Return to the Day of Cherry Blossoms ~Bungo Stray Dogs: Regression Arc~ - Distorted Morning Glow

He vomited. The stench of burning stomach acid. Sourness seeping into the concrete. On all fours, Sakaguchi Ango retched. Twice. Three times. Felt like everything inside him was coming out. His vision flickered. His head pounded like a bell ringing. "...Ugh." Cold sweat down his back. The air smelled of tide and rusted iron. (Where am I?) Trembling fingers pushed up his glasses. Silver-rimmed round frames. A crack ran through the lens. His vision warped. Behind a warehouse in the port district. Rusted containers. Broken chains. Scattered syringes. Graffiti on the walls. He only knew this was somewhere in Yokohama. He pulled out his phone. The screen blazed. Time: 3:12 AM. He checked the date. April 12th. Four years ago. "...What?" His fingers shook. Sweat beaded on his palm. (Impossible.) He tapped the screen again and again. The carrier display. The news headlines. Everything. Four years ago. That was the moment. Memories flooded in. Not some gentle life-flashing-before-your-eyes. Something more violent. Unilateral. Merciless. A flashback. Oda Sakunosuke's face. Dazai Osamu's back. Mimic's gunfire. The counter at Bar Lupin. The whiskey the three of them drank. And cherry blossoms. Falling blossoms. Oda's corpse. He died because of me. "...Ah. Agh." A voiceless voice. Ango vomited again. Nothing came out this time. Just dry heaves. (I.) (I killed him.) His nails scraped the concrete. His silver-rimmed glasses slipped off. His vision blurred. The night bled black. How long was he like that? He noticed a shard of broken glass at his feet. Ango reached out with a trembling hand. His breathing ragged. His fingertips touched the glass. Ability: "Discourse on Decadence." Reads the memories of objects he touches. That was his power. (If I could make even time itself an excuse—) (Now. Right now—) He tried to activate it. But. "...Weak." The information he could read from the glass was far too fragmented. Memories from seconds ago. Someone had pissed here. That was all. Normally, he could pull out memories from hours ago. Days ago. Yet now, it was nothing but noise. Like a radio with dying batteries. (The price of time regression?) Ango gritted his teeth. The ringing in his ears wouldn't stop. He checked his watch. 3:35 AM. Ango stood up. His legs wobbled. He braced a hand against a container and slowly steadied his breathing. The cold touch of iron sharpened his senses. Just a little. (Get it together.) (First, assess the situation.) He pulled a leather notebook from his suit's inner pocket. An informant's habit. Always carried it. He opened it. Checked the contents. Two weeks since infiltrating the Port Mafia. Alias: "Sakaguchi Ango." Fabricated background: a young elite who graduated from a Yokohama university, recruited into the organization for his information analysis skills. In reality, a spy for the Ministry of Home Affairs' Special Division for Unusual Powers. Mission: investigate the Port Mafia's internal affairs. In this world, 0.8 percent of the population possesses abilities. The government aims to register and manage all of them. The Special Division also monitors ability users who infiltrate criminal organizations. I'm that monitor. (I have memories of the future.) (But right now, I'm still just an undercover investigator.) He put the notebook away. He started walking. From the port toward the center of Naka Ward. Heading to Bar Lupin. Along the way, he kept sorting through information in his head. Oda Sakunosuke. Low-ranking member. Hasn't touched the Port Mafia's dark side yet. Dazai Osamu. Young executive candidate. We shouldn't have even met yet. (Nothing has happened yet.) (No one has died yet.) A streetlight flickered. An unnatural blink. Ango stopped. A buzzing sound. The light went out. Came back on. Out. On. A random pattern. Not a malfunction. (What is this?) A chill ran down his spine. But right now, he had priorities. Ango kept walking. Bar Lupin was underground in Naka Ward. Members only. A small place. Eight counter seats. Three booths. Dim lighting. Old jazz playing. The master was a tight-lipped older man. Everyone called him "Pops." When Ango opened the door, Pops looked up from behind the counter. "...Well, that's an unusual hour." A low, calm voice. He asked nothing more. "Couldn't sleep." Not a lie. He really couldn't. Ango sat at the end of the counter. Pops silently placed a glass and poured whiskey. Amber liquid. Ice clinked. He took a sip. Alcohol burned his throat. A little sense of reality returned. (So this is Lupin, four years ago.) The air. The smell. Pops' mannerisms. Everything was nostalgic. The door opened. "Huh? Pops, you've got company tonight?" He knew the voice. Dazai Osamu. Didn't even need to turn around. A slightly high-pitched voice. Frivolous. But with a cold undertone somewhere. He looked. Messy dark brown hair. Bedhead. Long bangs hiding one eye. Deep purple irises that looked black under the