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It’s a lazy, hot summer Wednesday afternoon. The fan is blowing off in the corner, and everyone looks pretty much wilted at their desks, lounging on the couches or leaning against the backs of their chairs. The President is the only one who looks somewhat at attention but if you pay attention, you can see his back is slouched two inches compared to normal.
“It’s so hoooot~” Kenji whines. “My brain is meltinggg out of my ears.”
Kyouka looks up from a magazine she’s reading, red popsicle in hand. She holds it over her head, careful not to let any of the juices spill onto her hand. “Want some?”
“Can I really???” Before Kenji’s finished asking, he’s already left his desk and is leaning over the couch, plucking the wooden stick from Kyouka’s hand to take the popsicle.
He licks the popsicle, closing his eyes blissfully. “Mmm..that’s so good…” he murmurs.
“You can just have the rest.” Kyouka returns to reading her magazine but there’s a small smile on her lips.
Later, Atsushi will blame the heat for the random question that passes through his mind but in the moment, he blurts it out unthinkingly.
“Dazai-san, have you ever smoked weed before?”
There’s a large snort from across the room as Yosano chokes on her water bottle, Ranpo patting her back and giving Dazai a knowing smirk.
“W-where did that question come from, Atsushi-kun?” Dazai’s taken aback by how abruptly Atsushi asks him point blank.
“We had the mushroom incident earlier and I was just thinking about it randomly when we passed by a weed patch the other day and I just-”
“Yes, Dazai, why don’t you smoke weed?” Ranpo interjects. “That’s one story I wouldn’t mind hearing about again.”
“You mean there’s a story?” Atsushi turns to look at Ranpo who gives him his trademark Cheshire Cat grin.
“Only Dazai can answer that,” he replies cryptically.
“Cat’s out of the bag, I guess,” Dazai chuckles, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head. “You see, it all started with an experiment that turned into a plane hijacking…”
THREE YEARS AGO
“Dazai, get off me!” Chuuya struggles to push off the lanky beanpole’s from his waist, but while those arms seem like they’d lose in an arm-wrestling contest against a plate of spaghetti they seem to have a vice-like grasp now. “I’m just trying to pee!” It was time for bed but it appeared his boyfriend had other plans.
“Don’t leave me, Chuuuyaa~” Dazai whines, his body half off the bed. “I’m so loonelyy~”
“You’ll survive the three minutes it’ll take for me to hit the can. Come on, now, back in bed.”
Dazai grumbles but reluctantly lets go, slithering back under the covers.
Chuuya pats his head, ruffling the strands in the way he knows that Dazai likes. “Good boy.” He leaves for the bathroom without looking back.
Dazai crosses his knee over the other and leans against the headboard. He knows Chuuya likes to take his time in there, using the excuse of the “bathroom” to check his social media that he doesn’t get time to during the day.
He looks around the room, admiring their shared wardrobe, the soft plush carpet, the warm bed...his gaze rests on the nightstand just adjacent to him. He doesn’t think he’s ever explored their contents before, so why not now?
He rolls onto his stomach and pulls on the handle of the drawer, letting gravity do most of the work.
The drawer seems to be organized pretty well as he knew it would. There’s books, some envelopes, some tissues...his eye catches on a small plastic bag in the corner.
A plastic bag? What’s that doing here?
Dazai picks it up by the handle, bringing it over to him on the bed. He flips onto his back and pulls at the handle, peering inside.
There’s some ziplocs inside with something...green? Some white paper sits in the bag as well.
He picks up one of the ziplocs and holds it to his nose, taking a sniff. It smells like something he can’t quite describe, a pungent odor that’s still not quite as repellent as he’d expected.
What is this? A plant?
Judging from the white paper and the cop shows he’s seen on TV in passing, he’s pretty sure this is something you put in the white paper, roll it up and light it, smoking it like a cigarette. Whatever it is, Chuuya hasn’t used it in front of him. Given his boyfriend’s smoking history, he’s no stranger to lighting one up himself (though not very much at all, thank you very much) so he figures why not just try it and go from there?
His mind made up, he decides to head downstairs to the kitchen to find the lighter in the kitchen drawer. He steals his boyfriend’s fluffy red slippers (the floors are wooden down there and it’s cold!) and shuffles out of the bedroom, ziploc bag and one piece of paper in hand.
He should only be gone for a few minutes so he doesn’t bother letting Chuuya know--let him have his peace and they’ll see each other soon anyways.
He heads down the stairs and down the hallway, not bothering to turn the lights on. The moonlight streams in through the big glass windows in the kitchen at the end of the hallway, providing more than enough light.
Once he reaches the kitchen, he pulls open the drawer and fumbles for the lighter, not quite remembering where it is. His fingers curl over the small plastic rectangle and he smiles--bingo.
He plucks it from the drawer and closes the drawer shut, heading to the TV room just adjacent to the kitchen, plopping himself on the couch.
He puts the ziploc bag and paper down on the table in front of him. Takes the paper and smoothes it out neatly.
He opens the ziploc bag, for the first time unsure in this whole process. How much is he supposed to use? Just a little bit? Half of it?
