I have been living alone with you for two years.  I would be happy to live with you forever,” she replied calmly.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Atsushi said, trying to make her understand.  “You- you just imprinted on me because I was the one who saved you from the Port Mafia.  I convinced you to join the Agency, and to live with me, and-” he floundered and came to a stop.

Kyouka’s eyes narrowed and she walked back around the counter to stand in front of him.  “No,” she said sharply.  “For one thing, it wasn’t your idea to live with me.  You protested, and Dazai convinced you I needed protection, and I let him because I am selfish.  More importantly, you didn’t convince me to do anything.  You didn’t convince me to leave the Port Mafia, or to join the Agency, or to live with you.”  She jabbed a finger into his chest.  “What you did was to teach me that I could make my own decisions about my life, and that I didn’t have to live the life someone else chose for me.  And the decision that I made, two years ago, about my life, and that I make again every day, is that I want to be here, with you.”

She dropped her finger from his chest.  “I don’t love you out of gratitude, or a sense of debt.  I love you because you are sweet, and kind, and innocent.  I love you because you’re afraid and you still face your fears and do what you think is right.  I love you because you want to help people, even bad people who have hurt you.  I love you because the world was unkind to you and you remained optimistic.  I love you because you are you.”

She clenched her fists.  “And I am strong, and I get to make my own decisions about my life, and my decision is that I’m not going to let you leave me if you care about me, too.”

She spoke with a passion he had seen from her only once before, as she had flung herself out of a moving train with a bomb strapped to her body.

Atsushi looked at her helplessly.  “I need to sit down and think,” he said, and retreated to the sofa, where he sat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

Kyouka followed him to the sofa, where she sat next to him at an angle so that she could watch him, silent, hands folded in her lap.  Atsushi tried not to look at her, because she was too distracting.  Her rebuttal of his concerns was convincing, but how much of that was just because he wanted to be convinced?  And yes, she was eighteen, but still, she hadn't really ever had a social life, and would undoubtedly soon be getting attention from other guys.  Sure, he had a two-year head start of caring about her without hormones being involved, but soon she was going to have the interest of lots of guys, and what if she realized then that she could do better?

After about five minutes, he lifted his head.  He put a determined look on his face, and hoped she wouldn’t test it.  

“If I’m going to keep living with you, there are going to be rules,” he said firmly, and tried not to show how relieved he was when she nodded.

“I believe that you feel this way now,” he said carefully, “but you’re going to get more guys interested in you, and I don’t want you to feel trapped with me if you decide you actually like someone else better.  Or if it turns out that actually dating me doesn’t live up to the idea of dating me.  So first rule: we can date, but you are free to break up with me-” God, I hope not, he thought- “for any reason.  And to make sure you don’t feel pressure to stay if you don’t want to, we’re not going to get engaged any time soon.  In a year and a half, when you turn twenty, if you still feel the same way, I’ll ask you to marry me then.”

Kyouka’s face glowed, but she immediately went into negotiation mode.  “One year,” she said.  “In a year, we will get engaged, and when I turn twenty, we will get married,” she bargained.

Atsushi’s eyes widened, and he weakened.  “I guess- that’s a fair compromise?” he squeaked.

“Agreed,” she said instantly, before he could second guess himself.

With a sense of impending doom, realizing that he hadn’t taken into account that Kyouka had always been stronger than him, he soldiered on.  

“Second rule,” he said, and turned bright red.  “We’re not going to… do anything… that might make you feel… bound to me, until then.  So if it ever looks like we might be tempted to…” he writhed inwardly, “do anything-” what was the word Dazai used? - “amorous, then I move out into Dazai’s old rooms.”

Kyouka nodded thoughtfully, and he relaxed prematurely in relief, so he was off guard when she began bargaining again.

“For me to be able to make an informed decision in a year, however, this needs to be a real relationship,” she pointed out in her normal breathy monotone.  “So can we hold hands?”

“Yes,” Atsushi said.  That was easy.

Calmly, she asked, “Can we kiss?”

His face flamed.  “Yes,” he said.

“Can we cuddle?” she asked in a businesslike tone.

“Cuddle?” he quavered.

“Can we hug?  Or when we watch tv in the evening, will you put your arm around me?” she clarified.

Atsushi thought about that.  “Yes,” he said decisively.

“I accept your second rule,” Kyouka said.  “Is that all?”

Atsushi hesitated.  “That’s all for rules,” he said.  “But- I think it would be a good idea if we talked to a grownup.”

“You are a grownup,” Kyouka pointed out.  “But perhaps Dr. Yosano and Kunikida?”

“Yeah,” Atsushi said, although he quailed inwardly at the thought.

“Very well,” she said.

There was a brief pause.

“It’s late,” she said.  “I’m going to go change and get ready for bed.”  She stood, and Atsushi hastily stood as well.

“I’m sorry to keep you up so late,” he said, looking down at her.  Without the heels, she was once again five or six inches shorter than him.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, and stood looking up at him expectantly.

