Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Ten or so minutes after Ryunosuke wakes up, there's a knock on his door. 

"What is it?" he grumbles. 

"Akutagawa?" Dazai's soft voice filters through the crack under the door. "It's me. Can I come in?"

Ryunosuke bolts upright, his breath catching and setting off a coughing fit. Shit, shit, shit. He manages to choke it down and quell the urge to cough just long enough to choke out "Yeah, come in," before his lungs seize and he starts again. An awful start to what's probably going to be a worse meeting. As the door opens and Dazai's footsteps approach the bed, Ryunosuke breaks into a sweat, his heart hammering. Get it together.  

"That sounds nasty," Dazai comments as he sits down beside the bed. "You sure you're ready to go?"

"It's not like it's going to get any better," Ryunosuke spits, because fuck Dazai's false sympathy. 

"Mm. Wanna join the Agency?"

Ryunosuke stops short. "What?"

"I said, wanna join the Agency? You're a very competent individual and we'd love to have you." 

A long, long silence. Dazai stares at him, perfectly composed, his eyes wide in fake-naïve confusion. 

"Okay," Ryunosuke says, "Very funny. You can stop now. I know you think–"

"Oh, I'm dead serious."

Ryunosuke swallows down the knot of panic in his throat. "Get out."

"I’m not–“

"Get the fuck out of my sight!" Ryunosuke shouts, voice mangled and raw, but still loud enough to make Dazai flinch. He manages to keep his shoulders from shaking, but his hands won't stop. "Get. Out."

The expression on Dazai's face is indescribable. "Hey, now, Akutagawa–" 

"Shut up!" He breaks off into a coughing fit, fighting it with his whole chest, his skin and eyes prickling. Some combination of lingering infection and irrational panic is closing his throat off, and his breath comes in and out in convulsive sobs and gasps. "Shut up! Get the fuck away from me! Get out!" 

Dazai finally gets the picture. His expression changes again to something Ryunosuke doesn't recognize, and he nods and walks stiffly out of the room. 

Ryunosuke sinks back into his pillow, gasping. He only has a few seconds to collect himself before Higuchi slams open the door, looking murderous. "What did he say? What's going on?" 

Ryunosuke tries to answer, but his throat closes again and all he can do is choke. Higuchi's expression of fury crumples into concern. She shuts the door behind her and hurries to Ryunosuke's side. "Are you okay?"

Again, he tries to speak. Again, he can't do anything but struggle for air, rocking back and forth ineffectually. His heart's still hammering so hard he can feel it, and he wants to throw up. He's going to throw up. All that comes out, though, is another gasp of air. His hands won't stop shaking, his shoulders, his whole body. He's going to pass out or throw up or both. He curls up, knees to his chest, clutches them, but he can't stop shaking. What's wrong with me?! 

"Can you breathe?" Higuchi is asking. "Do I need to call Yosano?"

No, no, I'm fine, don't call her, I'm fine, I'm being stupid, I'm fine, but he can't make himself form the words. He grips Higuchi's arm as tight as he can, the action almost mechanical, and tugs her towards him. 

She reaches for him, too. "Akutagawa. Hey, hey. Can I touch you?" 

He manages a quick nod, which only makes the dizziness worse. He can't quite tell if he's coughing or sobbing, but whatever it is, it's fucking with his head. 

She pulls him in and squeezes, hard. The relief is immediate and overwhelming. He shudders into her, listening to her heart hammering erratically into his ear, and the shaking gets worse, but he calms down a little bit. In, and out. Shaky. Not enough, but it'll have to do. Against his cheek, her shirt is rough, and he can feel the warmth of her skin seeping through. 

The first thing he says when he can speak again is, "Your heart is going... really fast."

"Oh." She puts a hand on her own chest. "I'm sorry." 

"Are you... okay?" 

She swallows. He can hear it echo through her chest. Her heart speeds up again. "Yeah. I'm fine." She shifts, and, feeling more than a bit embarrassed, Ryunosuke pushes himself off her. His hands are still shaking violently. "What happened?" 

"I don't know," Ryunosuke murmurs. 

"What happened with Dazai?" 

