Chapter Text
354 Days. 31/10/2018
A lot had happened in that time. The agency was in a very different state to where they'd been less than a year ago.
Fyodor Dostoevsky was dead. No longer a threat. Everyone was alive, Yokohama was okay, it was finally settling into what most would call peace. They deserved the rest, after all they'd done. Yokohama slowly fell back into the system it'd rested on for so long, the three core parts of the ecosystem that kept the city moving, living, running. But things at the agency weren't right. Not in the sense that things were different now, of course they were, but as time dragged on it furthered and furthered until noone could go a day without noticing how wrong things were. The office wasn't quiet, cases didn't halt, but it was wrong. It wasn't quiet, but it wasn't bright, cases didn't stop coming, but they never seemed so smooth, Kunikida got antsy without the walks along the river he'd been used to taking, looking out.
It wasn't a mystery, no case like the ones they spent their time solving. Everyone knew where he'd gone, he'd been arrested, intentionally. But past that, past the information they'd gotten from the government worker Dazai had apparently been in contact with, past the break out they knew had happened... They were lost when it came to him, to where one of their own had slipped away to. Ranpo could solve anything with the smallest evidence, or none at all, but even he seemed confused over this. France was the obvious option for where he was, but that was about it, other than knowing one of the mafia's executives should be with him there. Dazai was a mystery to all, he'd been a mystery even to Dostoevsky in some ways. It was safe to say, however, that being a mystery didn't discount him from being part of the agency, and being someone who mattered to them, someone who stuck things together in a way they all felt the current lack of. They were vitally wounded without him, it was clear to all, Dazai had filled a lot larger of a space in their lives than anyone had realised until he wasn't there to fill it.
The longer they'd gone on like that, the more it pressed on their minds. Until they'd cracked, Kyoka had started sniffling one afternoon, and once the reason was bribed out of her, they'd realised it was time to do something about it. They didn't know what, not for a day or two. Atsushi had suggested it, Kunikida had shut it down, but the day after, when nothing better had presented itself, he'd admitted it seemed like the only course of action. Only some of them were going. They still needed people in Japan, in Yokohama, keeping things up over the time the others were gone, however long that turned out to be. Yosano, Atsushi, and Haruno were the trio selected to go, along with anyone able to meet up with them if it took too long.
357. It was early November when they left, Atsushi slightly nervous, having never been anywhere near a plane, let alone in one. They'd been fine, as he'd been assured a hundred times. Haruno was mostly there because she spoke English, fluently, that is, and that was the closest they were going to get to french, besides rough phrases they'd learnt in the few days they had before they were dropped in the country with little to no information. They knew Dazai was almost definitely there, likely with the mafioso, likelier still to be in one half of the country. But that didn't help them. They were looking for a genius and a criminal in one half of France, a country who's language they did not speak. The odds weren't in their favour here, but they were here to find Dazai, so that wasn't going to put them off. They just had to find something, because they couldn't do anything with the information they had. Other than travel around an entire half of France in hopes of running into one man, which didn't seem likely, unfortunately.
Their solution, after a few hours sitting in a cafe, was to pester the local police about any ideas they may have. The agency were, in a way, law enforcement-adjacent, in Japan, and they had fairly good experiences with the people here so far. The police were nice enough, if a little tired, given it was pretty late into the night when they appeared, trying to find out how to find someone. They'd gotten a helpful 'try the nearest town to your last known location?' and been gently kicked out of the station. They really should've considered he'd might stay on the coast nearest mersault, that seemed like a bad idea, he was an escapee, but they had no better lead.
