A fierce wind bristles throughout the city of Yokohama. The streets are sparsely populated, and the sidewalks even less so. People cover their faces as they hurriedly run into nearby shops for shelter. Leaves viciously swirl all along the roads and in the hot dry air. The Sun hangs bright in the sky, marking it high noon without a cloud to be seen. Its beams bring the city its first day of summer weather of the year.

A seventeen year old girl wearing khakis and a green vest over a white shirt with a purple bow tie stands as the only person on the main street who isn't rushing towards a building to escape the wind. She foolishly fights against the wind to get a piece of paper out of her brown messenger bag. Her small victory is cut short as she has to brace herself against another strong gust. She holds the flier up, one hand struggling to keep it in place while the other reaches for the stapler in her bag. From the corner of her vision, there's a stack of fliers bursting to escape. As she reaches for the stapler, another gust of wind comes and rips the flier right from under her fingers. She hurriedly looks back at the post, her anger rising at the sight of her empty hand. "Oh my –"

"Hayashi," a deep voice calls from behind her. She stops and turns around to see who's addressing her. "What are you doing out here?" he calls, having to yell in order to be heard over the strong gales. She can hardly see him due to her hair obstructing her vision, but there does seem to be something familiar about this man. What she can see though is what he's holding in his right hand: the flier that was in her own not even a minute ago. "Come on, this is no weather for hanging posters," his free hand grabs her wrist and pulls her into the nearest building.

"Mr. Kunikida, it's, umm, interesting to see you again sir." Rei looks at the man sitting across the table from her in the small bakery. Out of all of the people she could have run into today, he was definitely one of the least expected. The last time she saw him was right before her finals a couple of weeks ago. He looks the same as he ever did: ponytail, glasses, and, of course, his signature scowl are all in check.

She awkwardly glances at him, the silence starting to get her, but he seems way too wrapped up in his ideals book to even notice that she's there. She looks around the busy bakery to distract herself from the stiff silence transpiring between them. They're sat along the edge of the café, at the middle table right by the window. Almost all of the tables are occupied, and of course the only one not brimming with conversation is the one she's sat at. Well at least this wind is benefitting someone, a café would never normally be this full on a weekday afternoon. She turns back around, nearly jumping out of her seat at the sight of Kunikida staring right at her, rather intimidatingly, with his arms crossed over his chest. She averts his eyes and quietly sips her coffee while staring at his own untouched cup that seems extremely interesting all of a sudden. "Here you are, sir," a young waitress sets a croissant in front of Kunikida, "and madam," a bowl is set in front of Rei.

Not a second after the waitress walks away, a swoosh swipes through the air as a silver fork arches its way from a bag into a bowl. The blonde haired man blinks a couple of times as he looks onto her with an intrigued expression. "Hayashi." She looks up, instinctively wiping her chin with her hand. His eyes narrow in on her, causing a sheepish smile to grace her face. She "discretely" moves to wipe her hand on her pants. He sighs exasperatedly, "they're right here," he grabs some napkins from the dispenser sitting at the end of the table.

"Oh," Rei takes the napkins from him and wipes her hands off properly. She gives him an apologetic kind of shrug, then goes straight back to eating her meal.

The older man finds himself losing more of his cool with each passing second, "Hayashi, what is the meaning of this?!"

She sets her fork down momentarily, "I was hungry."

His teeth clench, "that's not what I was – hold on." She looks up to see him holding a crinkled flier with her face on it. He lowers the flier, "you got noodles at a bakery?"

She smiles brightly, one hand holding the fork while the other points in the air, "anytime is a good time for noodles!"

"And the fork?" Kunikida asks even though he's sure he'll regret it.

"Anytime is a good time for noodles!" She repeats as she twirls her fork in the bowl. "Besides, I don't know how to use chopsticks."

He tilts his head as he looks over the fork and spoon set right on her placemat. A sigh escapes him, decidedly giving up on questioning her further about this. He holds the paper up again, "what is this?"

