"You know pathetically little," Saskia said, dipping her sushi roll in soy sauce. Dazai whispered something unflattering judging by the tone.

"Why do you think Port Mafia contacted you?" she asked, chewing on her roll.

"Such power would create chaos," the man answered after chewing. "The man, whoever he is, threatens everything as he can become anyone. Me, you, the mayor, Port Mafia's leader, the president. Anyone."

"That's not it," she hummed. Dazai smiled in agreement. Twinkle-twinkle little star, I would hit you with my car. Something about the man sitting in front of her was ominous. The fact she cannot sense him is above average irritation. She had no doubts he was lying, just couldn't tell about what. Perhaps, everything.

"You too think it's strange that Port Mafia came to us?" he questioned. The same smile played on his face. Not amused or mocking, it wasn't polite or kinds either. What is it about his expression that is so hard to place? Ambiguous, warped…

"I don't…." Blok sighed, defeated. She could tell she didn't give a damn, which would be true. But it's not a question of her interest or care. If she doesn't help, they can expose her. And there are reasons she'd consider the information given to her a bit too detailed. She was a part of the police force, why tell her that Port Mafia was involved in this too? To make her conflicting life even more complicated? There wasn't even a guarantee her ability could help find this ability user. However, it doesn't seem all that unlikely.

"Think," Dazai demanded. "Why would they come to us to tell on some traitor?"

"His ability?"

"What does it matter? So many in Port Mafia are gifted — some terribly so — they could track him down without us getting in the way. But they come to warn us. They must have an idea as to what he is planning. He must have left a clue or two before fleeing the mafia."

"So, you telling they lied? What a surprise."

"They are hiding the whole truth."

Same difference to me. She didn't say anything to that. This was exactly why she avoided gifted individuals despite being one herself. Especially in Yokohama, meddling with such business meant being involved with organization like Port Mafia, The Armed Detective Agency and god knows what or who else. She kept her profile low, so very low, and look where it got her. Tricked by a teenager and a weirdo.

"Why did they give me you?" she asked begrudgingly. She was likely addressing the god himself with this question. Dazai offered himself up as her partner on this case, however, it seemed there weren't any other options available. He was the only who was immune to her ability, which preserved ADA's secrets. The only thing that worried Fukuzawa was the fact that neither had a combat-oriented ability. To that Dazai assured that combat wasn't expected any time soon. And when it is, he'd borrow Atsushi or Kunikida.

Dazai smiled at her question, "Trust is a two-way street, Saskia-chan."

"Don't call me that," she hissed. Stop provoking me. But he was the lesser problem, wasn't he? She should stop reacting to his provocations too. Her fingered drummed on the table. It was only the two of them here because she didn't feel comfortable being in the office of the Agency. It's not that everyone started to act weird around her, knowing about her ability, quite the opposite. They were acting very unbothered by her. It was she who was bothered. It was strange to be surrounded by ability users. It was strange to watch Atsushi and Tanizaki cleaning up the mess in the office. They all seemed perfectly normal people. Except they weren't. And she wasn't. And this should be acknowledged, shouldn't it? The other part was that Dazai didn't want to stay in the office either. He justified it by hunger and needing her full attention, which she couldn't give in the office, filled with people who were actively working. In reality, she overheard the real reason. Dazai Osamu wasn't made for office paperwork and would run away at any possible opportunity. Also, she knew that from the start: he wanted to continue figuring her out. Social places are created for those reasons. But she didn't argue against that. Saskia too wanted to figure him out, however unwilling she was to go to an open public place. Plus, she needed to process the mess she got dragged into. She saw too much today. First was the bomb thing. The other was Dazai asking the waitress to commit double suicide with him. What the fuck was that? But it was one of the few places open at this hour and with a decent menu. But she didn't appreciate the whispers she could hear from all around. New couples looking for a way to find a way to one another. Timed couples looking for a way to reignite the spark. Friends looking out for each other's mental state. Or friends, looking for a way to put the other one down. It's a weekend evening, what else could people be doing but getting together? The only person she pitied right now was the waitress. The only one who was required to lie by the job description. Saskia had to focus on being hungry and wanting a drink to tolerate the whispers.

"What was the mark I missed during my test?" she asked instead, sipping her coffee. It was bringing some relief to the dull pain in her head.

"Changed your mind?" Dazai raised a brow.

"Just curious."

"Willingness to sacrifice yourself for others."

"You passed?" she asked, offended. She wouldn't call herself a sacrificing person. After all, she was going to many lengths to spare herself the pain every day. Nonetheless, how could he pass with flying colours? The only way she saw him passing the test is him trying to commit suicide and accidentally sacrifice himself for others. And then there was the manipulation part. She held very little doubt that Tanizaki was the one behind everything. The kid was smart but not wicked smart.

