Chapter Text
after twenty years of living the barren life, i want to believe that now all of my patient dreams will at last be realized
yosano akiko
Akutagawa is twenty when he realizes he wants to live.
It happens in the moment he decides he will die.
He will give his life for the weretiger, regardless of whether or not that was what Dazai intended, because it is the only way they have a chance to stop Fukuchi for good. If Atsushi escapes, he can inform the rest of the world who the true leader of the Decay of Angels is. He has the book with the Agency’s linchpin detective hiding inside, he has the allies who can save the world, and he has Dazai’s favor.
Akutagawa will die, and the weretiger will save the world. He has an odd feeling this is how it was always meant to go.
Atsushi wears his coat, Rashoumon wrapping tightly around him, and Akutagawa will use it to ensure he leaves. He will have Rashoumon drag Atsushi away, to safety, and maybe the world will not fall into despair.
It’s humorous, really, to think Akutagawa is the one holding the fate of the world in his hands. It is fitting that to save it requires his death, but to think he was entrusted with something so valuable is nothing short of laughable. Yet, he made the choice Dazai knew he would. When he weighed the future of humanity in his bloodstained palms, measuring it against his own pitiful existence, there was a clear winner.
He only hopes Gin will forgive him.
It happens when Fukuchi’s sword slices through his throat, a move Akutagawa knows all too well because he has used it against countless enemies himself. A quick, simple, death. Too painless for someone like Akutagawa.
Fukuchi’s sword slits his carotid artery, and the full weight of what it means to die young slams into Ryuunosuke like a midwinter coughing fit. It snatches his breath faster than the injury ever could, and he wants to live. He wants to go home to Gin, he wants to see Atsushi again, he wants to witness the sunrise. He wants one more takeout dinner in the Black Lizard office with Higuchi frantically assuring everyone’s order is correct and Tachihara cracking dumb jokes only Gin will laugh at and Hirotsu watching it all unfold with a fond smile on his face. He wants Chuuya to step in and ask if they’re doing work, knowing full well they aren’t, then promise not to snitch if they give him a fortune cookie. He wants to sample more of Kajii’s atrocious lemonade cocktails and he wants to take Elise to candy stores and he wants to make sure Kyouka is happy with her choice.
He wants to hug Gin.
He wants to promise them everything will be okay. He wants to apologize for never treating his own death seriously. He wants to live. He wants to live.
Darkness overtakes him before his body has even hit the deck.
— —
Gin is eighteen when they realize they have the authority on their own life.
It comes sometime between Tachihara’s betrayal, Ryuu’s sacrifice, and a demon wearing Higuchi’s skin sinking her fangs into Gin’s neck.
Tachihara stabs her in the stomach, then brings a fruit basket to the hospital room she shares with Hirotsu. He leaves to fight the Agency, then comes crawling back with an apology on his lips that Gin does not believe. She would slit his throat, if not for Mori’s specific insistence that she let him live.
(She couldn’t really do it. Probably. It’s a tempting thought nonetheless.)
Tachihara comes back and declares she and Hirotsu were right about the Agency. And he says he’s realized he feels more Mafia than Hunting Dog—says he had no idea who he was until the life he spent the past four years building slipped from his grasp and instead of simply letting a facade fall, it felt like he’d been stripped bare of everything that made him him.
It sounded like a beautiful lie.
But then the Agency’s weretiger comes to the mafia headquarters, apparently asking for Gin by name, with Ryuu’s coat folded over his arms. He kneels before her with tears in his eyes, stammering out an apology before he even explains what he’s sorry for.
When she saw the coat, Gin was hoping for a kidnapping. Or a disappearance. Or anything other than—
“He gave his life so I could escape. I— I’m so sorry. I tried— I thought—” The weretiger shakes his head. He sniffs, then wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “I wish I’d been able to save him instead.”
He holds the coat out, and Gin accepts the offering. It’s heavy and bloodstained and dead. Rashoumon lived in any clothing on Ryuu’s body, but this coat was her home so often it buzzed with the energy of Ryuu’s ability regardless of whether or not he was wearing it.
