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A pained groan roused her from sleep.
Atsushi was sick.
Kyouka wasn’t surprised when he stubbornly denied being sick until a series of coughs made him double over. Kyouka hurried to his side, casting aside her blanket, and soothed his back, mimicking a gesture she faintly recalled from her parents.
“Rest,” she whispered. “Look after yourself.”
This time, Atsushi agreed, his blonde hair bobbing as he nodded. He made a noise of discomfort when Kyouka helped him onto her futon, offering him ample room to rest. She wouldn’t need it for the next several hours anyway. It was alright.
Kyouka sighed, her mind racing with uncertainty. What was the protocol for a sick friend? Her parents would serve her warm tea with honey and read stories until she dozed off, but was she allowed to do that? In the mafia, she had no friends she wanted to care for as she did now.
Perhaps she could tackle his paperwork? That would ease his workload upon returning to work. Yes, that seemed like a good plan.
Preparing to leave for the agency, she whispered a soft farewell to the slumbering Atsushi.
As Kyouka ambled along the sidewalk, she only paused as the agency came into sight. Ascending the steps, she passed Kenji who skipped down the steps declaring he was off to a case with a cheerful smile. She managed a small smile in return, though it felt a bit foreign on her lips.
Kenji’s radiant joy at the gesture made it worthwhile, though.
“Hi, Kyouka-chan!” Dazai greeted her with a lively wave as she entered.
“Hello, Kyouka,” Kunikida said, his tone formal. However, his brow creased in concern when he didn’t see another figure trail behind the teenager. “Atsushi is never late. Did something come up?”
“He’s unwell,” she replied. “He mentioned a fever and promised to return as soon as he’s recovered.” Kunikida nodded in understanding, his worry alleviated.
“Please convey my best wishes when you see him again.”
“Can you send him my regards when you see him again?” She nodded.
Dazai gasped, leaning forward on his desk and invading Kunikida’s space. Kunikida’s eye twitched. “If I’m sick, can I also skip work?!”
“You never get sick. Now, get back to work! You have work to do,” he glared at the mountain of paperwork on Dazai’s desk. “A lot of work,” he emphasized.
“Do you want to give Atsushi something, Kyouka-chan?” Ranpo called out from his seat, tipped back and dangerously close to falling. The detective grinned at her, completely ignoring Kunikida’s scolding about work ethic and Dazai’s laughter.
“Do you want to give Atsushi something, Kyouka-chan?” Ranpo called out from his seat, tilted back and teetering on the edge. He grinned knowingly at her, completely ignoring Kunikida’s scolding and Dazai’s chuckles. Or perhaps he was enjoying the show. The former sounded like him.
She paused mid-step towards Atsushi’s desk. Everyone in the agency knew to listen to Ranpo’s advice, especially when he volunteered it. Kyouka nodded.
“I don’t know what to give him,” she admitted, her voice as flat as usual. Her colleagues were used to her tone by now, having grown accustomed since she joined.
“That’s where the world’s greatest detective comes in!” Ranpo boasted. “Kunikida will finish Atsushi’s paperwork,” he continued, ignoring Kunikida’s gawking. “And a ‘get well soon’ card would mean a lot to our resident weretiger.”
“Oh, that’s a great idea, Ranpo-san!” Tanizaki chimed in from behind his monitor.
“And Dazai can accompany you!”
“He most certainly will not!” Kunikida objected. Dazai groaned, collapsing onto his desk, yet his gaze remained keenly fixed on Ranpo.
Kyouka was uncertain about going with Dazai. He had helped her, but they had never been alone together since. Atsushi tended to be present when she interacted with his mentor, and she hadn’t sought Dazai out either. Perhaps he reminded her of the mafia, perhaps he intimidated her slightly, or perhaps it was something else entirely. She was unsure.