"How did you do it?" Blok asked, curiously.

"Hm?"

"How could you push Tanizaki so far?"

"Oh, that," he smiled innocently, "was just a part of the card game."

"And then there was the scene at the coffee shop..."

The dark-haired man grinned complacently. He looked outside. It was already dark. Saskia yawned.

"You know," Dazai said with a wicked grin on his face, "you should be grateful. I am, after all, your opportunity of a lifetime."

"You are delusional," she huffed, looking at her food. Ordered too much for her to finish.

"No," the man said. He reached across the table to touch her hand and get her attention, "Think about it. I could be your only chance to learn how to do this."

"Do what?" she asked, unimpressed by his tricks. And he certainly did not have to touch her. But she didn't feel as agitated as she could have. Something about his touch was different. Something strangely elating.

"I'm available," said the guy at the neighboring table. Tsk. The waitress politely smiled at him, backing away, from the table, thanking him and promising to be soon with their order. The guy was slightly buzzed. Blok touched her forehead in annoyance. Just as the pain subsided some asshole had to lie about his relationship status. When she turned her attention back to her partner, the man looked suddenly amused. She didn't want to ask him about it.

"What do you think I need to learn to do, again?" the woman asked, slightly dazed by the lie and audacity of that man.

"Build trust," Dazai fixed her a candid smile.

"Did you…seduce the waitress?" At least if he lies, she'll never know. And she wouldn't mind not knowing the full truth in this scenario. Dazai held out a crimson scarf for her when they stepped out of the car. He gave directions, she didn't see a reason to object. If that was to drive the case further, she would gladly drive wherever. The sooner this was over, the better.

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, Saskia-chan," he spoke childishly. The way he chose to address her made her want to claw at his eyes and possibly break his nose. The order doesn't matter.

"How did she get home?" Saskia asked. Not that she cared that much about the waitress, but the scarf served a purpose in such weather.

"I gave her money to cover a cab," he replied. "Possibly a new scarf."

"Smart."

A waitress working so late at night couldn't be living far away from her place of work. Neither would she be buying expensive scarfs and give them away to some creep.

"Wanna tell me why I have to wear this atrocity?" she asked, lifting the scarf and letting it unfold. She could only touch it with two fingers. Horrid thing, truth be told, and is also cheaply made. The material was paper-like against the skin.

"It's meant to capture attention, Saskia-chan," Osamu offered her his best innocent smile. He then grabbed the scarf she held out and wrapped it around her, making sure it hid her hair and half of her face.

"You won't be recognized this way," he explained as he was finishing up.

"Recognized by whom?" she asked just as confused as before. "And in this crimson?"

"Bold colours will make your features forgettable," he answered, "in case you are seen. And I can't very well dress you in black. Now that would be suspicious."

"Dazai," she warned, "where are you taking me?"

"You bloody didn't," she said in disbelief. Anyone in Yokohama who cared enough for their life knew that there were places you don't go unless in search of painful death. This was the territory of Port Mafia. Most dangerous criminal organization in Yokohama. And probably now the only one. The guys were very competitive and ruthless in their methods.

"We are here to talk," he answered nonchalantly. What is this, a walk in the park? He was affiliated with the Armed Detective Agency and this was Mafia's territory. Those two organizations famously did not get along all that well. For goodness's sake, she was a cop!

"You decided to talk to Port Mafia?" she asked, lowering her head and shifting the scarf further down her face. No matter what, here she would feel exposed.

"Maybe," he gave an unbothered shrug. "I can tell that the Mafia didn't tell us everything. But I couldn't just come in right after they came to us. I needed some time to," he abruptly stopped himself from finishing the sentence. After a heavy but brief pause, he added, "to get you."

"Why would they tell anything now?" Saskia asked. She noticed the suspicious pause in his speech. The way he thoughtfully put his answers. The bastard wasn't telling her everything. And she won't know what.

"I don't expect them to, but I will know if they lie," Dazai spoke mischievously. He turned his head just enough for her to see a bastardly smirk on his face. She should punch him. Saskia felt like she had all the rights to punch him. And she will. Just not here and not now. It didn't take long for someone to start running at them. Just one person.

"Bastaaaard!" the man's voice shouted.

"I see someone recognized you," Saskia commented smugly. Yet she felt that pang of terror. She shouldn't be here.

"That voice… is giving me a headache already," said Dazai. Soon the man was close to them. And he aimed to punch Dazai in the face. The hit didn't land, but Saskia could understand the motive. The man before them was… short. In contrast to Dazai, it was especially noticeable. The second is his orange hair and a black hat on top of it. He wore the signature black coat of the mafia.

