𝙵𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝙲𝚊𝚜𝚎 | 𝙱𝚂𝙳 𝙵𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌

Four

Four pairs of eyes lock on Mizuki.

"Good morning, Mizuki-chan!" One brunette comments, a smile on his lips. Looking down, his smile falters.

The rest of the eyes follow. The coffee had already settled into Mizuki's shoes, soaking her socks with an uncomfortable warmth. From the bite of pain in her ankles, she wonders, faintly, if the mug broke, shards cutting into her skin.

Not that any of that mattered. She could see her coworkers. Each and every one of them. Mizuki's mouth is dry, words crumbling at her lips. Her knees wobble. It was becoming difficult to breathe. Far away, Mizuki's phone buzzes in her pocket, but she already knows what it'll proclaim. 

9:00.

What am I doing? 

"Miura-san, are you alright?" Another voice prompts, suddenly close. Mizuki's head spins, vision twisting as a different blonde approaches. He's tall and lean, his hair a dark, dirtier shade of blonde. He had dull green eyes, tainted by hints of grey. 

He wasn't Ranpo. 

Ranpo. 

The thought stirs her to reality. 

"Where's Ranpo?"

"Ranpo-san?" The voice softens. "He left forty-five minutes ago. The case was urgent."

Mizuki's heart sank, her eyes dropping to the ground. The times lined up. And to make matters worse, the situation was drastically more grim than what she initially theorized, blown up from one member to the entire Agency. Her lip quivers.

Her coworkers were going to die, and Ranpo with them.

She would never see him again.

The world, her world, seemed to split in two. What had initially been a crack, a scrape with hope of healing, grew into a crippling cavity, splintering and cutting her heartstrings, like a knife piercing awaiting flesh. Inevitable as the bleeding out that followed. The world was crumbling, and there was nothing Mizuki could do about it. She took a shuddering breath.

She couldn't bear to lose all of them. As she forced her eyes back upward, Mizuki could scarcely wrap her mind around the corrosive thought. Her chest ached, as if the mere implication caused her heartstrings to tear further. Her coworkers, whom she considered family, although not bound by blood, meant the world to her. She couldn't, wouldn't let fate drag them down. She couldn't lose her loved ones. 

Not again.

Mizuki forced her eyes to focus, mouth forming a hard line. The man currently talking to her was Kunikida -- a diligent, practical man who prioritized the image of the Agency over anything else. However, he was -

"Now, why in hell is there coffee on the floor?" Kunikida's soft tone quickly grew seething, his teeth bared in a snarl.

- easily triggered, his fuse quicker, shorter, than anyone she knew. 

Ah.

"You see, uh," Mizuki strains, brows furrowing -- how do I tell them? -- "you know what, never mind. I promise I'll clean it up later." She tries to take a step, but winces. The mug was definitely broken. And part of it was definitely lodged in her skin. "I'm going to pay Yosano-san a visit first. There are definitely shards of ceramic in my foot right now."

It would easiest to tell her first. Tell the keen, capable, doctor of the group. The next best in line, besides Ranpo. She couldn't bear to imagine the explosive reaction of Kunikida. His impulsive character could easily threaten the delicate nature of their dire situation. It was practically akin to a time bomb, and Mizuki couldn't handle Kunikida bashing things over with an, "oh, let's cut all the goddamn wires because you're pissing me off" mentality. 

Hopefully, the doc was in a good mood. 

Otherwise, she'd be just as bad as Kunikida -- if not worse. 

-

9:20 A.M.

-

"You what!?"

"Look, I can't control my ability. You know that." Tears form at the edges of Mizuki's eyes. Whether they were from the shock of the situation or the harsh method that the doctor was treating her wounds with; however, she wasn't sure. "I saw Ranpo. I know that. And I can see all of you."

"How many fingers am I holding up right now?" Yosano questioned, lifting a free hand. 

"Three. I'm not lying to you."

Yosano flicks her gaze downward, her purplish, almost ebony bangs covering her eyes. "God, how I wish you were." 

"I wish I was lying too." Mizuki's voice wavers, but she pushes forward. "But I'm not, and we're here now. The entire Agency is in danger." 

Yosano pauses her handiwork, looking back up at Mizuki. "Can you see yourself?"  

Mizuki sighs. "No, I can't." 

"And everyone you see-" Yosano pauses again, face darkening, "-passes away within 24 hours, correct?"

"Correct." A tear slips out from one of Mizuki's eyes, carving a warm, familiar path down her cheekbone. She grasps the fabric of her pants, steadying herself. She couldn't break down. Not here, not now. 

"That's great. Just great." Yosano murmurs, tightening the bandages around Mizuki's shins. Mizuki winces. "You're lucky I didn't need to use my ability on you."

"Right. Thank you." Yosano's actual power, healing at the brink of death, was not what she needed. Or anyone, really. 

It was almost sadistic, to be honest. Mizuki would almost miss it. 

I need to stop having thoughts like that.

"You should be good to go." Yosano stood to her feet, brushing her hands off on her skirt. "I'm going to try and contact Fukuzawa. Since he's out on a business trip, I doubt I'll have any luck, but it's worth a shot."

Mizuki forces a smile. "Thank you again." 

"The lacerations were shallow. It was nothing." Yosano runs a hand through her bobbed hair, tucking a portion behind her ear. Her mind already seemed elsewhere. "Now. I'm going to need you to gather everyone while I contact the President. We need to hold an emergency meeting -- stat." 

"Of course." Mizuki stands, concealing a wince, her feet aching underneath the sudden shift in pressure. The cuts were minor, and she'd heal soon enough. 

Yosano strode several paces forward, hastily, before pausing, almost hesitant. Mizuki noticed her fingers twitch, an anxious habit, as she swiveled to face Mizuki once more. "You may find it useful to log the times in which these events have occurred." Yosano rasped, her voice growing thin. The words seemed to cause her pain.

Upon looking further, Mizuki noticed something off. Yosano's eyes. Her pupils had dilated, pooled with ink, almost seething, engulfed in an emotion akin to the drowning torrents of the sea. 

Then, she blinked, and the expression dissipated -- almost as if it had never been there. 

Mizuki wondered if she had imagined it. 

"Yes ma'am."

Yosano exited the room, silence trailing her footfalls. She disappeared from view, strangely, as though drawing a curtain of ink between Mizuki and her. The door clicked shut. 

Mizuki let out the breath she'd been holding, and followed. There was no time to dwell on her thoughts. Not anymore. She didn't have that leisure -- the Agency was best known for their ability to solve cases on their feet, in the heat of the moment -- and this case was restricted by time, the wrathful grasp of fate itself. 

The Detective Agency had never failed to solve a case before, and Mizuki wasn't about to break their impeccable track record. 

Not on her watch.