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2
Teeth. Since he’d been infected Atsushi had taken to peering into his mouth when he spoke. A quick glance. Just to check if he had long big fang-like canines sticking out again. He’d look at him to see if he still had that gray cast over his skin like before, ashen with blank spoon-like eyes. There’d been no tint to his skin, no pupils, no emotion, no him.
Safe to say, he looked like death under the vampiric infection. Now, looking at him, skin still as bone white as before, only now you couldn’t see blue veins across his translucent skin, starkly sitting across his cheeks like war paint.
Atsushi would never say it out loud, but he’d missed him in what must be some strange pseudo-psychotic break . (He told himself it was because he’d died and then resurrected, and while Atsushi disliked the guy he wasn’t heartless .) But again, he’d never say that out loud.
They hadn’t seen each other in a month.
An entire month.
Now months ago, younger, dumber Atsushi would’ve seen that as a blessing ‘A month without Akutagawa’s bullshit? Fan-fucking-tastic!’ he’d have laid back and enjoyed not having to look over his shoulder all the time for one thing.
Now. Well, Atsushi wasn’t quite sure what had happened but something changed within him. (That was a lie, he did know what had happened, he’d watched Akutagawa die, he’d watched the world burn and – whoops! Someone pulled the carpet from right under him and it wasn’t as pleasant as he’d expected.)
Now , he’d sneak glances between the breaths of time Kunikida wasn’t talking, back turned to them. He looked healthier. Akutagawa did. But one could say that if you’d been a corpse, looking just slightly less dead would be becoming.
His eyes were the same color as always, his skin just a hue away from the same sickly white, it made his hair look as dark as the moon.
Akutagawa looked different, seemed different; like a cat that’s been washed and brushed, soft and new like a well rested insomniac finally. It was unnatural, even kind of disorienting and Atsushi couldn’t help but stare.
“ – Nabokov is a highly skilled assassin, he has accounts of 22 homicides, 13 of those murders are single killings of government officials and police officers, the last 9 were those caught in the crossfire of a Port Mafia mission –”
Under the table a foot swiped at his shin.
“Pay attention Weretiger.” If his whisper could’ve been any louder, he’d have alerted the entire building. Not that it surprised him. Akutagawa had always had a harsh personality and a voice to match - it made sense that his whisper would be the same way.
Atsushi kicked him back.
“I am , you pay attention.”
A thin elbow poked him between the ribs making him yelp.
“I am!” He hissed.
Atsushi poked him back.
His whispers were harsh to his own ears “Obviously not, if you’re worrying about me. Worry about yourself.”
“I am not worrying –“
Someone cleared their throat and Atsushi whipped around from where he was glaring at his partner. They both scrambled to straighten themselves in their seats.
Kunikida was clearly about to blow a fuse but he couldn’t get farther than slamming his hands on the table, before Dazai took over like he always did. “Now, now boys play nice ~ we’ll need you to punt some people today! Do conserve your energy.” He said. Smiling, because he always was.
After many months and many Dazai-related incidents Atsushi was well-versed in ignoring his senior’s antics. (Atsushi once called them one of his episodes out loud and Dazai proceeded to pester him, whining the rest of the day.)
“Sorry Dazai- san ,” Akutagawa said, head turned away from Dazai, flushed in a way that made Atsushi raise an eyebrow. But Dazai wasn’t even looking at him, just waiting for Atsushi to say something.
Atsushi had never noticed it but he’d always had quite sharp eyes hadn’t he?
Dazai- san that is. His eyes were brown and dark, that much he’d always known but something about them today had a certain tinge to them, like a snake ready to pounce.
“At~sus~hi- kun !”
Atsushi blinked “...Uh, yeah, sorry Dazai- san… ” Caught off guard, peering down at the case file on his lap.
Kunikida sighed, looking older than he’d ever wish to be “As I was saying…as seen on the CCTV Nabokov works alone - ”
CASE 368# OPENED:8-20-22 The Armed Detective Agency
NAME OF DETECTIVE OFFICER : Nakajima Atsushi
ALIAS: Nabokov, Vladimir
CUSTODY RECORD:
- The suspect is suspected of 22 of premeditated manslaughter and the disruption of We presume that he is not the only one of his kind
CRIMINAL PROFILE:
- A man in his late twenties to early thirties
- Stocky/athletic build with blonde hair
- Proficient fighter, skilled in both hand to hand combat and use of weaponry.
- Part of a bigger organization of organized crime planning to attack Yokohama
- Ability user of some kind, ability similar to an aphrodisiac or mind control. Victims were spotted speaking in tongues and falling limb to the floor before their deaths.
- The autopsy reports red spotting on their skin as well.
COURSE OF ACTION: The suspect is a danger to the lives of many politicians, an outbreak would cause public chaos. Apprehend at all costs.
REPORTING : NAKAJIMA, ATSUSHI & AKUTAGAWA, RYUUNOSUKE.
In the end the debriefing had gone overtime with Kunikida only releasing them a quarter to five in the afternoon, the sun had come and gone and dusk crept in behind clouds, bathing the street in orange and purple. In the end one could easily lose Akutagawa’s dark silhouette in a busy street but Atsushi was determined.
“Do you need something Weretiger?” God his voice was grating even from steps away. Atsushi had to hold himself by the ear, he had to do this, for the past month he’s been going around with this sinking guilty feeling of wanting to apologize to Akutagawa, of all people. It was the proper thing to do and with how the rest of the agency reacted when they heard the timeline of events, all of them had hummed how unexpected it was.
He could do this,
For god’s sake it was two measly little words, it wasn’t like he’d ever agree to it -!
‘Thank you’ or even ‘Thanks’ just something to make the sinking feeling in his chest go away -
How’d he speak to Kyouka after the cargo ship? how’d he make it less awkward?
“Uhm….do you like crepes?” Atsushi prayed that someone would just come and knock his ass out right now.
“What.” Akutagawa said
Atsushi’s arms felt foreign and useless as he flailed about “Crepes… like ‘em or hate ‘em?” swaying on his feet.
…
They stared at each other for so long that they’d blocked people trying to pass between them to the beat of footsteps.
A beat followed the silence. Dark scrutinizing eyes sizing Atsushi up.
Beat.
Beat.
Akutagawa turned on his heel and marched away without a word.
“Wha - Wait!” Atsushi yelled, jogging after him, arm reaching out to grab onto Akutagawa’s coat sleeve, only for Rashomon to grab his wrist pulling them face to face.
“What. Do. You. Want. Weretiger -” Akutagawa drawled, expression becoming pinched and hot, his shoulders tense as if Atsushi's mere presence was cumbersome. It was the first time in a month he’d seen Akutagawa’s face flushed with color.
“Crepes! well crepes with you…as thanks, for well, whatever,” God, his neck had an itch that needed to be scratched. “Look, Dazai- san would’ve thanked you as well but he’s busy so I’m -” Atsushi sighed.
Like his tails been stepped on he snapped to attention. “Dazai- san ?”
'Cause of course, that’s what grabs his attention. “uh...yeah” Atsushi said, realizing how bad an idea this is.
Rashomon let go of his wrist practically throwing him away from it’s master. It left Atsushi gap at him and rub his wrist where the fabric chaffed him. “Fine. Let’s go.” He grunted.
Oh to be trapped by your own design.
…
The walk down there was awkward as hell, Atsushi decided, at least for him, Akutagawa didn’t seem to mind. Because with whatever braincells he’d used up when asked Akutagawa to begin with, he didn't have enough to think and make small talk.
It wasn’t horrible though. It allowed him to take in the parts of Yokohama he hadn’t visited in a while, reminding him why he helped protect this city at all. Then they’d bought their crepes; Atsushi’s with strawberry and Akutagawa’s with blackberries, and sat down on a lone bench in the park.
To think that on a normal, uninteresting Wednesday he was on an outing with his mortal enemy, in gratitude ‘cause that same nemesis had sacrificed himself for Atsushi and then the aforementioned enemy would smile at him.
A smile that almost made Atsushi choke on his food.
…Well, maybe not at him, now that he thought about it, but definitely in his vicinity.
It was a small smile, something you could’ve easily missed if you hadn’t looked long enough. It was clumsy, Akutagawa had whipped cream on the corner of his lips and the crooked smile had made it worse.
