CHAPTER 2 Vol. 2

Mirror Citizen

"Odasaku!" Dazai's voice tore from his throat like he was drowning. Dashing to where Odasaku lay on the ground after shooting the leader of Mimic, Gide, Dazai knelt down beside his fallen colleague—no — Odasaku was one of the few people that Dazai considered his friend—perhaps the only one in this pointless world that actually made him want to open his eyes to see another day.

Odasaku groaned softly.

Dazai's throat constricted. It was so hard to talk, and yet he managed to force the words out. He was upset—but more so at himself for not being by his friend's side during all of this. He should have known. He should have known what Mori Ogai was capable of. He had been a fool. It was not easy to pull the wool over Dazai Osamu's eyes but somehow he'd allowed Mori Ogai to get the better of both him and Odasaku.

Dazai didn't outwardly admit it, but inwardly, he knew it was never Odasaku's fault that Mimic had found the children. It was his. He hadn't stopped Mori in time. In fact, he had refused to see how bad it had truly gotten. He had told himself that Odasaku would most likely not keep those orphans forever anyways—Dazai saw children like small animals anyways— and he didn't exactly care about children. But, seeing how torn his friend had been—no shattered…. he had realized that Mimic had taken more than just the lives of those children from Odasaku.

"You should have waited for me," Dazai found himself choking out—was he saying it out loud or in his mind? He honestly couldn't tell. His vision was swimming but not with tears. His vision was hazy from stress. "You're such an idiot," he forced it out, voice shaky.

Odasaku just breathed, labored, but he didn't deny Dazai's outburst.

The rest felt unreal. Odasaku looked right at Dazai and he told him something that Dazai knew was what he needed to hear. "Nothing in this world can fill that hole inside yourself," he murmured to Dazai, placing a hand gently on Dazai's arm.

"Tell me, what I should do," Dazai's voice shook, desperate for direction.

He felt Odasaku use what little strength he had left, to tear Dazai's bandages away from his right eye—forcing Dazai to see the world with both eyes wide open for a change.

Dazai opened his eyes.

Silent, he sat up from where he'd been resting his eyes. Odasaku's dying words were forever burned into his mind.

Even if Odasaku didn't remember his own death—Dazai did. His hands were more raw then usual— he'd been trying to keep them clean...though psychologically he couldn't get the sight of his friend's blood on his palms out of his mind. Dazai knew that the girl was the only reason his friend hadn't died that day.

Blinking, he turned his gaze towards the empty road. He was in a poorer side of the city.

Why?

Well, Dazai had business here to attend to. He slid off from where he had been resting on the roof of some shut down shop, and landed with ease on his two feet in the alley street below. It wasn't a big drop. His sand-colored windbreaker coat flowered out behind him as he landed. Since the Armed Detective Agency was technically keeping an eye on her, Dazai had decided to turn his sights instead on a more pressing target.

A black car began to drive down the street Dazai was casually taking a stroll on.

Dazai's lips curled into an anticipatory sneer.

Showtime.

The driver saw a man lying in the road, blocking the way. "The hell?!" The man slammed on the breaks of his black car. A disgruntled yelp came from the backseat.

"What's going on?" Another man said, confused, rubbing his head, trying to adjust his seatbelt so he wouldn't choke.

The driver looked back at the well dressed man. "I don't know, sir," he gestured out the window. "A man is lying in the road?"

"A man is what?" The well-dressed man pushed his round glasses up the bridge of his nose. He frowned, absolutely put off. His frown was impatient on his otherwise well groomed features, a small dimple near his lower lip that quivered with his frustrating talking.

Opening up the car door, he heard the sound of a man wailing.

No.

Not a man.

Something far worse.

Dazai moaned on the ground, clutching his chest. "I've been hit! Call a doctor! Call a medic! Call the angels!"

The man stalked over apprehensively stopping out of grabbing range of the lunatic in the road. "Cut it out," his sharp tone cut through like a knife in butter. "What the hell are you doing?"

Dazai paused, and blinked. He slowly looked up at the angry posh individual staying out of reach of his long arms. Drat. Dazai fancied strangling that toothpick neck honestly. He rolled to his feet and beamed. "Well, hello to you too, traitor."

The other man rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry… Mr. Agent Sakaguchi," Dazai corrected himself timidly. "I am so sorry to inconvenience you," he simpered, rubbing his hands together.

Honestly, a simpering Dazai made Ango's neck hair want to fall right off. Forget rising. "You know I have orders to arrest you on sight, right?" He said, deadpan, glaring at Dazai.