Ranpo observed her, casually eating his chips with an insightful gaze. He was perceptive but not intrusive. She couldn’t imagine feeling uneasy around the ADA members, even Ranpo who always seemed to know everything with a single glance.
Dazai straightened up again. His eyes returned to their honey-brown shade, his gaze shifting to Kyouka with a gentle, almost soft expression. “Ne, Kyouka-chan, want to buy Atsushi-kun some flowers while we look for a card?”
“Dazai—” Kunikida started, but Ranpo butted in.
“Don’t worry, Kunikida-kun. Dazai will be the most efficient worker in the agency upon his return! Right, Dazai?” Green eyes fixed on Dazai, and Kyouka felt relief at not being the focus of Ranpo’s intense stare.
The two geniuses of the agency locked eyes, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Kyouka didn’t grasp its meaning, and it seemed no one else was attempting to decipher it either. Their brief stare-down lasted only a moment, yet it seemed to stretch on far longer.
Dazai rose abruptly, a hint of a pout on his face. “Well, Kyouka-chan, it seems we’ll be heading off together.”
“Buy me more snacks!” Ranpo called out. Kunikida let out a resigned sigh and returned to his paperwork.
Dazai grinned. “Of course, Ranpo-san.”
With his hands in his pockets, Dazai led the way to the door, Kyouka following. They descended the stairs, Dazai engaging in his usual flirtations with the waitress before they stepped outside.
Dazai paused and turned to face her, the softness returning to his eyes. She wondered where he learned to make such an expression. “I can suggest some gifts for Atsushi-kun, and then I’ll roam the city until it’s time to return to the agency to slave myself off for the rest of the day. Does that sound like a plan?”
She shook her head, surprising both Dazai and herself with her resolve. Ranpo’s suggestion for them to go together must have had some sort of purpose.
“How do I choose a card for Atsushi?” she asked instead. Dazai observed her for a moment, something flashing in his eyes, and then his lips formed a smile.
“I’ll show you.”
And so, they found themselves in the card section of a store, having shared a train ride that was less awkward than Kyouka had anticipated.
They had taken the train, and the journey together was less awkward than she had anticipated, possibly thanks to Dazai’s natural way with words. Not once was their past in the mafia ever mentioned, for which she was thankful. The conversation had revolved mostly around what it was like living with Atsushi, which she found herself enjoying.
The sun bathed the store in a golden light, making it appear exceptionally beautiful. The light struck her hair, the strands glittering just like her mother’s would.
“Ne, Kyouka-chan, do you think he’ll like this?” Dazai asked, holding up a card adorned with little crabs and ‘Get Well Soon’ written in tidy script. Kyouka frowned. She couldn’t recall Atsushi liking crabs…
Dazai noticed her expression and sighed, “Ah, it’s me who likes crabs, isn’t it? Hm…”
Her gaze scanned over the cards, and she tried to ignore the ache in her chest when she noticed the ones designed for parents. She picked up a random card from the shelf on autopilot as she lost herself in memories of her mother’s favorite kimono, remembering her father’s laughter.
Their deaths, the blood.
So much blood—
A gentle touch on her shoulder snapped her back to reality. She trembled slightly as she regained her composure and looked up to see Dazai offering a comforting smile.
“Did you find something, Kyouka-chan?” He paused, head tilted curiously. She braced for a question about why she had spaced out or if she needed to sit down. Pity was the last thing she wanted, even if she knew it was well-intentioned.
But Dazai surprised her with a different question altogether, “A tiger?” His voice was filled with delight, and Kyouka looked down to see the card in her hands, decorated with paw prints and a small tiger in the center.
Oh. She hadn’t noticed what she had grabbed.
She nodded.
“Brilliant choice. Now, let’s head to the flower section!” he announced. His enthusiasm earned a disapproving glance from another shopper. Dazai stuck his tongue out at them behind their back and Kyouka bit back a giggle.
