Bungou Stray Dogs Isekai × Moriarty the Patriot

Atsushi stood barely a meter from the edge of the rooftop, gripping the cold railing hard enough for his knuckles to ache while the night wind whipped his hair across his eyes and dragged at the loose fabric of his clothes. Yokohama stretched beneath him in a glittering ocean of windows, traffic lights, signs and distant headlights, beautiful in precisely the way heights were not supposed to be beautiful when Osamu Dazai was standing anywhere nearby. Atsushi had learned several important things since joining the Armed Detective Agency. Never let Kunikida discover that Dazai had altered his schedule. Never assume Ranpo was actually asleep. Never insult Yosano’s medical ability if you valued your remaining organs. And, perhaps most importantly, never stand beside Dazai on a bridge, beside a river, near railroad tracks, on a cliff, on a rooftop, beside an open window above the second floor, or anywhere else where gravity might suddenly become relevant. Atsushi slowly looked over his shoulder. Dazai was standing about four meters behind him, hands buried comfortably in the pockets of his long coat, head tilted slightly, wearing an expression of such innocent serenity that Atsushi immediately became suspicious. “Dazai-san.” “Hm?” “What are you doing?” “Standing.” “I can see that.” “Then why did you ask?” Atsushi stared at him. Dazai smiled. Atsushi’s suspicion increased by approximately four hundred percent. “Why are you looking at the edge?” “Perhaps I’m appreciating Yokohama’s beauty.” “You don’t usually appreciate city architecture while smiling like a criminal.” “That’s extremely judgmental, Atsushi-kun.” “I’ve known you too long.” “How cruel. To think my innocent junior has become so cynical.” Dazai sighed dramatically and placed one hand over his heart. Atsushi noticed the other hand move behind his coat. “What’s that?” “What’s what?” “Behind your back.” “Nothing.” “Dazai-san.” “A gift.” “For who?” “Me.” That answer somehow made everything worse. Atsushi narrowed his eyes and moved closer. Dazai retreated one step. Atsushi moved another. Dazai retreated again. “Show me.” “You really should respect people’s privacy.” “SHOW ME.” Dazai finally produced a length of rope with a loose loop hanging from one end. Atsushi’s face went completely blank. There was a long silence. The wind passed between them. Somewhere far below, a car horn sounded. Atsushi looked at the rope. Then at Dazai. Then back at the rope. “No.” “You haven’t even heard my idea.” “NO.” “But Atsushi-kun—” “No.” “It could be educational.” “NO.” Dazai raised the loop experimentally toward his neck. Atsushi lunged forward so fast he nearly transformed on instinct and snatched it out of his hands. “STOP THAT!” “Ah.” Dazai looked genuinely disappointed. “Give it back.” “Absolutely not!” “It belongs to me.” “Not anymore!” “The Agency doesn’t have a confiscation policy for personal property.” “WE DO NOW!” A sharp voice suddenly exploded from behind them. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?” Atsushi spun around. Kunikida stood near the rooftop door with his notebook in one hand and an expression suggesting he had just caught two children attempting to dismantle a bomb with kitchen utensils. His gaze moved to Atsushi. Then to the rope. Then very slowly to Dazai. The vein near his temple appeared almost instantly. “Dazai.” “Kunikida-kun.” “Why does Atsushi have a rope?” “He stole it.” “I CONFISCATED IT!” Atsushi shouted. “From whom?” Atsushi pointed furiously. Kunikida closed his eyes. His shoulders rose with one slow breath. Then another. “I shouldn’t have asked.” Dazai brightened. “Kunikida-kun, would you like to hear my new codename?” “No.” “Agent 007.” “No.” “Zero happiness.” “Dazai.” “Zero money.” “Your salary was deposited three days ago.” “Emotionally, I have zero money.” “THAT IS NOT HOW MONEY WORKS!” “And seven seconds to suicide.” Kunikida’s glasses flashed. Atsushi felt instinctive fear despite not