Chapter Text
“Atsushi-kun was taken?”
Akutagawa nods, motionless by the door as Dazai sweeps past him, the question thrown dismissively over his shoulder while Chuuya follows behind more slowly. “Yes. I don’t know how long ago. When I came back, Chazu—our cat was gone and there was only that on the floor.”
He jerks his chin towards the pile of shattered glass on the ground which Dazai kneels by and picks up a single piece of. “What is this?”
“A message.” Akutagawa looks at the vase on the windowsill, the rest of its glass flowers still pristine and untouched. “He broke two flowers before he was taken. Begonia for caution. Orange monk for deceit.”
“You sure it wasn’t just the cat?” Chuuya sounds disbelieving. “It sounds like an accident to me.”
“The vase is set to the windowsill, Chuuya, and glass flowers are heavier than they look.” Dazai stands up, and in the moonlight Akutagawa sees that his eyes have lost their light. “Akutagawa-kun. This is a message system that you and Atsushi-kun set up?”
“Yes. In case…in case something like this happened.”
Dazai says nothing, and Akutagawa can’t quite read his expression. He takes the two letters on the table and turns to Chuuya. “I’m taking these to Ranpo. I doubt we’ll find fingerprints but we can try. Contact the Black Lizard and have everyone block off all exits, by air or by sea.”
“Already on it.” Chuuya turns away, phone pressed to his ear.
“If the kidnapper is representing an organisation, they must have a base somewhere in Yokohama.” Dazai is back at the window, inspecting the windowpane and the glass. “If they’re acting alone, they’ll be much slower in attempting to leave the country because they don’t have help. Now, it may be easier if we knew the kidnapper’s ability…”
Akutagawa swallows hard, looking at the coloured glass pieces. “He broke the orange mook flower. It means deceit…perhaps an ability that can deceive people?”
“An illusion-making ability?” Dazai hums. “Mind-control is possible, too, but I doubt anything can be more destructive than Q. Be ready for anything and everything, Akutagawa-kun. Don’t forget, you and Atsushi-kun have been training for this.”
“Dazai.” It’s Chuuya, looking grim. “I’ve just spoken to Hirotsu-san. Surveillance in the city shows someone carrying Atsushi to the Art Museum. They’re sending me images to confirm now.”
As he speaks, his phone pings and Chuuya glances at it. A shadow passes over his face and his mouth sets in a hard line.
“What is it, Chuuya?” Dazai’s voice is dangerously soft.
Chuuya says nothing, and only turns the phone towards him. Akutagawa peers at the phone and feels his throat go dry. “But…” he stared. “That’s me.”
“So it is.” Dazai looks amused; he’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and Akutagawa knows that look all too well. “And we know that the real Akutagawa-kun is standing right here, don’t we, not carrying an unconscious Atsushi-kun in the cover of darkness? So our kidnapper has the ability to change their appearance to assume someone else’s identity.”
Chuuya snaps the phone shut. “We don’t know any other details other than that. We can’t jump to conclusions, but this is dangerous. If this Ability User can copy anyone at all, they can easily leave the country under a different guise, and even the Black Lizard can’t do anything about it.”
“And there’s no saying that they can’t imitate abilities, either.” Dazai looks thoughtful, but there’s a wicked glint in his eyes, an expression of someone who is feeling excited for a challenge. “Let’s set up a trap around the museum and corner this rat. We’ll need to analyse the exact extent of their ability before striking, or else Atsushi-kun could be in danger…”
Akutagawa feels a surge of anger at this, his blood boiling. “We still have to wait?” he demands. “We know where they are! We should go rescue him now! There’s no telling if this guy wants Nakajima dead!”
“If we rush in recklessly, it’ll be even worse for Atsushi-kun,” Dazai says quietly.
“But we have to save him!”
“Akutagawa-kun.” To his surprise Dazai’s tone softens. “I know how you feel. I’m worried for Atsushi-kun too. But we must play our cards correctly. We have to wait for back-up. Do you understand?”
Akutagawa stares at Dazai, and takes a step back. “I understand.”