Dazai beamed. "Oh, I'm aware. I'm sure your little division would have an absolute field day with booking me," he chuckled, bemused although Ango knew better. There was no laughter in the world that could make Dazai look less murderous than he did right then, gazing right at him. Ango could sense his bodyguard personnel already had their guns drawn on Dazai, having gotten out of the car by now.

Dazai held his hands up with an unaffected smile. By now he'd gotten to his feet. He wasn't actually hurt, but the theatrics and ruining Ango's day put a pep in his step, regardless. Ah yes, Ango Sakaguchi.

The double crossing triple crosser spy, Dazai mused, as he held his hands up to show he wasn't carrying any weapons. He sized up Ango. Yes, this man had been responsible for poisoning and almost killing Odasaku back when Odasaku had risked his life to save him from Mimic. It was then that they'd learned the truth—that Ango had been working for the Special Division of Unusual Powers as a spy in the Port Mafia and then later on Mimic.

Dazai was pissed though he wouldn't let that cloud his real goal right now. Besides, he'd make good use of blackmailing Ango into helping him if he had to. Dazai didn't actually care that Ango was a triple agent—he was always a goody two shoes— but what he couldn't stand was the fact that Ango was so okay with letting Odasaku die for some convoluted perception of Justice. That was the rub.

Ango meanwhile just eyed Dazai, weary. The last time they'd parted ways had been about a month ago at Bar Lupin. He'd gone with the dregs of hope—hope beyond hope— that though the cat was out of the bag—that he could apologize and they'd be friends again. Yes, him, Dazai, and Odasaku...Bungou's Stray Dogs who liked to gather at a bar and drink and talk—no labels...just three men that could pretend they didn't have any ties or obligations while sitting at the bar having a glass of whiskey together.

Ango's eyes flickered. Alas, that pipe dream was over. Now, the man that stood before him, smiling as though wishing he'd drop dead—was his priority. This was no time for him to go soft on the job. He too had his pride as an agent for the greater good-for the wellbeing of all of Japan. Even if the likes of Dazai and Odasaku didn't understand that… Ango sighed. "You knew I was heading somewhere—what do you want?"

"What? An old friend can't just show up randomly in front of your car to say hi?" Dazai hummed.

His shit eating grin unsettled Ango. He was plotting something, he just knew it. He glared at Dazai, not wanting to let him intimidate him. "You called me a traitor, first," he pointed out.

"Ah, whoops," Dazai hummed. "I meant traitorous friend," he said, cheerful.

Ango sighed. Only Dazai would expect help after acting like an asshole to a government official. "Leave us," he said curtly to his men. His two bodyguards blinked.

"But sir—"

"I said leave us!" Ango barked this out practically, already in a bad mood for being late to his meeting. Dammit, Dazai.

Dazai watched, amused, as the government dogs slithered back into the car, shooting him absolutely distrustful disgusted dirty looks. Dazai waved like a blushing school girl being flirted with by a cute boy. Ango just rolled his eyes. He had his own urgent matters to attend to. He crossed his arms, glaring at Dazai, haughty.

"Are you here to kill me?" He asked, wary.

Dazai chuckled. "Oh no, if that were the case—I'd have brought all the really fun toys to make it really hurt," he said brightly.

Ango rubbed his forehead. This man was a sadist. Not surprising considering he knew exactly what Dazai was like. Considered the youngest mafia executive in history, Dazai's cold nature made it seem as though the blood of the mafia ran through his very veins. "You know that you and I...we're not that different," he said finally, frowning at Dazai.

Dazai blinked and then he tilted his head, smiling with a half lidded leer. "Oh, how so?"

"We both value those closest to us," Ango said.

Dazai blinked and then he began to laugh. It was a mental laugh. It was a, "are you kidding me right now?" Kind of laugh.

Ango was unsettled. He just waited for Dazai's mirthless laughter to die down.

"Is that so?" He chortled. "My, my, you never cease to amaze…" he said, wiping a tear from his eye.

Ango wondered what he had to think about to make himself even shed a single tear like that. He'd rather not ask. He wrinkled his nose. "If you're done making fun of me...I just wanted to say that your values may be different from mine but…" he sighed.

Dazai quieted down, bemused. "You're really something, you know that?" He said, smiling coldly at Ango.

Ango's blood felt like it was dunked in ice and then poured over with lava right after. He shuddered. If looks could kill...Dazai would make it hurt and make it drawn out. Ango grimaced again. "Whatever you think of me… I will always put what's right first…"

"Well," Dazai said lightly, smiling as he strolled over, arms still up, "aren't you just a mirror citizen…" he gave Ango a pat on the shoulder and for a second, it almost felt like they were just two school boys having a chat at recess.

