Chapter Text
“So? Are you going to talk, or are we just going to keep staring at each other like this?”
The mummified Aizawa-sensei was currently in a private office, the low murmur of the radio playing the news in the background. A cup of hot black coffee and a cup of hot green tea sat on the table between them. He lifted the coffee, took a sip, then placed it back down. Meanwhile, the person in front of him remained unmoving, the aroma of green tea slowly drifting into his nostrils.
The bandaged boy gave Aizawa a light-hearted smile. “Sensei, if you stare at me too much, I might grow another head, and you might grow another pair of eyes.”
‘Ah. I wouldn’t mind another pair of eyes,’ Aizawa realized. ‘Though I doubt I’d be able to handle another head from this problem child.’
He faked a cough. “You were reckless. You may call yourself a professional, but in the end, you’re still a child, Dazai. A fifteen-year-old boy. If your intention back then was to aid me, it was uncalled for. I don’t need you doing that again.”
Aizawa’s chiding words halted when he noticed a slight shift in the teen’s micro-expression at the exact moment he said Dazai’s assistance was unneeded.
The adult could only sigh and clarify, “What I meant was, you have no obligation to put yourself in harm’s way. Are you following?”
Dazai’s smile vanished, as if he couldn’t understand why his sensei had called him here after homeroom just to say this. It was unlike Mori-san, where Dazai would be scolded and only needed to act like a brat, focus on Elise-chan, and wait for Mori to give in.
Or worse, when the boss was truly pissed off, locking him in a kennel and leaving him there to fend for himself until he found the key and freed himself.
Aizawa’s sudden sternness made Dazai’s muscles lock up for a split second, as if he were bracing for pain. When the boss dropped his voice like that, something bad always followed.
But Aizawa stopped. He sighed.
And Dazai was… baffled.
He was lost.
“I say, sensei…” he spoke at last, “…make up your mind, will you?”
“Huh?” Aizawa hadn’t expected that from someone who looked so defensive just moments ago.
“I’m saying you should scold if you wanna scold, coddle if you wanna coddle, drink coffee if you wanna drink coffee, and commit suicide if you wanna commit suicide, y’know?” Dazai shrugged. “Being hot and cold isn’t really your calling. It doesn’t suit you, sensei.”
The tone was unmistakably ‘Sigh, what should I do with you?’
Aizawa frowned. He held back his temper, looking down at his coffee instead. His thumb rubbed the rim of the cup slowly before he met the boy’s gaze again.
“I’m serious, problem child. I don’t like your actions back at USJ, and I don’t like how you’re speaking to me right now.”
His voice was low and serious but the sharp sternness was gone. If anything, it sounded soft.
“Ehhh~?” Dazai reacted exaggeratedly, leaning forward across the table, closer to Aizawa. “Then how should I speak, sensei? Like, formal? Or like, suuuu~per formal?”
Aizawa didn’t budge. What he wanted to understand was how someone so young could have so little regard for his own life. How he could joke so casually about things that harmed himself.
Aizawa couldn’t understand what the boy had been through.
But how could he ask directly, when the problem child himself was evasive and didn’t trust him at all?
“Sometimes,” Aizawa found himself saying, while Dazai’s face hovered far too close, “…I can’t help but wonder what your world must’ve been like.”
The words made Dazai flinch.
He stared at Aizawa in silence, as if carefully weighing a response.
Aizawa released his grip on the cup. Slowly, carefully, his hand reached out and rested atop Dazai’s head, cautious, as though afraid the teen might recoil.
“You’re strong,” he said quietly. “But you need to learn to take breaks. You can depend on others. That’s why we’re here.”
“…”
Dazai blinked twice. His mouth opened slightly. “Sensei…”
When he had Aizawa’s attention, he continued, “I don’t trust strangers.”
He smiled.
A smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“So stop acting like you’re a responsible dad of mine.”
“I am not—”
“Exactly.” Dazai cut him off and stood properly. “You aren’t.”
The clock ticked. The two of them stared at each other.
Aizawa remained silent, struggling to find the right words. He might’ve triggered something he hadn’t meant to. And here he thought he’d been careful.