Now, Rashoumon is dead. Now, this coat—this curse that led Ryuu to his destruction—is lifeless.
Gin smoothes a hand over the fabric. It does not resurrect anything.
She does not say a word to the weretiger. She simply turns on her heel and leaves without waiting to be dismissed.
She changes in the bathroom, stripping herself from her work clothes and donning a white dress of innocence she has never had. She lets her hair down, removes her mask, and when she catches a glimpse of her reflection, she finds her eyes are red. Her throat aches, but she does not know how to cry.
Her chest is still flattened by her binder, the thick straps peeking out at the edges of her dress’ neckline. She looks like a mockery of herself.
Her own clothes are shoved haphazardly into a bag while Ryuu’s coat is folded carefully and held with an attentiveness Gin typically reserves for assassinations.
The door swings open, and Higuchi enters. She doesn’t know yet, if the chipper smile she greets Gin with is any indication. Her face falls when she sees the coat.
“Hey, is that—?”
Gin brushes past her.
“Gin?”
She pushes through the door and leaves. Someone else can break the news. Gin is just a pawn in this game, just the survivor left behind, just the collateral damage of Ryuu’s sacrifice. Gin has always been a background character. She is Ryuu’s secret, she is the silent shadow unworthy of screentime, she is of no use to anyone. She is nothing.
She takes the coat to the dry cleaner’s, because she isn’t sure what else to do with it, and then she goes home.
Tachihara is seated on the floor outside the door to her apartment. She sincerely contemplates slitting his throat. He’s fiddling with a paperclip, his back against the door. He could have picked the lock. He could have used his secret ability.
She comes to a stop in front of him and he looks up.
“I heard what happened,” he offers. He pockets the paperclip and stands. “I— Is there anything I can do?”
Gin ignores him. What a foolish question.
She unlocks the door and pushes it open. Habit is the only reason she does not slam it shut in Tachihara’s face, and he takes that as an invitation to enter. She drops her bag on the floor and slips her shoes from her feet. She regrets wearing a dress, now that Tachihara is here, but she didn’t have any other clothes to change into. Dresses are easy.
She brings a hand up to her shoulder, tracing the outline of her binder strap.
“I can order takeout,” Tachihara offers. “Whatever you want. I’ll pay.”
I want you to kill yourself, Gin thinks, throwing the thought at him as violently as she can, as if maybe she’ll unlock a secret ability of her own that allows her to telepathically suicidebait her coworker. He might even do it.
She ignores him and makes her way to the kitchen. She decides to make tea because Ryuu always claimed it calmed his mind and maybe Gin will finally, finally, finally understand him now that it’s too late. Maybe she should have told him Dazai’s word is not law when he informed her of their meeting in the dark. Maybe she should have told him she’d rather he save himself than save the world. It’s selfish, but Gin has never claimed to be a good person.
If she were good, maybe she wouldn’t have lost Ryuu at all.
This is how the world works: the rabid dog of the Port Mafia perishes while the white tiger savior stands as victor when the smoke clears. Gin is not stupid; she knows there are very few people who will mourn her brother. She can count on one hand the number of people who would willingly show up to a funeral. One of them is standing in her kitchen, and would come for Gin’s sake rather than her brother’s.
Tachihara sits at the table. He brings the paperclip back out and messes with it silently while Gin makes tea. They do not speak. They went years without speaking to one another and still formed the only true friendship Gin has ever had, except it wasn’t true, because it was founded on a lie.
She pours two cups of tea, then sits down across from Tachihara. She slides one cup over to him, then wraps her hands around her own. Her stomach rolls at the scent. It should be her brother occupying the other seat, not the traitor who broke Gin’s heart. But life is far from kind, and at least Tachihara has the decency to wear his guilt around like that stupid cropped jacket he’s so fond of.
“Are you poisoning me?” he asks, like a joke even he doesn’t find funny.
“Why are you here,” Gin returns, flat.
Tachihara blinks like he hadn’t expected Gin to speak to him. He doesn’t deserve it, but Gin has questions and she lacks the energy to find a pen and paper right now.