There was something enticing about how fleeting his smile was. Barely a line across skin, not enough to wrinkle or pull his cheeks into a cheeky grin but it was still there. Elegant but still immature…almost like a shy child given a gift. It was silk as sin, milk white skin that glistened for merely a second – Atsushi feared that if he glanced away his expression would disappear, to leave his usual stone-faced stature. And while he shouldn’t think of his rival like this, no one should in fact it was Akuta-fucking-gawa, if he knew he’d for sure skewer Atsushi but he couldn’t help but think that it would be a shame if he stopped.
He had a nice smile.
He looked like a Nihonga: a canvas with feathery brush strokes, blurring him completely until Atsushi could barely recognize him.
And he didn’t recognize him. This mafioso, a cold-blooded killer had just for a millisecond looked so unfairly soft and young.
Soft in a way only a person in a painting could. Like he’d been born that way – sweet and perfect.
Young like he was innocent and hadn’t killed people and the blood on his hands had been whipped clean.
His heart was beating in his ears and his lungs were failing him, Atsushi chewed as he thought.
(How many people has Akutagawa killed? Tens? Hundreds? …Thousands? How many years has he even been with the Mafia?)
The thing is he was pretty, pretty in a way that stirred something in his stomach, something that a while ago he’d have assumed was either annoyance, hunger or even fear for when Rashomon would stab him next.
The only way to describe it was that he’d for the first time looked at Akutagawa and it was like blinking away the tiredness of his eyes to see the world clearer.
It was unexpected.
Atsushi didn’t like it.
“Weird.” He said. And had Atsushi been taught any worthwhile manners like ‘how to properly react and behave when you realize your nemesis (Rival? Friend? Frenemy? Crush? …Gross ) is pretty’ at the Orphanage he’d been much better off right about now.
Mortifying.
It was mortifying.
Atsushi was half attempted to run away.
“What?” Akutagawa said. Suddenly his smile was gone, the line had succumbed to the white liquid of his face and sadly it didn’t emerge again.
What the fuck?
Why did Atsushi miss it?
What the fuck?
In a split second of having completely lost his mind and just being a full-time idiot, he decides to play it cool.
“Hell must have frozen over because you just smiled !” Atsushi said, “I didn’t think you could…you know, considering. “ While speaking his hands started moving animatedly and he suddenly wished to be sedated.
…
Akutagawa said nothing. If his skin was like milk his face was congested because of how contorted it was.
“Considering what?” He snipped, voice laced with venom.
“Because… you’re you, a big time mafioso, I thought you guys were only allowed to express your feelings through edgy clothing and accessories. Not smiling .”
A thin eyebrow raised at him “Your understanding of the Port Mafia is stifling Weretiger. Regardless, I dispute your ridiculous accusation, I did not.”
His breath caught in his throat making him sound winded and wheezy, as if he was going through a second puberty. “You so did!” Atsushi laughed. “Anyway, isn’t you smiling, like, a criminal offense in the big bad Mafiosi handbook? Should I send a report back to your boss –“
Rashomon wrapped around his wrist, stealing his crepe back, for once not breaking through fabric and skin, just snug against his hand. “I will cut out your tongue and feed it to you.” He said.
“Go right ahead, it’ll just grow back.” He stuck his tongue out at him for good measure.
Akutagawa responded by stabbing his crepe with Rashomon with a groan “Goodbye Weretiger.”
“...Give Dazai- san my regards.” and off he went.
Left sitting on the bench alone, with his tongue still out, Atsushi felt childish in a way he hadn’t before, “Don’t forget! Mission tomorrow!” Atsushi yelled after him, slouching forward in his seat.
He flipped Atsushi off, not pausing in his step but he didn’t see it as rude thanks to the image of Akutagawa with powdered sugar on his nose, seconds beforehand.
Leaning back, Atsushi sits there eating his crepe in the afternoon sun, orange and large – the whipped cream had melted and his strawberries were now warm and mushy in his mouth – but it was the best crepe he’d ever had.
...
Thursday morning on a spring day came with Atsushi as he waited at the agency for the others. He’d come by way too early once again; the morning sun had come and stayed, leaving the golden rays of dawn to color the office ceilings. The crisp air had woken him enough to peek a smile at the sight. For the first time in months he’s back on the battlefield - most of all it’s Akutagawa.
Akutagawa, the guy who stabbed Atsushi within five minutes when they first met, all those months ago. Yes, that Akutagawa. The same guy that jumped in front of a sword for him and helped him stop feeling so useless. If Akutagawa, the guy that never shuts up about strength, Atsushi had surely gotten worse for wear.
“Weretiger.” A voice said. Whipping around, there he stood, clad in black as usual. He looked ridiculous in a white-collar environment, safe for his pinched expression. He’d fit right in with Kunikida, if just based on expression.
Atsushi wondered how many more expressions Akutagawa had that he hadn’t seen yet.
“Let’s go.” He said.
Despite the voice in his head nagging about not getting too far ahead of himself, Atsushi honestly couldn’t wait.
...
This was the worst fucking day of Atsushi’s life.
And that’s saying a lot coming from him.
He’ll probably regret it when something worse happens because it always does but god dammit he means it right now.
Nabokov kicks him back and Atsushi scrambles back to dodge, arm hanging limbly at his side, sweaty and red with anger, only to collide with a wall with a crash.“Ugh!” Grunting he pushes back quickly, jumping up, onto the wall, away from the scythe Nabokov’s swiping at his head with like he’s trying to hack it off in a clean chop.
They’d trailed him on the docks, Akutagawa as the Port Mafia representative and Atsushi keeping the police off their backs. The Mafia was in the midst of a new purchase of a supernatural drug when Nabokov attacked and took down dozens of their men before others were alerted.
Sprinting to an abandoned warehouse, there they found him scythe doused in blood, a serene smile on his face as if he hadn’t just murdered five people.
“Ah! What a pleasant surprise.” The dirty blonde man had said, his eyes trailing them as they cornered him. He was wearing an old timey suit, similar to Ranpo’s, complete with a dark waistcoat and handkerchief and everything. He looked like he’d walked out of a 1950’s silent film, the world graying and fraying at ends behind him. An arm out as if he was presenting Atsushi to someone “Atsushi Nakajima, the mighty white tiger of the west.” He turned to the latter with a grimace on his face. “...Ryuunosuke Akutagawa, the red dragon of the east or more profoundly known as Port Mafia’s lap dog.” He chuckled, voice as deep and velvety as a Hollywood actor. “To what do I owe the honor?”
“Speak Nabokov.”
“Easy, easy Mr. Dragon, there’s no need to start barking at me.” He said, smiling, the kind of smile that was drawn on with a knife and cut through the cheeks. Atsushi grimaced at the sight of it. Ugly.
Rashomon lurched forward, tendrils wrapping around him, forcing Nabokov down to his knees. As it tightly wound around his body, he sagged defeatedly.
If only it’d been that easy.
“ AKUTAGAWA -!” They were meant to arrest him, not kill him!
“Speak, or get your head blown off.” Akutagawa said, “Your choice. But you must’ve noticed in your research that I am not a patient man.” A spike aimed at Nabokov’s head, his skin red from Rashomon’s heat.
“Now wait just a minute -” Atsushi said, standing in front of Nabokov once again.
Nabokov stared, zeroing in on Atsushi trying to gauge how he’d bite him, licking his lips like he could already taste their defeat. A chill tickled it’s way down his back, Atsushi willed his body to stay still.
“Grown older have you Mr. Tiger?” by his furrowed brow Nabokov continued “Oh no, we don’t know each other but I know about you, ah yes, I do. You see, I've taken it upon myself to thoroughly research my opponents. I know about the Orphanage and I know about what happened there when you were eight. To be honest out of all of the files your’s was the most surprising Mr. Tiger! Well that is to say that I know… about the whispers in the dark and that one caretaker that would watch over you kids at night. One time you stood up to him for a girl.” Dread seeped through his stomach, loomed over his shoulder, a reminder of a memory he’d long ago doomed as nothing special. Nothing more than a cruel reminder of human nature.
“Such a nice little boy.”
Atsushi was a human, he reminded himself of it at least, a person with a head and a heart and a set of lungs, even when others made him nothing more than a vessel to throw away.
But that didn’t stop him from hurting -
“Was it love at first sight Atsu-chan?” His head tilted like a child trying to act coy.