"That's a flier sir."

The folds at the top of the flier exponentiate themselves. "That is not what I meant." He pushes his glasses up and flips the paper over to read it. "Rei Hayashi: can do chores around the house and in the yard. Skills include: cooking, cleaning, gardening, baby sitting, house sitting, pet sitting, and sitting in general. Inquiries done through email."

"Well, I wanted an opportunity to help people, and I also want to get a job over the summer, so I thought doing these little odd jobs would be the best way to knock out two birds with one stone."

"And you decided today was the best day to hang these posters?" They look out the window; the wind has calmed down, but it still wouldn't be considered ideal poster hanging weather. Rei stares mournfully at all fliers hanged that aren't hers. God, I must have looked like an idiot to these people.

She scratches the back of her head, "okay, so in hindsight this may not have been the best day, but I just got them all printed out, and I really didn't want to wait any longer to hang them up. Plus the wind didn't start until after I had already left my house."

Kunikida takes a sip of his coffee, "don't you think it's dangerous? Posting these posters with your face and email all over the city?" Her eyes cast downward. His voice softens, but it keeps its sternness, "there are bad people in this city, you know. They crawl around in the shadows waiting for opportunities like this to take advantage of people like you."

"I know," the girl plays with the flier now laid on the table. I, of all people, should know. "I guess I just got so excited about helping and all, that I must have temporarily forgotten. I mean, to be honest, I've never personally ran into trouble with criminals and whatnot…"

His fingers tap along his mug as he mulls over his next words. Maybe, just maybe. He sits up straight, "are you still planning to attend university in the fall?"

"Yes, sir," a bright smile radiates from her at the prospect of starting university in three months. In many ways, it feels as if her entire life has led up to it: the light at the end of the tunnel, the beginning of her dreams and plans for the future.

The man smiles softly at the dazed, far off look in her eyes. "Do you have an idea of what you want to do afterwards?"

The teen's eyes immediately light up and her hands clasp together as she gets the chance to regale someone about her dream yet again. "I've always dreamed of working in law enforcement. I've always been so enamored with the idea of helping people who need it. I don't really care about what my specific job is. I'd be perfectly fine working for the police, but honestly, I'd love to work for a government department. I think that's the best shot I have of helping the most people."

Kunikida stares at her pensively. I wonder how much of this is influenced by her father. "Well you seem to have quite a bit figured out. I know for a fact that you have a very bright future ahead of you, and whatever your job may be, the people of this city are very lucky to have you by their side." She sits back in her seat, completely caught off guard by his words. In all the time she's known him, that was most definitely the nicest thing he's ever said to her.

It was when Rei was thirteen that her parents hired Kunikida to teach her more advanced math on the side after school. From the moment she saw him, the young teenager was terrified. He was far stricter than any other tutor or teacher she had before. Though there was no denying that he was a great math tutor, and he was very adamant about only discussing math. Occasionally – read: practically never – he would discuss other topics with her, but she could always hear him talk about all sorts of things with her parents, particularly her father, after her sessions were over. He was also the only tutor her parents kept until she completed high school.

Yes, I think the answer is yes. Kunikida clears his throat, confident that this is the right move.

"Excuse you?" a burly voice calls from the back of the bakery. "You think you can make a fool of me like that?" A fairly tall man in his late twenties stands from his seat, his hands clenched into fists by his side. His brightly dyed blonde hair is stylized to the left of his face, and his fake tan expertly accentuates his light brown eyes.

A shorter man walking towards the front of the bakery stops in his tracks and turns around to face the person yelling at him. His gray suit goes well with his sleeked back, short black hair. His glasses rest over his eyes which are also brown, but a much darker shade than the other man's. "Not think," his voice is sharp, "I did. If you're trying to get into the business world it's just something you'll have to get used to. You either shape up or get left behind."

