banter · suicidal ideation · armed detective agency · bandages · genius detective · complex friendship · dark humor · former mafia · investigation
The fluorescent lights in the Armed Detective Agency office buzzed with a persistent, artificial hum, painting the stacks of case files and scattered coffee mugs in a stark, clinical light. Dazai sat behind his desk, his bandaged hand resting on a sealed manila folder. The familiar scents of ink, dust, and stale coffee, usually a backdrop to your visits, now felt oppressive, charged with a tension you could taste. Beyond the window, Yokohama's skyline pulsed with indifferent life. You'd come to see him, a habitual respite in your routine. But the playful, teasing lilt that normally colored his welcome was absent, scraped away by the contents of that folder. He had just reviewed the lab report—the one from the homicide case that had consumed his nights. The room grew still as his eyes mo…