When Dazai returned, he half-expected to find Chuuya gone. Instead, the idiot was fast asleep. Dazai repressed a sigh of relief and set the food down on the counter. The first test was passed, and that was the hardest one. If Chuuya had stayed when he had the chance to run, then that meant his interest was piqued. That meant he had a solid chance of leaving the Port Mafia.

During his outing, Dazai had given Fukuzawa a call and explained the situation to him: another Mafia member looking for an out. Yes, Chuuya's rap sheet was long, but really, Dazai's had been far more alarming. Give or take a few headcounts. Chuuya didn't like civilian casualties, and while yes, he was brutal in battle, he was also basically a grumpy teddy bear. And didn't the government owe Fukuzawa? And though he didn't like to mention it, didn't Fukuzawa kind of owe Dazai, too?

Sure, his arguments had been flimsy at times, Dazai could admit that. However, the issue of history was not one to be disputed. There was just no arguing that Chuuya was more human than Dazai had ever been, certainly more human than he was when he himself had been hired by the Agency. Chuuya's record spoke for itself: the civilian casualties dropped when he was on the scene. He was also loyal as a trained dog, and Fukuzawa liked that quality. While Dazai would be loath to admit it to his ex-partner's face, Chuuya had many redeemable qualities beneath his scowl. If Fukuzawa didn't believe him, all he had to do was ask Kyoka. Dazai knew for a fact the short idiot had been responsible for protecting her on numerous occasions.

To Dazai's relief, the old man had agreed to give Chuuya a shot. "A shot, mind," he had asserted. He didn't elaborate on why, and frankly Dazai didn't care as long as Chuuya had an out.

There was really only one issue Fukuzawa brought up: how were they to be sure that Chuuya was really on their side? If he was as loyal as Dazai claimed, then what assurance did they have that Chuuya had fully changed sides in the war? How could they be sure what choice he would make if it ever came down to it – the Port Mafia or the Agency?

Dazai did his best to convince him that even considering this meant that Chuuya had started to make the change. But yeah, he had to admit the President had a point.

There was also the issue of the entrance exam, of course. Fukuzawa had made it clear that Dazai was not to know any details about it. He wasn't worried about that; Chuuya was a damned saint when it came to protecting people. So long as the test didn't pit him against the Port Mafia, it was relatively easy to predict his actions.

A buzzing drew his attention to his pocket. He plucked the phone out and stepped outside to answer it, preferring not to wake Chuuya (he was a whole lot easier to handle when he was asleep).

"Dazai, is he okay?" Tachihara gave no word of greeting.

Dazai had wondered how long it would take Chuuya's subordinates to call. He leaned against the closed door of his apartment and relaxed. "He's fine. He woke briefly about an hour ago. There doesn't seem to be any brain damage… other than the obvious recklessness, but he had that before."

Tachihara let out a breath. Dazai could hear him call to someone that Chuuya was okay before speaking into the phone again. "Where is he?"

Dazai opted for asking rather than answering. "Who's with you?"

"Just a couple people. Akutagawa. Gin. Seriously, Dazai, where is he? Koyo is on the effing warpath."

He spared a glance at the door handle by his left elbow. "Somewhere safe. Don't worry about the specifics."

"Shit, he's in your apartment, isn't he?"

Dazai laughed. "Really, now, Tachihara. Do you seriously think I of all people would be stupid enough to hide him in such an obvious place?"

He heard the other man sigh before relenting. "Fair enough; sorry. Look, the Boss has got that scheming glint in his eye and I don't like it a bit. I heard you spoke to him earlier; how'd it go?"

"Oh, about as well as can be expected." Dazai paused. He remembered Tachihara from his own days in the Port Mafia; the kid was loyal to a fault, and he and Chuuya were friends. While Dazai owed the Mafia exactly nothing, he figured Chuuya's friends deserved to know what he was planning. "You should know that Chuuya is leaving the Port Mafia. I'm trying to get him into the Armed Detective Agency, but if that doesn't work, I'm taking him out of here. He's never going to touch his Corrupted form again."