“You’re going to want to isolate yourself,” he answers bluntly. “And that’s basically the shittiest decision you can make right now. It’ll sink in sometime tonight, when you’re alone in the dark, and you realize you’re waiting for a knock that will never come, ‘cause he’s never coming back home. If you isolate yourself, you’ll get angry. You’ll swear revenge and follow that path blindly until you’ve destroyed every friendship you ever made and you’ll discover revenge isn’t even fuckin’ worth it.”
Right, Gin thinks. Tachihara lost his brother too.
She stands. “I’m going to change,” she informs him, and then does exactly that.
When she returns, now wearing an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants and a sports bra instead of her binder, Tachihara’s cup is half empty. Gin’s is still full. She might never be able to drink tea again.
“Do you ever wonder,” Gin asks, “if we’re actually free to make our own choices, or if some higher power has long since decided exactly how things will play out?”
Tachihara tilts his head. “What?”
“Ryuu sacrificed himself for the weretiger,” she explains. “But only because Dazai-san sent him to watch the weretiger and step in once the time came. Did he choose to sacrifice himself, or was that simply part of Dazai-san’s plan? Did you choose when to reveal yourself, or were the circumstances that demanded it set in place by someone else?” She sighs. “I don’t think I believe in God, but…you never really knew Dazai-san. He might as well be one. And I was never one of his followers, but just because you don’t believe in a deity doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”
Tachihara stares at her for a moment, then barks out a laugh.
“Dazai-san?” He inquires, incredulous. “That guy’s just as human as you and me. There’s no such thing as gods, and there’s no such thing as angels. Maybe fate demands we make certain decisions, but that’s a hell of a bleak outlook to have. And if me betraying you was written in the stars, then— Well, you can hardly be upset at me, can you? If it wasn’t my choice, then I’m not the one who deserves your anger.”
Gin contemplates this as she sips her lukewarm tea. If the true Decay of Angels have been pulling the strings this entire time—if they planted Tachihara in the mafia with the sole purpose of using him in their plot four years later—then Gin’s anger was misdirected. But that’s ridiculous.
Angels are not real. The Decay of Angels is nothing but a twisted imitation of fantasy, and Tachihara made his choice.
Ryuu made his choice, too. He accepted Dazai’s mission, willing to pay any price it took to finally please him. Gin never understood, but—
She thinks she might now. Dazai is not a god, but he was Ryuu’s false idol. Gods only have as much power as you give them, and Ryuu sold his soul to Dazai at age thirteen. Dazai can manipulate him like a puppet on a string because Ryuu allowed it to happen, and Ryuu accepted that Dazai tied his fate to the weretiger’s, and Ryuu accepted his death.
Tachihara chose to go undercover in the mafia. He chose to lie for four years, chose to seek atonement for his brother’s death, placed his brother on the same pedestal Ryuu reserved for Dazai. But Tachihara also chose to save both her and Hirotsu, and he chose to visit them while they healed, and he chose to return to the mafia even at the risk of death for his betrayal. He chose to be here, right now, knowing Gin could have stabbed him in the stomach and left him to bleed out. He drank the tea, knowing it could have been poisoned.
“Sometimes, your only choices are ones that fuckin’ suck,” Tachihara continues. “But it doesn’t mean you’re not still free to choose. And, hey, it might not mean anything, but…” he folds his hands together. “I’m always gonna choose you. Even if it kills me. Even if it’s your knife that does it.”
Gin opens her mouth to respond—something snippy so she doesn’t have to hold up the weight of the only true thing Tachihara has ever said—but what comes out instead is, “I’m not a girl.”
Tachihara blinks. “I… Yeah, I know that.”
“No, I—” Gin’s head spins. Saying something aloud is one thing, but truly believing it is something entirely different, and what Gin has always believed in their heart to be true is that they didn’t really have a choice.