A low growl comes from the man standing by the table, "are you calling me dumb?"

"Evolution says survival of the fittest," the man in the suit replies as he adjusts his glasses.

"Give me everything in that briefcase, and I'll think about not roughing you up."

"See," the businessman extends his arm toward the man at the table, "this is why you'll fail in the business world. That is a terrible deal: handing over the contents of this briefcase, which are more valuable than both of our lives, for a pass on a bluff that isn't even guaranteed. Only a fool would make such a deal."

The blonde man slams one of his hands against the table while his other reaches behind him, "forget the business world, I'll show you how it's done in the real world." He pulls out a gun and aims it straight at his black haired foe. All conversation in the bakery comes to a screeching halt. Everyone instantaneously freezes. The few who are close enough to the door run out as quick as they can. Those who remain duck under the tables. The employees take cover behind the counter. The businessman stumbles back slightly with his briefcase held out in front of him. His face and body are both immobile.

Kunikida grabs his notebook from his pocket. His mind is working fast to assess the situation to ensure that are no casualties. Rei is crouched next to him under the table, still trying to grasp what's going on. The tanned man aims the gun for a headshot, "give me the briefcase and everything else you have on you, and you and everyone else here will be spared." The businessman remains frozen. The air in the café falls silent, as if even the vents have been taken by fear. "All right then," he cocks the gun.

Kunikida swiftly takes out his pen and begins writing in his notebook. "Doppo –" His words stop faster than a freight train as he hears footsteps run next to him. They get quieter and quieter. His eyes shift to the side just in time to see a girl with long mauve hair run straight towards the businessman. "Hayashi!" His voice feels a mile away even though it can't be more than a few meters. Two light brown eyes, two dark brown eyes, equally shocked as they see her jump right in the middle of them. Kunikida makes to run for her, but it's all too late. A finger releases the trigger and a hand releases the gun. No one dares to look as the bullet flies through the air. Clink.

Eyes open at the sound of metal hitting the tile floor. A teenage girl stands before the black haired man, her arms held in front of her as she too opens her eyes. There's no blood, no wound, and no dead body. A couple feet away lies a bullet, completely untarnished. The silence in the air breaks as soon as the gun hits the ground. Murmurs are heard throughout the shop as Rei walks back to the table. The businessman wastes no time in running out the door. "Hey!" the other man makes to run after him.

"Doppo Poet." A grappling cable swings around the man and pulls him to the floor. Police sirens ring in the background as they edge closer and closer. The employees rise up from behind the counter, and people get up from under the tables.

One of the employees walks up to the man tied up on the floor, "you should feel special; your case is so interesting that the chief of police himself is coming here to check it out." The man's eyes widen. The chief is known to be a no nonsense kind of guy. Some say cold, others say heartless: he's renowned for holding justice and law before anything else. Rei tilts an ear toward their conversation, her heartrate accelerating. No, not him.

The police arrive within a few short minutes. The first two men enter and head straight to arrest the man tied up. "I swear I didn't mean to actually shoot," the man pleas as he's stood up, "that girl just ran in out of nowhere. I panicked! I didn't even think the gun was loaded, I swear!" The policemen ignore his cries as they walk him out of the shop. As they leave, another officer comes in and takes the gun, bullet, and grappling hook and puts them into bags.

An older man walks in, dressed in a brown coat and pants instead of a police uniform. He has a rugged face that's framed by thick black glasses and perfectly kempt graying purple hair. "Chief Hayashi," the younger officer walks up to him and hands him the bags, "this was all that was left."

The older man examines the bags briefly before addressing the civilians in the café. "I am the chief of police of Yokohama. I need you all to stay here so that we can conduct interviews, then you will be dismissed individually. This is quite a peculiar case, so we need every video and eye witness account we can get." The customers stand along the walls of the shop, none of them sure of how to explain what happened.