“Okay.” Dazai turns to Chuuya. “Chuuya, could you possibly ask Ane-san to…”
He never gets to finish his sentence, though, because Chuuya shouts at him, and Dazai spins around just in time to see Rashomon extending in the form of twin jaws from Akutagawa’s coat, and Dazai can just barely glimpse the tight-lipped expression on the boy’s face before Rashomon smashes through the glass and Akutagawa slips out into the night.
Dazai runs to the window but Akutagawa is already out of sight.
“He’s gone,” Chuuya breathes. “He’s gone to save Atsushi himself.”
Akutagawa had not been to the Yokohama Art Museum in a long time, but his legs carry him there faster than he had predicted, as if he were running quicker, his steps more desperate.
He spots his imposter in the distance, the limp figure of Atsushi next to him with an arm thrown over his shoulders, and Akutagawa activates Rashomon, willing the carnivorous beast to cross the space between them in a flash, jaws open wide to tear and rip.
The imposter turns around and Akutagawa freezes at the sight of Higuchi, pointing a gun at him.
He skids to a halt, Rashomon hesitating. Higuchi - or what seems to be her - is expressionless as she faces him, not releasing Atsushi. “Senpai,” she says, in her voice. “What are you doing here?”
Someone who has the ability to change their appearance to assume someone else’s identity.
“I know you’re not Higuchi,” Akutagawa growls, fists clenched tight. “Let Nakajima go right now, or I’ll take your head off.”
Higuchi smiles, and Akutagawa watches as violet light envelopes her and her appearance changes - to that of a brown-haired woman.
“Correct. You can call me Schreiber. And sorry, but I’ll be keeping the weretiger.” She ruffles the top of Atsushi’s head, grinning. “I drugged him with a toxin that can only be undone with a medicine that I made myself. Kill me and you’ll never find it, and he’ll never wake up.”
“Don’t mess with me!” Akutagawa flings an arm forward. “Rashomon: Murakumo!”
Rashomon’s jaw transforms into a deadly claw and lunges for Schreiber, who simply stands and smiles at him, and then there’s a flash of violet light—
And standing there is a man that Akutagawa has not seen in years, that he saw only once in this very same spot, saving him and carrying him out of harm’s way. Despite only having met him once, Akutagawa can’t ever forget this person, his reddish-brown hair and light stubble and blue eyes, blue as the ocean that he so loved, the man who changed more people than he would ever know.
“But…what…?” Akutagawa rasps hoarsely.
“My ability, Sibyl, allows me to access the memories of people that I touch and my appearance will change according to what will disarm my enemy the most…someone they love, someone they look up to, anyone whose mere presence will make my opponent falter.” Odasaku - no, Schreiber, Akutagawa reminds himself - looks down at himself. “I can’t copy abilities, but just face and voice does the trick, don’t you think?”
“People that you touch? But I never…”
“I was waiting for you both at the café yesterday,” Schreiber smiles, without lowering the gun. “Don’t you remember? When you and the weretiger left, I was able to access both your memories. And this man means something to you, doesn’t he? He changed your mentor’s life, and all of that led you to the weretiger…”
Akutagawa’s blood boils. “He’s dead!” Rashomon shoots forward again, but Schreiber easily shoots down the black tendrils. “Oda Sakunosuke is already dead, you expect me to fall for your tricks when I—”
Schreiber fires several shots in rapid succession, and Akutagawa immediately puts up Spatial Rupture, so that the bullets clink harmlessly to the ground. He lets the shield dissipate, and in that brief moment Schreiber has crossed the distance between them and his fist strikes him across the face and sends him stumbling back.
Akutagawa remembers this - the same move that Oda pulled that time, deflecting Rashomon’s attacks like it was nothing, then closing the distance so quickly and knocking him unconscious.
Schreiber takes a step back and Akutagawa swears under his breath, climbing back to his feet. Atsushi is lying facedown on the ground behind Schreiber, and feels a spark of hope as Atsushi’s arm twitches, ever so slightly.
“Everyone underestimates my ability.” Schreiber gives Akutagawa a savage kick, face twisted into a sneer uncharacteristic of Oda. “To be able to become someone else to suit the situation? To exploit an enemy’s weakness purely by changing my appearance?”
