For the second time in under a day, Dazai collapsed in Kunikida's arms. Worry bloomed in Kunikida's chest, but he didn't let it freeze his limbs as he quickly pulled Dazai into a chair and propped him up in a comfortable position.

Yosano was talking, and the others were whispering, but Kunikida only had attention for Dazai. Was he okay?

Dazai's forehead twitched with a frown as his eyelids started to flutter open. "Kunikida-kun?"

"I'm here," Kunikida promised, not knowing why it felt like the right thing to say.

"Mori-san," Dazai mumbled, and then visibly blacked out again. Mori? Kunikida's skin crawled. There had to be another Mori, one not connected with the Port Mafia. There had to be someone else in Dazai's life that went by that name. Although, Dazai had taken him to a bar in mafia territory...

"That jacket," Ranpo said, coming up behind Kunikida. "The one Tanizaki has been examining. We need to put it somewhere else."

"It's evidence for a case," Kunikida started, before realizing how strange the order was. "What?"

"I told you," Ranpo said, rolling his eyes a bit. "It was discarded from a mafia murderer. It visibly triggered this coffee-boy."

"His name is Dazai," Kunikida said, even as he stood and started moving, putting on gloves and picking up the jacket despite Tanizaki's protestations. "Can't you even remember that?"

Ranpo shrugged. "I can't be bothered with his name, even if he did know Mori."

Kunikida froze, almost to the adjoining room, jacket in hand. "Are you sure?"

"I can't think of anyone else in the mafia who would own a coat of that style and price," Ranpo said. "And he literally said Mori's name. I'm not sure he realized what triggered him, but he has personal history with Mori, and it doesn't seem to be a good one."

His mind heavy with implications he didn't want to examine, Kunikida focused on putting the jacket away and returning to Dazai.

When the man woke up again, Kunikida did not mention what he had said. He did not accuse Dazai of being a spy. Instead, he watched, noticing the lingering fear in Dazai's eyes.

Whatever had happened in his past, Dazai had been hurt, probably by Mori. Kunikida doubted that put him and Dazai on opposite sides, although he couldn't be certain. The conflict gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside. He ordered Dazai an early dinner and watched him eat with an anxious intensity.

He didn't waste his time asking useless questions of himself, such as why he was so worried about a man he barely knew, or why it would matter if Dazai had been hurt by Mori. There was no point in analysis. He was simply being a normal human being who cared about others.

"I'm magical," Kunikida blurted out, his glasses glinting with the sunrise light. He had come early, before the coffeeshop's official opening hour, and Dazai had agreed to sit with him and talk until the rest of the ADA showed up. They'd done it a few times, and the tentative habit was becoming yet another part of Dazai's mornings that he relied on to keep breathing.

"You really are," Dazai flirted, batting his eyelids. He let his hands brush over the top of the table as he picked up his mug of coffee and took a deep drink. Poison and bitter loyalty.

"I- ah- no- that's- that's not what I meant," Kunikida said, blushing madly. "I'm literally magic."

"Is it a secret?" Dazai asked, pretending to have no idea what he was talking about. He knew the detective agency was full of gifteds. It was why they were given so many government jobs, why they could keep up with the mafia so well.

"Yes."

"Then why tell me?"

"Because we're friends," Kunikida said firmly. "I don't want to hide things from you."

Dazai could have burst out laughing. He was still hiding an ocean of secrets about his past. His friendship with Kunikida was like building dikes in the Netherlands – slowly making firm ground where there had only been lies and hatred. For every inch he reclaimed and gave to Kunikida, the pressure of the flood he was holding back grew.

It was excruciating. It reminded him that he was alive.

He could, though, take one small step towards honesty. "I have a gift, too."

Kunikida jolted, his eyes widening. Dazai could never figure out exactly what color Kunikida's eyes were, and he wanted to spend hours examining them. His blond hair was falling neatly and strictly about his ears, but his ponytail looked soft.

"What is yours?" Kunikida said, slipping into a much more relaxed tone. Since they both knew the basics of gifted culture, it made communicating easier.

"Show me yours first," Dazai said, reaching across and taking Kunikida's left hand. The man allowed the contact as he pulled out his notebook, writing something on a page before tearing it out.

"Doppo poet," he said, staring at Dazai. Nothing happened, and Dazai felt a grin bloom across his face as Kunikida stared at the paper in horror. "Something's wrong."

"No, it isn't," Dazai said, pressing his hand tighter. Panic was radiating off of Kunikida like heat waves on summer asphalt. "It's my gift. I block people's abilities."

"Oh." Kunikida looked more relieved than afraid. It was a reaction Dazai was not used to.

Hopefully Kunikida hadn't heard about the mafia executive with the ability to stifle magic and erase life from hundreds of staring eyes. That would bring fear out.

Dazai pulled his hand back, and nodded at Kunikida, who tried again to use his gift. This time the paper vanished, leaving a single earring behind. Silver glinted as Dazai examined the earring – a dagger with a snake twisting around it and a single blood red gem set as its eye.

"For you," Kunikida said. "I noticed that you have a pierced ear."

It had been Chuuya's idea, a dare when they were careless teenagers. When hadn't they been? He'd died before they could become anything else. They'd worn matching earrings for years, even before they'd started dating. Memories clouded up around Dazai like disturbed dust as he took it reverently, feeling the weight of the jewelry in his hand.

It was odd having Kunikida there while thinking so deeply of Chuuya. Still, it wasn't the first time Kunikida had seen him grieving and aching.

"Thank-" The door to the coffeeshop opened, rescuing Dazai from the embarrassment of caring. He stood quickly, grabbing his coffee. "I'd better take the orders of the others."

He gave Kunikida one small smile before he slipped away to do his job. Poor payment for what had been a thoughtful gift, but it was all he had. Kunikida was perfect, how could Dazai ever bring him something new, aside from pain and grief and isolation?