However, Ango knew better.

Those days of them three just talking about their goals for life...of ever being free...were over.

Ango knew this conversation was going to turn into a fight with the direction it was headed. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, staring at Dazai. Okay, he lied. Dazai was terrifying like this. He knew in battle he didn't stand a chance. Suddenly he blinked. Dazai had his gun drawn, pointing at him.

Ango's eyes widened.

When did he…? His eyes twitched in horror as he felt his holster. His gun was gone. It was the same gun Dazai now held, amused, pointed right at him.

Ango could hear the clicking of the guns of his own subordinates. "S-Stand down!" He said loudly, trying to keep his voice calm. Shit, his gun was loaded too! If Dazai pulled that trigger…

"You're lucky Odasaku is still alive," Dazai said, half to himself, glaring at Ango with an empty smile before he unloaded the gun and tossed the empty gun at Ango. Ango quickly caught it reflexively as Dazai pocketed the ammo in his trench coat.

Ango felt himself shaking though he wasn't showing it outwardly. He couldn't let something as foolhardy as a 'friendship' interfere here. He was an agent first, for Christ's sake. He had to steel himself. If he didn't—he'd be the one on the firing end of the barrel. Ango grit his teeth. Out of all three of them, he knew he was by far the weakest link. "Are you going to kill me?"

The answer was immediate. "Not today."

Ango took a few labored breaths. It only would have taken one second...one second for Dazai to kill him. Ango shuddered. Gesturing to his men to stand down again, he swallowed hard before he let himself stiffly straighten at the shoulders and stare down Dazai, his own expression cold and unfeeling.

They really mirrored each other in that moment.

Ango stared at Dazai, giving off airs of a superior government agent looking down on a common criminal. "Make it quick. For the sake...of our past history...You have five minutes."

Dazai smirked.

"I'll only need two."

—-XXXX—XXX—XXXXX

Odasaku could taste curry. It tasted so good. Just spicy enough to really leave that burn on the back of the tongue. He was so hungry. He wanted some warm curry...it was cold. Ah, a butterfly came and landed on his wrist.

He blinked at it. It was so pretty. He smiled sleepily.

Another one landed on his other hand.

He blinked. Huh?

Suddenly, the butterflies swarmed all around him, glowing bright blue. But they felt warm?

A voice was calling to him but it sounded muffled, far away.

"—-..."

"...kunosuke…"

"SAKUNOSUKE!" An older man's voice yelled so fervently that even Odasaku felt his tired cold body jolt to attention, as his red-brown eyes shot open. Depending on the lighting they could actually look reversible blue-grey but right now, they were a dull muddy adobe.

Odasaku blinked.

He sat up, like someone forced out of REM right at a critical part of their dreaming process. Groggy, he rubbed his eyes. "What…?" He mumbled, looking at the silver haired man, kneeling next to him.

"How do you feel?" This silver haired man—was Fukuzawa, president of the Armed Detective Agency and currently, the person keeping Odasaku's orphans hidden from Mimic.

"Like a truck hit me," Odasaku mumbled, still groggy. His vision began to clear and he noticed the young short haired woman with a butterfly clip in her hair, staring at him from where he was laying down on the ground. He blinked, fully sitting up now.

"Oh good, you lived," she huffed. "Thou Shalt Not Die only works if you're near death so I'm sorry I had to get your body into a nearly dead state first…" She was holding what looked to be a really big meat cleaver. Odasaku gulped.

He didn't scare easily but he wondered just how she had treated him….Odasaku blinked. He looked at his bloody clothes. He was healed? He looked back at her. "I'm not hurt?" He asked dumbly.

Fukuzawa stood up. "Her special skill is to heal those who are wounded badly," he explained to the confused Oda-bean.

"Ah...thank you…" he said, getting to his feet, albeit a bit unsteady. Yosano walked over to help him steady himself.

"Careful, I only just healed you," she said, serious.

Odasaku nodded. "Right, got it."

He eyed Fukuzawa though. He had hindered Fukuzawa and this woman from getting to that girl. He felt a bit guilty. "You should have left me behind," he found himself saying, almost sternly to the president.

The president and the woman looked at Odasaku. Odasaku averted his gaze. He didn't really know how to talk to people—especially good people — as he had always walked the fence on the side of shadows.

"Your wellbeing is my concern," Fukuzawa stated, eyeing Odasaku.

"I don't want to drag you down," Odasaku found himself explaining, upset. "Next time—"

He paused. Next time? Why did he make it sound like he'd be doing more missions like this one with them? He didn't belong here. His eyes flickered.