The other line was dead quiet. He could practically see the cogs turning in all three of the heads on the other end of the phone, each one wondering whether or not Dazai was serious. Whether such a thing could be done. Whether Chuuya would ever agree to such a plan.

"Anyone but you, Dazai, and I would laugh in their face." Akutagawa's voice was bitter, almost accusatory. Interesting.

"What does Chuuya say on the matter?" a sweet, girlish voice asked. Dazai couldn't help but smile; he'd always had a soft spot for Gin. Her brother, though, was another matter altogether.

"Chuuya is taking some convincing," he admitted. "But I've got an ace up my sleeve. I can get him information on Arahabaki. And that's where you three come in."

"We have information on the demon," Akutagawa replied. "What makes you think your sad little agency can provide him more?"

"Last I heard, the information was locked up tight. It's being dangled in front of him, like a carrot in front of a horse, to make him jump when Mori says. All we're doing is cutting the rope and letting him have the carrot."

"That's a damn terrible analogy," Tachihara spoke up. "And I think you've underestimated Chuuya's loyalty."

"Per usual," Akutagawa muttered.

Dazai frowned. "And what do you mean by that, little Akutagawa?"

There was silence for a moment. Finally, Akutagawa said, "Let's say I wasn't the only one scarred by your betrayal and disappearance and just leave it at that."

Dazai smirked at the implication. "You're saying that Chuuya was oh-so devastated when I left the Mafia? I guess you don't know him as well as you think you do. He couldn't have been happier."

"That miscalculation may cost you in the future," Akutagawa warned.

Dazai was growing tired of the argument, so he let it dropped. "We'll see. In the meantime, Gin, how do you feel about doing some retrieval for me?"

Chuuya had been in the Armed Detective Agency's office for exactly one hour, and it was exactly what he'd expected: Poorly run by a group of relatively no-account eccentrics who barely functioned together. He seriously suspected that none of these people (with the possible exception of Kunikida) knew how to run this kind of outfit. Compared to Mori's detail-oriented leadership, this was just pathetic. How in the hell had these people managed to keep the Port Mafia at bay and defeat the Guild?

He was already beginning to regret his acquiescence to Dazai's request. "Just try it out!" Dazai had pleaded with that annoying tone of his. "Come and meet everyone! See the office! I promise you won't regret it."

Well, joke was on him. Chuuya had regretted it when they stepped out of the apartment that morning and he definitely regretted it now. The glances from everyone, especially the were-tiger kid, were making him feel itchy.

"I'm starving," the blond kid in the corner announced suddenly. "Anyone else?"

The red-headed kid, the one with the projection ability, looked up from his laptop. "I could eat," he agreed.

Kunikida glanced at his watch. "My schedule does allow for a short lunch break in five minutes' time, providing we talk business as well."

A woman entered from the infirmary, stretching an arm above her head and yawning – Yosano, Chuuya remembered. Dazai had introduced them and Chuuya was not surprised to find yet another member of the Armed Detective Agency with a connection to the Port Mafia. Mori himself had mentioned her once or twice before. "Do we ever not talk business?" she asked in a bored tone. "I'm much more interested in the gossip our guest can share." She flashed Chuuya a slightly mad grin.

Chuuya crossed his arms and looked away. "You didn't hear? I'm here purely to observe."

"I saved your life. The least you can do is talk to me."

"Let's go downstairs for a bite," Dazai interrupted, standing from his desk where he had been conspicuously not working. "We still need to introduce our newest member to our favorite café staff!"

Chuuya shot him a glare. "I'm not your newest member!"

"He's not our newest member!" Kunikida said at the same time.

The two men glanced at each other. Something flashed in Kunikida's eyes. Recognition?

Yosano yawned. "Whatever he is, let's buy him lunch. Maybe that'll loosen him up some. I swear he's as uptight as you, Kunikida."

"Coming, Atsushi?" Dazai asked from the door.

Atsuchi glanced up. "Huh? Oh! Uh, no, I've got some work to finish. You all go ahead."