“Pfft—!”
Dazai broke first.
“HAHAHAHA!” Tears pooled in his eyes as he laughed. “You should’ve seen your face, sensei! HAHAHAHA! Seriously! I can’t believe I can still read your expressions through all those bandages on your mummified face! BAHAHAHAHA! That was hilarious! Hold on—I’ll take a photo!”
He dug through his pockets before freezing. “…Ah. Dammit. I didn’t bring my phone.”
It must’ve been in his bag.
“Aaaah! Why didn’t I bring it?!”
Aizawa could only sigh.
‘It’s fine,’ he told himself. ‘One step at a time.’
“I called you a problem child,” Aizawa said, reverting to the tone he used with Class 1-A, “but that doesn’t give you permission to overdo it.”
He noticed how the shift made Dazai relax, enough for him to sit back down and finally take a small sip of his green tea.
“What a waste,” Dazai sighed. “I should’ve captured that moment and framed it all over U.A. to motivate the students!”
“…” That was… concerning. In more ways than one.
Aizawa was quietly thankful Dazai had forgotten his phone.
The radio, which had been playing the news earlier, cut to a short commercial before a song began. It sounded like pop-soul.
“This is the end
Hold your breath and count to ten
Feel the Earth move and then
Hear my heart burst again”
Dazai’s attention shifted. His Ability fluctuated, flickering on and off, again and again. He turned toward the radio, listening closely.
“For this is the end
I’ve drowned and dreamt this moment
So overdue, I owe them
Swept away, I’m stolen”
He was curious of the song.
Aizawa mistook the lack of response for disinterest. “That’s all for today. You may go.”
But Dazai remained seated, head still turned toward the radio.
“Sensei,” he asked, “who’s singing?”
“Oh?” Aizawa was mildly surprised by the interest. “That’s Regina Carlisle. She’s a licensed pro-hero who quit and became a singer after her Quirk was mischaracterized.”
“Quirk… mischaracterization?” Dazai echoed.
“Yes. Her last mission failed because of it. So she turned to singing instead; to help people in another way. Her voice restores strength twice as fast and boosts morale more effectively than precise battle commands.”
“Ehhh…” Dazai hummed thoughtfully.
In the background, the song continued:
“Let the sky fall
When it crumbles
We will stand tall
Face it all together
At Skyfall”
“Preeeeeeesidentttt!”
Ranpo was so happy to see Fukuzawa on the screen that he nearly crashed straight into the laptop. Yosano caught him just in time, sparing the device from its unfortunate fate.
Fukuzawa gave a small nod. “It’s been a while. How are the two of you doing?”
“I’m doing well. We didn’t get caught up in the villain attack at all, so it wasn’t anything serious,” Yosano replied calmly.
Ranpo, on the other hand, threw a full-blown tantrum. “Well, I’m not! What’s with the stingy compliments, President?! You’ve only given me two so far! Only two! I keep messaging you for more, but you just leave me on seen!” He harrumphed.
“I do respond to your messages, Ranpo,” Fukuzawa replied evenly.
Indeed, he did. It’s just that he never included any praise in those replies.
For example:
The Greatest Detective in the World:
[President, read this! I made friends like you asked! I got the sports car one, the dumb blonde one, the female blonde one, and Akiko! I’m great, aren’t I?]
Preeeesssiiiidenttt:
[Call them by their names.]
The Greatest Detective in the World:
[Boo! I even go to and from with sports car! You wrote in that tiny notebook that I should travel with friends, so I did! I’m great, aren’t I?]
Preeeesssiiiidenttt:
[Don’t use them as free cab rides. Also, call them by their names.]
The Greatest Detective in the World:
[Boo! You also wrote that I should lend help if my classmates need it, and I did! I helped the dumb blonde win our Hero Basic Training Course! I’m great, aren’t I?]
Preeeesssiiiidenttt:
[Yosano told me it was a team effort. Also, call them by their names.]
The Greatest Detective in the World:
[Boo! I’m bored. I wanna go back there and solve crimes.]
Preeeesssiiiidenttt:
[Stay.]