A stout man with dark curly hair dressed in all white walks up from behind the counter and approaches the chief. "I'm the manager of this bakery," he shakes the chief's hand, "it's an honor, Chief. We'll provide you with any assistance you need." He pauses and twiddles his thumbs, "unfortunately, this is a rather old café, so we don't have any surveillance footage. And I'm also afraid that, due to the situation, most people here will not accurately be able to recall what happened." He clasps and unclasps his hands. "Ah ha," his head picks up and he walks towards the front of the bakery, "you see, the ones who would know anything about it are the ones who actually stopped the perpetrator." The chief raises an eyebrow as he follows the man. "You see, it was this teenage girl and this young man…" the manager gestures, but all he's pointing to is a 5,000 yen bill sitting on the middle table right by the window.


The harrowing gales that plagued the earlier day have now calmed into a nice summer breeze. Kunikida sprints down the sidewalk, dragging Rei along right behind him. They're now far enough away from the center city that the streets are much less crowded. He slows his pace down and lets go of her wrist once he's in a more familiar part of the city. They walk, a little breathless, in a casual stroll.

As Rei's heartrate slows down, her mind catches up to what just happened. Did they really just flee like that? This is bad on so many levels. Not to mention that if her father found out about any of this, she'd be worse off than if that bullet had actually hit her. She glances toward Kunikida; his eyes are laser focused on the sidewalk. She knows she shouldn't bother him, but she has to. "Um Mr. Kunikida, why did we run?" She looks at him, unable to tell if he can actually hear her or not. "Isn't it against the law to leave a crime scene like that, especially when we were key witnesses?"

He stops walking abruptly, and she nearly bumps right into him. He turns around to her, "you're a gifted, huh, an ability user?"

She doesn't say anything for a couple of seconds, but he doesn't either, clearly expecting an answer. She answers in a soft voice, "yeah." It's a surprise that she even said that considering she's not used to talking about her ability at all. Her head lifts as she remembers something from the bakery, "you're an ability user too. I saw you use it, Doppo Poet right?"

He nods. "I noticed you didn't call upon your ability."

"Serene Grace doesn't require me to call for it. It activates automatically." Rei smiles fondly, reminiscing about her ability.

He begins walking again at a slow pace. "So you want to help people?"

She jumps up and rolls her eyes at him, "No, where would you get a crazy idea like that idea from? Of course I do!" She breezes past him as her walk turns into a skip.

The former math tutor can't help but smile a little as his erstwhile student skips around in such a carefree manner. She definitely has the want. He clears his throat and she stops to look at him. "Have you ever heard of the Armed Detective Agency?"

She shakes her head. It sounds like an organization name, though it must be relatively new if she's never heard of it. She likes to keep track of all the different organizations around since it is her field of interest, but school made that a bit more difficult.

"It's a group of people, mainly ability users, who solve crimes that the police can't." He stops right at the corner of the sidewalk, "you want to help people and get a job; this can provide both. But be forewarned, this is no light task. Even though you're ability is noncombatant, you'll still probably be a field agent, which is a full time job, not to mention very dangerous."

"And you're a part of this group?"

He nods his head. "You don't have to make up your mind right now, just think about it. If you do decide you want to join, the building is right there." He points to the tall red building on the opposite side of the four way intersection. It's a pretty building, five stories high and taking up the entire street corner. Rei eyes it curiously, trying to see if she can see anyone through the windows.

The brief silence is interrupted by a default ringtone one would expect a soccer mom to have. "Hello," Kunikida answers his phone, "yes, do you need something?" He bids her farewell as he waves goodbye and walks down the street. She waves back at him even though she knows he can't see her. Rei turns her attention back to the building, thinking over the offer her old math tutor just presented to her. The Armed Detective Agency. Maybe… if there wasn't one slight hiccup.


