Dazai Osamu texted her this afternoon asking about the Takara Koharu case. It, of course, got out to the public that a woman's body was found in an expensive part of town, buried in the yard of one of the sale houses. That will surely delay the sale of the house, but it also raised many questions. And the public wasn't happy about the lack of investigation going on. It was hard for the mass to grasp that everyone in the homicide department knew that a crime possibly took place but there was no evidence, witnesses or suspects, rendering all common sense useless. No actus reus. But now that the detective agency was asking about it, it must be something. She thought of taking her car and drive to the office as fast as she legally could. But considering the time of day, taking the train could be more beneficial. Plus, she could grab a drink on the way back. It was going to be murder talk case anyway. Whatever ADA had it must be something.

"What did you find?" Blok asked as soon as she opened the door. Everyone's eyes were on her. Dazai looked least surprised by the sudden and rude appearance. Kunikida, a bit more shocked, along with Atsushi. Edogawa Ranpo looked pleased.

"I won, Dazai," he said, reaching out his hand. The other man gave up the cupcake, muttering something with annoyance. Blok disregarded their strange behaviour and walked in the office, trying to make herself look comfortable enough to be here. In the heat of getting to know what they found she forgot that the agency consisting of more than Dazai and Tanizaki.

"What do you know about the death of Takara Koharu?" Osamu asked, leaning back in his chair. His hands supported the back of his head. A bit too casual for a murder talk, eh?

"What I could find in the files," the woman replied, shrugging dismissively. Husband died by suicide, slit his throat," she spoke, unnerved by the way Dazai's face illuminated. It's strange how he seemed most…sincere. The idea of suicide must fascinate him, no matter how grotesque.

"Really?" he asked. There were stars shimmering in his eyes as if he saw the eternal light. Kunikida smacked his partner on the head, pulling him out of the mesmerizing state he was in. Psychopath.

"Wife found dead just days ago, I'm sure you've heard," Saskia finished.

"We did," Doppo confirmed, rubbing the hand he laid the hit with. "And we have reasons to believe she was the victim of the ability user we are looking for."

The woman didn't know what to say. It would make sense for someone outside of the two victims to be involved in the strange case. There had to be someone else. But that woman made no sense. Married, a stable full-time job, perhaps underpaid, but the husband's salary was plenty to keep up with the house payments. Good credit history, a parking ticket, nothing out of the ordinary. Why them? Because she was at the wrong time at the wrong place?

"Fill me in," Blok said.

Based on what Kunikida and Dazai dug up, Ranpo concluded that Takara Koharu was the first victim of the ability user since he escaped from the mafia. Ranpo was also confident that the ability user was also partially responsible for Hibiki's suicide. And she didn't understand at all why he made such conclusions. However, given the strangeness of the case, it is plausible.

"What makes you think so?" detective Blok inquired. She was going over the printed images from the security cameras. She had seen similar pictures already when she was going through the case file. A woman whose husband killed himself rather gruesomely was spotted in a different part of the city looking very out of sorts. There was a sticking difference between the woman who left her work that evening and the woman who was spotted a day later. Her hair was perfectly styled, she wore feminine business suits with heels. Neat, stylish, feminine. And then she looked nothing like it. Messy, tired, hiding and running. Something must have happened — like her husband's suicide — to make her change so rapidly and dramatically.

"He would be able to tell the difference," Ranpo answered.

"He can perfectly copy the physical appearance," Kunikida added, "that's as much as we know."

"But given his escape, he needed to change skins fast," Ranpo picked up, "without knowing his victim. Choosing a married woman was dangerous and most beneficial at the same time."

"Then it means he killed and buried her," Saskia concluded, "but there were no signs of violence on the body."

"What was the cause of death?" questioned Dazai.

"Undetermined."

"We will stick to Ranpo's theory for now," concluded Doppo.

