Dazai grinned as he watched Chuuya run off to the bathroom. Tonight was undoubtedly the pinnacle of his career. Over the months, he had managed to provoke various types of entertaining reactions from his partner. But never had he seen the redhead so upset and utterly embarrassed. He mentally applauded himself for managing to humiliate his little partner to such a degree in front of such an audience as this one. Chuuya. Pretending to be a woman. Going to a party in a dress. Ballroom dancing with him. Heck, even the shrimp's ears had turned red from the humiliation.

He chuckled lightly when he realized that Chuuya seemed to have completely forgotten their initial objective. Which was, of course, to get to Takahashi.

But then he shook his head slightly. Chuuya hadn't been the only one who had gotten distracted. At some point, he himself had almost forgotten about why they were dancing in the first place. He was surprised to discover that he had actually enjoyed himself–not just at Chuuya's expense, but genuinely. His partner had turned out to be a surprisingly good dancer near the end.

But now that his fun was over, it was time to get back to business.

He strolled off of the dance floor toward the corner where his target sat. As he passed the catering table, he snagged a chocolate eclair as well as a small dessert fork. He shoved half of the pastry in his mouth, savoring the light pastry and sweet cream, and slipped the unused fork into his pocket. He polished off the rest of the eclair, licking chocolate icing from his fingers.

As Dazai approached Takahashi, the people standing around the man paused their conversations to eye him curiously. The brunette's eyes were trained on the middle-aged man, who wore a pinstriped suit of a similar shade to his graying hair. At the moment, he was animatedly talking with a pretty young blonde woman.

Takahashi broke off his conversation and rose from his seat when he noticed Dazai. The latter plastered a cordial smile on his face and extended his hand.

"It's so nice to finally meet you, Takahashi-san. My name is Hisoka Kuroi–we agreed to partner on your next building project?"

Recognition dawned on Takahashi's face, and he smiled back as he firmly shook Dazai's hand.

"Yes, it's very nice to meet you. I was slightly concerned when my other partner backed out of our agreement so suddenly, and without even an explanation. It was quite an opportune coincidence for you to offer to collaborate when you did."

Dazai's eye held a knowing glint. "Oh, yes, I suppose so."

The businessman gestured to the chair in which the blonde woman was sitting.

"Come, sit," he offered good-naturedly.

The blonde–who couldn't have been older than eighteen–rose from her chair and, after bowing slightly toward Takahashi, sauntered off to the dance floor.

Dazai accepted his offer, settling comfortably in the indicated armchair. Takahashi sat in the chair beside him.

The brunette studied the businessman for a few seconds, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. On the outside, he appeared to be an industrious, but polite–even friendly–person. He had an ordinary, unassuming type of face. He was not a particularly handsome man, but he was well-kept, with his hair carefully styled and his beard neatly trimmed. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened whenever he flashed his perfect teeth in a smile.

Takahashi, in summary, had carefully built a perfect image of himself such that no one would consider him the type to run a criminal group in the shadows. Dazai almost admired him. Successfully maintaining two different versions of oneself could be extremely difficult; he knew that personally.

The businessman turned to Dazai, his bushy eyebrows drawn in apparent concern.

"Excuse me for asking, Kuroi-san, but have you recently been injured? I noticed that you are wearing a bandage around your head."

Dazai smiled. "Thank you for asking, but there is really no need to worry. My wife is a rather passionate woman, prone to fits of rage and the like. I managed to incur her wrath a few days ago, and…you understand."

Takahashi nodded sympathetically. He then leaned on the arm of his chair closest to Dazai, his eyebrows raised in interest.

"So you are married? For how long? I was under the impression that you were quite young."

Dazai sighed. "Himiko and I will be celebrating our one-year wedding anniversary next month. And as for your last statement…age really doesn't matter when it comes to business, does it?" The brunette looked sharply at the man beside him, waiting for his reaction. "Age is not a reliable determinant of success. Rather, when one is in business, he who has the quickest mind, the deepest pockets, and the most connections prevails, don't you agree?"

Takahashi laughed lightly. "I certainly agree with you, but please believe me when I say that I meant no offense in what I said. I was asking out of personal, not corporate interest. From what I have seen so far, you are a very proficient businessman–probably more so than many of your older competitors."

He raised his hand at a waiter, who promptly brought him a glass of champagne. He took a sip, gently holding the glass' stem with the tips of his fingers.

"Remind me again, Kuroi-san: with which organization do you work? You mentioned it when you reached out to me about the partnership, but I'm afraid I've forgotten."

Dazai propped his elbow on the arm of his chair. "I work for a rather large corporation at the center of Yokohama," he replied coolly. "I am easily one of its most valuable members, and I expect to be promoted to executive status sometime in the next couple of years."

Takahashi's laugh rang out loudly. "I admire your ambition!" he cried. "I fully believe that you can do it. And I hope that also means that we can partner more often."