being the target. Dazai raised one finger. “Seven.” “Dazai.” “Six.” “Don’t.” “Five.” “I am warning you.” “Four.” Atsushi grabbed Dazai’s sleeve. “Dazai-san.” “Three.” “DAZAI-SAN.” “Two.” Kunikida took one step forward. “If you say one—” “One.” Dazai stepped backward into empty space. Atsushi’s heart stopped. For one impossible instant Dazai simply hung against the night sky, coat fluttering around his body, expression almost peaceful. Then he disappeared over the rooftop. “DAZAAAAAAAAI!” Atsushi launched himself after him without thinking. White fur erupted across his arms, muscles twisting and expanding as his partial tiger transformation tore through him. His claws struck concrete hard enough to leave grooves as half his body went over the edge. Dazai was already falling below. Atsushi stretched his arm. Missed. “DAMMIT!” He lunged farther. His claws tore another line through the rooftop. His fingers finally closed around Dazai’s wrist. The sudden weight nearly dragged him over. Atsushi’s shoulder screamed. His stomach slammed into the rooftop edge. Below him, Dazai swung gently in the night air. He looked up. “Oh. Atsushi-kun.” Atsushi’s eye twitched. “OH ATSUSHI-KUN?!” “Fancy meeting you here.” “YOU JUMPED!” “I prefer ’made a decisive vertical exit.’” “THAT IS JUMPING!” Dazai glanced toward the street far beneath him with mild curiosity. “The view really is better from here.” “STOP LOOKING DOWN!” “Why?” “BECAUSE I’M TRYING NOT TO THINK ABOUT HOW FAR DOWN IT IS!” “Then technically you shouldn’t look down.” “I’M LOOKING AT YOU!” “And I’m down.” Atsushi almost screamed. His claws slipped half an inch. The sound of concrete cracking beneath them instantly erased the comedy from his face. “Dazai-san, stop moving.” “I’m not moving. Gravity is.” “STOP HELPING!” Something suddenly locked around Atsushi’s ankle. He yelled and almost released Dazai. “DON’T LET GO!” Kunikida roared. Atsushi twisted his head. Kunikida was lying flat on the rooftop, both hands around Atsushi’s leg, teeth clenched as he pulled backward. “Kunikida-san!” “Keep your arm straight!” “I’M TRYING!” “You’re bending your elbow!” “HE’S HEAVY!” Dazai looked offended. “Atsushi-kun.” “NOT NOW!” “I barely weigh anything.” “YOU WEIGH ENOUGH!” “Perhaps death has made me bloated.” Kunikida’s expression became murderous. “YOU’RE NOT DEAD!” “Not for lack of enthusiasm.” “DAZAI!” Atsushi felt Kunikida’s grip tighten painfully around his ankle as the older man attempted to redistribute their combined weight. For several seconds they held. Atsushi could hear his own pulse. Wind rushed between the buildings. Dazai, meanwhile, looked almost bored. “Kunikida-kun.” “Don’t talk.” “Do you think this counts as teamwork?” “DON’T TALK.” “Because technically we’re all supporting one another.” “I SAID DON’T TALK!” “Very literally, actually.” Atsushi’s claws slipped another fraction. “Kunikida-san!” “I KNOW!” Then another voice came from behind them, low and cold. “Pathetic.” Atsushi’s entire body went rigid. He knew that voice. He really, really knew that voice. “No.” Kunikida’s head snapped around. A black coat shifted out of the rooftop shadows as Akutagawa stepped into the light, Rashōmon stirring behind him like something alive and irritated. He stared at the tableau before him without visible emotion for two seconds. Then his gaze moved downward. Toward Dazai. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “Dazai-san.” Dazai lifted his free hand as much as Atsushi’s grip allowed and waved. “Akutagawa-kun. What perfect timing.” Atsushi stared upward in horror. “This is not perfect timing!” Akutagawa’s eyes snapped toward him. “Jinko.” “Don’t start.” “Why is Dazai-san’s life currently dependent on your incompetent hand?” “BECAUSE I CAUGHT HIM!” “Poorly.” “I’M HOLDING AN ENTIRE PERSON WITH ONE ARM!” “Then become stronger.” “I’M ALREADY A TIGER!” “Not an impressive one.” “DO YOU WANT ME TO DROP HIM?!” Akutagawa went absolutely still. Atsushi regretted the sentence immediately. “I