"So, what do we do?" she asked. This woman was just collateral damage. Saskia rubbed her temples, soothing the pain. No, this was a natural migraine. Tired, angry, too much coffee. A woman died and her husband committed suicide because of one gifted. What the hell happened in that house on the day of Hibiki's death that made him go so far and so violently? Was he forced to end his life? Threatened? Was it staged? No, staging suicide and of such manner would be incredibly hard. Blood spatter, DNA, fingerprints, there must have been something left behind to give them a clue. She didn't find anything in the files that would suggest a staged crime scene.

"We wait," Ranpo answered simply. She wanted to interject. She wanted to speak about how waiting would kill somebody again. But that's what it was. That's what being a cop was. Sometimes the most they could do is wait. And she cannot save everyone. Recognizing the difference was important to not drawn in guilt and self-loathing. She was, after all, the only person responsible for her sanity. Green eyes searched for the reactions of others. Yet only Kunikida displayed any sort of dissatisfaction with the plan.

"What do you think his end game is?" the woman asked Dazai, lifting her head. He gave her a dismissive shrug. In dark green eyes, a spark was lighted. Epiphany. He didn't tell them.

She could have ratted him out then and there but chose not to. Despite the child-like behaviour, there's one thing she cannot deny about Dazai Osamu. He's clever. He manipulated Junichiro to trick her into coming to the agency's office. He blackmailed her into helping them to find a shapeshifting gifted. Therefore, she would rather have something to hold above his head. Which was even more suspicious. Dazai didn't come across as a man who would allow many things to be held above his head. So, they walked together while exchanging no words. Not in the least her idea. He simply followed her and played it off as if she wasn't purposefully ignoring him.

Someone tugged on her coat. Saskia looked at the nullifier and understood what he wanted from her. She scowled at the idea but complied with taking out her earplugs.

"What?" Blok asked in irritation. The fact they were walking together already annoyed her. She wanted to get some coffee, a scone maybe and peace of mind. But with him here, it wasn't on today's menu.

"It's not very comfortable to communicate with you this way," Dazai said, still pointing at his ear.

"Well, sorry," she sardonically said. The ability Saskia possessed cause her pain every time someone lied. Strangers' confessions overheard on the street brought her nothing bu the pain of the wretched gift. He can take it away, though… No, she wouldn't touch him every now and then that's… uncomfortable and draws attention.

"It is surprising," Osamu says absentmindedly. Blok had no clue what Dazai meant by that but didn't question him.

"Your ability, I mean," his tone was slowly painted with interest, "after I nullify it. You recover pretty fast."

"Outstanding me," her sardonic, acidic tone was surprising even to her. The bitterness, the spite she harboured for her ability… She knew she shouldn't, those feelings won't fix what is wrong, those feelings are damaging. Yet she cannot help but feel them, collect and bury them underneath. The man cocked his head, expression unintelligible. Only something in his eyes, an idea, perhaps. He watched her for a moment and then another. She felt his gaze, she felt she always could feel his eyes on her. Then there was a mischievous smile on his lips. Saskia frowned knowing that it couldn't be good. Osamu, however, felt very proud for coming up with such an idea. He took out his hands from the pocket of his coat and easily tugged at her arm.

"What?" the woman asked impatiently, taking her hands out of the warm pocket.

"This should be good enough." There it was, the shine in his eyes Saskia never cherished. It was a devilish glint, a sparkle of mischief. What's worse is that it suits him — a perfect mask. Or maybe his real face. She detested the look he gave her. Dazai's hand snaked around hers and she tried to pull away. But he forcefully intertwined their fingers, holding her hand in a tight lock. Her eyes widened in shock. But that glimmer was gone from his eyes, just a self-satisfied smirk could be seen on the profile of his face. Psychopath. But he was right. It would work. No pain for her, she could listen to the world outside. Including his annoying voice. And it didn't look suspicious at all. In fact, people would look at them less. Blok could be taken by the kindness of the gesture if only it was coming from somebody else. Dazai Osamu doesn't do kind.

"So, what was that romantic outing to the Port Mafia all about?" Blok asked in a calm voice. "You didn't tell your colleagues about it."

"There isn't much to tell," he answered simply.