But…they do. And they aren’t a girl. Chuuya knew that first day he met them—he made sure Gin was aware they had a choice, and Gin turned him down because if the choice was between boy and girl, Gin would fall back into what was easiest. Ryuu hinted at it time and time again, until he finally broke and asked, and Ryuu never initiates serious conversations like that, but he did for Gin. He did when he decided it was important. He did when he insisted he would refer to them however they wished, and when Gin first announced they were not a girl two years ago, Ryuu adjusted his language immediately.
When Gin finally spoke around Hirotsu, and explained they still wished to be referred to as a boy while on the clock, Hirotsu obliged without question.
When they informed Higuchi they were not a girl, she nodded and assured Gin she is respectful towards how any and all of her subordinates may identify.
When Tachihara first saw them out of uniform, he awkwardly asked if he should still refer to Gin with masculine terms. Despite all his treachery and lies, he did exactly as Gin requested—masculine terms at work, and neutral terms elsewhere.
But Gin never offered themself the same kindness as everyone else, because they were convinced they never really had a choice. Their body would always be wrong for them, they would spend the rest of their life wishing they looked different, using temporary solutions to patch up permanent problems. But—
“Gin?”
A manic laugh escapes Gin’s mouth. They’ve always hated the sound of their voice, but right now, they don’t care. Their voice doesn’t mean anything. Their delicate white dresses don’t mean anything. Their body doesn’t mean anything. All of the things Gin has spent their life defining themself by mean nothing, because if you focus on the flaws, you will never see the beauty.
Ryuu saw every positive aspect of Gin’s body, and he envied them for it. Gin saw every positive part of Ryuu’s body, and they envied him. And it did nothing but drag them both down.
“I’m not a girl,” they repeat. “I never really believed it, even though everyone else did. But you can just choose to be whoever you want, and I can’t even tell Ryuu, and—” Gin chokes on their next words.
They bury their face in their hands. They let out a very emphatic, muffled, “Fuck.”
They only started swearing after they started spending so much time with Tachihara. They only figured out identity is fluid and meaningless after Tachihara muddled his own, then revealed he never even had one in the first place.
Tachihara orders takeout. They eat together, watching a melodramatic TV show that Gin would usually never touch with a ten-foot pole.
Two days later, they report to a warehouse on Higuchi’s orders and Gin’s newfound sense of self is stripped away entirely.
— —
Ryuunosuke is twenty when he wakes from death to find the weretiger seated beside him, clinging to his hand like a lifeline. He doesn’t recognize where he is, but it appears to be an airport. He’s lying on his back and his lungs ache and his wrist hurts and if Atsushi is here, that must mean they failed.
But, no— The Agency’s doctor stands behind him, arms crossed, speaking in a hushed voice to the blonde one with glasses. They were nowhere near the ship. They’d just been rescued from Fukuchi’s assassination plot.
“Hey,” Atsushi greets softly. He isn’t wearing Ryuunosuke’s coat, and the coat draped over Ryuunosuke’s own body is not one he is in the habit of wearing while on missions. He certainly was not wearing it when he died.
“What…?” Ryuunosuke tries, but even the single word scratches his throat raw, and he grimaces at the sensation. He tries to push himself up only to find he needs Atsushi’s help. It’s offered without comment or complaint.
“Fukuchi used an ability to turn you into a vampire,” he explains. “I was worried… Everyone else who got turned was still alive when it happened, so I didn’t— We weren’t sure if the nullification would allow you to be saved or not.”
Belatedly, Ryuunosuke realizes Atsushi is still holding his hand.
“Where is Gin?” He asks.
Atsushi shakes his head. “I don’t— I don’t know. I assume they got turned into a vampire too, but— You can try calling them if you know their number.”
Ryuunosuke nods, and Atsushi hands his phone over. He lets go of Atsushi’s hand in order to type Gin’s number out, but wraps Rashoumon around Atsushi’s wrist instead. He doesn’t strengthen it enough that Atsushi could not escape, using it to simply let him know Ryuunosuke does not mind if he stays.
The call connects, and Gin hesitantly asks, “…Weretiger?”
“Gin,” Ryuunosuke breathes out. “You’re okay.”