mean, I won’t. Obviously. I was making a point.” Akutagawa walked forward. Kunikida barked, “Stay back unless you’re actually going to help.” Akutagawa looked at him as though the suggestion itself were offensive. “I have no intention of assisting the Agency.” “Fantastic. Then leave.” Akutagawa looked past him at Dazai. Then at Atsushi. Then at the cracked concrete beneath Atsushi’s claws. His expression darkened. “However, if Jinko allows Dazai-san to fall before I defeat him personally, I will consider it an unforgivable insult.” Atsushi stared at him. “That sentence makes no sense.” “It doesn’t need to.” “It absolutely does!” Akutagawa crouched abruptly and grabbed Kunikida by the ankle. Kunikida froze. Atsushi froze. Even Dazai looked slightly more interested. “What are you doing?” Kunikida asked very slowly. “Preventing your failure.” “BY HOLDING MY ANKLE?” “You are holding his.” “THAT DOESN’T MAKE THIS A STRATEGY!” “It has worked so far.” “FOR THREE SECONDS!” Atsushi looked upward at the situation and felt something inside his mind quietly surrender. He was holding Dazai. Kunikida was holding him. Akutagawa was holding Kunikida. A human chain had formed over the edge of a skyscraper entirely because Dazai had decided that Agent 007 was apparently a personality trait. “This is insane.” Dazai looked upward. “I think it’s rather touching.” “Nobody asked you!” Atsushi shouted. “I feel we’ve grown closer.” “We’re going to grow closer to the pavement!” “That’s pessimistic.” “YOU JUMPED OFF THE ROOF!” Akutagawa glanced down. “Dazai-san, are you injured?” “Emotionally.” “Ignore him,” Kunikida snapped. “I usually do,” Atsushi muttered. Dazai sighed. “Such a cold workplace.” Akutagawa’s grip shifted slightly. Kunikida immediately shouted, “DON’T MOVE!” “I wasn’t.” “Your hand moved!” “Hands are required to maintain grip.” “NOT LIKE THAT!” Rashōmon stirred. Kunikida stared at it. “Don’t even think about it.” Akutagawa narrowed his eyes. “I could stabilize this more efficiently with Rashōmon.” Atsushi shouted, “YOUR ABILITY CUTS THINGS!” “Only when I wish it to.” “THAT DOESN’T MAKE ME FEEL BETTER!” Dazai added, “And if Rashōmon touches me, it disappears.” Everyone went silent. Akutagawa looked down at him. Then at his own coat. Then slowly back at Dazai. “...Right.” Atsushi couldn’t help himself. “Great plan.” Akutagawa’s face darkened. “Silence, Jinko.” A new voice suddenly spoke from behind Akutagawa. “Why is there a queue?” Everyone turned as much as their positions allowed. Chūya Nakahara stood several meters away, hat tipped slightly forward, one hand in his coat pocket. His eyes moved from Akutagawa’s back to Kunikida’s body, then to Atsushi hanging over the edge, then finally to Dazai below. His expression passed through confusion, disbelief, irritation and finally something resembling spiritual exhaustion. “No.” Dazai smiled brightly. “Chūya!” Chūya pointed at him. “No.” “You haven’t heard anything yet.” “I don’t need to.” “But—” “I saw you hanging off a building. That’s enough information.” Atsushi shouted, “He jumped!” Chūya’s eyes closed. “Of course he did.” Kunikida snapped, “Help first. Kill him afterward.” Chūya opened one eye. “That’s the most reasonable thing anybody’s said tonight.” Dazai looked offended. “Why is everyone planning my murder when I am clearly in a vulnerable emotional state?” Chūya stepped forward. “You jumped off a roof.” “Exactly. Vulnerable.” “You’re going to be more vulnerable when I break every bone in your body.” “Such passion.” “Shut up.” “You missed me.” “I’d miss you more accurately if I had a gun.” Atsushi groaned. “Can everyone please stop threatening each other while we’re hanging over certain death?” Dazai looked thoughtful. “Certain death sounds rather optimistic.” “OPTIMISTIC?!” “For me.” Chūya’s eye twitched so violently Atsushi thought it might become a medical issue. Then he moved. Fast. He dropped near the edge, seized Akutagawa around the lower leg and planted himself with his center of gravity low. A faint red glow flickered around him as his ability compensated for the shifting weight without bringing Dazai directly into contact with it. The chain stopped sliding. Atsushi felt the pressure on his shoulder ease slightly. “Oh thank God.” Kunikida exhaled sharply. Akutagawa said nothing, though some tension left his posture. Chūya looked down along the human chain. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve seen all month.” Kunikida snapped, “He did it.” “I KNOW HE DID IT.” “You haven’t heard why yet.” Chūya stared at Dazai. “There is no reason he could give that would make this less stupid.” Dazai raised his free hand. “Agent 007.” Chūya’s face went blank. “What?” “Zero happiness. Zero money. Seven seconds to suicide.” Silence. Chūya’s expression became almost peaceful. “Let go of him.” Atsushi’s eyes widened. “WHAT?!” Kunikida barked, “Nakahara!” “I’m kidding.” Chūya’s gaze remained fixed on Dazai. “Mostly.” Dazai smiled. “You do care.” “I care about not having to explain your corpse to the Port Mafia.” “That’s practically love.” “I’m going to use your head as a football.” “Very European of you.” “OSAMU.” Dazai laughed. And that was the problem. Everyone else was breathing hard. Atsushi’s shoulder was screaming. Kunikida’s glasses were crooked. Akutagawa was holding a member of the Agency by the leg as if the universe had personally insulted him. Chūya was supporting an entire chain of human beings while openly considering murder. But Dazai laughed as though he were sitting in a café instead of hanging above several dozen meters of empty air. Atsushi hated that laugh sometimes. Not because it was fake exactly. Dazai could genuinely find situations amusing. That was almost worse. The line between Dazai making a joke about dying and Dazai genuinely being indifferent to whether he survived had always been too thin for Atsushi to see. “Dazai-san,” Atsushi said, quieter now. Dazai looked up. “Hm?” “Why did you actually jump?” Something changed. It lasted less than a second. The smile remained, but Dazai’s eyes sharpened. He looked past Atsushi. Past Kunikida. Past Akutagawa. Toward the rooftop behind Chūya. Atsushi followed his gaze as far as his position allowed. At first he saw nothing. Then a pale figure stepped from the darkness. Fyodor Dostoevsky. He moved without hurry, as if he had arrived at a theater slightly late but knew the ending already. His hands were relaxed. His expression almost gentle. Chūya noticed the shift in Dazai’s face before he noticed Fyodor himself. “What?” Dazai said quietly, “Don’t move.” Chūya’s brow lowered. “I wasn’t planning to.” “Especially your left foot.” That made Chūya glance down instinctively. Fyodor smiled. “Interesting.” Kunikida turned his head sharply. “Dostoevsky.” Akutagawa’s expression hardened. Atsushi felt his stomach drop for a completely different reason. Fyodor stood several meters behind Chūya and surveyed the chain. “How cooperative,” he said. “I didn’t expect all of you to arrange yourselves so conveniently.” Chūya’s voice was ice. “Take one more step.” Fyodor did not. Instead his eyes flicked toward the ground beside Chūya’s left boot. There was a rusted maintenance bracket bolted into the old concrete near the edge, already warped by years of weather. Chūya’s boot had ended up pressed partly against it while bracing the chain. Dazai saw it. Fyodor saw it. Chūya didn’t. Not yet. Dazai’s smile vanished. “Chūya.” Fyodor lightly moved one foot. Not toward Chūya. Toward the bracket. Kunikida understood too late. “Nakahara!” Fyodor touched the old metal with the toe of his shoe. Barely a movement. Barely an action at all. The bracket snapped. Chūya’s support shifted. His left foot slid several inches. The entire chain jerked. Akutagawa’s grip tightened. Kunikida shouted. Atsushi’s claws tore free from the concrete. For one terrible instant nobody moved because everybody moved at once. Chūya tried to compensate with gravity, but Dazai was at the