"Next time," Fukuzawa sighed, "will be no different. We look after our own."

Odasaku blinked, puzzled. "What?"

Yosano smiled, amused and shook her head. "Did I make a mistake or are you deaf now?" She teased, patting Odasaku on the back. Odasaku made a small noise of surprise, clearly not used to being this close to people—or a woman like Yosano.

"I-I don't understand," he found himself asking. He didn't expect anything. There was nothing to expect from life. Life was just...life.

"Oda," Fukuzawa said sternly, "You turned your back on the Port Mafia for those children. Even when you were in the Port Mafia you swore you wouldn't kill and you held true to that...I want us to stand in my office...not as enemies...but at least as friends," he said with a small head nod to Odasaku.

Odasaku was stunned. In fact, he felt something weird swell up inside. Hope. But could he? Did he deserve to feel such a thing? "Wrong…" Odasaku found himself say, trembling slightly with his words. "I...my hands aren't clean.."

"Neither are mine," Yosano said cheerfully.

"As a former assassin myself...it's hard to find an assassin who hasn't killed at least one person in their profession," Fukuzawa stated, staring at Odasaku with a calm yet sympathetic look. "We don't want you for your skill," Fukuzawa continued, holding out a hand to Odasaku, formal but his tone was kind. "We don't want you at all. Our motto is, we want you for who you are as a person...not the skill you possess."

Odasaku felt something weird in his eyes. They were wet. Why were they wet? He lifted a shaky hand to touch his face. Tears? But why? He felt someone hug him. Blinking, he realized it was Yosano. She was warm. This was warm...this feeling...was this what it meant...to belong somewhere?

Odasaku pulled away, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. Perhaps he could be of use to those kids… an agency where he was wanted...not for his skill? It sounded so absurd and yet… Odasaku let out a weak little chuckle. He suddenly felt like he owed a lot more to that mysterious fox girl. "I'll consider it, then…" he said softly. But this time, his tone wasn't distant. No, he felt it in his bones. This time, it felt right.

Fukuzawa and Yosano gave him both the smallest of smiles as though telling him, "welcome to the team."

"Well, now that we're clear on that," Fukuzawa sighed, flipping open his phone and tapping in a number. He put the phone to his ear.

"I'm sorry, the number you have reached is currently unavailable—"

Fukuzawa looked gloomy. He shut his phone. "Ranpo's phone is turned off," he said with a frustrated huff. Yosano looked to Odasaku.

"Come on, we need to get back to him as soon as we can," she said, offering to help Odasaku balance on her. Not wanting to bother her he managed to stand on his own.

"Yeah," Odasaku didn't know what he could do but he owed it to this agency and that girl to try to give it his all.

Fukuzawa nodded. "Come. That ship, according to Ranpo, leaves tonight."

—-xxx-xxx—xxxx

Ranpo looked around the ships. He looked high. He looked low. He finally waved his arms, like an angry baby bird. "What the heck! Why can't I find that ship!?"

He growled, pacing. He muttered about different kinds of wind directions, masts, volume of the vessels, and other convoluted detective stuff that only he could possibly fathom in the brain of Le Ranpo. He knew it was here, so why couldn't he find it? He tapped his chin.

A ship...A ship….A… his eyes flickered. "Trying to trick me not once but twice today, eh?" He snickered gleefully, rubbing his hands together. "Too bad! I have you all figured out!" He smirked, and he grinned, looking around. "Right..first thing is first…"

He took out his phone to call Fukuzawa—but the battery was dead. Ranpo's face fell. Ah… well, he wasn't great with technology or remembering to charge it anyways… but now was a really bad time for his phone to be dead. He could hear the president now, nagging him about being aware of taking care of his everyday appliances. Ranpo sighed a mushroom cloud.

"Okay...plan B…" he took out a pen and paper and scribbled something on it. He searched around the dock he was on until he found just the right groove in the boards with his boot. Smirking, he knelt down and tucked the thin piece of paper between the boards just so and straightened up. "Yosh~ Time to go!" He said cheerfully and he turned around, facing the end of the dock. "Normally I hate doing anything unnecessary...but this is a case that I, the Greatest Detective of all Time, can't ignore!"

He took a deep breath and jumped into the water head first, diving, clothes and all. Below him, nestled underwater near the wharf part of the bay to his left, was an underground submarine. Ranpo knew it was too far for him to get to on his own, but that was fine. He already had a plan for that.