His lungs burned. His vision blurred and spotted from where he stood to stare at Nabokov, smirking, like he knew more than he was letting on and Atsushi wanted to shake him, shake it out of him, his shadow eating up all the life in the world. How could he have forgotten this?
Forgotten him forgotten everything -
(Atsu~chan, are you hiding? why it’s just me –)
Nausea hit him like a swinging door.
Acres of his brain are being explored, ghosts from the past, resurrecting, lurching towards him -
Mind monsters coming grab at him, hitting him where it hurts -
and he’s not a person anymore, he’s something else, now he’s a little boy hiding in a closet, wide eyed, terrified.
“Oh! are you crying Mr. Tiger? Whatever is there to cry about we’re all friends here! I am just looking out for you -”
“Enough! enough - just, just stop! ” The blood pumped in his ears, his heart was writhing itself inside and out, thudding and thudding against his chest. His vision disfigured as if he was looking through a fisheye lens -
His mouth tasted of cotton, dry and powdery.
Nabokov’s voice sounded a thousand miles away but if Atsushi focused enough he could feel his breath tickle his right ear.
“The world’s so soft, so fragile, it needs a steady hand to control it. I am that hand, Mr. Tiger. If you’re all baby animals I’ll be the knife to your soft underbelly, that molds it all into something new -”
“ - Something better. ” he looks at Akutagawa as he says it. “If you could choose to be reborn as someone new, would you?”
“There must be some inhumane joy in that, isn’t that right Mr. Tiger? an oppressive feeling as if you’re cattle waiting for your executioner next door!”
From where he kneeled, peering up at the two of his eyes were getting crazier by the minute “You need to be liberated Mr. Dragon! Liberation! What a magnificent word, isn’t it? and I, Vladimir Nabokov, brother of the four dimensions, is here to save you all!” Nabokov said, his eyes wild like he’d been electrocuted and the taste of his own words were delicious enough to make a man delirious.
Akutagawa clicked his tongue, face resolute as he walked up to Nabokov, pulling out his phone to alert the others.
“Don’t ignore me - !”
A huge scythe materialized out of nowhere. Swinging and swinging, too quick for Atsushi to see, aimed right at Akutagawa’s neck.
“Damn it!”
They quickly jumped back, Rashomon letting go of Nabokov to dodge the scythe.
“Has no one ever told you being impertinent is rude? I’m trying to save you guys here -”
“Shut up!” Summoning tiger legs and arms, Atsushi went for his throat. Ready for this to be, nice and clean - only for the scythe to swing through the air like a bullet. Tearing into his side, pinning him into the wall.
“ Atsushi !”
A screeching sound surrounds him only to realize it’s his own screaming. Clutching at his side -
“Don’t, idiot!” he grabbed the handle and pulled it out. Hunched over himself, Atsushi was left panting, black spots painting his vision.
‘Why isn’t the tiger healing me?’
‘What are you doing? we need to help Akutagawa right now, hurry up!’
(A low rumbling started only to end in a puff of air, like a gust of wind the tiger had disappeared)
His heart writhed in on itself in terror.
Trying to reach behind himself to send the agency a signal, his phone in his pocket, Atsushi suddenly couldn’t move his arms an inch.
Looking up his sight was disfigured, his vision distorted.
‘What’s going on?’
“- The collapse of everything, the damnation of the world, whether or not you like it we are taking over -”
Springing forward like a shadow Nabokov grabbed Rashomon’s cloth with his scythe. Tearing it, dragging Akutagawa closer to him -
“There’s so much you don’t know” with the smile of a devil, his hand enclosed around Akutagawa’s face “Ability: Lolita!”
…
When they came to, disoriented and tattered from battle, Nabokov had left and there was a faint smell of smoke in the air. No doubt, Nabokov had gone to destroy the warehouse, immediately alerting the rest of the agency and Mafia.
They were probably on their way this very minute.
“Akutagawa?” A voice called, “Akutagawa - are you okay?” The Weretiger asked, sat curled in on himself looking at Ryu with worried eyes.
“Worry about yourself dumbass.” Ryuu heard the other’s choked gasps and breaths as he stood, grasping his half healed side - his shirt a bloody mess.
They’d failed the mission.
He’d failed the mission.
Again.
(Fail another mission, embarrass me one more time and I’ll punch you twice and shoot you three times.)
Life was meaningless, death was meaningless, strength was all that mattered.
How couldn’t he get better then?
(I know about whispers in the dark…You stood up to him for a girl. Was it love at first sight?)
Ryuu couldn’t help but laugh, a bitter laugh that left acid on his tongue as it came and went.
“Well aren’t you a hero? Did you write that on your good deeds list for Santa?” Ryuu said, voice laced with venom.
His words sounded sour and bitter in his mouth; he’d have to gag before he said anything else.
Silence slammed into them like a fist.
Had a pin dropped he’d be able to hear without the Weretiger’s super-hearing.
Though that wasn’t what surprised him.
The Weretiger whipped around – except it wasn’t the Weretiger it was something else completely – his pupils were now dilated and wide. His eyes weren’t his own anymore but the beast’s.
He looked hurt. Like all life had been sucked out of him, like whatever Ryuu said mattered to him.
Hurt like he hadn’t expected Ryunnosuke to say that of all things. Hurt like he’d expected anything except cruelty from him.
Ryunnosuke scoffed.
The Weretiger was so naïve it fucking hurt .
Had he been a better man; he would’ve consoled him. He wasn’t though so he could only stand back and watch with practiced disinterest. A part of his chest ached though he’d never had a name for it, so it didn’t bother him.
“Fuck you ! Fuck you dude!” Atsushi closed the distance between them, pushing him back with every step, even without his ability enabled Ryuunosuke could see his bloody intent. He held tears back as he grabbed his cravat. “ What the fuck do you know, huh? You know nothing about me –!”
“What? Did you think that because we’re partners all of a sudden I’d treat you like the rest of your detective buddies do? We’re not friends, Weretiger.” he snarled.
“As if I’d wanna be friends with a raging lunatic like you!” His words were rushed and shrill, like he couldn’t believe what he was saying himself - it was laughable, how bad of a liar the Weretiger was.
“And you never will be .” He snarled “I’d never disrespect myself so much to call someone so exploited my equal.” The answer sends a stutter through his chest, the words felt too heavy on his tongue as he forced them out. Akutagawa wonders what Dazai- san would say right now. If he’d been as cruel to Atsushi as he’d been to Ryunosuke, knowing what he knew.
“Just go cry to your Agency Weretiger. There’s nothing for you here.”
With a frustrated growl, the Weretiger pushed him against the wall. Hard. His claws sharp and flush against his throat, bashing his head against bricks. Like he’d been taught, Ryuu bites his tongue clenching his jaw.
Nakajima could kill him at any second right now. If he wanted to, that is. If he did, Ryuu’s body would be left in an empty alleyway, bleeding and becoming cold against the ground alone. Ryuunosuke was sure of it. And Higuchi would have to organize yet another funeral. And Gin would be left alone to figure out where her older brother had gone and if he had meant to.
Ryuu was taught to clench his jaw but never to hold his tongue.
“What would Dazai- san say?”
His chest was tight, heavy – there was an erratic, enthusiastic thumping in his chest that made his heart beat in his head.
His throat was closing up where Nakajima gripped him.
If he closed his eyes for a second –
If he closed his eyes, focused hard enough, he could picture himself somewhere else –
He would picture Atsushi as someone else – he’d see Dazai- san’s men at the end of the alleyway, making sure he couldn’t run away if he tried, out in the cold wet from rain, then again he never did try.
(Pain and pleasure succeed each other Akutagawa-kun, you ought to remember that next time you disobey me.)
Oftentimes Dazai- san would just hit or shoot him. There's only been one time he’d choked Ryuunosuke. It’d been after he’d had a coughing fit in training. Dazai- san had had a bad day and let it out on him.
(Yes, Dazai-san.)
“For once you’re on the receiving end of being fucking stabbed, how does that feel?” Ryuunosuke scoffed which only earned him being slammed against the wall again for good measure. Some part of him relished in how he had to gasp for air after; this isn’t right, it should be tighter, make it tighter . Delighting in how Atsushi’s elbow pressed against the soft flesh of his throat is making him grunt with discomfort.