“Boo! You know that’s not what I meant!” Ranpo snapped out of the memory lane and slammed his hands on the table. “I wanna go home! This isn’t fun anymore! I don’t like it here! It’s boring! So boring!”
“Ranpo…” Fukuzawa could only sigh. His son was throwing another temper tantrum. It was even harder to calm him down when they were separated by a screen.
Thankfully, they weren’t in a crowded place. Yosano and Ranpo were currently in the living room of the inn.
Only two of the Ability Users from Class 1-B were back at the inn for now. Dazai had been called away by Aizawa, so Chuuya stayed behind. Jouno wanted nothing to do with people at the moment and left early after giving Yaoyorozu instructions on when their training would begin. Tecchou had also gone out to buy something… and he seemed unusually distracted as well.
For the time being, the inn was a private space for the detectives.
Yosano sighed as Ranpo’s tantrum continued. “I’m surprised he lasted this long before demanding to go back…” She wasn’t sure whether she should be thankful or regretful.
Ranpo crossed his arms and turned away. “I wanna solve mysteries! Let me go back, hmph!”
“In that case,” Fukuzawa finally relented, “I’ll give you a mystery.”
Ranpo immediately beamed. “Ooh! That’s why I like you so much, President~!”
Yosano watched the two and couldn’t help but smile.
“Listen carefully, you two,” Fukuzawa began. He explained the bodyguard request he had received from Hero Society. It was the agency’s first commission from outside the Gifted territory, so he had initially been weighing the pros and cons. However, Ranpo’s growing dissatisfaction needed to be addressed first. Besides, he trusted his detectives.
And so, he accepted the job.
“The client’s name is Regina Carlisle. She’s requesting bodyguard duty for her comeback concert in three days.” Fukuzawa showed them a photograph of the hero-turned-singer before putting it away. “Under normal circumstances, I would’ve rejected it. Musutafu has no shortage of heroes and sidekicks, as I’ve heard from one of the heroes who are currently at Yokohama. Endeavor, I believe. However, Ms. Carlisle stated in her letter that this matter is of utmost secrecy. If we’re willing to take on the task, she’ll be waiting at a coffee shop on West Street at exactly six o’clock. She said she’d provide more details once she meets her bodyguards in person.”
“A bodyguard job for a concert?” Yosano commented. “Either she’s underestimating the ADA, or she’s far too paranoid to think Musutafu’s security is that lax.”
“Well, it sounds like a fun mystery,” Ranpo grinned. “It’s not as exciting as the ones back in Yokohama, but I’ll take it. It’s my first commission in Hero Society, after all. Publicity matters, right, Akiko?”
“It would also be good for cooperation between Quirked individuals and Gifted ones,” Yosano agreed. “I have no objections. Shall we do it, Ranpo-san?”
“Of course! The ADA can handle this easy-peasy!” Ranpo cheered.
And just like that, Ranpo’s tantrum was successfully tamed.
At exactly six in the evening, Ranpo and Yosano arrived at the coffee shop on West Street—only to be greeted by unexpectedly tight security. There was an excessive number of trained Quirked guards stationed around the area.
When they were led into a private cubicle, they found a woman sipping warm ginger tea.
Her blue hair was styled into a perfectly messy bun. Her makeup was flawlessly blended, giving her cheeks a rosy hue and her lips a glossy shade of red. Her blue eyes were accentuated by long lashes and carefully applied eyeshadow. She wore a casual yet unmistakably designer white dress, a ring on her finger, nails meticulously painted, and a pair of two-inch blue heels.
She turned toward them and smiled politely. “Welcome, detectives of Yokohama’s Armed Detective Agency. Please, take a seat. You may order food and drinks if you’d like. They’re on me. Don’t worry, this coffee shop belongs to me. I had it closed for the day so we could have absolute privacy.”
“That’s convenient,” Yosano said with a grin. “Nothing gets out.”
Ranpo had already flipped open the menu, intensely deliberating over which items were the sweetest. As long as it was sweet, he’d order it.
Soon, the table was overflowing with desserts. Yosano ordered a latte, Regina requested another ginger tea, and everything else, along with a mug of hot cocoa, belonged to Ranpo.