“What the fuck.”
“The vampire virus,” he quickly explains. “It…brought me back, I think.”
(It still feels vaguely unreal. As if at any moment, reality will snap back into place and Ryuunosuke will once again be bleeding out on the deck of a government ship. But Rashoumon has anchored onto Atsushi and his body feels painfully alive.)
“Ryuu,” Gin whispers, soft like a prayer. “Where—where are you?”
“An airport?” He raises an eyebrow at Atsushi, silently inquiring which airport they are at. Atsushi rattles off the name, and Ryuunosuke repeats it into the phone. “I’m with the Agency. Or…at least, the weretiger and a few others.”
“I’m on my way,” Gin tells him. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”
“Okay,” he agrees, as if he even has the energy to move more than a few meters right now. “And— Gin?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”
Gin scoffs. “Save your apologies for when I get there. I’m going to kick your ass.”
The call ends, and Ryuunosuke vaguely thinks that sounded like a very Tachihara thing to say. Gin spends too much time with him. Or maybe Ryuunosuke just hasn’t forgiven him for stabbing his sibling in the back (metaphorically) and the front (literally).
— —
It’s an hour before Gin arrives. Atsushi disappears for a while, called away by another Agency member, and he’s replaced by Kyouka and the girl from the Guild who has imprinted on the weretiger. Lucy, she says, though Ryuunosuke doubts he will bother remembering that.
They sit in silence, mostly. Kyouka runs her fingers along the hem of her kimono while Lucy glares at him like the near-end of the world was all his fault. When Atsushi returns, she leaves him with a, “I never really liked you. And if you hurt the tiger-kitty, I will skin you alive.” Then, she skips off with Kyouka in tow.
Atsushi’s cheeks flush pink. Ryuunosuke decides he does not have the energy to inquire about the odd interaction right now.
Then, Gin is running towards him, dragging Tachihara behind them. They drop Tachihara’s hand in favor of running the rest of the way to Ryuunosuke, and Atsushi jumps out of the way just in time for Gin to throw their arms around him and bury their face in his shoulder.
“I didn’t believe you,” they whisper, soft enough so only Ryuunosuke can hear. “But you—you’re here.”
Ryuunosuke lets his eyes slip shut as he hugs Gin back.
Personal attachments have no place in the mafia, Dazai had told them, seven years ago. But such a thing cannot be trained out of a person, and what Ryuunosuke thought must be weakness if Dazai was so vehemently against it might actually be some sort of strength. There is power in working together with someone you trust so deeply, so wholly, that you place your life in their hands without a single doubt.
Fukuchi did not fall because Ryuunosuke built iron walls around his heart; Fukuchi was defeated because Ryuunosuke tore down all reluctance and gave Atsushi his life.
They break when Chuuya’s voice calls out, “Gin-kun?” Ryuunosuke looks up to find both Chuuya and Dazai have approached the group, with Dazai leaning heavily on Chuuya for support. His left leg is in a splint and there are bandages wrapped around his forehead. He’s smiling in a way Ryuunosuke has rarely seen.
He can best describe it as real.
Gin stands, bowing to Chuuya. Ryuunosuke nods his head as well, though he knows better than to try moving any more than that. His body has limits, and for the first time ever, he thinks there may be use in adhering to them. Tachihara bows too, though his movements are unsteady, and Gin has to reach over to balance him.
“Dazai-san!” Atsushi exclaims. Instead of bowing, he runs over and envelopes Dazai in a hug.
And Dazai laughs.
“You did good,” he tells Atsushi. “I knew I could count on you.” He lifts his gaze to meet Ryuunosuke’s. “You too, Akutagawa-kun. I…” he falters. “I’m glad you’re still here.”
At one point, that was everything Ryuunosuke wanted to hear and more. To be considered worthy. To be considered enough.
But all he can manage now is half a smile and another bow of his head. Because in the split second before he lost his life, he realized he does not need Dazai’s approval in order to deem his life worth the space it takes up. He realized he can live for the sake of the people who already care—for Gin’s sake—and for himself.