Chuuya hesitated. Should he really join this merry band of eccentrics for lunch, of all things? What the hell would his subordinates say? And whatever Dazai said or thought, Chuuya still considered the Port Mafia his home.

After a moment's consideration, he decided that there was nothing for it. So he stood and trailed the group to the door, which Dazai was holding open, following them out into the hall.

"You're not far from an eccentric yourself," Dazai whispered as he passed him, grinning. Chuuya grimaced. How did that idiot always know what he was thinking? "You'll fit right in."

The ease with which the group slid into the long booths in the downstairs café spoke volumes. They may officially work in the office, but it was here that things really got done. It wasn't exactly a foreign concept to Chuuya; he himself preferred to talk shop over a glass of wine at a local bar down the street from headquarters. Everyone needed their home away from home, he supposed.

He didn't love the idea of sitting next to acquaintances who clearly hated his guts (the feeling was steadily growing mutual), but they didn't leave him much of an option, so he took the spot beside Tanizaki. The kid tensed when they bumped shoulders and Chuuya rolled his eyes. The mild annoyance turned severe when Dazai slid in beside him, locking him solidly in the middle. Kenji, Kunikida, and Yosano sat across from them.

Chuuya took the rare moment of silence before Dazai inevitably opened his mouth to study the people across from him. They were all so… comfortable. On edge because of his presence, but comfortable with one another. Yosano leaned over Kunikida to catch a glimpse of his menu and he let her, relaxed when she touched his shoulder, even. Kenji leaned his forehead on the table, exposing himself to any number of attacks like it was nothing. It was as if they didn't even think about it. They didn't see each other as dangerous. That kind of intimacy, the kind born of trust and tended by time, was nonexistent in the Port Mafia. Even around Koyo, whom Chuuya trusted above anyone else, he rarely relaxed – there was always that reminder in the back of his mind that the woman was dangerous, a killer. It was just part of the job, the atmosphere. Too many betrayals, too much violence. You didn't survive in the Port Mafia by getting soft. Hell, even Dazai, foreseer of all outcomes, was betrayed by someone there.

"Why do you always insist on looking at the menu, Kunikida?" Dazai demanded. He was loose and relaxed, too. Slouched back with an air of ease, legs crossed, arm thrown over the back of the booth behind Chuuya. Even if he was hyper-aware of the invasion of personal space from both sides, Chuuya didn't really notice Dazai's gesture.

"Because it's part of my-"

"-schedule," Dazai finished for him with a sigh. Then his face broke into a grin. "One day, Kunikida, you're going to find a woman who knocks all these fastidious habits right out of you."

"The ideal woman would never do that."

Dazai flashed his grin at Chuuya. "Kunikida here is a real fanatic for planning. He's got his whole time-table planned for his bride, down to the minutest of details. And it's not just the time-table. He will only involve himself with the ideal woman, someone who paradoxically includes-"

A menu flew out of nowhere and struck Dazai across the head. "Shut up! Don't be giving out our secrets to the Port Mafia, you bandage-squandering machine!" Kunikida snapped. Dazai merely laughed, rubbing his head with one hand.

Bandage-squandering machine… Chuuya would have to remember that one.

The waitress blessedly came over then, stopping a fight from breaking out. She set a tray of tea down on the table with a cup for each of them. Dazai's attention instantly turned to her with a delighted gasp. "You're new here!" he exclaimed. "What is a beautiful woman like you doing working here? You should be on the run-way!"

So the moron was still charming every damn woman he came across, then. Chuuya caught Kunikida's eye and found his own expression mirrored: complete and utter exhaustion.

"You must be Mr. Dazai," the young woman replied with a smile. "I've been warned about you. You're not paying the bill, right?"

"We're splitting it today," Kunikida interrupted. Before Dazai would interject with another flirtation, he gave her his order with an apology for his coworker's unacceptable behavior. The waitress took the rest of their orders and disappeared back into the kitchen, hardly sparing Dazai another glance, much to his devastation.