Another kick, and this time Akutagawa coughs blood. “You can’t hurt me. Everyone has someone they’ll never bring themselves to hurt.”
Akutagawa chuckles, a low laugh. “What if someone else can?”
Schreiber’s eyes narrow and Akutagawa’s coat flares; Rashomon shoots out in two jagged claws and Schreiber dodges them, but they sweep past her and head straight for Atsushi.
Schreiber swears and points his gun at Atsushi. Akutagawa reacts first and lunges for him, grabbing his gun and wrenching it out of his grasp to throw it aside, holding his wrists tight. He can’t hold his own for long, not while in Oda Sakunosuke’s form, who’s bigger and stronger; but if Atsushi wakes up in time…!
With a growl Schreiber gives Akutagawa a vicious kick, knocking him back; the force of it sends Rashomon recoiling back into his coat, and a heavy foot stamps over his chest.
“You’re just really determined to get in my way, aren’t you?” Schreiber growled, kneeling down to press the barrel of a gun - fuck, he forgot that Oda uses twin handguns - to Akutagawa’s forehead. “If you’d like I’ll send you down to the nadir with him.”
To her shock Akutagawa smirks. “Try it if you can.”
Schreiber’s eyes widen and he spins around in time to see Atsushi leaping down at her from above, face twisted in anger and arms transformed into tiger claws. He knocks him off Akutagawa and tumbles a short distance away, paw pinning him down.
“You’re late, Atsushi!” Akutagawa snaps, getting up to brush dust off his coat.
“Sorry I didn’t get up right away after you stabbed me awake with Rashomon,” Atsushi shouts back, but he’s grinning from ear to ear, and Akutagawa knows it’s because he finally called him by his first name. “Couldn’t you have woken me more gently?”
There’s a glow of violet light and Oda Sakunosuke transforms into Atsushi’s orphanage headmaster, expression furious. “How dare you? Unhand me immediately!”
Atsushi bares his teeth at him. “I know how your ability works. It’s not going to work on me anymore.”
With a growl the orphanage headmaster disappears, replaced by Schreiber’s normal form. “How did you wake up?” she demands. “The poison I administered to you can only be undone with an antidote!”
“Once a weretiger, always a weretiger.” Akutagawa coughs delicately into his hand. “Perhaps the poison does not work the same on people who are not fully human. You got unlucky, shapeshifter.”
Atsushi grins in triumph. “It only put me to sleep, that’s all. What a nap it was.”
Akutagawa smacks the back of his head. “Stop grinning, you idiot. Dazai-san and Chuuya-san will be on their way soon.”
Schreiber glares at them both. “I won’t let it end so easily.”
She breaks off in a gasp as Atsushi’s clawed grip tightens around her throat. “I don’t think you have a choice. Your ability’s powerful, but it works best in one-on-one fights where you only have one target to disarm. The more opponents you have, the less effective your ability becomes because you can’t possibly transform into someone that every enemy is vulnerable to.”
Silence follows his statement. Schreiber knows she’s defeated, and Akutagawa can tell she’s running every possible strategy or comeback in her head, and coming up empty.
“I say we leave you to the Special Abilities Department,” he hums. “But considering you have attempted to kidnap a member of the Armed Detective Agency, and injured a member of the Port Mafia, I daresay you have created more enemies than you can handle.”
Epilogue:
“You’re sure it’s here?”
Atsushi scratches his head. “I think so, yeah. That’s what the map says.”
Akutagawa sighs. “Couldn’t Dazai-san have picked a better place? One that’s easier to find, perhaps?”
“Maybe he wanted it to be hard to find. You don’t know what kind of people will come and make trouble.” Atsushi peers at the map, and looks up. “We’re almost there. It’s just up ahead.”
He makes his way towards the uphill slope, and after a pause Akutagawa follows, shifting the weight of the bouquet of flowers on his arm, tight-lipped and heartbeat fast.
“Hello, Oda-san.”
Atsushi steps forward first, a small smile on his face as he kneels in front of the unmarked grave, brushing the dust and moss off of it. “My name is Nakajima Atsushi. We’ve never met, but…I’ve heard a lot about you from Dazai-san. And from Ryuu.”