"He was just fucking with me." Ryunosuke lets out a bitter laugh, which only makes his chest hurt more. "Typical." 

"He... he asked you if you wanted to join the Agency?"

"Yeah. Can you believe it?" His breath shudders for a second. He gets it back under control, scrubbing at his already-sore eyes. 

"Akutagawa." Higuchi's voice is very quiet. "He wasn't pranking you. That was real."

Ryunosuke exhales. Very, very slowly. "Yeah. I had a feeling."

"They held a vote just now," she says. "I was there. The President wants to invite you. Dazai volunteered to break the news." Then, gentler: "You okay?"

Translation: are you gonna freak out again? For a second Ryunosuke's overwhelmed by the urge to snap at her, but he clenches his fist, digging his nails into his palm, and it passes. "I cannot believe they thought sending him was a good idea," he says, and laughs. It's a choked sound. "Why not you?" 

"It has to be an Agency member. Kunikida wanted to, but Dazai volunteered, and he said he wanted to talk to you… I guess he didn't get the chance." 

"Oh." He exhales again, even longer. "Okay."

"You don't have to decide right now," she says. "If you still want to leave, we can. Whatever you decide to do, I'm behind you." 

"What do you want to do?" 

She gives that some serious thought. "I think we should join. You don't have to talk to Dazai, but they'd take care of the legal aspects and provide some protection from the Mafia. God knows we need it." Ryunosuke thinks of Suribachi City and shudders his agreement. "Plus," she says, "Yosano can help you, maybe cure you. And Kunikida... he's just nice." 

Ryunosuke nods, but doesn't speak.

"What are you thinking?" 

"I'm thinking," he croaks, "that somebody needs to cover the weretiger, and clearly nobody else here is a competent bodyguard."

There's no welcome party. Good choice. It's not exactly a celebration, for almost half of them, but at least Kunikida seems pleased. All they do is assign him a room and a uniform (which he refuses to wear, still clinging to the ragged coat Dazai gave him). And, with Higuchi's help, he makes little greetings cards that say, Sorry for almost killing you! It won't happen again, with a shitty little handmade drawing of them bowing on the front. And Tanizaki doesn't become his friend, but he stops glaring at him, at least. 

Kyoka's not so simple. She's polite to him, sure, but she's cold, and clearly scared of him with a healthy mix of anger and resentment in there as well. It rubs off on Atsushi, who still looks at him with contempt. 

His lungs are still shitty, no big surprise there. He's bounced back from the infection and the pollution, but he's still worse than before, more easily winded, kept up at night by the feeling that if he goes to sleep he'll just suffocate. Yosano tells him the infection did a lot of unchecked damage, and it's not going to get any better than this. He'll just have to learn to deal with it. She did offer him permanent oxygen, but he refused. Loudly. Logically, it'd be better, but God, he can't stand the idea of telegraphing his weakness to everyone who sees him, no matter how much of a relief it was to try it on and feel the panicked straining melt away. Not yet, anyway. But, well, he'll have to give in eventually. He's not getting any healthier. Not until we get you set up for surgery, Yosano says, elbowing him as if they share an inside joke. But that's a while away, so just take care, okay? 

(She also advises him to try not to have any more panic attacks, since there's a good chance he'll go into respiratory distress. Yeah, right, like he ever tries to have panic attacks.) 

That's another thing, the kindness. He's just not used to it. At first he thought it was because they liked him, for some bizarre reason, or maybe that they were mocking him, but no—no, they're just like that with everyone they work with. Take care of yourself. Can you do that? Are you free then? Do you need any food at the café while I'm down there? Are you injured? You sure you're up for this next fight? Did you get enough sleep? And over, and over, and over again— You okay? Can you breathe? Need me to get Yosano? Are you okay? Can you breathe? Can you breathe? It's fucking annoying. 

Maybe they're just not used to it, that's all. It just sucks to always be reminded that he's dying.

Ironically, Kyoka is the best mission partner in the whole Agency. Tanizaki, Atsushi and the others, they let their feelings bleed into their actions, they're uncooperative and uncommunicative, or alternatively condescending and overprotective. Not so with Kyoka. When she's on a mission, she gets it done, no matter what she has to do. She always makes the executive orders, though, and Ryunosuke grins and bears it. He deserves it after all.