That was how they ended up in a small coastal town, then one slightly further away, then a small city, then two more towns. 365. They spent a day or two in a town, asking around, checking in at bars and such, per Yosano's suggestion, and keeping an eye for anything that may help them. They'd honestly been about to call in backup after a week. They were getting nowhere, wandering through pretty french towns was nice and all, but they were here to find Dazai, and it seemed he got further and further the more time they wasted with no information. It was the seventh town they stumbled into that shone with their first lead. A woman in the restaurant that dropped into for dinner said she recognised the name Osamu, not Dazai, just Osamu, and also the surname of the executive who was supposedly with Dazai, Nakahara Chuuya. She couldn't give them too many details, she worked at the restaurant, also a winery, and knew the name from an order of wine, which wasn't just information they gave out to just anyone. But she had given them a lead, because they 'seemed like kind people, with good intentions'. The next people they spoke to were a crew of delivery men, who also worked for the winery, and were likely to spill details, unlike the woman.
The men sent them to the post office, then from there they went to the flower shop, to a flower stand, to the market, because it was the sort of quaint town that had a market, rather than a big store, though there was a corner store somewhere. It was a back and forth between places for a good half a day, everyone sending them somewhere else, and eventually back to the delivery men, and then to a dry cleaner, and finally up to a farmer who lived a little out of town, where they head after a night of well needed sleep. 366. It wasn't the sort of place they were used to. It was like something out of beauty and the beast, just, with the added dry cleaner and such modern things. The sort of place where roses grew up the side of a brick house as teens rode by on bikes, almost reminiscent of when they'd visited the village where Kenji grew up, though different in a way, the houses were different this far away from Japan, but the feeling remained, that quaint one that promised kind people and inventive games of children who ran freely.
The farm smelled, Atsushi nearly threw up a variety of times whilst they were there, his smell had always been sensitive, and it stank like a farm, because it was a farm. The farmer was old and grouchy, but a younger man, his nephew, maybe, actually gave them something useful to work with.
There was an old house, a long time ago it'd housed a family who'd been there for generations upon generations, the kind of people who'd been there so long because they owed so much of the land. And then it'd become a holiday home, once the last daughter of the line had moved away, she and her family would come back sometimes, and the older, grouchy farmer had used to check on it, paid every few months to make sure nothing was eating away at the grand house after so long abandoned, the lady of the house was deceased now. Or, she had been. Even though the lady of the house had only ever brought her son, it seemed a new lady of the house had shown up sometime over six months ago, which the grouch only knew because he hadn't had to check on it in six months, which was usually the window of time between the duty. It didn't seem like anything that helped them, the ladies of the house had nothing to do with Dazai, but they had nothing more to do than go look around.
The house, well the estate might be more accurate, was even further from the town, another fifteen minutes on top on the fifteen it'd taken to get to the farm. And then ten minutes down a driveway that wound through the trees. It wasn't so bad though, the edges of the road were safe enough, they'd seen one car along the entire journey, and it was beautiful, the sun warm, even if the atmosphere felt like the winters months it was, it felt more so like the autumnal months had yet to pass, the leaves still oranges and yellows on the trees, and snow yet to fall, though a storm loomed in the far distance of the sky, which stretched mostly blue, with clouds of fluffy white. The road didn't have paths, they were walking on the road, but along each edge was a small ditch, nearly invisible due to the grass growing tall enough to nearly cover it in the entirety. Along part of the ditch there'd briefly been a stream too, all in all a beautiful place to wonder through, even if nothing came of their little trip. The driveway through the thick forested chunk of the land was equally nice, the sun not shining so clearly on them, as the trees held it at bay. The edges were overgrown, from how long it'd been left alone based on what they'd been told of the place. But none of the beauty surrounding it could've prepared them for the house itself, looking into view as they rounded a corner.
It was grand, the kind of place from some historical romance Yosano would watch from her bed with a glass of wine at her side. It stood at three, maybe four based on parts of the roof, levels. It was clearly old, but it subtracted nothing from the sheer impression of the home. It was flanked on all sides by the trees, other than one corner where the treeline broke, with a view of fields as far as the eye could see, even from Infront of the house. A river trickled from the corner, behind the house, and into the forest in the other side, and a large willow tree could be seen by the water, along with another, not a willow this time, half visible from where they stood. There were clearly other buildings on the property, but the only one that made a statement, by design, was the home itself. They may have seen some pretty impressive places in life, shrines, churches, skyscrapers, castles even, but something about this was more impressive than a castle could be, if only for how detailed every inch of it looked to be. The carved wood beams, the stone, the designs etched into whatever could be marked or printed. Most of the curtains were drawn closed, thick, patterned curtains, in colours that reflected the status the house emanated, blue, red, purple. Along the side of the house, nearer the far end, wrapping around the back corner, was a stone patio with pretty white chairs, pastel cushions, the perfect place to sit around with tea or a book. There was a motorbike parked up in a corner, leaning against a stone post, and an elegant black car, not that any of them knew enough about cars to place it to a brand, let alone details past what they could see.