"You seek death, vagabond?" the short man asked. Blok lowered her head and stepped behind Osamu to hide herself better.

"Always, Chuuya!" Dazai answered with too much joy. Saskia tensed upon hearing the way they addressed each other. Dazai Osamu sure loved to pull one's leg, she was a victim too. Yet… Chuuya, then? Familiar bond?

"Get out of here before the boss hears about it," the short one growled.

"But why, Chuuya," Osamu replied, grinning. "I'm exactly here for him."

"Who's she?" Chuuya asked, pointing at her. Saskia stepped behind Dazai a bit more. There's one thing she couldn't hide from mafia – gender.

"My suicide partner!" came the reply from the taller man. In a normal situation, Blok would facepalm upon such a reply, but all things considered, this was a surprisingly believable answer. She saw the scene in the café, the confusion on the waitress's face. The question in her eyes Saskia couldn't answer, she just lowered her head, hid her face behind her hand, gesturing with the other that she had no clue what was happening. Saskia saw Osamu stepping to the left to hide her further from the prying eyes as Chuuya stepped to his right to get a glimpse.

"You do know you might not leave if you go inside?" the mafioso asked, grinning.

"Then would you answer my questions, Chuuya?" the other man spoke very casually. "It's a yes or no question."

"What is it?"

"Did the ability user leave any clues as to what he's planning on doing next?" Dazai asked nicely.

Chuuya huffed, "Nothing escapes you, vagabond. Bu the answer is no."

Saskia coughed. This was a lie.

"Is she okay?" Chuuya asked cautiously. She heard him making a step. Saskia lowered her head even more. It wasn't a moonlit night but at this distance, anyone would have a chance at spotting her features.

"Just the chill," answered Dazai. "But he left something behind, did he not?"

"Yes, he did."

"What was that?"

"Yes or no question, Dazai," the shorter man mocked.

"What information did he leave with, Chuuya?" Dazai's tone changes. From the sweet, friendly one to a menacing, warning. It surprised only her. The redhaired man was absolutely unbothered by the tone or the radical change in the attitude. This boldness of his will get us killed.

"Back off, suicidal maniac," the mafia man spoke with a warning.

"Calm down, gentlemen," another voice spoke. Saskia didn't dare to lift her head but this sure was someone else. Older judging by the sound of his voice. And his step was heavy, confident.

"Our interests align once more, Dazai," the new coming man spoke. "It's good to see you."

Tsk. Saskia touched her temple instinctively. Sharp pain shooting through her brain. Her heart started to beat faster. It was pain. And it was fear. They all knew each other, she had no doubts about it, and she should be here. Not with him, not alone with him.

"Having troubles, Mori-san?" Dazai taunted.

"None at all," the man replied monotonically.

Tsk. How much do you think the mafia would want someone with my ability? She couldn't lift her head, wouldn't dare to. All she could do is listen to their conversation, noting the tone and words used. And the lies, the lies will always be exposed if she could hear them. And if it's not coming from Dazai.

"But if you are willing to take on the task, then you can have it," Mori continued. "Save our resources."

"Did someone steal something from the Mafia, Mori?"

"No, Dazai. Where do you get such ideas?"

Tsk.

"What is wrong with you?" angrily asked Chuuya, reaching for her. Luckily, her partner was fast enough to catch him before he could do anything. Before he could expose her to them.

"A-ta-ta," crooned Osamu, "no touching."

The voice identified by Dazai as Mori spoke again, "Who is this young lady?"

"My double suicide."

"We should talk in private then."

"No, she stays with me," stated Osamu. "God only knows what you will do to her. Especially this pervert."

"Lying bastard!" Chuuya yelled in fury.

"So, what happened, Mori?" questioned Dazai once more.

"A man infiltrated our organization under a stolen identity. And once we started to suspect him, he disappeared."

For once, the man was telling the truth. It didn't negate the chills she was having just by being here, standing on the soil of Port Mafia in a goddamn crimson scarf.

"Did he now?" Dazai taunted.

"I've already told Fukuzawa everything," Mori dismissively reminded.

Tsk.

"Whose identity he assumed?"

The answer didn't come right away. Saskia could feel the thick and heavy silence between them. If only she dared to lift her head, she could witness what was happening between the two men. But all she knew is that it was silent. And Dazai was standing close to her, protecting, hiding her.

"He was known here as Mister Krik." Mori answered thoughtfully. "An international agent of sorts." Foreigner, Saskia noted. If someone assumed the identity of a foreigner, it would conceal the fact they didn't belong here either. That shapeshifter must be coming from outside of Japan.