Dazai led them to a section, easily navigating through the store until they reached a wall filled with an array of flowers. Kyouka gasped at the multitude of colors, and she heard a light chuckle next to her.
He let her choose the flowers, and she approached the task with earnest and took it seriously. Bright blue eyes scanned the flowers, bypassing those beginning to wilt and lingering on the freshest ones.
Eventually, she selected a bouquet and presented it to Dazai, who nodded his approval. Clutching the card and flowers to her chest, she smiled sweetly with something that felt similar to giddiness warming her from the inside.
A question lingered in her mind, slipping out almost without intention. Perhaps the familiarity of shopping with someone, reminiscent of times with her parents, was affecting her judgment. Regardless, she wanted to enjoy this.
“How did you come up with the flower idea, Dazai-san?”
A flicker of emotion crossed his eyes, just like earlier, only this time she understood what it was. She saw it in herself on the days the death of her parents was prominent in her mind.
Grief.
“An old acquaintance inspired me; his children would always bring me flowers when they heard I was ill,” he explained, heading to the check-out line. She hummed, not expecting that response.
“A lover?” she asked.
Dazai laughed softly, amusement evident in his voice. “Atsushi-kun wondered the same thing.”
“Not a lover, then?”
“Just a friend,” he said, offering no further details, and she didn’t push, letting their conversation fade into silence.
Both had been shrouded by darkness early in life and were still learning to overcome it. Kyouka aspired to be more than the assassin she was trained to be, had wanted to prove she could be so much more. And she had. Her gaze shifted to Dazai, thoughtful as she regarded the man beside her.
Maybe they weren’t so different, after all.
After their purchase, they exited the shop, Dazai humming a tune Kyouka didn’t recognize. She chose not to ask, letting the melody bridge the quiet.
They weaved between the bustling crowd waiting for the train, and Kyouka clutched Dazai’s coat to keep close, reminiscent of their first encounter.
Settling down post-ticket purchase, Dazai let out a relieved albeit dramatic sigh of relief. Kyouka took her seat beside him. The train started to roll soon after, soothing and she closed her eyes as she swayed gently.
“Let’s personalize it!” He exclaimed suddenly, clapping his hands.
“How so?”
“I have a pen,” declared Dazai, reaching into his pocket, and lo and behold, he produced a pen. A pen that looked a lot like someone else’s.
“That’s Kunikida’s pen,” She deadpanned.
“His pen, my pen, what does it matter? What do you want to write?” He asked, easily moving on with the conversation.
“Why would I do that?”
“It makes it extra special,” he winked. Humming, he tapped his chin with the pen, then jotted something down, his eyes twinkling. She leaned in, but a bandaged arm shielded the card before she could catch a glimpse of the writing.
“No peeking! It’s for Atsushi-kun,” he chided playfully, wagging a finger back and forth. There was a hint of a smile on the corners of his lips. She shot a glare at the intrusive finger, yet she felt her own lips quirk up involuntarily.
They reached the dormitory all too quickly. It was nearly lunchtime with a clear sky above them with no clouds interfering with the light. She hadn’t noticed the time flying by with the older detective.
Dazai offered a soft, wistful smile. Kyouka thought it was the most genuine she’d ever seen him.
“Look after Atsushi-kun,” he whispered. “And tell him to get better soon, yeah?”
“I will,” Kyouka promised.
“Well, I’m off!” She didn’t feel disappointed at having the moment ruined. If anything, a part of her felt grateful for it as much as she longed for that softness once more. “Ranpo-san thought it’d be so hilarious to make me finish all my paperwork in one day. There goes all my efforts at keeping my collection…”
Kyouka laughed, closing her eyes.
When she opened them, Dazai was already gone.
She was surprisingly okay with that.
Maybe she’d ask to join Yosano on her next shopping trip, she mused as she strolled to her shared dorm with Atsushi. She looked down at the card, at the flowers held together by the plastic bag and wrinkled colored paper.
It was fun.