(Your pain is only my pleasure A ~ku ~ta ~ ga ~ wa- kun .)
It had always been funny how he could say his name so cutely, as if he wasn’t torturing Ryuunosuke as he did it.
(Yes, Dazai-san.)
It had been another bruise he’d lied to Gin about.
Another bruise he eventually caressed in bed as he counted to ten.
( Gin, Hanako, Ito, Jun, Katsumi, Maki, Natsuko, Ryuunosuke, Sakura and Taka.)
“Let. Me. Go.” His breath, ragged and uneven, fanned his face, they were so close together he could pick out the different shades of Nakajima’s eyes. The Weretiger’s fangs were bared. Ryuunosuke wondered what it’d feel like to have them sink into his skin.
If he hissed and grunted when the blood started spilling or if this was something else the weretiger was exceedingly bad at.
“You were the one that started this shit! Don’t dish out what you can’t take –”
“I will fuck-ing kill you Weretiger –“
“Don’t seem to be doing a lot of that right now though, are you?” Nakajima hummed cruelly, hurt, angry and vengeful, following his gaze wherever he went. Not letting Ryuunosuke look away from the tears he's caused.
The weretiger let out a pitying laugh, a laugh that didn't make sense because none of this was funny.
“You can’t do shit unless he tells you to, is that it?”
And like a dog, Ryuunosuke growls at him; a low beastly rumble ripped itself from his throat, leaving it raw. Nakajima did nothing, he just stared at him with the same hurt eyes – as if he was waiting for an apology.
To hell with that. He threw himself against the wall this time, banging his head against it as he writhed. He was crazy if he thought he could hurt Ryuu. He’d had much worse.
So much fucking worse it was laughable that the Weretiger could hurt him.
He didn’t know anything.
Again.
He knew fucking nothing.
And again –
Nothing, nothing because he didn’t need to. Because Dazai never told him.
And again –
Ryuunosuke gripped the Weretiger’s hands, clawing at them, willing himself to draw blood with his blunt nails.
He still did nothing.
Nothing at all.
“Atsushi!” Four eyed guy from the agency whose name he couldn’t recall, had found them, a hand on his gun at the ready.
Dazai- san stood beside him, head hung so low Ryuunosuke couldn’t look at his eyes, moreover from where he stood he saw the tense line of his mouth.
The look of it made his throat dry.
Pensive expressions on those around him didn’t surprise him anymore, it was water that peeled off his coat seamlessly, he thought -
“Fuck this” Nakajima torn at the sight of his superiors, sighed, letting go of Ryuunosuke roughly, he walked with his back turned to get his messenger bag that was discarded in the muddy corner of the warehouse.
“You should never turn your back to an enemy Weretiger. Don’t they teach you that at the Agency?” Nodding towards the detectives, when he spoke his voice suddenly wasn’t his own anymore. If he’d heard on a recording, he wouldn’t recognize it as himself.
(Never turn your back to me Akutagawa-kun, you don’t know what I might do!)
He never did. There was always a light of hope blooming in his chest before Dazai- san would snuff it out. It scared him, that like a pathetic dog he would come back every time.
What scared him even more was that Dazai- san knew that.
“...W–We’re not enemies,” Nakajima paused, uneven bangs covering his wet face, as he yanked his bag on. Eyes blank and hungry for something he didn’t understand. “You’re just an asshole.”
Ryuunosuke wanted to say something; something petty and melodramatic that he’d inevitably look back on late at night and cringe about . ‘It took you that long to figure out?’ or ‘You bet your ass I am.’ Or even ‘And what about it?’ In the end he said nothing. Everything he thought of sounded like something you’d only say before asking for forgiveness. He could only stare blankly at the Weretigers retreating back as he walked out of the alley, into the pedestrian zone towards Dazai- san and the tall, loud, bespeckled man, both of them sending quick careful looks to each other over Nakajima’s head, and away from Ryuunosuke’s line of sight, shoulder slumped as he huddled away. Still he said nothing.
…
They rode back to the agency, the three of them, Dazai- san , Kunikida- san and himself. Neither talked and Atsushi was too occupied with looking out the window from the backseat, keeping his tears at bay.
Sniffling every now and then.
“Was it love at first sight Atsu-chan?”
No, it wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t.
“Aren’t you a hero?”
He never said he was.
“What happened?” Dazai- san sighed, his usual airy voice settling into a darker pitch. Without looking at him Atsushi could tell that he was disappointed, he’d always had a special ability that surpassed the tiger of knowing when others were upset with him. Soon after joining the agency that talent went unused, for better or for worse he didn’t know – ‘So am I!’ He wanted to yell because of course he was! Dazai didn’t need to remind him of it. He’d failed a mission, the thought made him pout, eyes well up and make his head pound with age old thoughts. His head squashed on top of his crossed arms -
Atsushi doubted the older double black ever failed a mission.
“To make you fail that easy of a mission?”
…
“Atsushi.” Kunikida- san turned to him, eyebrows furrowed as always with his soft eyes, flickering between him and the road, like if he didn't look every now and then he'd disappear. The concern in them made him want to retch. He didn’t deserve it, deserve either of it -
Not the targeted questions or the concerned gazes and for the first time Atsushi wished he was anywhere but with them.
“Was it love at fight sight -”
Clearing his throat, he said, “Did you set him up to it Dazai- san ?”
“Set up what? Atsushi- kun -” Dazai sighed, perhaps he knew that it would make Atsushi even more upset or he just couldn’t help himself.
“Back with Fukuchi… did he save me b-because you told him to?” it wasn’t as much of a question, more so a statement; a statement that slung around his neck, choking him like a snake - had he really been dumb enough to think of this as more than it was? His heart murmured, his breaths began ragged and he had to hold his breath to keep the others from noticing. Though his small sniffles filled the old silence becoming stale.
Like a balloon Atsushi felt like a single prod from Dazai could make him explode into a million pieces.
Dazai- san sighed "I dunno Atsushi-kun. Would it have made a difference? You're both alive aren’t you?"
Of course it would've! isn't that clear as day?
Atsushi felt sick to his stomach, clutching his blood soaked shirt, the tears blurred his vision and the trees and streets and people became blobs of color as he looked out the window. He didn’t need them to see him cry.
So it was true.
Perhaps Atsushi asks for too much but a part of his heart feels empty, like someone ripped it out of him while he was sleeping. It took everything in him to keep from yelling for it back.
"Dazai- san… "
"Next time, don't make decisions on my behalf. Please."
The rest of the car ride was spent in silence. It was empty again, the tiniest bit of him regretted it.
…
It was four in the morning and Atsushi couldn’t sleep; through the creak in the closet door he could tell that the sun was coming up. His mind was a hamster in a wheel, bulldozing forward leaving his body to lacklusterly follow behind.
“Was it love at first sight Atsu-chan?”
“Aren’t you a hero?”
Atsushi had felt anger many times before; the headmaster made sure of that. Yet he’d never quite felt like right now; like a tiger on the prowl he thought about he must not be named - A shark seeking blood he’d stare up at the ceiling, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side.
If he pressed hard enough he’d leave a mark, if he tried hard enough he’d draw blood.
Anger like all other emotions warmed his body from within, but like fire did it’d dissipate only to leave a chilling disappointment behind.
Because of course it did.
Dazai: Atsushi-kun! new stakeout mission at 7pm, how fun!
4:35 AM
Dazai: don’t be late ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆4:35 AM
It was way too late for anything and to be quite honest it concerned Atsushi that Dazai- san was even awake at this time, much less that Atsushi himself was.
He read the message but didn’t reply.
Later he’d turn his phone off for good when Dazai- san would pester him for ignoring his mentor.
After his fight with Dazai in the infirmary Yosano- sensei had sent him back to his apartment for a good night’s rest. But he couldn’t sleep and he hadn’t eaten and so he was delegated to stare up at the ceiling of the closet accusingly.
“Was it love at first sight Atsu-chan?”
He tossed and turned on his futon for a couple hours more but sleep never took him - The shadow of night coming and leaving in his room.
…
Dazai: Atsushi-kun! new stakeout mission at 7pm, how fun!
4:35 AM
Dazai: don’t be late ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆4:35 AM
Yes Dazai-san. :
3:50 PM
Dazai: wait at the cinema ;)
3:51 PM
Seven o’clock rolled around and Atsushi stood outside of the cinema as promised. Looking around for a familiar toss of brown mop of hair in the crowd.