"You take point," she said, shaking him out of his own thoughts. "Frontal attack. Just keep them busy, don't kill them. When I've finished with the documents, I'll cut the lights."

"Understood." God, he feels like a fucking babysitter, playing pretend at taking orders from a child. He stands up, then hesitates. "Oh. One thing." 

"What?"

"...Don't get hurt." 

"I wasn't planning to," she says, turning her nose up at him. She relents a moment later, though, nodding. "Same to you." 

Ryunosuke nods, and then Kyoka's gone, and he steels himself and walks towards the entrance, shaking Rashomon out into long tendrils in preparation for the fight. 

When he wakes up in Yosano's medical bay again, she informs him that by taking two bullets and a brain injury meant for Kyoka and almost dying (again), he's earned a proper spot in the Agency, under the purview of the President's power. Rashomon feels no different, so who cares? He doesn't even remember the fight, which makes sense since apparently his head had been pretty smashed. Just some splinters of experience. Blood, blood, someone holding his hand, more blood, a migraine. Why did you do it? Kyoka's voice. Nothing much else. Vaguely, he wishes he'd just died of his injuries instead, but he knows better than to express that to Yosano. 

She also bans him from active fighting missions. So much for Rashomon being a useful tool for the Agency. Nobody brings it up, though. They just ask him how he's feeling, over and over again, until he snaps at them to leave him alone. 

Kyoka treats him differently now, almost with a tentative respect. He wonders if something passed between them that he just can't remember. She must have carried him back to the Agency, which implies some level of care whether he lives or dies. Or maybe that's just a good guy thing, saving everyone. Eventually he decides it's none of his business. 

Dazai hasn't approached him since the day he was invited. Fine by him. He doesn't wanna see his stupid face and hear his stupid voice anyway. But all he can do is sit there and listen to him fuck around in the Agency office, talking to everyone else all buddy-buddy. There's definitely a certain strain, there, but nowhere near the amount of uncertain glances directed at Ryunosuke. 

Dazai tries to kill himself a lot . 

In the Mafia, sure, he had done the same. Ryunosuke hadn't been directly exposed much, but he had had to fish Dazai out of the river or catch him from freefall a couple times. Rashomon was useful for search and rescue, not that they ever used him that way. It had never made any sense—if Dazai really wanted to die, then he could have. He got shot at regularly enough. But despite his constant attempts, he never, ever did. So Ryunosuke learned to chalk it up to some weird idiosyncrasy and leave it alone. 

Now it's different. He attempts every day. Ryunosuke'd asked Higuchi to ask around when he first noticed, about whether anyone knew what was up or why he was doing this, but nobody has an answer. Maybe it's that they feel too awkward and simply want to manage the issue, even through their insipid constant need to pretend everything's beautiful and friendly. They can't stand an ugly emotion intruding upon their perfect good-guy idealism, don't want to face the ugliness head on. Well, neither does Ryunosuke. If Dazai wants to get fished out of the river every single day for the rest of his sorry life until the Agency gets sick of his shit, that's fine by him. 

Unfortunately for both of them, Kunikida and his planner don't care whether Atsushi and Ryunosuke hate each other quietly. He has a bracket and he's damn well going to use it to rotate them out on guard duty. Ryunosuke can, in theory, respect that—the issue is when he ends up being the cooperative one. He may not be the most self-aware person ever, but by God he can tell that he's not the sort who tries to calm things down and encourage cooperation. So if he's stepping on eggshells around the goddamn weretiger , something must be seriously wrong. 

Well, maybe that's a bit of an oversimplification. Atsushi seems on edge about his safety, at least. He doesn't act like he likes Ryunosuke, but he still casts worried glances around as if he's going to get impaled again as he goes to get groceries. That kinda pisses Ryunosuke off. If they're going to hate each other they might as well do it properly, Mafia-style— look at me wrong and I'll kill you style. This? This is wrong, and more than that, it's... unsettling. It's hard to manage. Ryunosuke knows how to deal with someone who wants to shoot him in the face. He doesn't know how to deal with this, doesn't know how to act. 