The patio must come from a kitchen, as a window nearby it was cracked open, faint music drifting from it, Haruno seemed to enjoy it, but Yosano could only pick up a word every so often, and Atsushi was clueless as to everything other than the word 'cat' being involved somehow. Dazai had taught him the English word for cat. The tree that hadn't been entirely visible from the front turned out to be some kind of oak tree from nearer the side. A swing hung down from a large branch, where a woman, one of the ladies of the house, clearly, sat reading a book, facing more towards the tree and the river than the house, where they could see her from. The music wouldn't be audible from over there, so it could be assumed one lady of the house was inside whereas the other was the woman on the swing, made up in a long blue dress from what they could see. Her hair was long, very much so, less behind her, though not so clear from the distance between she and their little group. It seemed easier to speak to her, rather than knocking on the intimidating front door to bother the lady of the house who was actually inside the house.
The closer they got, the more clearly they could see the woman, long brown hair loose down her back in curls, they really were beautiful, and her dress too, as detailed as the sculpting of the house. It was light blue, accented with white and her accessories were brown, including a large coat draped over the swing beside her, a cane resting on the ground at her feet. Her shoes were brown too, boots for some odd reason, not quite in line with the elegance of her dress, but somehow just about right, complimenting her well. She had rather broad shoulders for a woman, but she was beautiful, even if her face was hidden, facing away from them as she read her book, not acknowledging their presence, as though she was waiting for one of them to introduce themselves or tell her why they were there. Understandable, they were near her home.
"Good afternoon, mam." Haruno greeted, hoping she spoke English, they'd met a few people who didn't, though most did, or were around someone who could translate. "We're looking for a man by the name Dazai Osamu, are investigations have led us here, we'd greatly appreciate any help."
The woman paused, closing her book and placing it in the wood of the swing, over where her coat lay. She held an air of grace to her, long fingers lifting from the book, her hair swaying gently with every subtle movement. Everything she did seemed practiced, graceful, gentle. She spoke up again. "Is this about the papers again? I sent the letter last time. And again, as I've told your lot before, you're not looking for a man, you're looking for a Mrs Nakahara Osamu."
She seemed incredulous, like she'd dealt with this before. Nakahara Osamu? That name wasn't only Japanese, it was shared with both the executive and Dazai himself. Ah, the three, once Yosano had translated the conversation, now realising together something that really wasn't such a good thing. The lead could've been a catfish, the woman in the club recognising Osamu, but not his surname, and Nakahara instead. This woman, one of the ladies of the house, was probably nothing to do with Dazai, though her voice was odd, it tugged at something on their minds, but not one could figure out exactly what they something was.
"Nakahara Osamu?" Haruno questioned. "That's you, yes? I know the names are rather similar, but we're looking for Dazai Osamu. Though... We may have been mistakenly misled."
The woman paused, glancing over, thought her hair hid her face, and she didn't move enough to make it shift, just enough for them to be visible to her. She seemed to take a moment, noticing something they clearly hadn't. "Ah, not from the government again... I see."
"No, unfortunately I'm not sure if recognised that name." She added. "My apologies I couldn't be of any assistance."
Haruno shook her head subtly at the others, Atsushi deflated, and Yosano's lips purses together in dismay. It did make sense, as to how they'd gotten mixed up, if her name was so similar to those of the man and woman they were looking for. It did, however, mean they were back to square one. "Of course, thank you for your patience mam, we'll be on our way..."