"The database of suspected gifted in Yokohama," she recalled the only thing she heard. The red-haired man said it right before Dazai told her to leave. And she obliged. She wouldn't dare not to in that situation if she was brave enough to admit it. That look in Dazai's eyes was nothing short of dark intent.

"You think he wants to hide as another gifted?" the woman continued.

"I doubt it," Osamu shook his head, "it would be too obvious for the mafia. They will be watching them — the profiles he stole — hoping to catch him again. However, he might be aiming to use their abilities for his benefit, assume someone they know, someone close to them."

"That's why you didn't say anything," Blok agreed. "That would create some tensions between Port Mafia and your agency."

"Ranpo expects our target to assume the identity of a public service worker."

"Changing topics, I see. Alright then, keep your secrets."

Dazai Osamu walked her home, gave her a childish, innocent smile and said his goodbye. And at that moment as he was waving at her, smiling widely and possibly even genuinely, Saskia wanted to believe that this what he was like. This tall man wearing a coat with a mop of dark hair was cheery and clever and good. And for a moment, just before she looked at him for the last time, she did. Dazai Osamu, standing meters away from her, waving her goodbye and giving her a smile was real. The sun was lost in his dark hair. The wind picked up his coat. Yes, the picture is too ideal to be real, isn't it? A romantic painted it to make an onlooker believe in its beauty and truthfulness.

"I knew she would be your type," Dazai said, coming close to the shorter man. Chuuya wasn't surprised by his appearance. He saw him coming from here. A rooftop of another building with a perfect opportunity to observe the life inside the apartment of the building in front. Perfect view and not too obvious. Nakahara lowered his binoculars.

"I'm not happy to see you, Dazai," he spat.

"Of course," the other answered as a matter-of-factly. "Found anything interesting?"

"She lives a boring life, binges TV shows, doesn't talk for more than 2 minutes on her phone," he said and turned his face to look at the man he knew so well. "And she is with you."

"Good observation skills, Chuuya," Osamu mocked.

"She is gifted then. Our informant marked her as having some sort of premonition as her gift," the red-haired man stated. He cocked his head a bit up, looking at his ex-partner, down and up. Osamu's face was neutral, betraying nothing. That what Cuuya thought he was on the inside: nothingness.

"You know what her ability is and you won't tell me," Nakahara simply stated. There would be no reason for him to give out that information now. Or later, for that matter. Dazai deemed Saskia's skill a tad too-good-to-be-true for the mafia. A woman who could tell when someone lied, well, that was asking for trouble. Mafia is very particular about the way they get information, but who could ever refuse an opportunity to make their life easier?

"Of course," Dazai nodded and smiled in agreement.

"You were holding hands, I saw," Chuuya continued. "Which means, you were nullifying her ability," a smile grew on his face. "But a combat-oriented ability would be much harder to hide from the police."

Chuuya didn't continue talking, noticing how dark Dazai's eyes turned. He had seen that look before. He knew this darkness in his eyes too well. Those dark brown eyes were the same as on that day Dazai Osamu revealed what he was. A warped human being capable of many things Chuuya personally looked down upon. That day he swore to one crush that deal-making demon. He still holds on to that promise. And yet here he was, Dazai Osamu, in the flash, somewhat alive, somewhat unharmed.

"Where was your wit in the past?" Dazai solemnly asked. And while his voice was calm, it held such power. And a certain sense of tenebrosity.

"I'd push you off this roof to your death, but you would like it, wouldn't you?" he spit. Dazai hummed, entertained by his ex-partner's behaviour as always. It's too easy to pull on his strings.

"There's no way I wouldn't watch her myself after seeing her with you," Chuuya boiled with anger.

"Jealous?" he asked, lifting his brows.

"How do you put it? I don't have such interest in men? Exactly. But you are interested in her ability. And so are we."

"I'll be seeing you then, Chuuya," Osamu said, turning around to walk away. He knew he had an upper hand in the situation. For one, he was actually closer to Saskia than Chuuya and that will remain this way. And second, he knew people, important people, knowledgeable and resourceful people. People working for the government. His sources of information were somewhat superior.