Eh, it’s the weekend and there’s nothing to lose. He decides he’ll go all in--who knows, maybe this could be what does him in.
He pours out the bag and carefully slides all the contents on the paper. There’s enough to line the entire edge of the small white square and he carefully folds the paper around it, rolling it tightly.
He holds it to his mouth and lights up the lighter.
Now or never.
He dips the end of the cigarette into the flame of the lighter.
From that moment on, he remembers nothing until he’s told about it much later.
“So, Dazai, what did you end up doing? How did you end up hijacking a plane?” Atsushi questions impatiently.
“I’ll take over the story from here!” Ranpo interjects, rolling himself over to their desks.
“So,” Ranpo pops a lollipop into his mouth. “Here’s what happened.”
The shrill sound of the ringtone he reserves only for emergencies cuts through the stillness of the pitchblack silence, jolting Ranpo awake. What the fuck could have happened now?
He cracks one eye open, just enough to be able to see the damn phone so he can end this as soon as possible. If he sees Dazai’s name on the caller ID, he’s blocking the man as fast as possible and personally swears to make his life a living hell. Insomniac or not, there’s a limit to how many pranks he can tolerate.
But he sees Kunikida’s name instead so he turns on the lamp on his nightstand and sits up in bed--Kunikida wouldn’t call him unless it were a true emergency.
He picks up. “Yes, Kunikida-kun? What’s happened?”
Kunikida gives a long drawn-out sigh and Ranpo knows instantly it’s the one he’s reserved exclusively for Dazai with the exception of long lines at the DMV. “What’s Dazai done?”
“This man will be the bloody death of me I swear- I will personally wring his neck so tight tomorrow he won’t be able to breathe for a week,” Kunikida fumes. “Can you come to Yokohama Airport? This isn’t something I’d expect you to believe in a million years but, well, it’s Dazai we’re talking about.”
“The airport? Don’t tell me-”
“Yup. He’s locked himself into the cockpit of a plane he broke into and he claims only Satan can set him free.”
After this case, Ranpo may just send him to meet Satan himself, but duty calls.
“I’ll be right there.” He hangs up and dials 3.
“Poe-kun? I’ll read the next three novels of yours and buy treats for Karl if you can pick me up right now.”
Fifteen minutes later, Poe’s car is shooed onto the jetway and he and Ranpo stand staring down Dazai standing the cockpit of a Boeing 757 with his hands outstretched in some kind of maniacal gesture, his head thrown back clearly in laughter.
Ranpo turns to Kunikida. “So how the fuck did Dazai end up there?” Even he's impressed with how Dazai managed to swindle his way up there undetected. Actually, this is a former executive of Port Mafia he’s talking about, but it’s still a feat.
The creases in Kunikida’s forehead grow deeper. He points to a white SUV standing next to the plane.
“Dazai decided to try to take a bus to the sea but saw the buses weren’t operating until 8 AM the next morning. Instead of going home like any sane person, he thought he would drive there. But once again, instead of going home to use his boyfriend’s car, he broke into the Yokohama Honda dealership, stole a pair of keys, walked around until he found the right car, and decided to go to the airport to catch a flight. When he saw there were no planes to the sea as there shouldn’t be, he ended up in the cockpit of the plane and now refuses to leave until Satan frees him.”
Ranpo chuckles. “That sounds insane but also not exactly how Dazai thinks. Is he under the influence of something?”
“Clearly--I’m pretty sure it’s weed from how he described it. Lord help us all, I’m surprised Chuuya isn’t the first person he called.”
“How did you guys even find him? I don’t think anyone is manning the jetway this late.”
“According to the cops, he stood up and started pressing all the buttons, lighting up the cockpit like some kind of disco ball. That was enough to draw the attention of the night guards who immediately called the cops and they called us in.”
“Aren’t there master keys to get into the planes?”
“That’s been the difficulty-he somehow managed to bend the locks or something so the door won’t open. He stopped responding to our phone calls after he made his demands to talk to Satan, and we can’t get in touch with Chuuya for some reason. That’s why we called you in.” Kunikida takes his glasses off and starts rubbing at them with the edge of his shirt, a gesture Ranpo’s sure he’s done 10 times by now.
“Well, let’s see if we can’t get through the undercarriage. It’ll be a little cramped but it’ll have to do.”
Kunikida puts his glasses back on and nods, gesturing for the police officers to join them.
“And so, Dazai was immediately arrested, taken to the ED where he proceeded to raise hell until we finally got ahold of Chuuya (his phone was turned off in his coat pocket) who showed up, punched him unconscious, and Dazai was admitted for supportive care from marijuana intoxication. Chuuya vowed Dazai would never see his stash again, and that’s that!” Ranpo finishes.
Atsushi’s jaw is completely slack, confusion, shock, and even a hint of awe swirling in his sunset eyes. “You did all of that, Dazai-san??! This makes the mushroom incident look like you were just skipping in the park!”
Dazai shrugs his shoulders. “All in a day’s work, really. Maybe I’ll try LSD next time…”