While Ranpo happily munched away, Yosano continued the conversation. “So, Ms. Carlisle, is this purely a bodyguard mission? If that’s all, we’ll have to decline. We’re detectives, not bodyguards.”
“Ah—no! That’s—uh…” Regina struggled to find the right words. She looked more wary than trusting. “I-It is a bodyguard mission, but… I still need your help…”
“I don’t quite follow,” Yosano said, raising an eyebrow. She was confused, but intrigued.
Ranpo swallowed the last of his brownie. “She’s afraid.”
Regina flinched. Both she and Yosano turned to him as he continued, still chewing, “She doesn’t want standard concert security. She wants us to make sure she’s still alive after the concert.”
“H-How can you tell?” Regina asked eagerly. “Did you use your Ability? The one you said on television?”
“Nope. I don’t need it for something this trivial.” Ranpo licked the smudge from his face while drizzling honey over his toast. “It was obvious the moment we stepped inside. And I was certain the moment I met you.”
He continued calmly, “Your makeup is perfect, but it doesn’t fool my eyes. Your eyes are tired beneath those lashes and colored contacts. You hold your teacup with both hands even though it’s designed to be held with one hand and two to three fingers. It means your hands are strained. Your outfit is elaborate, yet you’re missing a necklace. That wasn’t an oversight; it was intentional. Either your neck or your chest is injured. And even after bathing and perfume, you still carry a faint medicinal scent. In other words, you stopped by a hospital shortly before coming here.”
He took a bite of his toast. “If that’s not convincing enough, I can also tell you who—or what—you’re afraid of.”
Regina exhaled, her composure finally cracking. “No… that’s enough, detective. I’m glad I chose the right people.”
“So,” Yosano asked gently, “are you willing to trust us with your worries?”
Regina nodded, taking another sip of tea. “I’ll need to explain everything first. It might take a while… but please bear with me.”
“It’s fine,” Ranpo said. “I’m eating anyway.”
Yosano lifted her latte as Regina began to speak, only to freeze slightly when the story started sounding all too familiar.
“I was a top student from Class 1-B at U.A. I became a pro-hero quickly because of my Quirk, Command—or rather, how it was mischaracterized back then. As long as I issued a command, people would gain a hundred percent energy to carry it out, provided they wanted to. It was easy. I didn’t have to stand on the front lines.”
Her voice wavered. “But I grew complacent. Fame and easy success made me shallow in my understanding of heroism.”
“When the Delta Squad was deployed by the Hero Safety Public Commission to a warzone, we were… useless. We were stationed in the rear of something called the Great War. The electromagnetic field of the Aurora rendered our equipment useless. Our hero gear became nothing more than costumes.”
“Villains attacked us using guns and bombs. They were things that should’ve been easy to counter. But we relied too heavily on our enhancers and Quirks. I couldn’t form proper commands. My teammates were getting hurt one by one, and my Quirk couldn’t reach multiple people at once. I was injured too. I failed… completely.”
Yosano and Ranpo fell silent.
They hadn’t known Japan’s Hero Society had been involved in the Great War at all. Officially, it was a conflict between Ability Users and the Quirkless across England, Germany, France, and Japan – one where Hero Society was forbidden to interfere with.
That left only two possibilities.
Something was deeply wrong within the HPSC.
And Regina’s Delta Squad had been nothing more than expendable, pre-adult pawns to test the waters.
“I thought I would die there,” Regina continued quietly. “But rescue arrived, and Recovery Girl treated us. Later, my Quirk was re-evaluated. It turns out it’s not suited for direct combat or command at all. At best, it boosts morale and doubles physical strength, but it restores energy indiscriminately, to allies and enemies alike.”
“The HPSC struck a deal with us. Our humiliating defeat wouldn’t be publicized and would be tamed, but we were never to speak of it again. It was cruelly ironic. None of us recovered from the trauma. One by one, we quit.”
“I became a singer to atone, in my own way, for deceiving the people of Japan.” She looked down. “I thought I was doing fine… until I started receiving letters and stolen photographs. A fan.”
