danse macabre.

◣ ✿ ◥  Kyouka, of course, had to question what he knew about her life if he was accusing her of being raised to kill; he knew of her parents being killed by Demon Snow, but not the true circumstance of the incident. He didn’t know that her mother, the original possessor of the ability, used it to commit murder-suicide to protect the girl before transferring the ability so that she could use it to protect herself. That even though her parents committed crime, they raised her in a kind and loving home and never taught her to hurt a fly.

Three years didn’t come close to the time she’d spent living with her mother and father. Thinking she’d killed them for three years did damage her, however, making her easily susceptible to the teachings of the mafia. How different would her life have been if someone from the Agency found her instead? Would she have no blood on her hands? No sins to atone for?

Ah, such trains of thought were pointless. If the Agency picked her up, she may never have known the truth behind her parents’ deaths (and lives, for that matter). She could spend years thinking of every possible path her life could’ve taken, and it would never help her deal with anything.

His coughing fit pulled her attention away from thought. She noted that his condition seemed to be getting worse the longer they stood out in the rain. Perhaps she could defeat him by just stubbornly keeping them out there–the hypothermia might be worth it. But after hearing stories of how the Agency’s resident doctor treated her patients, she wasn’t too keen on needing treatment. Maybe a display of mercy would throw him off.

With that in mind, she raised a shaking hand and pointed a few blocks away, towards one of the few restaurants keeping its business open despite the weather. “Over there. Inside. Hot tea. We can talk there.” If she remembered correctly, the owner of that restaurant was a kind, generous man who would likely offer them warm blankets and dry clothing from his apartment located above his business. She enjoyed going there.

Stepping forward, she used her outstretched hand to grab his wrist before all but dragging him in that direction (as though fearless in the act, but she was, in fact, afraid that he’d recoil and lash out at her). There was some saying about being the bigger person, but even if only to spite him, she’d buy him a cup of tea.

To another, perhaps there would be something worth gleaning, her silence a morsel to momentarily quell this insatiable void. (To defy him was a mistake, to betray him was to gain an enemy.) But he receives no such pleasure. The apparent concession drew nothing forth because he sought nothing from it. Akutagawa merely found it a waste that the child had succumbed so deeply to an illusion before she could fulfill her potential as an assassin, especially when he had given her a rare instance of benevolence.

Through the curtain of rain he gazed upon her, awaiting any further retaliation she might have to offer. Would she refute him again? Or finally come to terms with her bleak reality? He was sure he had quashed what meager hope she held onto, for there was nothing she could do to continue her innocent facade. What a tasteless victory.

...Or so he had thought. The grip around his wrist was realized a moment too late, Akutagawa already being pulled along when a glare twisted his features. “What do you think you’re doing?” The warning was more feeble than he would have liked. Had conditions not been unfavorable, he would have wrenched his arm away the moment she came near. 

Unfortunately, the chill that permeated his bones prevented any sudden action, a temporary paralysis furthered by the fact that he could not fully feel his limbs. He could use Rashomon to compensate - to sever her wrist, pierce her organs if necessary - but he was unsure of what she intended to do. The short string of words was cryptic. Was this an attempt at pity? He assumed she had no interest in continuing this conversation; he certainly did not. 

            [  then you aren’t very good at it.  ]         childish banter is pushed further with the addition of her tongue being stuck out for a passing moment.

◣ ♔ ◥ LiEat sentence starters ❝ accepting. ❞

◣ ✿ ◥ –what? It had been an odd enough day without hearing those words leaving her former mentor’s mouth, and the girl didn’t know how to feel about it. First, she’d been giving a simple errand (just delivering paperwork!). A normal start to any day, yet when she got there, not only did she come across Akutagawa but an ambush as well, apparently. The attackers were far more than common thugs too, as though the day could get any worse. Holed up in a room with him was far from ideal.

While the words were shocking, and as reluctant as she was to say anything positive about the man, having an ally and an enemy each turned out better than having two enemies. Still, she didn’t want to take any bets as to how long this makeshift partnership–if it could even be called such a thing–would last because she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.

But she wanted to get out alive. Preferably without killing the enemies, which she knew Akutagawa would do. And what was that nonsense about protecting her? It sounded like some attempt at kindness, although it was probably a more subtle attempt at brainwashing than what he’d previously employed. She doubted he considered anything aside from how he could use her ability to–

Not the problem at the moment. She needed to figure a way out of there. From what she could tell, they were surrounded; any attempt to leave the building would put them in a firing zone. And could she really trust that Akutagawa would shield her from that? Possibly. At least, the words seemed honest enough, but then again, it was Akutagawa (not that she ever knew him to lie).

Kyouka glanced around the room. The support beams. This building had once been an office space, but after being condemned, it became run down and abandoned–not where she’d been told to go for her job, but where she ended up after the ambush. If she remembered correctly, it was scheduled for demolition anyway. She had a plan.