Dazai leaned back in his chair, smiling. "And how about you, Takahashi-san? What do you do besides build hotels and throw elaborate parties?"

Takahashi sighed. "Managing my corporation is a full-time job, I'm afraid. I don't have the time to do much else. Occasionally, I enjoy the company of some of my close friends, but other than that I admit that I'm a bit of a recluse."

"And what kind of people do you associate with? Just out of curiosity." Dazai's eyes glinted.

Takahashi appeared a bit taken aback at the question, but maintained the smile on his face.

"Oh, you know, people like myself. CEOs, managing directors, affluent members of society. They generally make for quite good company, though one does get tired of the constant business talk sometimes."

"And have you ever had the misfortune of falling into…bad company?"

A guarded look came into the businessman's eyes, though he kept his face perfectly neutral.

"What do you mean?"

Dazai sighed, slipping his hand into his pocket to fiddle with the dessert fork. Might as well lay his cards on the table now.

"I know much more than you think, Takahashi-san," he said finally.

Takahashi's eyes briefly widened in surprise and a hint of panic, but then narrowed.

"Again, what do you mean?"

Dazai's eyes bored into the businessman's. "I know all about your illicit activities. I know that you control a criminal group from the shadows. I know that you have been working with the Port Mafia for months, but recently severed your connection to the organization. And I know that you are now working with several other groups to replace the Port Mafia as Yokohama's most powerful underground organization."

As Dazai spoke, the color steadily drained from Takahashi's face. The mask of cordiality that the businessman had put on was slipping; underneath, there was only fear, anger, and frantic calculation.

The brunette continued. "Because I know this, I also know that you have information that I am very eager to get my hands on." He leaned forward, his face emotionless and his visible eye a dark, unreadable void. "Tell me, Takahashi-san. Who is the individual who approached you and arranged all of this? Tell me, and I might spare your life."

Takahashi raised his champagne flute to his lips, his breathing uneven and his hands visibly shaking. The bubbly liquid nearly splashed onto his suit. He set the glass on the floor and tightly folded his hands–presumably to stop their trembling.

"Who are you?" he asked finally, his eyes wildly scanning the room.

"That's none of your concern," Dazai answered lightly.

Takahashi laughed nervously. It was an unpleasant, grating sound. "You can't do anything to me in here, surrounded by so many people. You talk big, but you can't follow it up with action."

Dazai was on top of him in a second, in a flurry of cloth and limbs. His knee was planted firmly in the man's groin, and his left arm was shoved against his throat. In his right hand was the dessert fork, which he held millimeters away from Takahashi's eye. Startled screams erupted from the people standing around them.

"Are you sure about that?" Dazai breathed, inches away from the man's face. "I am not afraid of making a scene. I have nothing to lose."

The businessman's face was twisted in pain and terror. He struggled wildly, grasping at Dazai's arm, but could not escape the teenager's hold. He choked out shallow breaths, his eyes bulging and his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

Dazai suddenly felt the pressure of a gun barrel against the back of his head. He didn't have to turn around to know that the blonde woman was at the other end.

"Put your hands in the air. You're surrounded."

She spoke calmly, but Dazai could detect a slight tremor of panic in her voice. He glanced back, and noted that several of the party guests that had gathered around the scene had guns pointed at him as well.

So Takahashi wasn't unprotected after all. That was to be expected, of course.

He heard her click the safety off.

"I'm going to warn you one more time. Get off of the man, or I'll put a bullet in your head."

For a few tense seconds, the entire ballroom room was utterly silent. The chamber orchestra had paused its playing. Every conversation had been cut off. The only noise came from Takahashi, who was still struggling for air under the pressure of Dazai's hold.

Then, a tremendous crash sounded from the men's bathroom.

Dazai smiled at the heavy, angry footsteps that were approaching him from across the room. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as a familiar aura thrummed through the ballroom.

"Some plan this turned out to be, Dazai," Chuuya growled. The sound of loud cracking echoed around the room. A few people let out small screams.

Dazai felt the woman behind him hesitate, the pressure on the back of his head lessen slightly. He whipped around, snatching the gun out of her hand and slamming her down on the ground while Takahashi bent over in his chair, gasping for breath. The other undercover bodyguards slowly lowered their guns and dropped them, struggling as they did so–as though the small handguns were suddenly too heavy for them to lift. The other party guests backed away from the scene; several ran for the doors.

Chuuya stomped over to Takahashi, taking him by the collar. He turned to Dazai.

"You said he lives right above here?" he demanded. "It's a little too crowded down here for my liking. Not a great place to do an interrogation."