“At first, I thought it was normal. Obsessive fans exist in this industry. I increased security. Then I collapsed during a concert.”
“When I woke up, I received flowers from that same fan. Along with a file detailing the Delta Squad’s involvement in the Great War. The cause of my collapse was a slow-acting poison. He admitted it in the letter. He said that if I didn’t agree to belong to him, he would never give me the antidote.”
“How about Recovery Girl?” Yosano asked.
“She couldn’t help. She said her Quirk would kill me from exhaustion before it healed me. And by then… I had already accepted that I would die. I was hospitalized for years.”
“But my father couldn’t accept that.” Regina’s voice softened. “He searched everywhere. Even black-market auctions, looking for miracle cures.”
“You’re right,” Ranpo stretched. “This is getting long. Can I order more?”
“O-Oh! Y-Yes, please!” Regina bowed her head quickly. “I’m sorry…”
“No worries!” Ranpo waved it off, then turned to Yosano. “Hey, Yosano~ is a caramel macchiato sweet enough?”
“It is,” Yosano replied, glancing at the menu, “but I think you’d prefer a strawberry milkshake.”
“Okay! I’ll get both!” Ranpo declared cheerfully.
His drinks arrived quickly. As he waited for his garlic bread, Regina continued.
“I was miraculously healed when a foreigner approached my father at one of those auctions. If I remember correctly, he was… French? The man handed my father a suitcase containing a red gem and said it was the medicine he was looking for.”
“It was suspicious,” she admitted, “but my father was desperate. He followed the man’s instructions. A surgery was prepared… and the gem was fused to my heart.”
She placed a hand over her chest.
“For reasons I still don’t understand… it worked.”
“A red gem?” Ranpo echoed.
Regina nodded and undid the upper buttons of her dress. Embedded in her left chest, just above her heart, was the gem, protruding slightly from her skin, glowing ominously.
“Because of this, I want you to protect me.” She finally went straight to the point. “Two days ago, I received another letter from the same fan—”
“Stop calling that prick a fan.” Yosano cut in sharply. “That’s an insult. Call them what they are. A pathetic lowlife of a stalker.”
She’d had enough of hearing the word fan when it was clearly anything but. Maybe the person had started out as one, but it had long since turned into something disgusting.
“R-Right.” Regina nodded quickly. She’d simply been too timid to say it herself. “The letter said the stalker found out about my recovery, and he was furious. He said he would steal it during my comeback concert… and that I should look forward to dying while being publicly humiliated for my failure in the Delta Squad.”
Her voice trembled. “He said it was punishment… for rejecting my fate of being owned by him.”
“Can’t you ask the heroes or the police for help?” Yosano asked.
“She doesn’t trust them,” Ranpo answered flatly, focusing on getting his garlic bread the moment it arrived. “This stalker business has been going on for a while. She’s obviously reported him already, but nothing came of it.”
He took a big bite and continued. “More importantly, the stalker has a complete copy of her classified file on the Great War. If that information was top secret, how did he get it? That means he has access to the government itself. So she can’t trust Hero Society, and chose us instead, because we couldn’t have known him for long.”
“That’s right! That’s exactly it!” Regina exclaimed.
She looked stunned. For the first time, her eyes lit up with genuine hope. “I didn’t know how to put it into words, that’s why I kept rambling. But you understood everything at once…”
She clasped her hands together. “You’re amazing! Please help me! If you can catch my stalker, I’ll pay you double!”
“That’s a tempting offer,” Yosano said with a grin as she stood up. “We won’t deny such a blessing. But take note. We’re detectives. Once we accept a request, we always apprehend criminals. Dead or alive.”
“We’ll catch him for you,” Ranpo added, standing as well. “And now that we know what he’s after, it’ll be even easier.”
He smiled. “That said, we’ll need one precaution. But don’t worry. I know just the right person to help.”
Back at the inn, Tecchou stood in front of the refrigerator.
Inside, there was nothing but ice cubes.
He’d gone out earlier to buy something, but apparently forgot the most important thing: food. He hadn’t expected the inn’s supply to run out. It was a mystery.