bottom of the chain and the geometry was wrong; changing the weight too aggressively risked throwing Atsushi sideways or forcing contact through the chain at the worst possible moment. “Shit!” Chūya lunged for firmer ground. Fyodor took one calm step backward. “How unfortunate.” Chūya’s face twisted. “YOU RAT—” The rooftop disappeared beneath them. Atsushi screamed. Kunikida shouted Dazai’s full name with the fury of a man attempting to make it legally binding. Akutagawa cursed. Chūya twisted in midair. Dazai fell at the bottom of the chain with his coat spread around him, looking upward. Not down. Up. At Fyodor. Fyodor remained standing at the edge, watching. Dazai smiled. But it wasn’t the smile from the Agent 007 joke. It wasn’t the ridiculous smile he’d worn while dangling from Atsushi’s hand. It was thin. Controlled. Almost satisfied. Atsushi saw it. The realization hit him harder than the wind. “You knew.” Dazai’s eyes moved toward him. “What?” “You knew he was there.” Dazai didn’t answer. “DAZAI-SAN, YOU KNEW?!” Kunikida heard him despite the wind. “WHAT DID HE KNOW?!” “THIS WAS ON PURPOSE!” Atsushi shouted. Chūya twisted toward Dazai. “WHAT WAS ON PURPOSE?!” Dazai smiled again. “This probably isn’t the ideal moment for a strategic debrief.” “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU BEFORE THE GROUND DOES!” Chūya roared. Akutagawa looked between them. “Dazai-san had a plan.” Atsushi’s disbelief broke through even the terror. “THAT DOESN’T MAKE IT BETTER!” “It does somewhat.” “NO IT DOESN’T!” “Jinko, if Dazai-san predicted—” “WE ARE FALLING!” “I am aware.” “THEN PANIC LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!” “I refuse.” Kunikida’s voice tore through the wind. “EVERYONE SHUT UP!” For half a second, everyone actually did. Then Dazai said, “Kunikida-kun.” “WHAT?” “If we survive, could you update tomorrow’s schedule?” Kunikida’s face contorted with a level of rage that transcended fear. “WHY?” “I may be emotionally unavailable in the morning.” “YOU WILL BE PHYSICALLY UNAVAILABLE WHEN I STRANGLE YOU!” “That’s considerate of you.” “DAZAI!” Atsushi saw the streets rushing closer. Windows whipped past. His tiger instincts screamed at him to transform fully, but Dazai’s hand in his made the ability unstable whenever their skin shifted too close. He couldn’t plan. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Then something appeared beneath them. A door. Atsushi blinked. A wooden door stood vertically in empty air, surrounded by nothing, glowing faintly around its frame. “Lucy,” Atsushi whispered. The door opened. Candlelight spilled into the night. “EVERYONE BRACE—” Atsushi hit it shoulder-first. The world folded. Gravity vanished, returned, rotated ninety degrees and apparently developed a personal grudge. Atsushi smashed onto wooden floorboards. Kunikida landed partly on top of him. Akutagawa crashed into Kunikida. Chūya hit Akutagawa, rolled over him and somehow managed to kick Dazai during the process. Dazai struck the floor last with an undignified grunt. For several seconds nobody moved. Atsushi lay face-down with one cheek pressed against the floor. His tiger claws slowly receded. His entire body hurt. “Am I dead?” he mumbled. Dazai’s voice came from somewhere underneath the pile. “If you are, the afterlife has disappointingly cheap flooring.” Atsushi closed his eyes. “Unfortunately, he’s alive.” Chūya shoved himself upright first. “Move.” Akutagawa pushed away from Kunikida with visible disgust. “Get off me.” “YOU LANDED ON ME,” Kunikida snapped. Atsushi crawled free and rolled onto his back, gasping. They were inside Anne’s Room. The towering walls disappeared upward into darkness. Faded wallpaper surrounded them. Candlelight flickered against impossible corners. A single wooden chair stood near the center of the room. Lucy stood beside it with her arms crossed. Her expression was somewhere between annoyance and disbelief. Her crimson eyes moved slowly over the pile of men on her floor. “I