"Wow, they're getting good," Junichiro commented. "I guess handling Dazai has made its way onto their training program."

"It should; Dazai's run off every new hire in the last three months," Kunikida grumbled. "And who can blame them?"

"This one is especially lovely, though," Dazai argued. "Did you see her pretty little hands? Or her alluring hips?"

"Womanizer," Chuuya jabbed from the corner of his mouth.

Yosano grinned. "Yeah, Dazai, knock it off. And in front of your boyfriend, too!"

Chuuya choked on the tea he'd just swallowed. "What!?" he demanded through a cough.

Yosano raised a perfect eyebrow. "You mean you two aren't fucking?" She glanced around the table, met with surprised stares from her coworkers. "Come on! I can't be the only one thinking it."

Chuuya turned a fiery glare on Dazai. The man simply smirked and shrugged, not bothering to deny the outrageous accusation. Chuuya's hand shot out, grabbing the collar of the snake's shirt in a tight fist. His ability glowed threateningly around him. "You piece of shit!" he snarled. Without taking his eyes from the lying bastard, he answered Yosano. "We are not anything!"

Dazai laughed. "Now, now, Chuuya." He activated his ability; the red aura vanished. "You have to admit it looks fishy, however unfounded: I come running to your rescue like a prince saving a poor maiden. The stuff of fairytales!"

"I'll give you a damn fairytale, you slimy bastard!"

"For the record, I'd give you a wonderful time," Dazai said with a wink.

That was too much; Chuuya snapped. He hurled Dazai from the booth and into the nearest wall. The crack of Dazai's head meeting the brick gave him some minor sense of satisfaction. The startled waitress caught his attention and he glanced at her. "He'll cover the damages," he promised before turning back his tea.

With a jolt, he remembered whose company he was in. Damn it. Now he'd have to fight all four of them before-

His thoughts were interrupted by the last sound he'd expected: laughter. Deep laughter. He looked up to see Kunikida, head thrown back in mirth, tears rolling down his cheeks. Of all of them, the straight-laced detective was the last one Chuuya had expected to react like this.

Apparently Chuuya wasn't the only one who was confused. "You okay, Mr. Kunikida…?" Junichiro asked, a nervous quiver in his voice.

Kunikida wiped his cheeks as his laughter subsided into soft chuckles. His shoulders still shook in silent laughter as he looked across the table at Chuuya. "I've wanted to see Dazai put on his ass for his antics for years," he confessed.

Was Chuuya imagining things, or had he found a possible kindred spirit in the form of the long-suffering, neurotic new partner of Dazai's? He couldn't help but smirk. "I'm surprised you've never done it."

"Believe me, I've tried."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Dazai simpered, sliding back into the booth while massaging his sore head. "It's not like I've been cured of anything."

"Yet," Kunikida and Chuuya corrected in tandem.

"God help us," Yosano muttered, "there's two of them."

"Mr. Kunikida!" a voice shouted.

Chuuya glanced up to see the scrawny tiger boy sprinting into the café with a manila folder clutched tightly to his chest. The kid's attention snagged on the fractured brick wall across from the booth for a half-second, but didn't linger. He must be used to broken walls with the people he works with, Chuuya supposed. Atsushi stood at the table, panting for a moment before thrusting the folder at Kunikida.

"What's this about?" Kunikida asked as he opened the file, all trace of mirth gone.

"There's a bomb threat in the subway!"

The shift in atmosphere was palpable. The previously relaxed agents turned laser-focused. In spite of himself, Chuuya was begrudgingly impressed. Maybe they did have some form of discipline after all. Even the zoned-out Kanji sat up.

Chuuya's mind was already flicking through a mental list of bombers on the Port Mafia's radar when Kunikida barked, "What's the nearest station?"

"It's between Nakada and Odoriba," Atsushi answered.

Kunikida slid out of the booth, pushing Yosano on his way. He flashed a look at Chuuya, doubtless suspecting him of having some prior knowledge of the attack. After a brief stare, he turned away. "Dazai, Atsushi, drive as fast as you can to Nakada station. Yosano and I will take Odoriba; we'll meet in the middle." He fixed Chuuya with another warning glare. "Keeping the citizens safe is our top priority."