“Akutagawa,” she spoke up after a couple minutes, “If we knock down the support beams, the building will collapse. Then we can go up and escape onto the roof of a nearby building.” Their enemy would have falling concrete to deal with, and their abilities allowed for such a plan to be completed rather easily. Plus, it gave the men a fair chance at getting out alive rather than her allowing Akutagawa to slaughter them all getting to safety. “We should take at least one of them alive for interrogation.”

Begrudgingly the Detective had admitted such a thing, but it’s not like it bothered him too much. Other bits of the conversation had reached his ears, but with an uninterested air he brushed it off. He could be killed here, & now that was a fact, but there wasn’t much of a point.

“Well now technically it is a boon to be aiding me. You scared him off, so it’s only natural that you would be the one to find him~”

Such regular, & tasteless words weren’t meaningful, but it was out there now. Ranpo had no care at all if his life was in imitate danger or not. It was what it was, & he had a case that needed to be solved. The Puppy though was a beneficial asset for this. There was no point in calling oneself a Great Detective if he wasn’t willing to throw his life into danger ever. Just the mere thought of that was pathetic, & overly unneeded.

Not even bothering to heed the other’s warning, Ranpo had moved himself towards one of the less marred areas. It wasn’t overly difficult, but it was still somewhat a pain. Narrowed green eyes landed on Akutagawa a moment longer, but soon h had gotten bored. He had the range Ranpo needed, but gaining his favor for a set amount of time was something else.

“Anyways we should be looking for the runaway~”

Without a care he offered a grin, & shamelessly spoke such words.  A step here, & another there, & soon he was looking towards a direction. Pointing half-ass now he spared a glance over towards the other.

Yet said muzzle was the reason he could not leave the detective to his fruitless investigation. Meticulous was how he’d been taught in the mafia; the possibility of indirectly partaking in an offense to the Armed Detective Agency was one of the repercussions considered. While he usually would not care what damage came to the agency, violating this agreement was a risk even he did not want to indulge. Between incurring Ougai’s wrath and possibly causing another conflict with the agency, it would be in his best interest to refrain from any rash action.

          either her handwriting is even WORSE than she thought, or the dog in black can barely read. how aggravating, if he turns out to be lacking in the educational department - she hadn’t thought he’d understand her signing, && for once was somewhat considerate…. only to discover how INCOMPETENT he is!

          it might be better to swap the notebook back && forth, rather than rip the paper out each time, now that she thinks about it…       [  i’d hope not, just you looking at me is enough to make me sick. ]       shows him her slightly better handwriting, having not scribbled like before, until she thinks of more && snatches the notebook back to write again.

“ Snoopy you’re not being very cute at all~ ”

Amusement laced words as the Detective took another glance around. Each, & every lifeless body that laid about hadn’t caught much of his attention. Though it was unnerving, solemn, & cruel how they were dealt with he hadn’t the time.  Earlier he had deducted that a person he was searching for should be around here, though after the carnage that took place that wasn’t likely anymore.

Use of his own ‘Ability’ could help, but why do that, when a Detective such as himself could obtain a ‘Dog?’ Even the mightiest of Detectives would laze about, as such Ranpo thought to partake in it. Flashing a grin a low chuckle of entertainment passed by faintly chapped lips.

“ You can oblige to something else though Doggy~ Maybe you can use that great sense of direction, & smell you’ve got, & chase someone I’m looking for.”

Hound of Hell or not Akutagawa was by all means useful even to someone such as himself. Of course Ranpo wouldn’t bother to admit such kind words in front of someone of the opposite faction. Boredom from earlier had long since ceased its existence now that he had come face to face with the Rabid Dog. Sacrilege! That’s what this was, but in the end as long as the case was solved, or more like the MIA individual was found, things would be smooth. It always was, & always would be.

The words were clipped, phrases concise to convey the reality of the situation. “You’ve nothing to offer me. Do not act as if aiding you would be a boon, because it would be much more beneficial kill you right now. I suggest you leave my sight, lest you desire to join those on the ground.” His expression stayed fixed in a frown, making his vexation known.

◣ ✿ ◥ There were many things she wanted to say, but none of them could leave her tongue. She knew there was no point. That even if she didn’t want to hurt anyone, she still did. She knew that. Even if she didn’t want to kill anyone, she still did. She knew that. Even if it was the man before her who brainwashed her and commanded the deaths, she still did it. She knew that. Even if she sought to redeem herself for her actions, she still committed heinous crimes. She hurt and killed and for what? Because she was told to do it? Because she got to live as a result? 

No matter how much she wanted to throw the blame back at Akutagawa, at the mafia, she couldn’t do it. It was her own selfishness that allowed her to commit those crimes. It was because she wanted to live that thirty-five people, human beings with lives of their own, died by her hand. No matter how much she wanted to move on from the past, the dark thoughts clung onto her.

She had a choice. She’d always had a choice. And even at the cost of others’ lives, she chose to live, much in the same way her mentor had. In that regard, they weren’t different from each other. The man she resented–and at the darkest of times, they’d survived in the same way. But unlike her desire for the light, she doubted he’d ever leave the darkness behind.