The afternoon chill had set in and he was growing impatient.
A familiar face did turn up but it wasn’t Dazai- san .
There he stood, Akutagawa, looking down at his phone with a furrowed brow. From the way his eyes flickered around he must be nervous. He didn’t look like he usually did.
Well. He did but not exactly. He was wearing a black coat, yes but a different one and was pairing it with sunglasses this time.
He looked good, Atsushi decided. His expression soured - What was he doing here?
Standing there with his expensive clothes and even more expensive phone, he looked like a fashion magazine threw up on him. Least of all why’d he look so perfect while doing so, Atsushi bet he slept peacefully last night.
The villains always do
A ping from his pocket shook him out of his trance.
Dazai : Have fun.
7:05 PMDazai-san!?
Dazai:
(￢‿￢ )
7:06 PM
Sighing, he looked up, locking eyes once again with the clad in disguise mafioso, who then had the audacity to grimace at the sight of Atsushi .
Someone ought to kick him where it hurts.
“Weretiger.” He coughed, clearing his throat.
“Akutagawa.”
…
Atsushi could leave, he could leave right now and then send a strongly worded message to Dazai-san not to prank him please, he could punch Akutagawa in the face, he could cuss him out in the middle of the street in front of kids.
Dazai : ive locked u out of ur apartment until 11pm, come get ur key when ure done kk
7:09 PM
also! the rest of crew are out getting drinks so dont go begging for help!byeeee ~
7:10 PM
Running a hand over his face Atsushi sighed,“Right, let’s just get this over with.”
Watching a movie couldn’t be that bad, could it?
…
Atsushi should really learn when to watch his fucking mouth.
But most of all when he got out of this cinema he was going to throttle Dazai- san , by god he will.
In what world would a stakeout mission take place at a cinema, moreover he didn’t even tell either of them who or what to watch! So there they sat, Akutagawa and Atsushi, the self-proclaimed new double black watching a romantic comedy surrounded by couples making kissy noises at each other every five seconds.
And if Atsushi had a single backbone in his body he would stand up and walk out but he’d already seen how that had worked out.
Walking into the movie they’d been shushed as they bickered and were guided to a far off dark corner with the seats smushed against each other. And now they sat together, Atsushi’s elbow snug against Akutagawa, if either wanted to move their shoulders bumped together.
“Dazai- san mentioned the number thirteen and aisle 2 in a message. Follow me or perish Weretiger...”
Yeah, Atsushi would throttle Dazai when he came out. Sighing, Atsushi sat there quietly, but with his heart beating through his head and warm blood spreading to his veins.
Exhaling and inhaling to quell whatever’s on his mind.
“Weretiger, remove your elbow from my -”
“Shut up.” Atsushi hissed, his eyes fixed on the screen. Was this the kind of film Dazai-san liked? It was hard to imagine him enjoying something so mind numbingly sweet; quick glances and innocent smiles would probably seem too meta for Dazai-san. It was the opposite for Atsushi though. He thought that while it was overwhelmingly sweet, there was a certain…beauty to something so simple - with no life or death decisions, or fatal mistakes or enemy organizations, all in all a high school rom-com sounds pretty sweet.
“Miyasaki-kun! wh-what are you doing here?” the heroine, Hanoko, all doe eyed-like stares up at the male lead, tears already glistening her lash line. “...You must be mad at me. You should be! I said some terrible things -”
“...Weretiger, I will skewer your insides -”
“Your threats have become lackluster lately, you’re all bite and no bark.” He whispered back, voice quiet so they wouldn’t get shushed again.
“Hanoko-chan…I was…upset by what you did the other day but if I’ve learned one thing from being with you is that when you’re in love with someone you stick with that person through thick and thin!” the male lead, Miyasaki, itching towards her grabbing her hands, caressing them.
“Even when they say things they don’t really mean.”
“...Weretiger -”
“Don’t talk to me, Akutagawa. Unless you want an honest fight. Not in the mood.” His tone came off harsher than he wanted it to but he wasn’t didn’t care. He didn’t care about the gaze burning into the side of his cheek or the littlest intake of breath from his harsh words, had it been anyone else they wouldn’t have heard it but then again he wasn’t just anyone. Atsushi wasn’t normal, he knew that. He’d always known that.
“Was it love at first sight Atsu-chan?”
(The Headmaster, the matron, the girl - they’d all become one big blur.
What was her name again?)
Eyes trained ahead. Looking at the big screen showing a couple kissing each other oh so softly, only to scan the room of others doing the same, a chill creeped over his shoulder.
Would Atsushi ever have that or would he be alone like before?
“ Was it love at first sight Atsu-chan?”
Pain doesn’t scare him as much anymore, but solitude does, if Atsushi was left alone again, he feared he’d never be himself again. But then again what does that even mean?
Being himself - is that a human or a vessel.
All he knew was that the people on the screen were loved and Atsushi wondered if he was too. He couldn’t really imagine even if he tried - like trying to fit the wrong puzzle pieces together, he couldn’t imagine someone who’d love him like Hanako loved Miyazawa.
Even if he tried to, he'd never say it out loud, there were some things that were just too embarrassing to say…
Atsushi peered over at Akutagawa, he’d stopped staring and was now looking at the screen.
He looked like he belonged in a film reel; He’d never have imagined the people in the big city could be so handsome. Then again he didn't know what to expect in Yokohama. Ever since he’d first came he’d imagine that it would just feel right , that everything would fall into place and make sense -
He should’ve known better than that.
Atsushi sniffed, whipping at his wet eyes only to stop and realize he was crying; there was still a chain around his neck and there was still a rumbling in his heart when he looked at black hair.
…
The crisp evening air greeted them as they walked out, the movie had ended as all things do and with nothing to do with their set time limit to first come home at 10 pm, they had some time to kill. They stood in front of a road, staring down at their phones, taking turns trying to diall Dazai’s number.
He never picked up to no one’s surprise, the guy had always had some ulterior motive with everything. Don’t get him wrong, Atsushi liked Dazai- san , cared for him even but it wasn’t a big surprise that the man had set them up. After their fight yesterday Atsushi had resolved to have some quiet days to himself to figure everything out - holeing himself in his room eating tea on rice and reading books he’d been holding off on, leaving reports for future him to worry about.
Dazai clearly had other plans.
Even so,
Atsushi could hold a grudge like he could Akutagawa’s hand, could hold a grudge like he could hold his ground against him - but one could drive them to pieces while the other brought them peace. It wasn’t a hard decision to make. The fractured shards of his heart laid beneath their feet, crinkling and cracking under their steps, their awkward silence a reminder of what happened.
Atsushi looked up at him. They’d waited through the city at this point, only sitting down to people watch.
“Don’t do that,” Akutagawa said, looking at the passing cars like they were interesting. His eyes all shifty “If you’re angry about something, say it. I’m not a child.” They both knew what he was talking about but Atsushi didn’t want to acknowledge it.
“It’s fine.”
“No. It’s not.”
Atsushi followed his gaze; he saw a black car pass,
then a gray car,
then a white car,
“You’re an asshole sometimes.”
“Yeah, I know. You too.”
Atsushi hummed, he didn't know what did it the most, the nonexistent but sincere apology or the way the insult lingered.
Another black car passed,
then a blue car,
then a bus.
Love was something Atsushi had never felt. He’d never felt it in a mothers touch or a hug or a kiss. But he imagined love was a lot like tea on rice, tough, cold and grainy if left over time but warm and cozy if served right. He wasn’t quite sure what this was but it wasn’t bad.
Atsushi wondered if he’d ever be loved like warm tea on rice; if he’d taste all the notes of tea, sweet yet with a bitter twang, like all the others did, or if he’d be subject to this cold tough exterior forever. He was sick of the cold to be honest, but watching Akutagawa apologize only to look away from him as if he was just bound that way, wound up so tight his neck couldn’t turn to Atsushi, he could only assume that they still had a long way to go.
That’s ok, he could wait.
He liked tea on rice either way.
“I’ll do you a favor for the trouble. You’re allowed to inquire about anything…an eye for an eye if you will.”
“What makes you think I want to know anything about you?”
…
“Why did you smile?”