As if he needed to be told that. While most Port Mafia members weren't overly concerned with civilian casualties, Chuuya had found the added violence distasteful since his days in the Sheep. He wasn't about to take unnecessary risks with innocent lives. But the noticeable absence of his name on the roster of soldiers headed into battle proved that Kunikida thought otherwise.

Chuuya didn't see Dazai glance at him, but he felt the look. "Chuuya can come with me and Atsushi," he offered.

There was a small part of Chuuya, the part that was still a scared kid way out of his depth, that wanted to cling to Dazai here for all he was worth. Because Dazai was familiar, the only constant in his ever-changing life of the past 48 hours. It was moments like this that reminded Chuuya of why it had hurt so damn much when Dazai left. But he pushed the thought away, shoving it back into a box in the corner of his mind, to hopefully be kept there until a much later date. That was stupid and childish and he could handle himself. He did not need Dazai looking out for him; he hadn't in years.

"Nakahara's fine here," Kunikida argued. "I want him where he can be kept an eye on."

He wasn't pleased about it, not by a long shot, but he couldn't exactly argue, either. He got it, begrudgingly. Chuuya glanced to the side and caught Dazai's eye; he'd been staring. You gonna be okay with this? his look seemed to say.

Chuuya forced a smirk. Yeah, you old snake, don't worry about me. Go.

Dazai smiled and shrugged, breaking eye contact. If you're sure.

How had Chuuya forgotten the way they could communicate without words? Something ached deep in his chest.

Dazai moved his lanky body out of the booth and stretched. "Fine, Kunikida, ignore the entrance exam opportunity that just landed in your lap. I'm sure the President won't be disappointed at all." He headed for the door at a leisurely pace, as if he hadn't a care in the world. "Careful, Tanizaki," he called over his shoulder. "Chuuya bites."

"What should I do?" Kenji asked. Tanizaki made a noise of agreement, clearly feeling left out as well.

"Take Nakahara upstairs and monitor the situation from the office; we'll keep you updated. If this happens to be a ploy, we'll need agency members who can handle different crises." Kunikida headed toward the door.

Chuuya watched them go, the pairs splitting up once they exited the building. He sighed and tried to ignore the burning in his blood, the ache for a fight. He wasn't sure how much of the pent-up energy was Arahabaki and how much was just his own personality, but when things got stressful, he liked to unwind with a good battle. Being denied the opportunity irked him.

He felt two pairs of eyes glued to him, and peered at the red-head from the corner of his eye. Tanizaki watched him with a guarded, wary expression. Clearly being put in charge of the resident evil didn't sit too well with him.

Chuuya huffed. "Relax," he drawled, freeing himself from the booth and pulling out his wallet. "I don't actually bite." He withdrew what he guessed was the proper amount of money for the food they hadn't eaten and the damage to the wall and placed in on the counter. He may be a Port Mafia member, but cheap he was not. He paid his debts. And if the ADA felt like they owed him, even just a few yen for lunch, then that was okay with him.

Junichiro cleared his throat. "We should go upstairs like Mr. Kunikida said."

"Lead the way."

As Chuuya trailed behind the younger agency members, his thoughts turned almost lazily to the identity of the bomber. Attacking in the middle of the day was a ballsy move, so probably a terrorist. He was aware of a handful of terrorist groups in the country; maybe one of them had set up shop in Yokohama. It certainly wouldn't be strange. On the contrary, it would be just another Tuesday.

The agents quickly took their places at their desks, typing and writing away. With nothing to occupy his time, Chuuya resorted to lounging in Dazai's desk chair. It was a little high for him (the Mackerel had freakishly long legs), but he adjusted it with a smirk. Anything to get under Dazai's skin. He reclined and closed his eyes, listening to the office noises around him.