So he just doesn't talk, and that's fine. 

"Akutagawa?" The weretiger says his name cautiously, as if he's a bomb that might go off anytime. "Did you hear me?"

"Hm?"

"I said, let's head back. I'm done with the groceries." And he seems positively resentful that he had to go get them at all, especially accompanied by Ryunosuke. 

"Good." Well, it's not like Ryunosuke's super hyped about it either but at least he has the courtesy to leave him alone as much as possible. It isn't like he has a choice. He can't disobey Kunikida. Won't disobey Kunikida, not with his softly disappointed glances, his concern, his stupid fatherly hovering that Ryunosuke so badly wants to hate. 

"Are you coming?" Atsushi's already a few metres away, holding out a bag for him to carry. 

Ryunosuke remembers what Kunikida said. Play nice . "I'll take all of them," he says, already dreading the long, breathless walk back.  

"What?"

"All the bags." Rashomon reaches out, grasping for the handles. 

Atsushi flinches back at the sight of it, but he holds the bags out and lets Ryunosuke grab them. "...Thanks." 

"Mm." 

They continue down the street in silence. Atsushi's glancing at him, still looks concerned and tense. Whatever. Ryunosuke closes his eyes and sucks in a deep, deep breath, really digging into the ache in his lungs. Feels like, if he focuses deeply enough, he could just sink into that pain forever and get lost in it. 

Atsushi's gaze is still digging into him. Ryunosuke opens his eyes, annoyed. "What?"

"Nothing," he stutters out. 

"You know," Ryunosuke says, "in the Mafia, when you hate someone, you just tell them and fight it out. This kind of shit would be considered cruel and unusual." 

"Says the people who break people's jaws and shoot them to death," Atsushi retorts, rather bravely. 

"Yep. And we're right." 

He rolls his eyes but doesn't argue. Still doesn't look away. 

"So. Again. What ?" 

" Nothing ." 

"Just say it. I know you hate me. Out with it, already. If we have it out here then it's less shit for me to worry about." Less shit to clutter his life before he dies. If he dies. Shit, that's weird.

"I... don't hate you." 

"Liar." 

"I don't! I don't hate you. I just think that you're a terrible, cruel, unbearable person with no self-awareness," Atsushi retorts. 

"Right." Ryunosuke can't help but actually laugh at that one. "And that's different from hating me because..."

"Because it's just different , okay?"

"Riiiiight." He nods, rolling his eyes. 

A pause. 

"If you really want to know why I don't like you," Atsushi grumbles, "it's because of what you did to Kyoka." 

"What I did to Kyoka?" 

"Yes, what you did to Kyoka! How can you go around complaining about how Dazai treated you when you just turned around and did the exact same thing to her? It's not fair ." 

"That's completely different," Ryunosuke starts. "I never made any promises. She knew from the start that this wouldn't be easy–" 

"She didn't have a choice! You trapped her and used her! Just because you were more open about it doesn't mean it's more okay!" 

A squirming nausea is starting to make its way up Ryunosuke's throat, his breath coming in harsh bursts. "You wouldn't understand. It's different from what Dazai did."

"Oh yeah? Then explain it to me." 

"I–" Another wave of dizzy nausea. Maybe if Ryunosuke collapses right there in the street and dies, Atsushi will drop it. Hah. He sounds like Dazai. 

"Exactly. There's no difference at all! You act so high and mighty about things, but the only difference is that you don't lie about it! And it's not the lying that's the real problem here, it's the fact that you're ruining people's lives!" Atsushi's getting choked up. Ryunosuke's head is rapidly flooding with buzzing dizzy static that, distantly, he recognizes as panic. Why is he panicking? He was fine a few seconds ago. "Why should I care about your feelings? Why should I show you compassion? No matter how much I want to, you said it yourself! It's not about how you feel! This is about Kyoka, and I'm not gonna pretend to be friends with you when she's still terrified just to see your face!" 