Dazai shrugged, still pinning down the blonde guard. "Sure, we can move upstairs if you want to." He paused. "That's strange. I distinctly remember you wearing a dress when you entered the bathroom-"

"Shut up!" Chuuya roared, his face reddening slightly. He was now wearing a black suit several sizes too large for him. His pant legs were rolled up, revealing that he was still wearing the black heels. His white shirt was tucked into his pants, the waist cinched tight with a thick belt. The suit coat was draped around his shoulders, and billowed in the wind as he shot upwards, Takahashi in tow, and slammed into the ceiling. The cracks in the ceiling widened, and the two of them broke through in a shower of concrete and plaster.

Dazai looked up at him expectantly as the dust settled. He waved the gun in his hand. "Well, what about me?"

Chuuya glared down at him from the edge of the gaping hole. "You can take the stairs," he replied shortly.

The brunette sighed. He stood up, releasing the blonde, who immediately scrambled upright and reached for one of the guns on the floor. The other guards–or at least, those who had not run away–did similarly, reaching down for their discarded firearms.

Chuuya landed heavily on the ballroom floor, leaving a sizable crater. He stuck his hands in his pockets as large chunks of concrete rose from the ground and began swirling around him.

The guards frantically fired several shots at the redhead. Their bullets froze inches away from him and then fell to the floor, useless.

"You still up for a fight?" Chuuya asked mockingly. A sneer lifted the corner of his lip.

The guards paused, looking at each other. Then, all of them bolted for the door. As she ran, the blonde cast one more look at the two mafiosos.

Dazai stared at Chuuya in a mixture of doubt and condescension. "You let them go?"

Chuuya narrowed his eyes at him. "Why not? They didn't stand a chance against me, and were smart enough to figure that out. They won't cause any more trouble."

Dazai rolled his eyes in exasperation, but said no more.

"...And you're still taking the stairs."

"Let's make this quick, Takahashi-san."

Dazai leaned forward on the businessman's white couch, his eyes focused intently on the man lying on the floor. The businessman had been restrained with zip ties, and was staring back up at him with eyes wide with fear.

Chuuya sat on the arm of the sofa, his arms crossed. His eyes darted between Takahashi and the large kitchen knife that Dazai was holding. The brunette lightly ran his fingers along its edge.

"I can think of a thousand painful ways to kill you," he continued, his voice menacingly soft. "If you want to avoid that, I suggest you talk."

"Fine!" Takahashi's voice cracked with panic. "I'll tell you what you want."

Dazai leaned back, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

"I was approached a few weeks ago by a man named Kanagaki Robun. He claimed to know how to take down the Port Mafia, and offered me a share of the payoff if I gave him my support."

"Did he have an ability?" Chuuya demanded. "Unnatural speed, for example."

The businessman shook his head vigorously. "No, I didn't see anything like that. If he had an ability, he didn't use it in front of me."

"Did he mention working with anyone else?" Dazai inquired.

"He mentioned that there would be several other groups involved in his scheme. Other than that, no."

Chuuya sighed, turning to his partner. "So we have a name, but nothing more. Not a bad start, I suppose."

Dazai nodded slowly, his eyebrows furrowed. "Can you give us any more information about Robun or the uprising that you were involved in?"

Takahashi paused for a second. "I have Robun's phone number, though I don't know if it will be of much use. I spoke with him several times. I've told you everything else I know."

Dazai reached down and retrieved the businessman's cell phone from his coat pocket. He handed the device to Chuuya, who gave it only a cursory look before slipping it into his own pocket.

"So, will you release me now? I've given you what you wanted." Takahashi's voice was filled with frenzied hope.

Dazai rose from the couch, eyeing him coldly. He dropped the knife on his seat, but then drew the blonde guard's handgun from his pocket.

"Granted, you have given us some crumbs of information. But you should have been aware of what you were bringing on yourself when you decided to defy the Port Mafia. As the leader of a dissenting group, you have basically signed your own death warrant."

Dazai brought his foot down on the man's stomach. He writhed violently in an attempt to free himself, the last traces of composure fleeing him completely.

Takahashi stared up at the brunette with wild eyes. "Who are you?" he screeched shrilly.

Dazai narrowed his eyes. "I am Osamu Dazai," he said coolly, "a valuable member of the Port Mafia. And the last face that you will ever see."

Chuuya averted his eyes and grimaced as Dazai fired one, two, three shots into the man's head. Red blood spattered onto the white floors and couch.

***I just wanted to add a few notes here:

1) Vibe whiplash? You get a fluffy dance chapter, and it's immediately followed up by cold-blooded murder? Sorry you guys, lol.

2) Chuuya 100% slays in every outfit he wears. Even if it's someone else's clothes. I aspire to be as fashionable as he is one day.

3) Who is the blonde bodyguard? Well, I honestly don't know, but I kinda like the idea of it being Higuchi. She's apparently in her 20s in the BSD show, and it's not clear where she worked before, so…I mean…it's possible? Probably a bit of a stretch, though.