He looks behind him where Akutagawa stands a few feet away, uncertain. Atsushi beckons him forward and hesitantly Akutagawa comes forward, setting down the white flowers in front of the stone.
“…Oda-san.” Akutagawa’s voice shakes. “I came here to…”
To what? Why did he want this trip in the first place? He’s not sure what he expects to come out of this visit. Understanding? Forgiveness? Redemption?
He stops, and Atsushi places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I think Oda-san knows what you mean.”
Akutagawa falls silent, and for a moment they both say nothing, heads bowed in front of the grave of the person they both never truly met, but owe so much to.
“Say, Ryuu…”
Akutagawa does not retort to Atushi’s calling him by such a familiar name. They’ve reached that stage since Schreiber was apprehended, since they came to the point of needing each other.
“How did you meet Oda-san? Why did Schreiber transform into him to make you stop attacking her?”
Akutagawa takes a deep breath. A slightly breeze picks up, and the scent of the ocean at the foot of the hill sweeps past them, sending a chill down Akutagawa’s spine. “I only met him once. Four years ago, at the Art Museum, in the same place where I found you. He was saving me from Mimic, and yet I tried to kill him…he protected me even though I hated him.”
His stomach churns with shame, and he goes on, “And then I never saw him again. Days later I found out he had died taking down Mimic, all on his own, and at that time I did not know how to feel about his death. But…”
Atsushi peers at him curiously. “But what?”
“Since we…since Shin Soukoku began, I’ve…been thinking about this person more. The stories I’ve heard of him. He took care of five orphans, and never killed before the Mimic incident, because he wanted to be a writer and felt as though he did not deserve to write if he killed others. He changed Dazai-san and made the Mafia’s youngest executive-to-be in history leave for the light. He made Dazai-san want to save people and…” Akutagawa looks up. “And then he met you. He led me to you and we’re no longer enemies.”
He looks at the gravestone, and the worn photograph leaning against it. “So in a way, he’s saved me as well.”
In the corner of his eye he sees Atsushi smiling. “We both need to thank Oda-san, then, don’t we?”
“Atsushi-kun. Akutagawa-kun.”
They both spin around; Dazai is walking towards them, hands tucked into his coat pockets, his face expressionless and eyes unreadable. Atsushi stands, abruptly, but Akutagawa doesn’t move.
Dazai says nothing at first, only stops in front of them. He looks exhausted, and after a moment the light returns to his eyes and he gives them a weak smile. “I knew I’d find you two here.”
“It was my idea,” Akutagawa says quietly. “After Schreiber…I wanted to come here and…make amends.”
“Odasaku was never one to hold grudges. It took a lot to truly anger him from the bottom of his heart.” Dazai steps forward, kneeling in front of the gaze to put down a pack of cigarettes. Akutagawa does not recognise the brand, but it’s so worn that it must have been unused for years.
Dazai stands up and faces them again, his cheerful smile back on his face. “And that’s why I also have an announcement to make!”
His tone grows serious, but his smile remains. “You both performed spectacularly in handling the incident with Schreiber. Atsushi-kun, even though you were ambushed and did not have back-up, you were able to leave a message for Akutagawa-kun and could fight back when you woke up. Akutagawa-kun, your determination to save Atsushi-kun was quite admirable..despite the fact that you did disobey me.”
“What?” Atsushi turns to Akutagawa, eyes wide with shock. “You did?”
Akutagawa coughs. “It was the only thing I could think about doing. I apologise if my actions offended you, Dazai-san.” He still admires Dazai, yes…but no longer to that extent. He does not seek his approval anymore, he realises, nor does he have any blind loyalty to him. He knew this when he disobeyed Dazai’s direct order to wait and went to rescue Atsushi himself.
Dazai’s grin widens. “I was most impressed by your message system with the glass flowers. Even Chuuya said that we do the same, but he shot down the idea quite quickly when I suggested we do so with burning his collection of hats. Disappointing.”
Atsushi chokes on his spit, but passes it off as a violent coughing fit as Akutagawa rolls his eyes.
“Well, anyway…” Dazai’s gaze softens. “Congratulations, you two. You have completed your training and shown me that you are ready. You are now the new Double Black - and Chuuya and I look forward to working with the two of you in the future.”