He barely restrains himself from rounding on Atsushi and tearing his throat out. He knows it wouldn't make him feel better, but he so badly wants to. "I–" he tries again, but again, he can think of nothing. His mind is utterly blank. His stomach tenses with panic-fuelled rage. "I'm not gonna fucking talk about this with you. You're naïve and you don't know what you're talking about." 

"You're just like Dazai!" Atsushi bursts out. "You're such a hypocrite! All you do is lie and gaslight and run away! You can't pretend I'm being unreasonable, I know I'm not! You're just making excuses because you don't wanna face that you're exactly like him! You're exactly like him, and you're not even trying to be better!" 

Ryunosuke's gonna throw up. His head is spinning and buzzing and his stomach is turning and clenching, his hands are sweaty, his coat is suffocating him, and he can't get enough air. He needs to run, disappear. All you do is lie and gaslight and run away . He's right. Even now he's trying to run away. Even now he just gaslit Atsushi. Trying to escape from the inevitable truth that he is a bad person. He thought he'd accepted it. Excuses, excuses. A wave of hatred forces its way up his throat, but it's not hatred for Atsushi. Burning, like acid in his veins, is hatred for himself. 

He hates himself for what he did to Kyoka. He hates himself for running away. He hates himself because he's a fucking weakling. He hates himself so badly he just wants to slam his head against a wall and rip his intestines out and stomp on them, he wants to die, he wants to be in the most pain he possibly can and then he wants to die. He hates himself because he did what he hates Dazai for doing, and he hates himself for lying about it. He almost turns towards the pier in his hysteria, just to jump off, sink below the surface and drown, find some quiet, some respite from this burning hatred. 

And then he realizes it, and a wave of horror almost brings him to his knees. 

He really is exactly like Dazai. 

"Oh, God," he hears himself gasp, distantly. His skin is crawling, but he can feel pressure on his back through the muddle, Atsushi leading him away to somewhere more quiet, fumbling for a rescue inhaler. He can barely stumble after him, his knees almost giving out under him. Somewhere, quietly, he watches himself throw up, the static washing in and out of his vision as he comes close to passing out. 

Sometime while he wasn't paying attention, Atsushi stopped being angry and started freaking out. "Oh my God," he says. "Okay. Okay. Just try to calm down and hold on until the meds kick in. I'm going to call for help." 

No. No. He can't go back there. He just needs a second. He tries to stutter that out, but all he can manage is to shake his head violently and clutch Atsushi's arm. 

Atsushi grabs him back, steadying him somewhat. "Uh," he says, sweating. "Breathe? Just... I don't know if Yosano taught you any, um, breathing exercises, or– I–I'm sorry, I didn't know you were gonna have a panic attack, I shouldn't have–" 

"Shut up," Ryunosuke gasps. If there's one thing he couldn't stand right now, it would be for Atsushi to take it back. It was true, it was all true. The idea of Atsushi trying to take it back now just makes him feel sick to his stomach. 

"I'm so sorry," Atsushi is saying, "I was– I was really harsh–"

"Shut up!" Ryunosuke snarls, and Atsushi does. "Don't lie! I–" But his lungs give out on him and he descends into an uncontrollable coughing fit, barely able to draw the air he desperately needs. 

"I need to call Yosano," Atsushi mutters, but Ryunosuke slaps the phone out of his hand. 

"Just– let– me– focus," he grits out. And Atsushi nods hesitantly, sits back, and waits. 

It takes a while for him to calm down, the churning electric panic in every limb slowly creeping back into his stomach where it started. It's a miracle he doesn't throw up. His chest is burning with anxiety and he can still barely breathe, but he staggers to his feet anyway, electric restlessness making him unable to bear sitting here any longer. He tries to pace but he stumbles and falls, and Atsushi catches him. 

And what should he even do? He sets the idea of dying aside with difficulty. It keeps shoving itself back in. But he tries to focus, tries to think as he catches his breath. What, then, to do? Atsushi is by his side, supporting him, though not even a minute ago (was it a minute? He lost track) he was screaming at him, saying he hated him. Atsushi is talking in a quiet voice, sounds anxious. His arm is wrapped around Ryunosuke's side, holding him up. The warmth of his arm makes Ryunosuke choke on who-knows-what repulsive feeling. "Are you feeling a bit better? Have the meds kicked in yet? Can I call Yosano now? Do you need help getting back?" 