"What do you know about the ability user?" Dazai asked again. "There is something you haven't told us."

"Would you like to come inside and talk then?" Mori asked, tilting his head.

Dazai turned around and waved the goodbye, "Thanks, but no thanks!"

Saskia followed him carefully to avoid Chuuya's spying eyes. He was too interested in her identity. She didn't like it. They walked a few meters; the end of Mafia's territory could be seen from here. But then…She heard it, she felt it. The landing of something right beside her. She turned to look at it on instinct. And before Dazai could stop him, Chuuya lifted her hastily disguise.

"Ha!" he exclaimed triumphantly.

"Chuuya," Dazai seethed.

"A secret for a secret," he proudly spoke. "I know who she is. In exchange, I'll tell you something Mori didn't."

"What is it?"

"The man we are looking for stole profiles from our database."

"What database?" Saskia asked. What's the point of hiding now? Chuuya saw her face, she's a detective and on occasion can be caught by the camera of some crime reporter. She's doomed if he wishes so anyway.

"Suspected gifted in Yokohama," the mafioso replied, crossing his arms. The blue eyes narrowed at her. Damn, she could tell what this stare was. He was trying to remember her face. She put the scarf on her head and turned away from him.

"You can get out of here," Dazai commanded calmly.

"Wha—"

"Not asking," he looked at her over the shoulder. Those eyes… She had never experienced such a stare. And she had seen some wicked people out there. It was empty, derived of emotion, colder than any murderer she'd ever seen. Psychopathic, she'd call it. She knew right there and then one very important thing: Dazai Osamu is morally sordid and potentially even dangerous. He switched faces and talked to the mafia in a very particular way. They were familiar, too close for members of rivalry organizations with opposite morals. She flipped him off and started to walk away. She was in a terrible, terrible mess.

She couldn't believe she waited for him to return. Like a dog. Dazai was coming back, his silhouette easily recognizable. Tall and lean figure with his hands in pockets. And that coat floating behind him like a cape. As he came close, she noticed that brief look in his eyes. A bit absent and a bit concerned at the same time. And dark, oh, so dark. Grim even. What news could it be?

"What did he say?" Blok asked, more concerned with each passing second. The man evened his gaze with hers. And it was gone, that look on his face vanished in a fleeting moment. He pulled the door of her car open and sighed.

"There's a mole in the police force," he answered gravely.

"And you know this how?" she asked, opening the driver's door. With both inside and their doors closed, Dazai finally gave an answer. Saskia was mortified. Her head fell on the wheel, hands tightly gripping it. Goddamn it.

"Why are you so concerned?" she asked, head still on the wheel.

"I'm not concerned," he answered simply, "just disappointed. The Mafia stooped so low as to infiltrate the police."

Saskia raised her head to look at the man, "They are mafia," she retorted as a matter-of-factly. I would be surprised if they didn't. They must be looking for the gifted. A question immediately popped up in her head. Was she in the database? Could the mole suspect that her "sixth sense" is not at all a gut feeling but a very specific skill? I can't tell if he lies. There are many ways people give out the signs of lying. Nervousness, avoiding eye contact, jumpy legs or sweaty palms. Some can lie with a straight face with only one particular tick turning them in. She had no clue how Dazai lies.

The man didn't say anything to her after. His eyes were looking somewhere else, somewhere beyond this plane of existence, somewhere where her gaze couldn't follow. Is this his thinking face?

In the car, Saskia couldn't stop rubbing her temple. Some people told small lies and caused very little pain. Some people told small lies and cause a lot of pain. She could never understand the connection between the severity of the lie and the pain it caused. Maybe it was the intention behind it or the one who was behind the lying. Maybe many variables influenced the severity of pain. However, maybe there wasn't any connection at all. But what she was doing didn't go unnoticed.

"Stop it," the man said. "Your hands should be on the steering wheel."

"It's dead of the night," she huffed. "And what are you afraid of, suicidal maniac?"

"I'm afraid you'll die before I get any use out of you."

"Charming."

"Headache?"

"Uh-huh."

He didn't say anything else. Instead, he reached out to touch the woman's shoulder. He poked her with a finger and, yet, the headache disappeared.

"Huh?" she couldn't even speak. She couldn't believe it even. His ability could take her pain away. The nullifier. The man just nonchalantly shrugged. That's what happened at the café. That's why she didn't mind his touch as much as she should have. That irritating pain was eased but she didn't notice it right away because soon it crept back inside her skull.

"This is your only redeeming quality," she huffed with a hint of amusement. How ironic is that the man she disliked so much would, the one she couldn't sense, would be such a relief at the same time? Just her luck.

Author's notes: Remember, I want to have fun while doing this too. Hope you enjoyed this.