opened one door,” she said. “How did six idiots come through it?” Atsushi immediately pointed at Dazai. “Him.” Kunikida pointed at Dazai. “Him.” Chūya pointed at Dazai. “Him.” Akutagawa remained silent for two seconds. Then pointed at Atsushi. “Jinko.” Atsushi shot upright. “WHAT?!” “Your grip was inadequate.” “I SAVED EVERYONE LONG ENOUGH FOR LUCY TO OPEN THE DOOR!” “You fell.” “BECAUSE FYODOR BROKE CHŪYA’S FOOTING!” “Excuses.” “YOU WERE HOLDING KUNIKIDA-SAN’S ANKLE!” Lucy stared at them. “I regret opening the door.” Dazai sat up slowly and brushed invisible dust from his coat. “Lucy-chan, you saved us.” “I saved Atsushi.” She looked at the others. “You were attached.” Chūya snorted. Atsushi almost smiled despite himself. Dazai placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “Rejected even after surviving certain death.” Lucy’s gaze dropped to him. “You jumped on purpose.” “Allegedly.” “I saw it.” “Circumstantial evidence.” “You counted down.” “Performance art.” Kunikida moved. Atsushi barely saw it happen. One moment Dazai was sitting comfortably. The next Kunikida had crossed the distance, seized him by the collar and slammed him flat against the wooden floor. The sound echoed through Anne’s Room. “HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST YOUR MIND?!” Dazai blinked up at him. For once, he didn’t immediately answer. Kunikida’s fist was clenched above his chest. His glasses had slipped down his nose. His breathing was ragged, not from the fall anymore but from rage. “You think that was funny?!” Dazai’s mouth curved faintly. “Parts of it.” Kunikida’s fist trembled. “You could have gotten Atsushi killed.” The smile weakened. “You could have gotten Akutagawa killed. Nakahara. Me. You dragged everyone into your calculation without telling a single person what you were doing!” “And yet—” “Don’t.” Kunikida’s voice dropped. That was somehow worse than shouting. “Don’t you dare say ’and yet we’re alive.’” Dazai looked at him. Silence spread through the room. Kunikida’s jaw tightened. “You always do this. You decide you’re the only person allowed to understand the board. Everyone else becomes a piece. You move them where you need them, you provoke the enemy, you provoke us, and then when it works you smile as if that excuses everything.” Dazai’s eyes became unreadable. “It worked.” Kunikida’s fist rose an inch. Atsushi grabbed his wrist. “Kunikida-san.” Kunikida didn’t look at him. Akutagawa seized the back of Kunikida’s jacket from the other side. “Release him.” Kunikida turned sharply. Akutagawa’s expression was flat. “Not because I care whether you strike him. You’re simply making noise.” Atsushi stared. “That is not why you’re stopping him.” Akutagawa’s eyes shifted toward him. “Do you want me to release him?” “No.” “Then be silent.” Chūya remained several steps away, one hand in his pocket again, watching Dazai with a crooked expression that wasn’t quite amusement. “Same old Dazai.” Dazai looked toward him. Chūya’s mouth twisted. “Push everyone off a cliff, then act surprised when they want to throw you off one.” Dazai sighed. “Technically I only pushed myself.” Five people stared at him. Dazai paused. “Bad timing?” Chūya barked a short laugh without humor. “You think?” Kunikida ripped his collar from his grip and stepped away, chest rising and falling sharply. Atsushi released his wrist. Akutagawa let go of the jacket. Kunikida walked several paces toward the wall and stood with his back to them, hands clenched at his sides. Lucy hadn’t moved. Her gaze passed from Kunikida’s shoulders to Atsushi’s worried face, then to Chūya, then Akutagawa, then finally Dazai. “You’re all loud,” she said. Nobody answered. “And stupid.” Chūya muttered, “Mostly him.” “I wasn’t asking.” Chūya actually went quiet. Lucy looked back at Dazai. “You used Atsushi.” Atsushi glanced at her. Dazai’s expression remained calm. “That’s a harsh word.” “Did you know he’d jump after you?” Silence. “Yes,” Lucy said before Dazai could