Chapter Text
When Dazai Osamu first appeared on the agency’s doorstep with an incomplete application and a halfhearted recommendation, Ranpo’s first impression was kill it with fire.
His second thought was it can’t join the agency. Much like a stray cat, Ranpo could see in the thing’s desperate, starved eyes that if it were given a scrap of affection, it would curl up in the nearest sunny spot and never leave. He didn’t need his (an) ability to see that.
(Fukuzawa’s love for strays, unfortunately, devastatingly, rubbed off on them all.)
“This is your desk,” Ranpo said, waving over to the desk that used to be his and now belonged to the thing with its fluffy hair and almost-right smile. It was only sort of close to being natural, but that was fine, they’d work on it.
They’d have to.
Dazai passed the test regardless of his reservations. No Longer Human, an eerily laughable name for its ability, almost as ironic as it being the thing’s ability in the first place, did not appear affected by All Men Are Created Equal. It could be said that Dazai’s ability was perfection in that sense, in the way that Kunikida and Yosano’s abilities were very much not, in the way that the kid, Junichiro, who had a summer internship with them until his graduation, had a severely flawed ability. The only noticeable change was the way Kunikida remarked once during Dazai’s first official week that it felt a little less like No Longer Human craved to hollow out the core of his being, the sensation being gentler, more cooling, yet no less unsettling.
Yosano tried not to touch Dazai unless necessary. Kunikida didn’t bother shying away, too hard-headed for gloves and too proprietary to say anything to the poor thing. Junichiro stayed a tactful distance away. Kenji pretended to not be bothered at all.
“Thanks,” the thing said, trying for another tick upwards in its smile, so unpracticed and pinched in the center that it looked a little too disgruntled to be thankful.
Ranpo smiled back, condescending in the way he curled his mouth up slowly, softening the center of his lips to see if the thing would mirror it like a particularly intelligent cat. To its credit, it tried, all of its twenty years of existence darkening its irises and lightening them in tandem, artificial and still trying . It was trying so hard and Ranpo cursed his bleeding heart and the president’s hovering.
Fukuzawa still stood in the room in the way he almost never did. He was sitting, drinking tea and scrolling through what were likely cat photos on his phone judging by the way his left eye settled more lidded than the right, but even then gave off a looming impression that scared the skittish thing. Dazai tried its best not to let anything show, but even as smart as it was, Ranpo was smarter and his eyebrow twitched knowingly.
Dazai’s expression shuttered for a millisecond before righting itself into a mirror of the newest smile it learned from Ranpo, but the sweet, pathetically fluffy and starved thing couldn’t pretend when Ranpo’s mind worked faster than it and it couldn’t hide a thing. It was still almost cute watching it try.
“If you really want to thank me, you can do my reports for me!” Ranpo cheered with an arm waving towards the stacks of papers (which wouldn’t have been done by him anyway; if Ranpo were told to do a report on the important facts he’d have too many papers written to reasonably file. He suspected the thing was similar to him in that way), pulling his snack drawer out of his (old) desk and putting it on a desk closer to the door in the right row. He pulled out a drawer to replace it, shoving his snack drawer into the desk in its place, almost fitting but not quite, just barely enough to work.
How funny.
Ranpo turned back to the thing, standing there aimlessly with twenty minutes to go before it was given the tasks, the purpose, it so craved. After a moment’s thought, he grabbed out a few gummy packs from his drawer, the ones shaped like paws, and put them into the new one. He trotted back over, shoved it into his old desk, and tried to shoulder the thing on his way past. It leaned just slightly away, disguising the movement by reaching for a report. Ranpo let his gait stutter back and leaned in further to nudge Dazai’s side properly.
It was worth the effort to see how unfocused it went as it fought with the urge to lean further in for more affection, just as loud and unruly as the simultaneous urge to jump out of the window.
Ranpo snickered to himself. He hated Dazai passionately, but he played at looking comfortable regardless as he settled into his chair and unwrapped a lollipop, being quietly reprimanded by Fukuzawa for hazing the pitiful thing. It was, again, all worth it to see how warmth suited the fluffy curls and chocolate eyes when Dazai stretched out to soak up the heat from the window, just as kitten-like and desperate as Ranpo suspected. The light in its eyes, artificial from the way the sunlight forcibly reflected against dull brown, suited it well.
But that wouldn’t happen for weeks to come. For right then, all Dazai did was sit stiffly and pick up a pen. The poor, unsure and wobbly-footed thing had the reports done before Kunikida walked in the door. It was the most efficient he’d been and would ever be in that office.