Despite knowing that it was useless to argue with him, she still wanted to point out that no one could figure out Dazai’s true nature; even Ranpo didn’t, as far as she knew, and if the greatest detective couldn’t grasp him, Akutagawa certainly couldn’t. Still, with Dazai being a touchy subject for the other, she decided to drop it. Truce or no truce, Kyouka didn’t want to push her former mentor too far.

Rain rolled from her clothes and skin, joining the puddles that formed in the street. Her hands itched to reach up to wring the water out of her hair, but the act would be fruitless: it’d only get soaked through once more in a matter of seconds. Not only that–she was tired.

“I know all of that.” So much for her determination to disagree. The aching coldness put a damper on her will, however. All she wanted was to go home, yet she couldn’t turn her back and walk away from this man. “But just because I can’t undo what I’ve done doesn’t mean I have to keep doing it. Even if the dead can’t come back, I can stop killing.”

“Can you?” A challenge issued by the hound, one that spared no time to lay bare every vice he saw in her. “Can you stop the way your fingers yearn for a weapon to hold, the way you see others as targets to be cut down when necessary? Can you stop your instinct to slaughter when it is your very being? You were raised to kill, Kyouka. You are a killer, and you will surely kill without hesitation again. It is your nature.” Indeed, children of the mafia were mere weapons, their value stemming only from their ability to destroy. He did not know what sort of life she led before carving up her parents, but he was certain of one thing: Ozaki had saved her from despair and gave her a reason to continue breathing. Perhaps she was like him and that person, he once thought.

But his conjecture had been wrong. The mafia was a sanctuary of darkness for children like her - those who were shunned, left to choke on the muck of the unforgiving nadir. It was not a merciful haven, but it was a way to survive, to derive meaning from a dismal reality. She should have been grateful to be spared from a meaningless existence of groveling in filth, never knowing the blessing of a purpose. Yet she would prefer to stand in the rain before him and futilely reject him rather than live beside him, beside the comrades she had been given in the cruelty of the world.

The words of a fool were contagious, promises of blithe days a poison. She desired a life where she would not have to reap another, but what could she possibly hope to accomplish when slaughter was all she knew? When she fell, Akutagawa would not be there to catch her; he would only be a vulture gazing upon her broken corpse.

The smell of blood lingered in the air, and even Ranpo couldn’t help but cringe. Messy this was just plain out messy. Still it wasn’t like Ranpo hadn’t expected anything less from the Port Mafia’s Silent Rabid Dog. Carnage really was something that he was more then used to in this profession. A shake of his head, and glimpses around the area cautiously green eyes narrowed. It was disgustingly too silent even for a Great Detective such as himself.

“Oi! You still around here Mafia Puppy? Didn’t your Master ever teach you to clean up your messes? Tsk, tsk such a bad Dog~”

But later after she finishes her lunch. She couldn’t do her job properly with empty stomach, right?

Now she has a company, a seemingly unfriendly male who also wanted to have a lunch. Who cares, though. Asuha only glanced at him once while chewing on her lunch before continued to eat again, just to recognize her seatmate.

He’s also quite grumpy, she noted. He protested, while Asuha honestly never intended to do so. She’s just apathetic at the best, not bothering to care about the other much to stain his fancy clothes. But since she did, although unintentionally, she should apologize to make him less angry, right? So she could make less trouble in this afternoon.

"And it is not as if I purposely chose to have my meal with a flippant brat, but it seems water cannot cure that, now can it?" The logical course of action was to pay it no mind, for innocents were of no concern to him. Children were worth even less consideration, yet agitation had surfaced in the dark waters of his mind. His temper was whittling away with each passing moment and while he was thoroughly trained (obedience mercilessly broken into flesh and bone), more often than once does he contemplate on how easy it would be to turn this boisterous venue into a deathly silence. It would only take a simple application of force, to pierce and sever and slaughter.

          brow quirks as the introduction is given, a polite && almost gentleman like action, giving her eyes reason to stare in bewilderment. the name was one she doesn’t remember, perhaps she’s heard it in passing ( many things find their way to her ears, but whether they’re given a home in her memory or not is debatable ), a mumble of recognition.  however, the organization…  she knows well. it’s one she && those of kin steer from, to keep from disturbing- for waking the lion without a tamer is a wish to summon death itself.

          it’s when something begins to move behind him that she lets herself act.

Despite the single tendril that grasps her wrist, he cannot see her, the fabric of his coat blindly reaching for the rest of her form. Though he possesses a clear disadvantage he does not intend to let her escape when she’s finally captured his attention. It only takes a fraction of a second to acknowledge this course of action is useless; thoughts halt, then reform as fibers of his coat follow suit. An adaptive ability like his cannot be thwarted by something as trivial as a lack of sight. (Not when he was the epitome of darkness, a creature raised in the absence of light.)

RASHOMON SPIDER THREAD - once he had heard of a story of a sinner who was given one chance at redemption, only to cast it away with a selfish folly. This is a web composed of the despair of those who refused to obey the mercy they were given, but he would be the one to pass judgment on her soul, not Buddha. While the tendril that holds her tightens and pulls her close, the rest of his coat forms a net to capture her with. It is launched into her general direction, a calculated risk with a low chance of failure, given the circumstances.