Kunikida pov

Katai’s world was small. He liked it that way. The four walls of his flat were his sanctuary, the red futon his constant companion. The outside world, with its noise and chaos, felt like an endless assault, every sound a threat, every glance a challenge. He left his flat only when absolutely necessary, clutching the futon like armour against the unknown. But then there was Kunikida—persistent, unyielding, his single exception.

The Armed Detective Agency’s annual New Year’s Eve gathering was the one celebration you’d always convince him to attend, leaving him almost no choice but to give in. You had been his partner once, back when Katai had still been a member of the agency. Now, though, Kunikida was the only one he trusted enough to leave the safety of his home for, the only one who seemed to be able to coax the hermit outside his comfort zone.

Katai stuck close to him that evening, red futon draped over his shoulders. The agency’s office hummed with warmth and laughter, the familiar faces of your colleagues illuminated by the golden glow of string lights.

When the clock struck midnight, the agency ascended to the roof, a tradition repeated every year. Katai hesitated at the stairwell, the idea of open space unsettling, but Kunikida waited for him, patient and unhurried, until he finally followed.

The rooftop was colder than he expected, the sharp winter air biting against his skin. His futon offered little protection, but he held it close nonetheless. The fireworks began moments later—a deafening crack, followed by a cascade of colours that lit up the night.

Katai flinched at the first burst, his shoulders tense, but he didn’t retreat. The light reflected in his eyes, wide and unblinking, as though he couldn’t quite decide whether to be afraid or awestruck. The noise pressed in on him, but so did the beauty, each explosion a fleeting masterpiece. Katai stood beside his friend, gaze fixed on the sky.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been glad I left home.”