The rest of the day is a blur. They help the Agency clean up the airport, though Ryuunosuke is forced to take more breaks than he would like. Atsushi keeps a careful eye on him. Gin offers him a water bottle and ask if he’s straining himself.
Chuuya passes Dazai over to the tall blonde from the Agency (or, rather, shoves Dazai in his direction, then busies themself with helping Ryuunosuke stand before they can be reprimanded). Tachihara reunites with one of his former comrades, who has seemingly bonded with the Agency’s farm boy, and the three of them search for the rest of the Hunting Dogs—though, Tachihara can’t be much help with his newly-limited vision. At one point, Ryuunosuke finds himself grounded right alongside Dazai, who gripes and whines that it’s not his fault he was poisoned and shot and broke his leg in an elevator fall. Ryuunosuke stares at him with wide eyes but receives no further explanation.
The Agency’s doctor treats injuries. Ryuunosuke gets a call on Gin’s phone from a nearly hysteric Higuchi and it takes a half hour to convince her to not drop everything and rush to the airport—that he’s okay, that the truce between the Agency and the Mafia is still in place, that he has Gin with him and he doesn’t need any additional help. The Guild girl and Kyouka leave to get food, and once they return, everyone takes a break to eat. They spread out through the airport, split according to their different organizations.
As they’re preparing to leave—Ryuunosuke and Gin and Tachihara, because Gin refuses to send him home alone—the Agency’s doctor finds them.
She bows. Gin bows back. “Yosano-sensei,” they greet. “Did you need something?”
Tachihara tenses, but Yosano keeps her eyes trained on Gin.
“Several years ago, I offered my services to you, not knowing you were with the mafia,” she says. Ryuunosuke has never heard about this, but Gin nods in acknowledgement, so it must have happened. “I can’t guarantee my ability will work on a terminal illness, but,” she turns to Ryuunosuke. “If you would like me to try, I am still willing. I don’t need an answer now, and there’s no time limit on the offer.” She passes over a slip of paper holding a phone number, which Ryuunosuke accepts with shaking hands.
There is no guarantee, but—
For the first time in his life, Ryuunosuke wants to live.
He bows. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Yosano replies warmly. “And Tachihara-kun—”
“I don’t want your help,” he snaps.
She sighs. “I know. I’m not sure I could fix your vision regardless. But once again, if you ever change your mind, I am willing to try. You know where to find me.”
Tachihara scoffs. But then he tips his head forward in a slight bow, and Yosano’s shoulders relax slightly. She turns to leave, but Gin stops her with a soft, “Wait.”
Yosano pauses. “Yes?”
“If you are a doctor…you can write prescriptions, right?”
“…I can. Why?”
Gin takes a deep breath. “What… What would you require to write someone a prescription for testosterone?”
Yosano blinks. Then, she smiles. “Just a signature saying you want it. Once the Agency office is back up and running, you can stop in any time.”
She leaves them with a wave over her shoulder. Gin, Ryuunosuke, and Tachihara all let out a tense breath in unison. Gin giggles, and Tachihara leans his weight on them. “Deep voices are hot,” he says decisively.
Gin thwacks his arm. Ryuunosuke would do worse, but he settles for leveling Tachihara with a glare he can’t see. “We’re getting you glasses,” Gin tells him.
Tachihara groans. “I’m gonna look like a nerd!”
“Glasses could be hot,” Gin counters.
Ryuunosuke is seriously considering locking them out of the apartment. But Tachihara smiles at Gin fondly, and Gin brushes his hair from his eyes, and he finds he can’t be upset by anything that brings Gin happiness—even if he believes they could do far better.
“We can figure that out tomorrow,” Gin decides. “For now, let’s go home.”
— —
Gin is eighteen when they take their first testosterone injection. Yosano walks them through the process, then has Gin perform the actual injection themself so they know how to do it in the future. Ryuu watches in silence, so he also knows how to do it if Gin should ever need assistance.