Akutagawa furrowed his brow and paused, as he remembered the crepes, his pale skin turned pink at the apples of his cheeks. It was cute. Atsushi knew because he wasn’t insane and could see it. “It -” He sighed, shoulders hunched as he looked away. His round nose rosey at the tip.
“...It was the first crepe I’d ever had.”
Now that was just ridiculous. If Dazai- san had trained Akutagawa, like Atsushi knew he did, he'd have been in Yokohama longer, perhaps even before Atsushi had even left the Orphanage.
The other stole peeks at him like back in the cinema, but Atsushi kept his gaze out of sight, Akutagawa had a habit of bringing something different out of him. And with this new piece of…information, Atsushi couldn’t afford to lose face.
“It was good.”
“Huh?”
“The crepes… they were adequate.”
Back then he’d smiled shyly like if he’d smiled any broader it’d be taken away from him, any little happiness at danger of being taken ‘cause someone was always just around the corner to rip it away. Atsushi knew how that felt. Knew it like how he knew what punches and kicks to the ribs felt, like a shallow ache in his chest would grow.
He sighed, the cold evening air coming out visible.
“...Did Dazai- san say anything?”
“No.”
“Oh,”
Oh .
“Chuuya-san texted me.”
That’s the problem isn’t it? Atsushi thought. He should know better than anyone else that being ignored, treated as if you were dead and your corpse had gone cold long ago - was worse than being yelled at.
“ You can’t do shit unless he tells you to, is that it?”
Yeah, ok, that was a dick move and Atsushi knew it.
He also realized that they wouldn’t be able to complete the mission with Akutagawa like this. So he’s got his work cut out for him.
“Good grief,” Atsushi coughed, “Well, that’s whatever, it’s not like we got to show Nabokov what we really could do.”
“We’ll bury him and close the case right, easy as that!”
Akutagawa sat still, eyes peeled forward, Atsushi often thought that he looked like a doll but acted like a puppet. Just waiting for someone to pull on his strings.
It pissed him off to no end. This was the same guy who called Atsushi weak when they first met.
“Akutagawa.” Black eyes looked at him, endless and dark like round marbles. Funny how they used to look at him menacingly, Atsushi thought, there was nothing menacing about them now.
He may very well be weak but at least he doesn’t put all his eggs in one basket for nothing and Akutagawa may be an asshole but he was a considerate asshole , a plot twist he hadn’t seen coming.
“I don’t care anymore, screw the long haul and all that other bullshit. I’m playing to win.” Standing up looking down at someone was in it of itself awkward as all get out - but at least it gave him the chance to see what Akutagawa looked like from above after all otherwise he’d never noticed the mole near the crown of his head or the one under his right eye -
Cute.
Akutagawa blinked at him. Eyes softening ever so slightly, wide eyed pools of gray deep enough to drown in, Atsushi had to look away.
“I’d have expected nothing less, Weretiger.” He laughed, Akutagawa, his voice warm and deep. So deep. Atsushi had never noticed how deep it was before. He felt his cheeks warm at it.
Laughed. He laughed! Despite the pinching of his cheeks or how warm it suddenly got, Atsushi kept steadfast. Gaze pointed, voice trying to emulate a twinge of authority.
If he had to act like Kunikida-san for a little bit it was alright, maybe even a little fun.
“Good!”
“Good.” Akutagawa chuckled.
“Fine!”
“Fine.” Akutagawa resolved. Standing from his seat, an all lean black silhouette as they stood shoulder to shoulder, Rashomon’s warmth emanating from him. His small smile had disappeared into the milky liquid of his skin and Atsushi wanted to pinch his cheek to bring it back. They walked their separate ways after that. The cold night had sprung out and the wind was biting into Atsushi’s cheeks on the way home, a fire building in his chest, regardless he smiled the entire way home. A stupid, giddy, smitten smile.
1
(Do you know what you did wrong Akutagawa-kun?)
Dazai- san had always liked to play twenty questions with him, it was his favorite pastime.
Ryuu never got them right. No matter how hard he tried he’d always be a foot behind him.
(...I didn’t win, Dazai-san)
(Wrong! the way you are now you’ll never win. You’re weak, that's why, your sister is gonna die on the street if you don’t get your act together. Try again.)
Ryuu had always been used to anger, it was what gave him his life in many ways. Whether it was in bold strokes of killing someone or in the sense of his rage propelling him forward towards something better. Anger was a creature that lied beneath his skin, slithering in his bloodstream heating him up from within.
It had always been there.
It was also his biggest weakness - both defeat and humiliation had been his companions in the wallowing darkness.
Dazai- san made sure he knew that. But he never was able to change him.
His greatest downfall had always been him and only him; Ever since Dazai- san had entered his life he’s trailing after the man hopelessly. Out of whatever greed to survive that had driven him, he’d wanted to give up.
“You can’t do shit unless he tells you to, is that it?”
‘Screw the long haul and all that other bullshit, I’m playing to win!”
Playing to win, huh?
Ryuu couldn’t remember what it was like to win without Nakajima anymore. It was all his fault.
It was all his fucking fault.
There hadn’t been a place in time where Ryuu hadn’t felt this much, since he met the Weretiger.
It was his fault; his stupid crooked smile, and his sweaty face and the way his hair looked in the sun.
It was fucking ridiculous.
Ryuu clambered out on the street, the dead of night cloaking.
They’d been the shield and the spear.
They’d been the tiger and the dragon.
They’d been everything under the sun so far other than what Ryuu’d wanted the most.
If Nakajima wanted to win, then they’d win, easy as that.
“We’ll bury the enemy and close the case, easy as that.”
Nakahara-san: yo
+8149-010-9689the weretiger’s phone number
next time don’t drag me into ur affairs, mackerel keeps bothering me about it
figure it out and come back
00:47 PM
Adding the contact he called the number, letting it ring three times before hanging up.
Of course the Weretiger would be asleep right now, he probably goes to bed at nine o’clock every night.
The evening breeze hit his face, making his nose and cheeks ache, the smile on his face was shielded by the dark.
“People need to be told that they’re worthy of living or they can’t go on!”
If he’d met Nakajima sooner, he would have been a different man today.
Through his coat Ryuu clutched his side and counted to ten.
( Gin, Hanako, Ito, Jun, Katsumi, Maki, Natsuko, Ryuunosuke, Sakura and Taka.)
He had no heart, had no conscience, least of all a philosophical conscience, all he had was nerves.
Nerves; that burned as if they were on fire. Despite that Ryuu knew that you’d often devote yourself to something that’d never come true.
(Do you hate me, Akutagawa-kun? That’s ok, I hate you too.)
He wanted more than he needed, he wanted more than he deserved; Nakajima was a prime example of that.
But even so, the crepes had been good.
Ryuu took a step forward, rashomon cut through a warehouse door flinging it to the side.
He wanted to win too.
…
The light of dusk shone through the office, painting everything golden as the crew stretched and yawned out a ‘Good work today!’ All heading home to their cozy apartment complex, Atsushi had fallen behind on his reports after the Nabokov incident. They’d all decided to leave him out of the proceedings of the case moving forward. Disappointed, if not a little embarrassed he’d grit his teeth and bore it - it wouldn’t do anyone any good forcing Atsushi’s help somewhere it’d only end in disaster.
(A person who can’t save others has no right to live!)
(If you can’t be of use, stop standing in the way of others!)
Atsushi groaned roughly. Face squished against his palm, pushing into his eyelids. He hadn’t been able to get a lot of sleep the last few days, Nabokov’s voice rang through his head like an old chime, ringing him home to corners of his mind he couldn’t even remember. If a murderer who plans to kill people under the guise of liberation, if a man who wishes to overthrow the government only to let gifted individuals roam free with their powers - if - if that man knew more about Atsushi than himself, what does that say about what kind of person he was?
Another groan escapes him, this time muffled by the table. He knew he shouldn’t be wondering about this, he knew, he knew but he couldn’t help himself! There was something so enchanting about the other day with Akutagawa.
“We’ve located Nabokov’s whereabouts.” Dazai- san said.
Yelping, Atsushi turned to gape up at him, spilling all his reports on the floor. He heard Kunikida- san ‘tch’ at the mess and he barrelled to pick it up quickly least a lecture came.
“What? h-how?”
“ Was it love at first sight Atsu-chan?”
