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It’s a seemingly regular Tuesday afternoon, and the ADA office is abuzz. Not quite the energy that comes with an intricate case, no – today, something much more exciting and awful is brewing.
“Now,” Yosano says, raising a finger, “allow me to reiterate the one and only rule: No. Mori.”
She levels the detectives with a glare. All other members of the Agency currently aged eighteen and above, huddling a desk in the center of the office, nod solemnly. The past week has seen them discussing and planning this event, and with Kyouka and Kenji currently out on a job and Fukuzawa in a meeting, it is finally time.
“Good. Then let’s begin. Who wants to go first?”
“I shall!” Dazai says enthusiastically. He steps forward and, with a flourish, produces a toothpick with a small piece of paper taped to it to resemble a flag. The paper features a grainy print of the Agency president. Dazai leans forward and promptly sticks the flag into the innocent chocolate cake sitting on the desk.
Ranpo and Yosano groan in unison when they make out the face. “Oh really, you two,” Dazai tuts, “this should hardly be a surprise.”
“And it’ll only get worse from here,” Yosano sighs. “Someone else add to it, go on. Tanizaki, how about you?”
He advances self-consciously. “I guess I can feel a little less weird about my choice, following that…” With a nimble hand, Tanizaki brings out his flag of Hirotsu Ryuurou. There are murmurs of assent from the jury. He slinks back in, looking like an enormous weight has lifted from his chest. Atsushi gives him a reassuring pat on the back.
“I’ll go next!” Ranpo shouts. He hops down from the desk he had been swinging his legs off of. Two suspiciously friendly-looking faces emerge from his hands and onto the cake.
Kunikida clears his throat. “Ranpo-san, this is only round one. You need only place one—”
“Yes, yes, rules and formality but more importantly, this isn’t how this works, Ranpo – we all already know you’re fucking Poe and Mushitarou.”
“Well, I don’t care, they’re who I would fuck!” Ranpo rounds back to Yosano, arms crossed. She throws her hands up.
“Oh my goodness, alright. Luckily, I know how to play this game, so” – Yosano whips out her own flag – “how’s this for a change of pace, eh?”
Everybody squints. The small object shows a very blurry and pixelated image of something red.
“What is that, Yosano-san?” Tanizaki asks politely.
“It’s Rashoumon, of course. The humanoid version.”
Atsushi buries his face in his hands.
“I know, sorry, I couldn’t find a clearer picture from that night,” Yosano says with a wave of her hand. She sticks Humanoid Rashoumon next to Hirotsu. “I was contemplating Lovecraft as well, in his monstrous form, but honestly? Too big. Too much hassle to work around. Rashoumon is hot and accessible in many ways.”
Dazai nods slowly, as if contemplating deeply. “Although I personally would not, sensei, I understand where you’re coming from. I respect it.”
“Much appreciated, Dazai.”
“Who’s left?” His eyes glitter when they land on their next target. “Kunikida-kun!”
The man in question fixes the ends of the ribbon at his collar, then steps forward. His face is set to stoicism, which would almost convince his colleagues if not for an accompanying pinkness.
“I would like you all to understand,” Kunikida begins, “that this choice is not a reflection of my moral standings. I would never, in good conscience, partake in…” He shifts on his feet. Frowns as he tries again. “That is to say, if the unfeasible opportunity were to present itself, I would not place such fantasy above the principle—”
“Just put him in, Kunikida,” Ranpo drawls.
Kunikida sighs and lets the hammer drop. They all crane their necks around him to see.
“Nikolai?” Dazai looks positively gleeful. “Oh my, Kunikida-kun, how blasephemous!”
“Like I said,” he reinforces hotly, “this is purely hypothetical—”
“Quit trying to hide how much of a freak you are, Kunikida. We know you would love for Gogol to throw you around with that ability of his.”
“Tears flowing both north and south, for sure,” Ranpo chimes in.
“What?!”
“You could ask him to recite your ideals while he sucks you off. He’s probably already gathered that experience with Fyodor~”
“Dazai—!”
So busy are Kunikida’s seniors with tormenting him, that Tanizaki is the only one to notice the other new addition to the cake. His eyes bulge in their sockets before he looks to Atsushi. The latter seems unperturbed, if only a little bemused watching the rowdiness continue before him.
