In Memory of a Dark Era

Twin Dark

"Easy to get rid of the dead, don't ya think?" Nakahara replied with a smirk.

"Good point," you nodded partly impressed and partly sarcastic, so the mafia feigned your death to have a free pass to your neck once they had you.

Now of all times, you were somewhat grateful to the time wasted on perfected disguise.

"Don't like to brag, but it was my idea," the ginger bragged with his chin to the roof while sporting a cheeky grin. His attitude had your shoulders defrost and comfort had washed over your entire being.

It was ridiculously cute. 

Cute enough to make you forget about his real nature and about your brush up with death. Something you needed at this very moment to clear your foggy, fearful mind from putting you in a situation that can easily be avoidable.

You were dancing on a thin line. One that could snap at the wrong word or look where you could fall into the mercy of the Port Mafia.

"Yeah, you don't seem like a person who brags much," you humoured the executive, placing your hands on your lab. 

To think you're entertaining the very man who admitted to plotting your death with a casual conversation, would've made you speechless a few months ago— a time before you joined the agency. However, now everything seemed normal to the immunity you've developed to the strange.

You've come to the following conclusion: strange is life and you've no choice but to dance to its rhythm.

"Common knowledge, really," Nakahara dismissed with a wave of his hand and then leaned on the table, edging closer to you, "now tell me, did you leave the country?"

"No, I sold information in here."

"An information broker?"

"Well, that sounds too fancy for me. Instead, I only disguised myself and collected information for... Well, whoever's willing to pay," you decided to answer truthfully.

"I bet any info about the mafia would make a fortune."

"Not when the mafia itself requests it to weed out the pests," you replied. 

The executive may not know it, but you had nothing worth selling to begin with, except for the disaster you were involved in. Even then, you chose your clients carefully since the mafia would definitely associate itself with information collection and 'information brokers'.

Anyone who has no connections to the mafia was welcome to your service, even the most powerful figures of the city. The very figures that made Fukuzawa tie you down to his Agency.

Nakahara's lips curved into a smirk that slowly elevated to an amused fit of laughter. "You definitely know what you're doing, I'll say," he gleamed before offering: "work for us!"

"Already employed."

"Don't tell me... " the ginger began, face twisting with disdain, "the Armed Detective Agency?"

"Yes."

The man's mood instantly took a turn at the mention of the agency and you thought it was mere hatred. Even though you knew of the agency's past cooperation with the mafia, you still thought that justice could never mix with its counterpart. Then you asked jokingly, "do you not recommend them?"

"If you're dying to work with clowns and a suicidal maniac, then, by all means, congrats on the job."

"Right... You know Dazai-san," you recalled reading about their partnership after Nakahara's dramatic display of disgust. They must have been the pride of Port Mafia, the infamously known Twin Dark. The mere sound of his name, however, had Nakahara barely containing his anger.

The best partner and the worst human, the executive would admit but settled with a reply through gritted teeth, "unfortunately."

You smiled softly and gazed at him as Dazai made a forced invasion into every corner of your heart.

It was hard to admit but satisfying to declare to yourself that he was dearly missed. Thus you were encouraged to ask as well as talk about him when you finally deemed Nakahara to be a harmless company, "you must know him well."

"Ha! All I know is that he's a manipulative, crafty worm that wouldn't finally die for the good of the world," the ginger grumbled the words as if he had them memorised and at the ready to blurt out at any second.

"I'm pretty sure there's more to it than... Just that," you pressed for information, "otherwise, you wouldn't have worked well together."

"Can't deny the fact I've trusted him with my life," the irritable man confessed lowly. "Still a bandage-wasting, suicidal, manipulative piece of crap," Nakahara concluded with another rush of colourful descriptions.

"I don't have your experience, but aside from suicide, he can be... decent?" you questioned your choice of words.

How soft and delicate is that word for anyone to use on Dazai? Unless they're someone helplessly smitten or equally suicidal, no one would dare put 'decent' next to 'bandage-wasting piece of crap'.

As expected, Nakahara laughed mockingly at the adjective before commenting, "man... You're in too deep."

Dazai's womanising habit is most certainly known by his ex-partner which had the ginger pick up on your emotional state instantly from your interest and description.

Could that be embarrassing or enlightening? All you had showcased for an answer was reddening cheeks and a truth hiding in wandering eyes.

Once he noticed the speechless statue you've turned into, Nakahara spared you a thoughtful look as he engaged in inner conflict. His lips parted once to voice his thoughts but snapped shut within an instance. 

Until finally, the executive cleared his throat and met your eyes with sincerity sprinkled in their depth, almost taking your breath away, "lemme tell you something about that idiot. You see, Dazai may be empty enough to pursue suicide over and over again. And despite his crappy excuse of wanting a painless death, it isn't so hard for a real suicidal to pull the trigger over their head, but the same can't be said about finding a purpose worth living for."