Atsushi wasn’t a violent person, but he was a fighter and for the first time in his life he was seeking out for a fight for vengeance - like a tide going out, he guessed it was inevitable from the beginning.
“Not what, but who.” Kunikida says, head in his hands at his seat.
“Huh?”
What?
Atsushi looked up at Dazai- san again.
His eyes were the same as they always had been; sharp and searching. Atsushi could only imagine that his mentor had already mapped out every single one of moods since they first met, Dazai was just like - A knot that couldn’t be unraveled or loosened, Atsushi was only a chart on his constellation of events.
“Did you tell him to do that?”
“Would it have made a difference?"
“Akutagawa went after Nabokov last night. Problem is that Nabokov doesn’t work alone, and hasn't since the beginning.” Plopping down on the sofa face first, the leather muffling his echoing voice.
“W-what do you mean Dazai- san ?”
“m’ mnet dat e’s be’en oolin’ ous all.” Atsushi wondered if he pulled his mentor up by his hair if he’d leave a wet spot.
“What?!”
“He’s saying, they’ve been fooling us the entire time, brat.” Kunikida said, face pensive as he poured over his reports.
Dazai moved his head to the side with a slight groan, his cheek chafing against the couch in a position that couldn’t be comfortable. If he wasn’t already dead on his feet Atsushi would feel the urge to shake him -
“Nabokov, Atsushi-kuuuun . He’s part of an organization called the Miscreants, a russian brotherhood full of wannabe anarchists attempting to bring down governments and different city leaders. The Port Mafia and the Agency fall under the umbrella of city trailblazers - there’s been word that Akutagawa never returned home and no one’s seen him since.”
His mouth moved to the syllable of words but his throat dried up and he couldn’t speak.
“Mori- san’s already preparing a cleaning crew but we’ve got no idea where Akutagawa could be.” Dazai- san sighed, plopping into his seat “Once the body’s located Kunikida-kun and I are going to investigate, stay alert in case we need backup, Atsushi- kuuun ~”
"You two are giving me such a hard time, making me clean up your mess ~ I don't wanna work today- eugh. Hmph!"
“Move it Dazai!” Kunikida yelled, half way out the door walking out into the hallway.
Dazai moved to follow him but Atsushi grabbed onto his sleeve before he’d even thought to.
“Wait, so… no ones going out to rescue him, at all? not even the Black Lizard?”
“The Black Lizard is a combat focused, assasination crew. They don’t do rescue missions, most of all not those Mori- san has disapproved.” Dazai- san looked at him as if he’d grown a third head. Atsushi felt like lost all three of them.
“...So we’re just not gonna do… anything ?"
“He’s not a member of the agency, Atsushi- kun , it’s outside of our jurisdiction.”
“We can’t just leave him to die -!”
“There’s nothing we can do, Atsushi.” He sighed, dragging a hand across his face, exhausted from listening to him. “Swore I trained him better than to do that .”
Atsushi clenched his fist. A rare warmth spreading across his body. Anger had always simmered underneath his skin, a reminder of his humanity, of his personhood as the fire would rise and fall through the motions. He hadn’t felt it quite like this in a while, it hung over him like a cloak. Heavy. And tiresome unless unleashed.
“We both know that’s a lie, Dazai- san .” His mouth moved faster than his mind, spewing out frazzled words as if he’d burnt his tongue “Yeah, sure there’s nothing you can’t do. That much is clear.” Atsushi’s whole body shook as he stood, thumb crushed under his whitening fist. He marched out slamming the door behind him. Breath now coming in short and uneven as his heart murmured concerned.
Atsushi was sure he’d regret how he’d acted in front of Dazai- san later but his mind was filled with images of a sword protruding from his neck, black eyes wide as saucers as Akutagawa was struck down.
…
On the way out of the office, taking two steps at a time, running down Atsushi fishes his phone out of his pocket. He’d let it die the other day and forgotten to turn it back on -
It shouldn’t have surprised him when he saw missed calls or texts. But he nearly trips on a step when he sees an unknown number.
Dialing, he waits - hearing the voice he’d been dying to hear since he found out;
“This is Akutagawa’s phone, I am currently unavailable, call back or don’t”
The voicemail was sent late at night the other day with a single sentence to accompany it.
+8162-437-9844: we’re going to win.
00:49 PM
The beeps rung in his ears, a white noise of sorts, in tact with his steps as he sprinted down the steps -
three steps at a time, his heart falling through his chest all while.
“Was it love at first sight Atsu-chan?”
“A person who can’t save others has no right to live!”
“If you can’t be of use, stop standing in the way of others!”
(If an imbecile like you seeks to survive in a world that abandoned you, you must learn to endure pain. If not, you will die in short order.)
Atsushi didn’t want to be hurt anymore but he’d bear it for the people around him; he wanted to grasp the victory in his own bleeding palm.
Akutagawa was once again out being brave while Atsushi was left at home, useless -
He didn’t want to be useless anymore.
The more he thought about it, the more uncertain he became of the object called ‘I’. Atsushi never knew what to call himself; strong or weak, selfish or selfless?
His existence had been controlled by the workings of customs and environments instead of by himself -
Not anymore.
A tiger didn’t walk on two legs, a tiger didn’t cower in fear, a tiger didn’t stand by when challenged.
He’d carve his own self with the bluntness of his claws if it killed him.
But he needed Akutagawa for it to be complete.
With each thought Atsushi ran faster and faster down the stairs only to collapse with a solid mass at the exit.
“Oof!” They yelped, both falling on their asses.
“Watch where you’re going would you!” Ranpo- san mumbled, arms scrambling to grab onto the last of his snacks that’d fallen on the floor. Atsushi apologized and helped him up sheepishly, the blood in his veins still drumming.
A beat of silence hit them as Ranpo stared at him blankly, his glasses in disarray as he blinked.
“Hey…Atsushi.”
“Where do you think you’re going?”
…
“No way in hell.”
“It would be for a good cause, Ranpo- san , please, I just need the address -”
“Oh yeah? and how would that benefit me? Forget it I’m not helping some mafioso that was dumb enough to get himself into trouble to begin with.“ He snipped “No way. Nada. Zilch.”
“He’ll die -!”
“People die everyday, Atsushi. Mafia members especially, what’s so special about him hm?”
A beat of silence hits the both of them and with the pinching of his cheeks and beating of his heart, he looks away.
“Ahhh I thought we taught you better than to mix business and pleasure Atsushi-kun!…Anyway, saving a snake won’t stop them from biting you, best to get out of it while you still can.”
“This is serious Ranpo- san !” He yelled.
“I am. Can’t you tell?” Looking into his empty gaze Atsushi couldn’t tell if he cared at all “Remember what I said back with Fukuchi? Run. You can’t beat them, Atsushi.”
“Besides, failing sometimes isn’t the end of the world. that’s why you’re you and I’m me,” Ranpo laughed. And then he’s back to his usual self, chubby cheeked for a whiny twenty six year old.
Honestly, Atsushi was getting pretty fucking tired of people laughing at him. The thumping of his heart kept going, becoming erratic like it was trying to kill itself - the fangs of his heart were bared as the blood pumped.
“Do you know the fable about the frog and scorpion Atsushi-kun?” Another thing about Dazai and Ranpo was that they’d start to talk in riddles at the worst times.
“What, they both end up dying?” Atsushi scoffed.
“Yes! Actually. Because the frog was too naïve and dumb to realize that,” Ranpo squinted at him, green eyes sharp and scrutinizing “vicious people will hurt others even when it’s not in their own best interest because it’s all they know.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
Oh? “Oh? How can you be so sure, he’s from the Port Mafia.”
“So is Dazai- san ! So is Kyouka -” Why couldn’t they realize what this meant to him? Akutagawa was his partner! If he died there’d be no new double black, there’d be no more anything! He wouldn’t see his shy smiles anymore or buy him cheaply made crepes, his sister would be all alone and once again it’d be another time of Akutagawa getting struck down while Atsushi gets away scot free.
His heart burned like someone drove a stake through it, digging through all his dirty secrets - and his head rung with echos of growls and taunts, nightmares of nightmares - he knew it was stupid and pathetic and utterly insane - But the nerves of his heart ached at the thought of Akutagawa dying; like he’d gone and poisoned himself with the very spirit of the other man, haunting him for all eternity.
Atsushi bet the stake would be less painful.