Atsushi’s heart pounded.  He licked his lips, and opened them to speak, and closed them again.  Taking a deep breath, he asked, “May I-?”

“Yes, please,” she said softly, tipping her chin up.

Atsushi stepped forward, and Kyouka raised her arms and wrapped them around his neck.  He tentatively wrapped his arms around her waist, and bent his head, and a warm silence fell across the room.

When he eventually raised his head, Kyouka leaned her cheek against his chest.  He tightened his arms around her back.

“I’m sorry if I didn’t do it right,” he said quietly.  “I don’t really know how-”

“It was perfect,” she said.  “It was just like I’ve always imagined it.”

Atsushi swallowed.  I got it right?  He turned his head and pressed his cheek to the top of her head.  “It was perfect for me, too.”

Epilogue 1:

Monday morning, Atsushi, Kyouka, Yosano, and Kunikida all sat in chairs pulled up in a circle in the infirmary.  The door was closed.

Atsushi finished speaking, and waited.

Kunikida cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up his nose.  He didn’t quite meet Atsushi’s eyes, and his cheeks were the tiniest bit pink as he said gruffly, “It sounds to me like you two are being very cautious and sensible.”

Yosano smiled kindly and said, “I agree.  If anything changes, or either of you just wants to talk, or needs a sounding board, you can come to us.  We’ll be happy to listen, and let you know what we think.”

“You’re sure I shouldn't move out?  You don’t think there’s anything wrong with it?” Atsushi asked apprehensively.

“We’re sure,” Yosano said.  “Did you have any questions for us right now?”

Atsushi looked at Kyouka, who shook her head.  He turned back to Yosano.  “No, not right now, thank you.”

Before he could rise, Yosano’s expression turned commanding.  “Kyouka, you stay here.  We’re going to have a little conversation.  Kunikida, you take Atsushi to one of the conference rooms and give him The Talk.”

She made it sound like a threat.

Kunikida looked at her in panic.  “He’s twenty-one.  Surely I don’t need to give him The Talk.  He’s only a few years younger than me.”

Yosano gave her boyfriend a direct look.  “Atsushi hasn’t exactly had a normal upbringing, or any proper father figure.  You got started on all this sort of thing when you were what, fourteen?  He literally just had his first kiss this week.  Give him The Talk.  Or are you going to make me do it?”

Atsushi panicked.  “Kunikida!” he pleaded.

Kunikida took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, then put them back on and rose with a pained sigh.  “All right, Atsushi, let’s go.”

An hour later, Yosano stepped out of the infirmary for a moment to get some coffee, and surveyed the bullpen.  Kyouka, Atsushi, and Kunikida were all bright red and diligently focused on their paperwork, refusing to look up or meet each other’s eyes.

She grinned and continued to the side table to grab her coffee.

Epilogue 2:

“Good morning, Akutagawa,” said Mori, his voice pleased and surprised.  “Please have a seat.”

“Thank you,” Akutagawa said with a stiff bow, and sat down across from Mori.

“So,” Mori said, steepling his hands.  “Why did you wish to speak with me today?”

“You asked me a question during my loyalty examination, and the answer to that question has changed,” Akutagawa said clinically.  “I thought that you should know.”

“Really?” asked Mori, the word drawn out with interest.  “Please elaborate.”

“I have developed romantic feelings for Higuchi,” Akutagawa said, with as much emotion as if he were relating the weather.  “I believe we are now in a relationship.”

“I see,” said Mori, his voice growing cold.  He tapped a finger on the table.  “Has your loyalty to the Port Mafia changed?  Or your willingness to kill Higuchi, should I deem her a threat?”

“No,” replied Akutagawa.

“Very well, I will add the two of you to the list of personnel on an accelerated evaluation schedule,” Mori said, concealing the fact that he had already done so.  He looked at Akutagawa thoughtfully, and tapped his finger against his lips.

“Were you aware that Higuchi failed her loyalty test?” he asked.

“What?” asked Akutagawa, startled.  “But - it’s been weeks.”

Mori nodded.  “Yes.  I haven’t killed her yet because she is weak, and not a threat to the organization even if she were to go rogue, and you have indicated her work as your assistant is of a high caliber.  She reported that her first loyalty was to you, and that if you were to leave, she would follow, and as long as you remain, she will remain loyal to the organization as well.  Because you are fully loyal to the Port Mafia, her - transitive, shall we say - loyalty is currently sufficient.  However,” he added, steepling his fingers once more, “should your own loyalty ever come into question, she will be the first to die.”

“Good,” Akutagawa said.  “I am glad to hear that there is no problem, then.”

Mori smiled at the indirect assurance of Akutagawa’s continued loyalty.  “Thank you for updating me,” he said.  “Don’t let me keep you from your duties.”

Akutagawa rose and bowed, then slipped his hands in the pockets of his coat and departed.

Elise said confidently, “He’s still yours.”

Mori nodded.  “Let’s hope that he remains that way.”