dim light. Hollow eyes. Impossible to read. His black coat fluttering, Dazai sat down next to Ango without hesitation. "You're Sakaguchi-kun? I've heard rumors. A new informant. Exceptionally talented." An innocent smile. But behind that smile, a calculating gaze fixed on Ango. "Man, young and talented recruits are a joy. The organization's future is bright." "...I haven't done anything yet." He replied calmly. From his future memories, Dazai was this kind of guy. Closes the distance immediately on first meeting. Watches how you react. He'd done the same to Ango back then. "So modest. Informants—they ooze it even when they do nothing. Your eyes are different. The eyes of someone who knows something." His heart thumped. (Stop it. You're too damn sharp.) "You overestimate me." He drank his whiskey. To hide his unease. But Dazai was staring at Ango's hands. "You're interesting." His tone dropped suddenly. "You have a face like you already know the future." Ango held his breath. His fingers tightened around the glass. The ice swayed. "...What do you mean?" He somehow kept his voice steady. But inside his ears, his heartbeat was deafening. Dazai grinned. "Oh, no deep meaning! Just an observation!" He stood up. His coat hem flared. "See you, Sakaguchi-kun. Let's talk more sometime. Pops, I'll be back." Waving flippantly, he left. Silence returned. Ango couldn't move for a while. Inside his clenched glass, the ice melted. (He suspects.) (Not certain. But he senses something.) Dazai Osamu. A genius. A man who reads the subtleties of the human heart like reading the air. Deceiving this man was probably impossible. After Dazai left, Ango kept drinking alone. The amber in his glass dwindled. Pops said nothing. Just added fresh ice now and then. (Think.) (A way to save Oda.) The hands of the old clock on the wall ticked forward. Tick. Tick. Oda Sakunosuke died in the Mimic Incident. Mimic: a group of mercenary ability users who drifted in from Europe. About thirty members. Soldiers who could only live on the battlefield. Their leader: Gide. They infiltrated Yokohama. Clashed head-on with the Port Mafia. A plan by Boss Mori Ougai. I was exposed as a Special Division spy. Dazai and Oda got dragged in. The result: Oda died in a mutual kill with Gide. (Not this time.) Ango opened his notebook and began writing detailed notes. Mimic's infiltration route. The warehouse they used. The nature of Gide's ability. He cross-referenced information obtainable as a spy with his future memories. Analyzed where to intervene. (Manipulate the information. Before Oda is in danger, feed Mimic's intel through another channel. File false reports to the Special Division. Buy time.) His hand stopped. (I'll be betraying the Special Division.) Treason against the nation. Cooperating with a criminal organization. His career. His trust. Everything he'd built. He'd throw it all away. (But that's—) Oda's face surfaced. A gentle man. An adult with a shadow somewhere. The first time they met, he'd said, "You're not a bad guy." Dazai's face too. Always joking around. But he was probably lonelier than anyone. Both of them. His best friends. "...I've decided." He murmured it quietly. This time, I won't betray them. This time, I'll be a real ally. Pops silently cleared the glass. Tick. Tick. The clock moved forward. Time headed toward the future. Moment by moment. Ango stood up. "Thanks for the drink, Pops." "Yeah. Come again." A short reply. But his voice was a little warm. Ango left the bar. Outside, dawn was already breaking. The eastern sky was tinged faintly vermilion. Sunrise. He looked up at the sky. Just then, a flock of birds was crossing from east to west. Dozens of them. Seagulls, probably. For an instant. The birds vanished. In midair. Just like that. "...What." Ango's eyes widened. Seconds later, the flock reappeared. As if nothing had happened. Flying the same trajectory. That just now. (A distortion in spacetime.) His ability, "Discourse on Decadence," reacted. Something trembled deep inside him. A tiny fissure. Born in the world itself. Caused by Ango's time regression. (So this is what it means to change the future.) The streetlight. That unnatural flickering earlier. Probably this. Spacetime is starting to warp. I'm the cause. Ango stood rooted to the spot. The sunrise sky was terribly red. (What have I started?) Even so, there was no turning back. Save Oda. Protect Dazai. If it's for that— (I'll pay any price.) His phone vibrated in his pants pocket. An encrypted communication from the Special Division. Orders to begin the mission. (First, I have to maintain my cover.) Ango gripped his phone and took one last look at the port scenery. The waves swayed quietly. In the sunrise sky, he thought he saw it. A distorted rift in spacetime. Just for a split second.

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Episode 1

Name: Return to the Day of Cherry Blossoms ~Bungo Stray Dogs: Regression Arc~
Author: Novelia

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