A stocky man with short, curly, brown hair in tan khakis and a matching business jacket runs through the darkened alleyways, frantic to find some way of escape. The footsteps behind him are getting progressively louder. He needs to lose them somehow. If he wasn't too busy running, he'd laugh. Like that's possible: they know these streets better than anyone. From what he can hear, there are at least five men chasing him. The streets are dark even though it's barely past one in the afternoon. Giant black skyscrapers lined on either side of the alley prevent the Sun from ever peeking through.

The man runs along the narrowed streets, sweat rapidly beating down his face even though the entire alley is cast in shade. The draw of steps rings ever clearer in his ears with each passing second. There's little to no hope. But if there is some how some way then… He freezes at the sight in front of him: a wall.

He stands at a dead end as the footsteps close in. One breath, and the steps stop. His hand clutches around his gun as he turns around. There are six of them, each with their own gun pointed directly at his head. There they are, the dogs of the dogs: Port Mafia grunts. They patrol these streets like bullies on the playground, and as a fair warning, they do not play well with others.

What is going on, he stares at the six men in suits with guns pointed at him, why haven't they shot yet? He doesn't ponder it for too long. This is his chance to escape. He needs a plan. He would only get as far as shooting one of them since the rest would surely open fire afterwards. Is there a way I can distract them? Or maybe even trick them? Every thought vanishes as he hears, leisurely, footsteps coming in this direction. He listens carefully: it's only one set.

The man nearly falls in shock. Standing before him in the middle of the six mafia members is… a child. This… boy looks as if he's not even eighteen. He's wearing a black suit just like the rest of them, but along with it he's got on a black coat that makes him look like a kid playing in his father's clothes. His slightly messy, dark brown hair shines as the only thing in the alley that's being touched by sunlight. But his smile: a sly smirk that spills of amusement, as if this is all a joke. And his eyes: reddish brown and completely uncaring, as if this is all terribly boring. They shoot a feeling unlike any other into the man's body.

"Wh-who are you? What kind of joke is this? A child, that's who the Port Mafia sends?" He points his gun directly at the boy. His stance falters. The boy doesn't flinch.

A soft and low chuckle drips from the boy's mouth, "isn't it rule number one to not identify yourself to your enemies?" His laugh draws on, but the man doesn't dare make a sound. "Though since you'll be dead soon, I'll tell you." A feeling of terror runs through the man's spine. He can tell, just within this brief exchange, that the child standing in front of him is far different from any other child, or for that matter, any other mafia member. "I'm Osamu Dazai: Port Mafia executive."

The fabric of his suit flattens onto his skin, weighed down by the accumulation of sweat. There is no way that this boy is an executive. The five executives of the Port Mafia are the most powerful and feared people of the Yokohama underground. A group shrouded in mystery, there's only one thing anyone really knows about them: whatever they say, goes.

Dazai takes out his gun along with some bullets. His eyes aren't on the man in the tan suit, but it doesn't matter. He can feel the fear in the air. "You know what sucks? Being an executive stuck with grunt work." His tone is light, as if this were a conversation at the dinner table. "I mean seriously, "oh no a member of some gang stole some stuff from us," did they really find it necessary to have me deal with this?" Even though his tone is like spring, it makes the summer air feel like winter. "Now don't get me wrong here, you're actually one of my more interesting third kills of the day, but you're like what, a week two grunt? Your name isn't even relevant as you'll be dead shortly. Whatever, I guess it's just a slow day." He looks up at the man once his gun is loaded, "sorry to burden my woes onto you, let's get things started shall we?" He takes aim at the man with his back against the wall, "who are you working for?"

"I-I I don't know what you're talking about," the man in the tan suit vigorously shakes his head. "I wasn't doing anything bad. I just wandered in here by accid –"

Boom. One bullet fired. A violent scream rips from the man in the now blood stained tan suit. He's now crouched on the ground, desperately trying to stop the bleeding in his shoulder. Anyone around could hear him scream, if only there were anyone around. Dazai disapprovingly looks onto the man wallowing against the wall before him, "didn't anyone ever tell you that lying is considered rude?"