He's so kind. He's so unbearably kind. Yeah, he thinks about his morality, doesn't he? Everything is so terribly consistent with him, no matter how exhausting it is to put it into practice. He does it because it's the right thing to do. Isn't he sad? Isn't he exhausted? It's so hard facing everything all the time. Like trying to stand straight in a never-ending hurricane. But he just does it because it's the right thing to do, doesn't he? He just does it, no matter what it costs, and Ryunosuke isn't strong enough to be like him. 

Ryunosuke's too tired to hide it now. He doesn't know where they are. Doesn't know which way is home. He just wants to go home and have some peace and quiet, maybe lie in one of Yosano's cots with an oxygen mask on for a while. 

"Here," Atsushi is saying. "Sit down. Okay? Let's just catch our breath before we go." 

And what, then, should he do? What should he do, with Atsushi shining by his side? He doesn't deserve it at all. Should he confess? Like a fucking parishioner? 

"I'm sorry," Ryunosuke says, and immediately a wave of extra overwhelm crashes over him. He bites back a sob. 

"Pardon?" Atsushi sounds bewildered. 

"I don't know." He buries his head in his hands. " Fuck . I don't know. I'm sorry. I don't... I don't know." It's all so exhausting. It doesn't come out in words. He doesn't know how to phrase it. "I wanna die." 

"Please don't," Atsushi says very softly. 

"Don't you hate me?" 

"No." He hesitates. "Yes. I don't know." 

"Then why do you care?" Every word that comes out of his mouth just worsens the unbearable pressure of hatred in his chest. He just wants it to stop. Any way he can, he wants it to stop. 

"That's not really... how it works." He must pity Ryunosuke. As angry as that makes him, he can't say Atsushi is wrong. 

"Then how does it work?" 

"I don't know." Atsushi looks as if he wants to hug Ryunosuke, but he doesn't dare. "But you'll figure it out eventually."

"How can you know that?"

"Because I'll help you." 

"Why?"

"Because we're friends." 

"But you hate me."

"I do, yeah." 

Ryunosuke lets out an ugly laugh. "You don't make any fucking sense."

"I make more sense than you. Look at you, you're a mess. Clearly you feel awful about it, so why are you pretending you don't care?" Atsushi's words are assertive, but his voice is a shaky mess. "I mean, look, okay? You can always be a better person. Let's go home and once you've calmed down, you can apologize to Kyoka, and we'll talk about it together." 

Kyoka? No, no, he can't talk to her. Not now. He's not sure he'd be able to face her without– he doesn't know, some kind of thing to make sure he doesn't suffocate himself. "I– I can't," he grits out, burning with humiliation. "I don't know how." 

"Yes, you can. I know you can. You even stood up to Dazai." Atsushi squeezes his shoulder. "You're really brave. I know you can be better than him." 

He stops short and stares at Atsushi. "What?" 

Atsushi slowly starts to turn red. "I mean–"

"No," Ryunosuke says, a little too loud, as he realizes Atsushi's gonna try and take it back. He can't, he can't, he can't take that right now. He needs Atsushi to believe that, just as much as he needs Atsushi to hate what he did. "Stop. You really think that?" 

"Um– yes?" Atsushi seems unsure of what he should say. 

Ryunosuke tries to fight the golden glow growing in his stomach, fights the urge to call Atsushi a fucking idiot. If it comes up properly, he won't be able to stop crying. He swallows, swallows again. What would a normal, functional, good person say in this situation? 

"Thanks," he says, and the words come out stilted and fake. "You too."

Kyoka's eyes are cold on the back of his head. He knows she's giving him a blank stare, but he can't afford to look up. Atsushi's watching him too, from across the room. Fuck, this is so fucking humiliating. He bites back the shame. He tries to breathe, tries to call up the feeling of Atsushi's arm around his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he says again, voice muffled since he's speaking directly into the floor. And then again, because it never feels like enough. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to forgive me, you don’t have to say anything. There is no excuse for what I did to you. But even so, it was wrong, and I’m sorry.” 