answer. “You did.” Atsushi looked down. Something unpleasant tightened in his chest. Of course Dazai knew. Dazai knew Atsushi would never stand there and watch someone fall. Probably knew how quickly he’d transform. Probably knew Kunikida would grab Atsushi rather than let both of them go. Maybe knew Akutagawa would react the moment Dazai’s life became involved. Maybe even knew Chūya would refuse to let the whole ridiculous chain die despite spending every available second insulting him. Atsushi looked at Dazai. “Did you know all of us would do it?” Dazai tilted his head. “Not with complete certainty.” Chūya’s eyes narrowed. “How comforting.” “I had probabilities.” Kunikida turned around. “I am going to burn every probability chart you own.” “You’d need to find them first.” “Don’t tempt me.” Akutagawa spoke quietly. “Fyodor.” Everyone’s attention shifted. Akutagawa stared at Dazai. “You wanted him to reveal himself.” Dazai’s smile returned, but only faintly. “Perhaps.” Atsushi frowned. “By jumping off a roof?” “He was watching.” Chūya’s expression changed. “You knew that before you jumped?” “I suspected.” “So you decided to hang yourself off the side of a building using Atsushi as the rope?” Atsushi grimaced at the phrasing. Dazai shrugged. “When you put it that way, it sounds reckless.” Kunikida made a strangled noise. Chūya stared at Dazai as though reconsidering every murder he had ever postponed. “It was reckless.” “But Fyodor moved.” Dazai’s voice lost some of its playfulness. Everyone noticed. “He didn’t need to. He could have remained hidden and observed. Instead he interfered. More importantly, he chose how to interfere.” Atsushi remembered the tiny motion of Fyodor’s shoe. The broken bracket. The way Dazai had looked up at him while they fell. “You were testing him.” “Partly.” “Partly?” Dazai looked at Atsushi. Then smiled again. “The rest was personal recreation.” Kunikida immediately reached for him. Atsushi grabbed Kunikida around the waist. “KUNIKIDA-SAN!” “LET ME GO!” “NO!” “I ONLY NEED TEN SECONDS!” Dazai raised a finger. “Interesting coincidence. My personal record is seven.” “DAZAI!” Chūya covered his face with one hand. Lucy closed her eyes. Akutagawa coughed into his fist, though Atsushi could not tell whether he was suppressing a reaction or simply being Akutagawa. Kunikida fought Atsushi’s grip for another moment before stopping. The room became quiet again. Dazai straightened his coat. Then his hand moved toward his pocket. Atsushi immediately pointed at him. “Don’t.” Dazai froze. “Don’t what?” “Whatever you’re doing.” “I’m adjusting my coat.” “Show me your hand.” “Atsushi-kun, this distrust is damaging our relationship.” “SHOW ME.” Dazai slowly withdrew his hand. Another small loop of cord dangled from his fingers. Nobody spoke. Atsushi’s mouth fell open. Kunikida’s face turned scarlet. Chūya stared in disbelief. Lucy looked genuinely offended. Even Akutagawa blinked. “Where did you get another one?!” Atsushi shouted. Dazai looked pleased with himself. “A good agent always carries backup equipment.” “GIVE ME THAT!” Atsushi lunged. Dazai sidestepped him and lifted the loop toward his neck with exaggerated elegance. “Agent 007 never abandons a mission.” Chūya appeared behind him almost instantly and ripped the cord from his hand. “Mission failed.” Dazai turned. “Chūya, that’s mine.” Chūya tossed it into the darkness of Anne’s Room. “Not anymore.” Dazai watched it disappear. “Cruel.” “Try it again and I’m tying you to a chair.” Dazai looked toward the single wooden chair standing in the center of the room. Then back at Chūya. His expression brightened in a way that made everyone immediately regret Chūya’s wording. “That sounds—” “Finish that sentence and I kick you through Lucy’s door myself.” Dazai closed his mouth. Atsushi stared at Chūya. “You found a way to make him stop.” “Years of experience.” Lucy walked to the chair and placed one hand on its back. “If any of you fight again, I close every exit.” Nobody