▪in which nothing is as it seems▪
《 they say the loveliest angels make
the cruelest demons
and my darling
you were so kind and beautiful
before the dragged you to
Hell.
your fall was no accident.
you were chosen for the
...
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chapter II.consider this a ritual of initiation
A light chime arose from a bell as the door of a certain café opened. There! She comes, the one draped in a prussian blue suit, stepping towards a rather interesting group of people seated around a nearby table. Graced by a smile, her lips curled up in acknowledgement as her gaze fell onto the waitress. Crimson strands of fabric swayed with each step she took, trailing behind her back.
"I see you passed the exam, Atsushi-kun."
The silver-haired boy jolted at her words, eyes widening in surprise. How could she know that? He could have sworn, with absolute certainty, that she wasn't there during his little... confrontation with the "bomber".
"Yeah... I didn't expect that I would be hired so... quickly."
Atsushi nervously glanced over Dazai, the latter too busy asking the flabbergasted waitress if she could wrap her oh so delicately soft fingers around his throat to notice both his stare and Kunikida's tall frame looming menacingly over him, drowning him in a shadow of fury. Thinking about it now, he didn't really have the chance to refuse...
"Welcome to the Armed Detective Agency, dear."
The young woman took place on a free barstool on Dazai's right, crossing her legs in a motion so fluid it hurt. Ignoring Dazai's desperate pleas for her alabaster hands to wrap around his neck to bring him the delights of death, the waitress set a cup of tea on the counter, earning a thankful nod.
What a weird place...
Shouting echoed in the café as Kunikida tried to knock some sense into Dazai's skull, begging him, no, ordering him to stop being a disgrace to the Agency's name and reputation by choking him - an interesting method to say the least - a thing the latter seemingly didn't pay attention to. Quite probably because he was too dazed by the movement imposed by his colleague's hands tightly wrapped around his bandaged neck under the waitress' flabbergasted look. She somehow mustered enough energy to keep on washing the glass she was currently holding, eyes somehow clouded by the sheer desire of not seeing the scene unfolding before her.
On the bench seat in front of him, the Tanizaki were engaged in certain... questionable activities, making him question the relationship between two siblings before he decided they definitely shouldn't be doing such things, and certainly not in public. The few fragments of his innocence left after years and years of abuse at his hands - no, he doesn't want to remember the clicking of chains - he quickly looked away, deciding that seeing a bandaged detective being hysterically chocked by a hot-tempered idealist was better than... whatever this was. (A long time would pass before he would be able to forget what he had just witnessed.)
Meanwhile, maintaining her back straight somehow effortlessly despite being seated sideway, the woman in blue was the only person who could be considered as normal in Atsushi's humble opinion.