"I forgave you already," Kyoka says, with no hesitation, her voice quiet and cool. "But I don't suppose you remember that." 

He bolts up, stares at her. She stares back. "I don't–" he chokes. "What?"

"You died for me," she says. Steady. Calm. "You were scared, but you died for me. I forgave you then." And before he even has the time to react, she turns and leaves, her sandals tapping gently on the tiled floor. 

It's a long time before anybody moves. Eventually, Atsushi walks over and bends down, taps Ryunosuke on the shoulder. "She's gone," he says. 

"I know," says Ryunosuke. 

"Do you know what she was talking about?"

The memories are jumbled. Blood, panic, blood, blood, a migraine, more blood. A small hand in his. Run away , his own voice . Save yourself. I'm sorry. Run away. No, he has no idea what happened. But he knows what she's talking about. He nods. 

"You can get up now."

"I know," he says. But he stays here for a moment longer. 

Eventually, he pushes himself up, sits up on his knees, and immediately almost falls sideways back onto the floor as a wave of dizziness overwhelms him. He focuses all his energy on not passing out. Higuchi rushes to his side, but she doesn't say anything, just takes him by the arm and helps him up. Good. He needs it. It feels like all the energy in him has drained out of him and now he's deflated, bone-tired, not to mention dizzy.

"You okay?" Higuchi asks him. 

"Fine," he says, as a matter of habit. And then, as a matter of trying to be nicer, "...Thank you." 

Kyoka still doesn't really talk to him. But the tension in the air is clear, now, and that's lucky because Ryunosuke finds himself unable to summon up the energy to even speak to people most days. He does what's asked of him and goes to sleep, wakes up and does what's asked of him and goes to sleep. He's pretty sure Higuchi's worried sick about him, but he can't find the energy to help with that either. He's been running on nervous energy and anger and pure self-hatred for so long that without them, he's not even sure how to get out of bed. 

Yosano says that a symptom of his disease is being tired. That's a good excuse. He uses it constantly. Just tired, just tired, I'm just tired. It makes everyone worry about him, though. Maybe he is getting sicker. Sicker and sicker and sicker. If he sleeps, it's light and fevered, not so much nightmarish as just restless. His breath smells and tastes of blood and some sort of sickly sweet mucus-y taint. Yosano tries a new medication to help with the anxiety, gives him oxygen "for emergencies" that he ends up using regularly. Kunikida pulls him off rotation, tells him he's just worried about his health. So much the better. He can't care about proving himself anymore. He's so tired, so tired. He and Atsushi may be friends but they still can't spend more than half an hour together without screaming at each other. And he is so tired. He's been running on fumes for so long. 

He gets bored eventually. No running, it's not safe, says Yosano. So weak. He's so weak, now. Was he always this weak? If he wants to operate consistently, yes, and stop his condition from getting worse—but working himself to death in the Mafia, he remembers what he could do. Yes, it's tempting to push himself to the limits again, to ignore the pain and exhaustion and suffocation instead of letting them flow in and overwhelm him into spending another day in bed. But he doesn't, because Yosano frowns at him when he pushes himself too hard. He spends that day in bed. How degrading. 

The old Ryunosuke would have killed himself for acting so pathetic. But he's not the old Ryunosuke, is he? Something has clicked inside of him. There's no going back. 

He's leaving the office one sunny afternoon, intending to go straight home to sleep, when Dazai steps forward to block his path. Ryunosuke's reaction is immediate: he takes several steps back, glancing around the room for backup. He finds allies in Yosano and Kunikida, who are both glancing over at him in concern. 

"What do you want?" Ryunosuke asks.

"Let's talk in private," Dazai replies, cool as ever.

Fear floods into Ryunosuke's heart, but he holds his ground. "Alright," he says, just to prove he's not afraid. "Let's go."

"Yes," Dazai agrees, sounding a bit surprised. "Let's." And they head sideways, into the clinic. As Ryunosuke leaves, he catches a glimpse of Kunikida looking surprised. He nods at him, hoping he gets the message, and shuts the door. 

Dazai's leaning awkwardly against the bed, looking like he doesn't quite know where to put his hands. 