Swimming over to the rocks, he caught his breath, climbing up onto them. He calculated just how long he'd have to hold his breath to get down to where the Submarine itself was. Three minutes...that's the max a person can possibly hold their breath in extreme cases….and that submarine is more than a ten minute swim… Think Ranpo… I could get myself caught… if I play my cards right I can avoid getting shot… I just have to find someone dumb enough to help it look like I am not trying to get caught…

"Ranpo! What are you doing down there?" A familiar voice shouted from across the wharf. The wharf wasn't a far stretch. It was actually quite swimmable. Ranpo however blinked, looking across from the rocks he was currently on to the harbor side with the sidewalk and benches. There, standing, confused but dressed —thank god- was Kunikida.

Ranpo's lips curled into a smirk. His plan was back in action.

"Ah, Kunikida!" He waved to him, shouting loudly. "I'm here! Let's go fishing!"

Kunikida looked utterly bewildered. "Fishing? You said we were meeting someone here!"

Suddenly, about six armed men surrounded Kunikida. Kunikida nearly pissed himself. "Holy hell! What the actual—" Kunikida whirled, as one of the men attempted to surprise attack from behind. Using a move he learned from the president, Kunikida managed to defend himself easily.

Comically, none of the men stood a chance against Kunikida even with their weapons. He didn't even have to crack out his Doppo Notebook of ideals. Kunikida huffed a few minutes off butt-kicking later to Ranpo's cheerleading of "Go Kida, go!, cha cha cha!"

"Will you tell me what the hell is going on!" Kunikida yelled at Ranpo, his ponytail doing that hilarious zig zag thing it did when he was tense. Ranpo hummed. It was good to have the fired up blonde back. The office had been so quiet. Not that Ranpo was going to ever state he missed anyone. Except the president. If the president left, Ranpo would riot.

Ranpo's eyes turned to the bubbling in the water to his left. The bubbles got steadily bigger and bigger until the submarine surfaced. Ranpo smirked, leaning against the rocks. Getting out of the head of the submarine were armed men dressed all in combat gear. They pointed their guns with red lasers all over Ranpo's body. Kunikida's jaw dropped from where he stood on the docks, a ways away. "Don't move!" One of the men said past a fortified mask covering his face. He looked like something out of a Halo video game honestly.

"You got me," Ranpo said, holding his hands up. Kunikida was about to protest but suddenly a bolt of lightning struck the spot he had been standing seconds before. Cursing, Kunikida managed to dodge and he leapt into the water with relative ease.

Ranpo just closed his eyes, humming a nursery rhyme to the tune of Mary had a Little Lamb. One of the men growled, stepping closer to Ranpo. "What are you doing?" He asked, suspiciously holding his gun to Ranpo's forehead.

Ranpo could feel the cold metal but he didn't stop singing—didn't even miss a beat.

Meanwhile, Kunikida managed to swim over to the rocky middle of the harbor wharf facing the ocean that Ranpo had swam to. The lightning user was only holding back because Ranpo knew if they struck the water too close to the submarine—that it could damage the systems.

Ranpo's lips curled into a Cheshire Cat grin. It was time the Cat was chased by the Mice.

"Mary had a little lamb," he hummed as Kunikida pulled out his notebook with no warning.

Kunikida's skill was Doppo poet, as long as the mass didn't exceed the extent of the notebook's capabilities, Kunikida could summon whatever item he wanted that was written down. "It's fleece as white as snow~" he continued to chirp the lyrics, honestly confusing the few soldiers pointing their weapons at him. "And everywhere that Mary went…"

"Stop singing!" One of the men growled, firing a shot off near Ranpo's head. Ranpo paused. A thin line of blood appeared on the side of his face the metal of the bullet had scraped his cheek, hot as it whizzed by, lodging into the rock crevice behind him.

"Flash bomb!" Kunikida cried, summoning a flash bomb from his notebook. Without any warning, it activated, obscuring everyones' vision in the vicinity. The soldiers growled, and retreated back to the submarine.

Static electricity shot through the air though, attempting to strike Kunikida in the rocks with Ranpo as they attempted to sneak around the other side of the wharf to avoid being hit by the lightning blasts. The rocks crackled and fizzed, cracking and breaking apart. "Hand gun!" Kunikida barked, and two small handguns appeared in his hands. Kunikida had no interest in killing, but he placed a couple well aimed shots into the air, regardless. The Lightning User managed to stop the bullets however, and zapped them back to Kunikida.

Someone else began to hum, walking towards them from the wharf. Ranpo and Kunikida froze, as they came face to face with an English woman with a British accent, hair tied up in a bun under a brown sun hat, wearing a simple elegant secretarial suit, holding a blue parasol.

She finished Ranpo's song, her smile cold and calculating as she stared down the two young men stranded currently on the rocks.

"—That lamb was sure to go~"