Once they’re finished, Gin slips their pants back on and exhales deeply. It’s impossible that the hormones have had any effect on them already, but some sort of placebo effect has them feeling different. Lighter, maybe. Happier.
“If you decide you’re interested in surgery, let me know,” Yosano instructs. “I can’t do it myself, but I know people who will be able to help.”
Gin nods. They’ve started looking into top surgery, but they have yet to decide if it’s something they truly want or not. And it would mean filling out a hell of a lot of paperwork for all the time off recovery requires.
Still, it’s nice to know Gin has someone they can go to.
“And Akutagawa-kun, how are you feeling?”
Ryuu starts when he’s addressed, then relaxes once he hears the question. It’s been a week since he accepted Yosano’s offer to treat his lung disease. And while all test results have shown it eliminated the illness that was actively killing him, it’s likely his weakened lungs and immune system will not go away. She prescribed him a new inhaler, then told him to get a brace for his wrist, which the vampire virus could not fully heal, because Rashoumon was not a good enough substitute.
Ryuu nods. “I am feeling well. Thank you again for all you’ve done.”
Yosano waves aside the gratitude, claiming, “It’s just my job,” even though it really isn’t. She has no reason to help anyone from the mafia, and she’s gone above and beyond simply healing injuries. But Gin is endlessly grateful, and they’ve decided maybe miracles can happen to anyone—they just don’t come when you expect.
They leave Yosano’s office with an instruction sheet for future injections in hand. Atsushi escorts them down to the ground floor, presumably for no reason other than to kiss Ryuu’s cheek before bidding them farewell.
Ryuu’s face flushes bright red. Gin snickers, but doesn’t comment on it.
— —
When they return to the mafia headquarters, Ryuu walks with them to the Black Lizard office. Gin finds it odd, but doesn’t question why until they open the door and are met by a faceful of confetti.
Tachihara, Higuchi, Hirotsu, and Chuuya are all holding party poppers, all grinning at the shock on Gin’s face.
“It was Tachihara-kun’s idea,” Chuuya explains. “But congrats on the testosterone.” He looks at Ryuu. “And also the not being terminally ill.”
Ryuu snorts.
Gin shakes their head, stifling a laugh.
“We got cake!” Higuchi announces.
And so, the rest of the afternoon passes with everyone eating cake, chatting idly, and notably not doing any work. Tachihara tells stupid jokes and Gin laughs only because he looks so pleased with himself when they do so. Higuchi excitedly recounts the tale of attempting to sneak the cake into the mafia headquarters. Chuuya gets a call from Dazai asking to bring him cake, to which Chuuya responds, “Hell no. Buy your own cake.” As soon as they’ve hung up, they turn to Higuchi and ask to take a slice home.
Kajii is dragged in by Elise, who demands cake as payment for not telling Mori what’s going on. Kajii asks what they’re celebrating, and Elise tells him, “Gin-san isn’t a girl and Akutagawa-san isn’t dead,” which seems to explain exactly nothing to Kajii, but he’s happy to eat cake with them anyways, though he complains about it not being lemon-flavored. Hirotsu mostly watches, only adding comment to the conversation every once in a while, but a fond smile plays at the edge of his lips the entire time.
Once most everyone has left, Tachihara presents Gin with a small gift bag.
They raise an eyebrow at him, but the only explanation he offers is, “Just open it.”
Carefully, Gin removes the tissue paper and extracts—
A box of band-aids, designed to look like yellow tape marking a crime scene.
“For the injections,” Tachihara explains. “I’m sure you’ve got regular band-aids already, but I wanted to get you something, and I found these when I stopped to get an energy drink at the convenience store the other day, and— Well,” he chuckles. “It seemed fitting.”
Gin’s gaze sweeps across the room. The only person remaining is Hirotsu, who is turned away from them as he types up a report. Confident they won’t be seen, they tug Tachihara closer by the collar of his jacket. Their nose bumps his glasses, but they don’t let that deter them from pressing their lips to his cheek.
They pull away, smugly satisfied at the stuttering, blushing, mess they’ve reduced him to. But because Tachihara can’t just let them have the last laugh, he tosses his glasses onto the desk, then pulls Gin back in. He cups their face between his hands as he brings their lips together.
