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“Why…?! Why won’t any numbers appear?! I can’t accelerate, either! Why, why, why is this happening?!”
“You should’ve done your homework. Skills don’t work on me.”
The enemy steps back while raising his hand, but Dazai, unconcerned, only continues to get closer.
“Explain yourself! How did you two know to switch opponents just by looking at each other?! What kinda trick was that?”
Wearing an unwavering smile, Dazai continues to close the distance. The young man steps back, overwhelmed.
“J-just who the hell are you?! Your entire history was wiped clean! Who are you?! Who?! Who?!”
“Oh, looks like I forgot to introduce myself.”
Dazai towers over the young man and peers down at him. Then he gently clenches his fist before raising it into the air.
Dazai’s right fist connects with the young man’s face, spinning him a full 180 degrees. The enemy’s eyes roll back into his head as he passes out.
“The name’s Osamu Dazai, Armed Detective Agency personnel.”
The giant man charges at me like a wild beast before I throw him into the air. The stronger my opponent, the more powerful the throw. After a few tosses, I eventually hurl him through the window frame, where he free-falls all the way down to the first floor.
When I glance out the window, I see that he’s foaming at the mouth, out cold. He won’t be waking up from that for a while. Then I look at my body to find that the numbers have vanished. Dazai must have defeated that skill user.
Phew. Thank goodness.
Relieved, I check the communicator. All that’s left is to cut this machine off. I operate the vintage device, fumbling with the frequency and direction. It’s a rather old machine, but I can manage.
“Kunikida!”
Dazai comes rushing up the stairs now that the enemy below is defeated.
“I think we need this release key to use the communicator! But it looks like that jerk broke it before passing out!”
Flustered, he shows me the bent key.
“I know.”
“We can’t work the communicator with this! The plane’s—”
“I’m constantly running into issues. The unexpected is my norm. That’s why…”
I tear the stitches off my hip pocket and pull out a sheet of paper.
“…I always have a spare page with me for emergencies.”
I unfold the paper and write with my own blood.
“The Matchless Poet: Release Key!”
The piece of paper transforms into a yellow release key.
“And as long as I get one good look, I can produce a perfect replica using my skill.”
“Wh-whoa… Really?” The unflappable Dazai finally opens his eyes wide in astonishment.
“Really. Surprised? I think you are. All right, we made a promise. You owe me a drink.”
Operating the communicator’s control panel, I adjust the settings, insert the release key, and turn it. Immediately afterward, a green light illuminates the control panel. I forcefully press the disable button.