“Come on, Kunikida-kun, don’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy a filthy scandal! Just imagine—”
The room suddenly quietens as Dazai cuts himself off. He freezes in place, with Kunikida’s hands still strangling his neck. The others turn to see what has earned Dazai’s stunned attention.
At the forefront of the cake, there now also flies a flag of none other than Nakahara Chuuya.
Ranpo is the first to begin cackling again. Yosano joins in not long after. Kunikida releases his hands, sensing that another storm has arrived.
“Atsushi…”
“Yes?” Atsushi responds. His mentor gravitates towards him, fingers reaching out. They grasp his shoulders like claws, but he keeps his chin held high.
“Atsushi-kun.” Dazai’s voice betrays no emotion. The only times Atsushi has seen him so grim are when he’s deep in thought about how to feed Kunikida false information. “How… could you… do this to me?” he finishes in a wail.
Atsushi yelps as he’s violently shaken about, leaving his arms to swing around like those of an inflatable balloon man. “What do you mean!” he protests. “It’s not like you can disagree!”
“Exactly! And just imagine if Chuuya found out… I shudder to think what it would do for his tiny slug ego. He can’t know about this,” Dazai says, as he lets go of Atsushi to fish for his phone.
“Well, of course. This is all confidential, isn’t it…?” Atsushi rubs his shoulders, puzzled.
“Hm? Oh, yes, don’t worry.” Dazai raises his phone to his ear. “Chuuuya! I have news for you!”
“Wait—”
“It’s about Atsushi-kun, you remember him? Mhm, he just told me he would love—”
“NO! DAZAI-SAN!”
There’s a clatter as Atsushi lunges to press the end call button on Dazai’s phone. Dazai lets it fall to the ground, hands over his mouth to hide his malevolent giggles. His student heaves, fully red in the face, before taking Kunikida’s earlier place of strangling the bandaged man. Ranpo and Yosano cheer Atsushi on, while Kunikida nods in solidarity. Tanizaki sits on an adjoining desk, enjoying Ranpo’s snacks.
“Well, you all seem to be having fun.”
They all jump as the president’s voice booms through the room. Fukuzawa strolls towards the group, impervious to the nervous gazes on him. He pauses before the abomination on the desk. “A cake…”
“President!” Dazai exclaims. “We were just discussing who might make a good mascot for the Agency.”
“Yeah,” Ranpo adds lazily.
“Is that so…” Fukuzawa scans the mess of mafiosos and non-humans until they land on his likeness. An eyebrow raises. “And one of you elected myself? I’m flattered.”
“Why, that was me!”
“If you all don’t mind, I would like to contribute.”
Ranpo and Yosano pale visibly. The rest of the detectives look on with trepidation, sans Dazai, who looks like he’s having the best day of his life.
Fukuzawa reaches for a notepad. “I am surprised none of you mentioned Ranpo,” he says, ripping a page and folding it in half. He begins tracing a small image on it. “You took on that mascot job some time before the world-ending fiasco, did you not?”
Now everybody is looking more than a little pale. Ranpo is closer to a shade of green.
The president slips the paper, now bearing a simple recreation of Ranpo dressed in the bear-mascot bodysuit, into the cake. “I would have thought that this would be an easy option. However…” He pauses thoughtfully. “I suppose I would need to hear the criteria to better assess.”
“Assess what?”
The whole room jumps again. Kenji and Kyouka, evidently having returned from their errands, watch the adults curiously.
“Welcome back,” Fukuzawa greets. “You’re just in time for the selection of our organisation’s new mascot, it seems.”
“Oh, how fun!” Kenji says. “I’d like to put in our village’s most beloved cow, if possible!”
“Ah,” Atsushi says weakly. “Sure, Kenji-kun. Should we get to eating this cake?” He directs a look of desperation to the other detectives.
“Sounds like a great idea, Atsushi-kun!”
And so, the Agency office dissolves into idle chatter as the cake of horrors is carved up. Dazai takes the initiative, but without first removing all the flags, for some reason. When Kyouka receives her slice of cake, she takes one shrewd glance at the flag of Chuuya, then another at Dazai. He blinks innocently down at her.
After a second, Kyouka shrugs. She could truly worry less about whatever goes on between the adults.