It hardly lasts a moment, but Gin is left breathless anyway.
“You know,” Tachihara whispers. “Back when I thought you were a boy, you gave me a serious sexuality crisis.”
Gin laughs. “And what about now?”
“Now, I don’t even care. I just want you. However you want to be.”
Gin’s cheeks heat. This close, even without his glasses, Tachihara will be able to see that much. So to prevent further embarrassment, they just kiss him again.
— —
“Break!” Ryuunosuke calls.
Gin’s arm stops mid-swing, allowing him to duck out of the way. He retrieves his inhaler from his coat pocket. He sits down unsteadily, then takes the inhaler while Gin grabs water.
Sparring together is a new thing for them, but Ryuunosuke is out of practice and Gin was more than willing to assist. It’s far more lax than training with Dazai ever was. Gin helps him to his feet when he inevitably loses, and he’s allowed breaks whenever his body demands it.
“You’re getting better,” Gin tells him. He holds out an uncapped water bottle, which Ryuunosuke graciously accepts. He gulps it down, washing away the bitter aftertaste of the inhaler medicine. Gin sips from his own bottle, giving Ryuunosuke as much time as he needs to catch his breath.
Once his heart rate has slowed and the tightness in his chest has faded, he nods. “Thank you.”
Gin leans their head on his shoulder, then lets out a sigh. “Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“What made you decide you wanted to live?”
Ryuunosuke frowns. “What do you mean?”
Gin lifts his head. “You accepted your fate as soon as the doctors told you your illness was terminal. If I had suggested talking to Yosano-sensei back when she first offered help—mafia and Agency rivalries aside—I don’t believe you would have even considered it. What changed your mind?”
“Dying,” Ryuunosuke answers simply. There isn’t much else to add. “My life did not flash before my eyes in the moments before my death, but it was only then that I understood how much I would be leaving behind. I could not fathom why you, or anyone else, would miss me until I believed I would not see you again.”
Gin hums. “Did you regret it?”
Ryuunosuke hesitates, thinking his answer over. There were certainly things he regretted when death came to meet him, but as for the act of sacrificing himself?
“No. I would do it again, if required of me. But I am glad to have received a second chance.”
“I’m glad you got a second chance too.”
“What about you? What made you decide to start a medical transition?” Ryuunosuke takes another swig of water, then watches Gin’s face flicker through several complicated emotions.
Finally, they say. “You dying. And Tachihara.” They look down, picking at their fingernails. “I thought I didn’t have a choice,” they admit. “At least…not really. I thought I was just a pawn in some deity’s twisted plan and any choice I thought I made for myself was something already preordained. So why bother? But…” they laugh. “I blamed Dazai-san for your death, at first. I was convinced he knew how your fight against Fukuchi would end, and he made the decision to sacrifice you for the greater good. But even if that was the case, you made the decision to accept Dazai-san’s mission. Tachihara helped me realize that. He said I couldn’t be mad at his betrayal if he was just playing his part in the plan too, which was ridiculous. Of course I was pissed at him. He knew that. He probably would’ve let me slit his throat.”
Gin tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. He shakes his head. “Tachihara took ownership of his decision, and I knew you would have too, had you been there. Tachihara took control of his story and decided he’d rather be with the mafia than the Hunting Dogs, even if that meant he had to die. I realized I wanted to take control of my own life like that—I wanted… I wanted to see the value in my body, like you do. Like I could see in yours. But I had to stop telling myself I didn’t really deserve it.”
He clears his throat. “Anyway. …Do you want to go again, or are we done for the day?”
Ryuunosuke takes stock of his body. The ache in his chest has lessened significantly, thanks to the inhaler and the short break. He knows he shouldn’t push himself too hard, but there is no sense in going easy on himself either.
“One more?” He suggests.
Gin nods. They stand, then offer their hand to him. “Tell me if you need to stop?”
He places his hand in Gin’s, allowing them to help him to his feet.
“I will,” he promises.