With no other choice, he’d settled for snacking on ice.
That was when Ranpo and Yosano returned, carrying three paper bags stuffed with food.
Tecchou’s eyes sparkled.
“Heya, tall Hunting Dog!” Ranpo grinned. “Wanna trade?”
“Ah—” Tecchou hesitated. He’d just finished the ice cubes. “It’s empty…” He tilted the ice tray and shook it. Nothing.
He briefly considered trading his sword for ten minutes of food, but if Jouno found out, he’d definitely be reported to the captain.
Better not.
“Not that, silly,” Ranpo scoffed. “Why would I trust your stupid taste buds?” he said bluntly. “I’ll give you these, and you help me with one itty-bitty favor. Deal?”
“Really? That’s easy enough.” Tecchou smiled… but then paused. “But I can’t work for the agency. I’m a Hunting Dog.”
“I’m not asking you to work for us,” Ranpo replied casually. “You’d be helping a helpless girl who’s being stalked to death. We both want justice, don’t we?”
He leaned in slightly. “That is a Hunting Dog’s job, right?”
Tecchou was convinced.
“That’s true,” he said earnestly. “The vice-captain told us to play along while we’re stationed together. As long as it doesn’t harm the innocent, I’ll help. It’s an oath to my sword.”
He gripped the hilt firmly.
Ranpo was satisfied.
Preparations were complete. All that was left was to share the plan with Akiko and the tall brunette.
“Here ya go!” Ranpo handed all the food to Tecchou.
Meanwhile, Yosano contacted the inn to restock the fridge.
On the rooftop of one of the school’s buildings, Chuuya waited for Dazai to finish his so-called counseling with Aizawa-sensei. Now that the mackerel was finally with him, they figured they’d just head back to the inn.
But, of course, that wasn’t happening.
Both of their phones buzzed at the same time: a message from their boss, accompanied by a photo of a woman named Regina Carlisle.
“A red gem on some woman’s chest?” Chuuya read aloud, incredulous. “That’s what we’re supposed to steal? What a weird way to say he wants us to swipe a necklace.”
He scoffed. He couldn’t believe they were being sent out as thieves for someone so cowardly they couldn’t do it themselves.
“Who knows~?” Dazai shrugged, snapping his flip phone shut. “Boss’s orders, so we don’t get to be picky.”
He glanced sideways at the slug beside him. “Besides, this isn’t some child’s game, Chuuya. The Port Mafia’s reputation is on the line. We have to see it through.”
“Tch. This guy’s ego is huge,” Chuuya muttered, stuffing his phone back into his pocket as they headed for the rooftop door. “Does he really think he’s that important? As if the Port hasn’t been threatened a hundred times before.”
Dazai chuckled. “Right? It’s such a foolish plan, I might actually die.”
He brushed his hair back thoughtfully. “What if the stalker’s just a flirt?”
“He’s not threatening you, so why are you getting all excited and weird about it?” Chuuya shot back. He genuinely couldn’t understand how this bastard’s brain worked.
“Ah~! Don’t break my heart so cruelly!” Dazai clutched his chest dramatically. Then his tone shifted, turning eerily serious. “After all… how many people who threatened the Port ever survived once we fulfilled their demands?”
That made Chuuya smirk. “None. Only death.”
“Bingo!” Dazai immediately reverted to full idiot mode, breaking into a cheerful suicide song. He rambled on about how wonderful it would be if someone stalked and threatened him too, preferably someone he could die with. It was the pinnacle of life!
“Oh~! To have someone’s hands wrapped around my neck, whispering that if I don’t want to live with her, then I should just die with her~! What bliss~! What torture~! What—”
“—A shitty pinnacle of life!” Chuuya snapped, cutting him off. “If you want someone choking you, my hands are free! I’ll strangle you myself, asshole!”
“Ahhh~~! Chuuya, you’re so rough~!” Dazai squealed. “Your hands aren’t delicate enough—get away from my neck—ughukfukjk!”
Chuuya grabbed him by the collar anyway and dragged him toward the inn, ignoring the curious stares from passersby as Dazai continued to struggle uselessly.