His thoughts wandered. Did it always take four agency members to handle a terrorist threat? He didn't think it did; he'd seen Kunikida take out a bomber alone just months ago. He considered the lineup. Kunikida and Yosano made sense – Kunikida was versatile and Yosano's healing abilities would certainly be needed. But why send Dazai to handle a situation like that? He was a master manipulator, sure, and his ability to stay alive rivaled none. But all the same, why take care of a bombing? Was it to separate the two of them, see how Chuuya acted on his own? And for that matter, why send Atsushi? The kid was a brawler, and good freakin' luck brawling with a bomb.

In the Port Mafia, they had specific squads to handle specific situations. People were highly trained in one area. The Black Lizard, for instance, would never be called to handle a bomb scare. So just how good were these people that they were able to handle such diverse jobs with such consistent success?

A sharp ringing drew him from his thoughts. He opened one eye and glanced around for the source of the noise, gaze landing on the offending object. Dazai's phone vibrated and emitted an obnoxiously loud tune. Chuuya sat up and opened the device, noticing the Caller ID identified the person on the other end with a very helpful 'Unknown.' Probably some girl, he thought with a scowl. Still, it broke up the monotony. He held the phone to his ear.

"Dazai's phone," he greeted. "He's not here to bother, so don't be annoying."

"Ah, Chuuya. Just the man I wanted to hear."

The blood in his veins turned to ice and the breath caught in his throat. He'd grown used to that cold voice over the years, but he wasn't expecting to hear it now.

The suicidal part of his brain screamed at him to hang up the phone. There was nothing Mori had to say to him that Chuuya wasn't already thinking himself. The Boss was calling Dazai; let Dazai handle it!

He stopped right there. Let Dazai handle it? What was he, a damsel in distress? No. He could fight his own battles. And besides, he hadn't decided to quit the Mafia yet. Burning bridges before he knew if he needed them was sheer stupidity.

Deeply aware of the ears of those around him, he leaned forward on the desk and replied, "What do you want?"

The smile was evident in Mori's voice. "I simply wanted to check on my subordinate. When you didn't return from the docks, I grew worried."

Chuuya's other hand clenched into a fist. He had never been adept at concealing emotion, and he knew now was a terrible time to put his meager skills to the test. He stood and walked to the office door.

"Who've you got there?" a voice called from behind him. Chuuya glanced behind him; Ranpo's eyes were closed, head tilted back, a bag of chips open in his hands.

"One of Dazai's many exes." It wasn't a lie, not exactly. Mori was an ex-boss. "Blubbering about how he didn't call her back. I'll handle it."

Ranpo's piercing eyes opened and fixed Chuuya with what could only be described as a knowing look. And that wasn't good – not at all. If Kunikida, or the President, found out Chuuya had exchanged any words with Mori, much less a private phone call, Chuuya knew he'd be shipped back to the Mafia at best… and turned over to the Military Police for immediate execution at the worst. But all that came out of the detective's mouth was, "We all have nothing but pity for those poor women."

Chuuya tried to communicate something nonverbally, a mixture of gratitude, desperation, and down-right panic. Ranpo seemed to get the message – Chuuya wasn't a threat to anyone at the Agency. He just needed to iron a few things out. It seemed their time in that stupid mystery novel had won Chuuya some favors, after all. He was able to slink out of the office with no more resistance.

Once he was sure he was out of earshot, and had checked the hallway for cameras, he leaned against the wall and let out the breath he'd been holding. He knew Mori wasn't really concerned for his well-being, of course, but playing along generally worked best in these situations. "Thank you for checking on me, Boss. I'm fine; just recovering. I'm taking some unplanned R and R. Using up some vacation days."

Mori's hum of acknowledgement was about as clear as his Caller ID had been. "Listen, Chuuya. We have limited time before the agents of the Armed Detective Agency return from their mission, so I think the best use of our time would be to get straight to the point. I have a proposition for you."

There it was. Chuuya didn't know what surprised him more, that Mori had apparently planned for certain agents to be out of the office or that he was offering Chuuya a deal. Officially, Mori was still his boss. He didn't have to offer anything; all he had to do was give an order.