The man peers at the mafia executive through squinted eyes. His left side wavers due to the immense pain in his shoulder. The mafia men hold their stances, unfazed by what is happening. The man in the tan suit falls lower on his right side, his hand – bang. A second gunshot fires. The man finishes his descent to the ground, blood pooling around his body. "Tsk tsk," Dazai shakes his head at him, "I'll commend you on your bravery, going for your gun like that, but it wasn't a very smart move. Classic sign of a day one underling."

The man grits his teeth, his hand tightens around his gun in anger. He has to do something, there has to be a way. No, he knows, there is no way. His hope is draining faster than his blood. "This is why I hate working with the lower levels," Dazai's voice rings above him. "You guys always have to complicate things. I knew how this was going to end, you knew how this was going to end, they all knew how this was going to end," he gestures to the six men behind him. "And yet here you are, wasting everyone's time with stupid heroics. Once I get the information I need, you'll be of no more use to me. So I'll make things simple for you since you're going to lose consciousness real soon. Tell me who you're working for, and I'll kill you now. If you so choose not to talk, I'll have my men take you back, heal your wounds, and then detain you for interrogation, which, of course, will be done by me. You better decide fast, if you pass out I get to choose for you."

The man looks up at the mafioso through blurred vision. Everything about this guy. It's incredible, truly. If only I lived to tell the tale. His voice is hoarse and barely there, "Gaius, I'm working for Gaius." The man's eyes close as he loses consciousness.

The young executive smirks, "very well." He raises his gun at the comatose man, but soon lowers it as he hears a ringing coming from his pocket. The caller id flashes on the screen; a grimace spreads across his face. He turns around and walks toward the mafia men, "finish him off, I have to take a call." He pauses when he gets to them, "the thing he stole is tucked underneath his shirt in the back, bring it to me."

Once he is a far enough away, Dazai answers his phone. "Before you ask, yes I did take care of the stolen goods. Why are you calling? Is there a new mission? Preferably one that's more of a challenge?"

An angry voice yells through the phone, though it's largely drowned out by the rapid shots of bullets firing from six guns a few feet away. "You think you're all that, don't you? Ugh, whatever, I don't have time for this." The voice on the other side of the phone goes on, completely unwavered by the gunshots in the background. "We're needed by the Western Docks, some important traders are giving our men a particularly difficult time."

"Oohh," the brunette gushes, "a trade dispute that requires the both of us, it must be pretty important."

An exasperated sigh is heard from the other end, "it's international." Dazai's eyes light up, but the voice on the phone stops him before he can say anything else, "Western Docks. You better be there in ten." The line disconnects. From where he is, the Western Docks are at least twenty minutes away. Oh well.

"Sir," one of the mafia men walks up to him, "this is what was stolen." He hands Dazai a package covered in blood. The executive reels back, holding it as far away from his as possible with the tips of his fingers.

The other mafia men carrying the now dead man in a tan suit walk up to them. Dazai motions for them to come closer with his free hand. As soon as the body is within arm's length, he takes the package and starts cleaning it on what little of the body is not covered in blood. Once it is cleaned off enough to be touchable, he takes the package in his hands and inspects it. "They're documents," he hands it back to the mafia member. "Take everything back to headquarters. Tell them that Gaius was trying to get intel on us."

"Yes sir," the mafia men leave with the recovered goods and dead body in hand.

Hmm, if he actually listened to me this time, he should be finishing up a mission that's only a few minutes away from the Western Docks right now. He takes out his phone again. Not even one ring passes before it's answered. "Dazai sir," a voice calls through the line, followed by a cough.

"Go to the Western Docks, tell hat boy that I'll be there shortly. Then go to Gaius's hideout, bring the boss to my interrogation room, kill the rest." Dazai hangs up as he leaves the blood splattered alley and walks towards, hopefully, a more exciting mission.