doubted her. “If any of you break anything, I leave you here.” Chūya looked around at the impossible dimension. “Noted.” “If he finds another rope—” Lucy pointed directly at Dazai without looking at him. “—I’m giving it to Kunikida.” Dazai gasped. “Lucy-chan.” Kunikida adjusted his glasses. “Finally, someone reasonable.” Dazai sighed and dropped onto the floor with theatrical defeat. “Surrounded by tyrants.” Atsushi sat down several feet away from him, still feeling the phantom pressure in his shoulder where Dazai’s weight had nearly pulled him over the roof. He should have been furious. He was furious. But another feeling wouldn’t leave him. He had seen Dazai’s face when Fyodor appeared. The joke had disappeared. The laziness had disappeared. For a second Dazai had looked exactly like the man everyone occasionally forgot he was: someone capable of calculating five moves ahead while making everyone else believe he was merely fooling around. Atsushi looked at him. Dazai had already resumed smiling. “Dazai-san.” “Yes?” “You didn’t answer.” “I’ve answered many things tonight.” “Why did you really jump?” The room went still. Kunikida looked over. Chūya’s gaze sharpened. Akutagawa stopped moving. Lucy watched Dazai without blinking. Dazai’s smile remained. But his eyes didn’t. “I told you,” he said lightly. “Agent 007.” Atsushi didn’t laugh. Dazai noticed. For several seconds neither of them spoke. Then Dazai looked toward one of Anne’s Room’s impossible walls, as though he could somehow see through it, through the dimension, through the city, all the way back to the rooftop where Fyodor had stood watching them fall. His expression became almost peaceful again. Almost. “Fyodor expected me to calculate the safest move,” he said. Atsushi frowned. “So?” “So I made the stupidest one.” Chūya snorted. “Finally, something accurate.” Dazai ignored him. “A rational opponent can predict a rational decision. An irrational decision is harder.” Kunikida’s eyes narrowed. “You were forcing him to decide whether your stupidity was real.” Dazai smiled. “Exactly.” Atsushi felt cold. “And what did you learn?” Dazai looked directly at him. “That he didn’t believe it.” Nobody spoke. The candle flame beside Lucy trembled. Somewhere deep inside Anne’s Room, wood creaked despite nobody touching anything. Dazai leaned back on his hands and looked at the ceiling. “He knew I’d planned something. I knew he’d know. He knew I’d know he knew.” Chūya groaned. “Oh, fantastic. We’re back to this bullshit.” “But,” Dazai continued, “he still moved.” Akutagawa’s eyes narrowed. “Meaning?” Dazai’s smile widened. “Meaning for one moment, Fyodor Dostoevsky wasn’t merely observing the board.” His eyes gleamed. “He became a piece on it.” Atsushi stared at him. There it was. The real reason. Or at least one of them. With Dazai, Atsushi was beginning to understand, there was rarely only one. Kunikida seemed to understand the same thing. “And was nearly killing everyone worth confirming that?” Dazai looked toward him. “No.” The answer came so quickly that Kunikida paused. Dazai’s smile softened. “But if I’d asked, none of you would have agreed.” Kunikida stared at him in disbelief. “THAT IS NOT A DEFENSE.” Dazai brightened. “Then I retract it.” “YOU CAN’T RETRACT—” Atsushi lowered his face into his hands. Chūya started laughing despite himself. Akutagawa muttered something about idiots. Lucy sighed. Kunikida resumed shouting. Dazai sat in the center of all of it smiling as though this were exactly where he had intended to end up from the moment he stepped backward into empty air. Atsushi looked up again. Dazai caught his gaze. For just a second the smile vanished. There was something else there. Something tired, ancient and impossible to read. Then Dazai winked. “By the way, Atsushi-kun.” Atsushi immediately became suspicious again. “What?” “Tomorrow I’m upgrading.” “No.” “Agent 008.” “NO.” “Zero happiness, zero money, eight—” Kunikida’s notebook hit him directly in the face.