"Your own team is doing just fine, by the way."

The familiar, Mori-induced jolt of fear ran down Chuuya's spine again. "Where are they?" He hadn't meant to speak, but apparently his fear gave voice to its words before his more logical mind could catch them.

He cursed himself a moment later when he heard Mori's soft chuckle. Dammit. "Don't worry; I know how much you value your friends. I'm taking good care of them. They're perfectly safe, and they will continue to be…" Chuuya knew the trump card was coming before the blow landed. "…as long as you follow my orders."

Chuuya suppressed the urge to audibly swallow; he'd done enough to expose his nervousness. He knew the subtle nuances in Mori's tone, had heard the subtle shifts more times than he cared to consider. The playfulness was over. He wasn't dealing with doting Mori, obsessed with Elise's clothes. No, this was Mori the executioner. This was the Mori who had murdered the previous boss in cold blood, the Mori who managed Yokohama's underworld with brutal efficiency.

This Mori was not to be trifled with. This Mori was to be obeyed.

"What are you after?"

"I'm glad I have your attention." A pause for dramatic effect: Dazai had learned at least part of his flair from this man. "I want inside information on the Armed Detective Agency's movements."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. "You want me to spy on the Agency!?"

"Now, I realize you don't consider yourself a proficient liar, but considering you've lied to yourself about your feelings for Dazai for a solid six years now, I'm willing to take the gamble."

Chuuya ignored the jab. He couldn't afford to get riled – he couldn't!

"I'll send you the specifics of what I'm after. I'll give you until ten tomorrow morning to decide." Another pause, giving Chuuya time to commit the deadline to memory. "Your loyalty is what has allowed you to climb the ranks of the Port Mafia, Chuuya, even more than your ability. I will remind you that you owe the Armed Detective Agency exactly nothing – not friendship, not trust, and certainly not loyalty. And you owe the same to Dazai."

He was right, and Chuuya knew it. These people weren't his friends or his colleges. He didn't owe them a damn thing. But Dazai… that was more complicated.

Mori seemed to know that, because he went on. "You know Dazai very well, Chuuya. Almost as well as I do. Do you truly think he doesn't have concealed motives? He's abandoned you without warning before, and he's done nothing to prove he won't do it again. Regardless of what you choose, ask yourself why now. He could have asked you to join him when he defected four years ago, and he could have arranged your 'escape' any time since. Ask yourself what he's after this time. We both know it must be something. If you're going to be used, wouldn't you rather be used honestly?" Another chuckle. "I look forward to hearing your answer tomorrow."

The line went dead. Chuuya stood frozen for several moments, the phone still pressed against his ear. Mori was right. Mori was almost always right. And despite the sneaking suspicion he had that Mori had orchestrated all of this to place Chuuya in this exact position… he was still right about Dazai.

Dazai always had an angle. Dazai always planned ten steps ahead. Dazai always worked everything out so it ended up alright for himself, and damn everyone else.

It had been four years since they'd worked together. Four years since the faith Chuuya had placed in Dazai had actually been founded on something. Four years since that faith had been torn up by the roots and he'd been left gutted by Dazai's betrayal.

How could he forget something like that?

Mori was right. Chuuya had been lying to himself. Because the truth was just too hard. The truth meant sinking deeper than he ever wanted to go. The truth meant-

"Well, fancy seeing you in a place like this! What are you doing out here in the… is that my phone?"

Chuuya took a deep breath and let it out, allowing himself three seconds to calm down before he crushed the device into dust in the palm of his hand. He pushed off the wall and side-stepped Dazai, shoving the phone into his chest as he passed. "Take it with you next time," he growled.

He felt Dazai's questioning eyes on the back of his head as he stepped back into the noisy office. He'd just have to wonder, or figure it out himself. Chuuya was not giving Dazai one damn hint about what Mori wanted.

His mind was already made up. If taking down the Armed Detective Agency was what it took to get back at Dazai for the pain he'd caused, then Chuuya was willing to do it.