Ranpo groaned loudly, throwing his head back dramatically “You were doing so well Atsushi-kun! finally becoming somewhat a respectable detective, not as good as me of course! but then again no one is…. I’d hate to watch you drown after all that hard work!” Ranpo was a lot like Dazai in many ways; like gamblers they held all their cards close to their chest. They both act childish and immature, even lazy at times but like masters they’d already won before you’d even realize there was something to lose.
It’s a shame that Atsushi didn’t care for schoolyard games, or who was king or queen or whatever they tried to manipulate him to do - at least not with this.
“He’d do the same for me. I-I trust him.”
If Dazai- san’s eyes were like a snake’s, Ranpo- san’s are the ones of a fox, fixed on Atsushi’s like he could see through his skull, sniffing out the bad blood. “Then you’re a worse detective than I thought.”
“Atsushi –“ having half a mind to stop, Atsushi lingered by the door quietly “Don’t die.”
Walking away from him and out the agency was the easiest thing he'd done that day.
…
He finds him broken and mangled in an alleyway, his coat ripped and tattered from fighting, his small lips bleeding. He’d run around all of the city, searching low and high, tracking down whatever smelt the faintest of blood and flesh.
Fighting with the Miscreants had been no easy task, though they were significantly weakened by Akutagawa but Nabokov had paralyzed him at some point and Rashomon could only hold them off for so long, Atsushi needed his partner’s help. But to his surprise Dazai-san and Kunikida-san came barrelling to help him. Along with having contacted Gin, Akutagawa’s sister, and the rest of the Black Lizard, Dazai-san nullified their abilities quickly, letting Kunikida and Atsushi take the brotherhood down with ease.
(We don’t abandon our comrades, Atsushi. Good job.)
The president's words felt heavier and warm in his stomach as he teared up. He really should stop getting so worked up over praise.
Atsushi wouldn’t exactly call himself strong or weak anymore, but he had one sure fire weakness -
"AKUTAGAWA!" Sprinting up to him, ignoring the rest of the lot calling him for help cleaning up and to let Yosano-sensei work.
Yosano waved them off with a scowl, nodding at him with a strange look in her eyes before walking away. Leaving them alone.
In the aftermath of damaged walls, blood on the ground and scent of violence, Atsushi paused by a darkened corner "Are you -"
“Why are you here?” Akutagawa asks, voice gruff and tired. And in that moment where Atsushi is trying to exist and work and help between two different planes – of wanting to slap or kiss him silly – he shakes.
He was relieved. Relieved to see him alive and in one piece and aware enough to stare at Atsushi with his thousand-yard stare, eyes; shining and wide as if he had to take a second to truly take him in. Like it was an incredible, ridiculous miracle that they were standing in front of each other. But more than anything he is relieved that in his unfamiliar state of babbling and wanting to talk – Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? What happened to you ? – had kept him from saying what he wanted to say most of all. He’d stopped himself from saying the thing he’d never said before, even though it was something they both knew well enough that he hadn’t needed to blurt it out in front of their coworkers and bosses – which was, of course I’m here, of course I’d come for you, I love you.
So, he didn’t say anything at all, he just stared at him, willing him to do anything other than sit there quietly like he couldn’t hear the beat of Atsushi’s heart in his ears. Like they hadn’t bared themselves to each other time and time again – Like Akutagawa hadn’t been a raging tide, pulling Atsushi into dangerous unfamiliar waters - and like Atsushi hadn’t floated seamlessly in his sphere, calm, happy because it was unfamiliar and because it was Akutagawa and every little stupid thing he did made Atsushi feel so much - because somewhere in another time or place they’ll say it out loud and publicly enough for everyone to hear.
Akutagawa the man who fought like a dragon looked so unbearably vulnerable it made him queasy.
“You called.” He croaked, voice unsure and uneven.
But right now? Right now, it was for the two of them to hear and live through and no one else.
Neither of them know what love is; if it’s a borrowed jacket never given back, or preparing the bath because you know how they like to soak or making them a cup of tea just because they like it. They’ve never had that. Atsushi hadn’t. He doubts Akutagawa did either - one doesn’t come to act like he does by having a normal upbringing.
“We won.” His voice was hoarse and mouth was wet with blood, even then his smile was a beacon in Atsushi’s eyes. It was unsettling to think that someone he’d hated could haunt his thoughts to this degree, who held the soft flesh of his heart in the palm of their hand.
Soft, sweet and snug in the milky liquid of his skin -
He’d kiss him if he could.
But,
Can he really have this?
Is he really allowed to have this?
Is this real?
Maybe Atsushi was allowed only this once, bending down he raised Akutagawa’s head to lie on his thighs, holding his soiled face close looking for wounds or blood in his hair - stroking his face whispering sweet nothings as Atsushi once prayed someone to do for him.
A warm palm reached for his cheek, Atsushi flinched before leaning into it, eyes searching the man for a reason -
"I'm sorry." Caressing his face gently, holding him tightly against his chest, Atsushi chuckled. Because of course he would, of course Akutagawa would apologize to him on death’s door. Of course the first thing he did was say ‘sorry’ while his mouth was full of blood.
Part of him hated how well he knew him, the other part begged to be praised because there'd always be a crying child in both of them. Tears blurred his vision and before he knew it Atsushi was muffling his sobs in the croak of Akutagawa’s neck.
"I know, me too." Slightly embarrassed by how his voice croaked. His hold on the other tightened.
Akutagawa's bone white hand held onto Atsushi, wrapped around his back, patting it, some kind of way for them to comfort each other. They could be selfish together, just this once.
+1
1 YEAR LATER
“I want you,“ Akutagawa said.
“But I don’t need you, don’t go around thinking that Weretiger.” Funny he could say something so cold like he wasn’t literally holding onto Atsushi like a fucking Koala – legs sprawled across his and everything.
It was all so domestic sharing a bed with your former mortal enemy turned lover.
Love was something Atsushi had never felt. He’d never felt it in a mother’s touch or hug or kiss. At the Orphanage he’d imagine it as if someone made him a warm cup of green tea just because; because they knew he liked it and it was cold outside. Laying bare in front of a quiet man with jet black hair and the whitest skin Atsushi had ever seen – a man he thought he knew better than he knew himself, Atsushi knew it was him reaching a hand out even when you’re still angry after an argument.
So. Like in classic-Akutagawa-fashion he never truly said what he wanted, Atsushi always had to translate his words in some sort of way. The closer they became, Atsushi realized it was to give himself an out if everything went south. ‘I want you, I don’t need you, don’t go around thinking that – alright?’ translated directly into ‘I like you but I don’t want you to underestimate me, alright?’
“It’d be too troublesome to find another partner.”
After having been with his boyfriend for a good year now (Mortal nemesis? Big time crush? Partner?) Atsushi had realized the only way to make him shut up was to distract him.
Safe to say Ryuu didn’t mind when they locked lips, his small hum and dazed expression giving him away.
It made Atsushi smile so fucking hard.
“Shut up and go to bed Ryuu,”
Atsushi knew he pouted at that because he could feel it. A pair of lips jutting against his pulse. “I’m tired and I know you are too. Sleep.” His hands covered Ryunnosuke's eyes, trying to lull him to sleep as he hummed whatever lullaby he’d heard online.
“Piss off.” Ryuunosuke hissed, swiping his leg at Atsushi’s own, closing his eyes with a frown. But like clockwork he was asleep a few minutes after. Breathing even and hollow in the dead of night.
Even after so many battles fought side by side Akutagawa still worried what Atsushi thought of him. Some sick, twisted part of him relished in the idea that his opinion mattered so much to someone.
Ryuu moved his leg further in between Atsushi’s trying to get comfortable.
“Oop, yeah just jam your knee into my crotch, go right ahead. This is fine.”
“Keep quiet, m’ tryna’ sleep.” Ryuu grumbled, his cheek squished against Atsushi’s chest. This close, his skin had pores and scars from fights, small thin white pale lines across even paler skin. From this angle Atsushi could tell if he’d recently shaved or not, what his hair smelt like and what soap he’d used before bedtime. It was Atsushi’s own that he’d brought from home; it was a cheap lavender scented one from the convenience store.
Storing this memory away for later, Atsushi cuddled closer to his partner, holding him close to his heart like a bird.
He wouldn’t let him fly away again.
END.