Chapter 5

A half-asleep Dazai remained stretched out across the sofa until he felt several presences gather around him. "What do you mean he was breathing weird, Kyoka?" A concerned voice asked, a timid female one answering. "I don't know, it was just weird..."

"Hmm… Well, he seems alright for now." The voice paused, before becoming frantic. "No, Kyoka! We shouldn't wake him up~"

"Too late," Kyoka giggled.

His eyes opened to Kyoka, who was hovering inches from his face. With a yawn, Dazai sat up and stretched his good arm in an attempt to look normal. Kyoka stood back and watched, waiting for him to wake up all the way. Dazai knew it really should have been in a sling, which Yosano would have readily scolded him over, but he didn't want to let anyone know how seriously he was injured. If they knew what was going on they would intervene, needlessly putting themselves at risk. Dazai could handle it on his own, or that's what he kept telling himself.

He gently rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, trying not to take the concealer with it. "Good morning you two," Dazai hummed, sinking back into the sofa. "Everything okay?"

"Uh, yes!" Atsushi panicked, "Kyoka just thought you were breathing weird so she wanted to wake you up." Kyoka watched him, eyes curiously focused on his chest. "Mhmm…"

Dazai sighed, waving the worry off. "Do you want to get some food? I'm starving!" He leapt up from the seat, only to painfully fall back onto the sofa. He groaned, desperately clutching his side and riding out the waves of pain from his jarred injuries. Kyoka's face fell, connecting the dots between his strange breathing pattern and his jerk reaction to falling; just one more perk of being inducted into the Port Mafia as an assassin. Atsushi frowned, trying to understand what could possibly be wrong. "Are you everything's ok?" Atsushi questioned, now with more worry-fuelled confidence.

"Just some bumps and scrapes - nothing to worry about," The detective chuckled, pushing the pain in his sides to the back of his mind as an overwhelming need to protect them took hold. From what exactly, he couldn't quite put into words. They looked so innocent, so worried, that Dazai could almost feel the sincerity radiating from them.

"Actually, how about you pick something up for lunch, and I'll stay here?" Dazai pulled a worn brown wallet from his pocket, tossing it to Kyoka. "Here - take this. Don't go crazy, okay?" Atsushi knew better than to try getting straight answers from Dazai so he nodded, ushering a worried Kyoko out the door.

Once the two teens had left, Dazai sighed, unbattered arm still wrapped around his side protectively. He knew he shouldn't have showed up to work, but Dazai's apartment felt too empty for comfort. Eyes squinted at the midday sun filtering through the window beside him, he slowly stood and walked to his desk, making sure to grab an untouched report off of Atsushi's desk. It was kind of them to do Dazai's work for him and offer some semblance of a break. However, the endless rapid-fire thoughts that ricocheted throughout his break were so intense it was beginning to give him a headache. Dazai needed to put his brain elsewhere, lest he get lost in his own mind.

Kunikida had watched the whole scenario unfold from his desk as he worked. Dazai was clearly injured and in pain. Unlike Atsushi and Kyoka he didn't mind asking difficult questions, given the current circumstances. Whatever it was, the idealist concluded, had happened after work the night before. He stood, leaning forward with his hands gripping the panels of Dazai's desk. "What's going on with you? Those two aren't here, so tell me," Kunikida half-pleaded, half-demanded.

Dazai's body tensed from the sudden question, though it wasn't entirely unexpected. "Tell you what?"

"What happened last night?" Kunikida retorted in a confused mess of concern and frustration.

His eyes fell to the keyboard where he'd been typing one-handedly moments before. What did happen? What did they need to think happened? Deciding against revealing anymore than necessary, Dazai opted to make a lewd joke instead to poke fun at Kunikida's conservative nature. If it went well, he'd get flustered and back off.

"Well, if you insist… I met this beautiful girl on the way home and we had a night~ She actually agreed to a double suicide with me after we -" Before he could finish his thought, Dazai was promptly cut off by a bright red Kunikida.

"Cut the crap! Tell me why you're hurt or I'm calling Yosano to take a look at you," He fumed, backing away from Dazai. His body language had shifted drastically at the threat, eyes reflecting 'try me'. Kunikida's fingers inched towards the notebook resting on his desk, the gaze chilling him to the bone.

Ranpo watched from where he was perched at his desk, staying quiet while the scene unfolded. Of course, he already knew what was wrong, at least, for the most part. He wouldn't intervene unless it was absolutely necessary - Dazai's business was his business and he would respect that.

"Oh, really? Guess I have no choice," The bandaged detective mused, not moving a muscle. "Training - that's all." The vague answer only sparked more questions. Dazai's shoulders relaxed but his eyes were still too dark to read.

"Training with who? None of us were with you last night." Kunikida said wearily, no longer moving towards his notebook. "Does it really matter?" Dazai muttered, leaning back in his chair.

"Yes, it does!" As he shouted at him as the office door swung open, revealing two teens carrying bags full of takeout trays. Normally Dazai would have taken advantage of their arrival to change the subject, but he was too tired and weighed down by the black coat on his shoulders to back down.

"Mori."

The name was spat like poison, the numb tone bringing the temperature of the office down a couple degrees. Atsushi and Kyoka looked on in confusion at their pale superior and the cold detective across from him. Both of them having crossed paths with the doctor knew the conversation must be serious, but out of context any mention of him was downright frightening in itself.

"You… but why?" He questioned, taken aback by the unexpected response.

"You were there - you too, Atsushi. If Mori tells me to jump, I jump. If he wants me to do some late night training, I do some late night training." Dazai raised his injured arm and furrowed his brows at the pain. His sleeve fell down, revealing the green band indefinitely plastered against his pale skin. "What about that is so hard to understand?" Dazai murmured, wishing for the unwanted conversation to end.

Now, after several minutes of interrogating, Ranpo decided to intervene. "Ooh, did you two bring back lunch? You're officially my new favorites," He cheered, loud enough to interrupt Dazai and Kunikida's conversation. "Come on, let's eat! Coming?" He gestured to the two of them to follow. To Atsushi and Kyoka, Ranpo had brought some reprieve from the heavy conversation but to Dazai and Kunikida the threat was clear.

The two of them headed to the conference room with Ranpo, Dazai biting his lip as he lowered his arm and walked forward. The disposable bento boxes were removed from the bags and spread across the table for everyone to choose from. Atsushi and Kyoka had apparently stopped for crepes as well, since they were carefully tucked inside of parchment wrappers next to the boxes. His wallet, set next to his usual chair, was stuffed down into his pocket while he sat.

Dazai smiled as he nibbled at his onigiri. It wasn't the same as the homemade ones he used to get from Chuuya when they had missions that ran late into the night, but it was still delicious. They would sit on the pier or rooftops to watch the sun burst through the waves on the horizon. He would watch that soft, content look settle over the redhead's features, bathing them in the sun's eternal flame. Though, Dazai was sure he'd snuffed out the reflective glimmer in Chuuya's eyes the moment he'd set that bomb under his car.

The tension from before hadn't quite lifted from the air yet, leaving the group to eat in silence. After a few minutes Atsushi and Kyoka finished their lunches, leaving the awkward environment. The two of them had kept things from spiralling further, something Ranpo wanted to avoid. Kunikida, Dazai, and Ranpo remained in the private conference room, the uncomfortable tensions only growing.

"I set the terms and I agreed to them." Dazai set his chopsticks down over his empty tray, contemplating the unfinished thought.

There was no contesting that fact. Neither of them could pull their friend from his current predicament. Dazai refused to tell them anything more and that was that.