Ryunosuke turns to him. "What," he says, fully aware that he's being shorter than necessary with Dazai, but unable to muster up the energy to be nice. 

"Akutagawa," Dazai starts, and then pauses. "I saw you talking to Kyoka a while ago." 

"Yes. And?" 

"That was very brave of you."

As usual, praise from Dazai stirs up an overwhelming blend of feelings, like kicking sand up in water. Ryunosuke swallows. "Mmm," he says. 

There's a long silence. 

Dazai takes a quick breath and then says, all at once, "Akutagawa, I'm sorry."

And Ryunosuke goes still. "What makes you think that's enough?" he hears himself say, marvelling at his own insanity. 

Dazai barks out a small, surprised laugh. "It's not. I just don't know what else I can do." 

Ryunosuke stares at him.

"It… hurts to see you in this state."

"In what state? Sick? Angry? Depressed?" Ryunosuke laughs back at him, harsh and joyless. "Let me guess. You're having trouble lying in the bed you made?"

"Yeah. I am."

He grits his teeth against the useless surge of anger. He wants to hurt Dazai, wants to watch him squirm. "Bet you're regretting pouring in so much effort for so little time. Glad Rashomon could be useful to you all at least. Though I can't say it lasted too long." The words fall off his tongue easily, sharp-edged. 

Dazai flinches. Actually flinches . "I'm so sorry," he says softly. "Shit. I am so sorry." 

Ryunosuke laughs again, so he doesn't scream. "What's wrong with you? Why won't you even look me in the eye, huh?! I thought you said fighters should be fucking strong! Yeah, well, I did all that shit, are you gonna tell me you're a hypocrite now too? Why don't you just shoot me again?! Make it simpler for both of us! Let's get in a screaming match! Doesn't that sound like fun ?!" 

"No," Dazai says, his voice tight. "It doesn't." 

Ryunosuke grits his teeth. In the silence, he can hear the lights buzzing, and it's pissing him off. Every noise is pissing him off. 

"Can I talk?" Dazai asks, and then immediately makes a face. "I mean…"

"Stop asking. Just do whatever the fuck." He's just itching for an excuse to tear into him. 

"Seeing you do this..." Dazai starts, and then he pauses. "I… I'm so sorry."

"Stop apologizing and just spit it out so I can leave." 

"Okay." He nods. Something ugly and sharp is crawling up Ryunosuke's chest towards his throat. He wonders what Dazai would do, just now. The lengths he would go to at Ryunosuke's demand. He has the sneaking suspicion that he's somehow won, here, that he has the upper hand. That if he said jump , Dazai would say how high . It makes him want to rip Dazai's head off and scream at him. He takes a slow, strained breath. 

Dazai takes a moment to gather his thoughts. "It's disturbing to see you in such bad shape. All this stuff, I've… been taking care of Atsushi for a while, you know. When he's sad, I want to make him feel better. I want to care for him when he's sick and protect him when he's weak. It's only natural." 

Always the fucking weretiger with him. "So?" 

"When you're in bad shape, it's upsetting as well. I want to help you. It's who I am now, I think. I hope. I don't know, I'm trying to figure it out. I want to help. But I can't, because that's… like trying to treat a bullet wound with a gun. You need someone else." A thick, joyless laugh. "I know I should just leave you alone. But, Akutagawa– I'm seeing you standing there, about to scream from who knows what awful feelings, and all I want to do is give you a hug." 

"Yeah," Ryunosuke mutters, swallowing down the painful lump in his throat. "Whatever."

"I just want you to know that I'm sorry. That… someone did the same to me when I was your age. So I should have known better. And I want you to be better. Not in a push-yourself way. I mean health-wise. Feelings-wise. I want you to be happy . And you don't have to forgive me, you don't have to–"

Ryunosuke shakes his head. "Alright," he says. "Enough. What do you want?" 

"...Pardon?" 

"I said, what do you want from me?" He meets Dazai's eyes. Grits his teeth and braces himself. "Enough with the mind games, enough with the pretending. Just tell me what you want and I'll do it." 

Dazai blinks. "No, no, I think you're misunderstanding–"

"Oh, I understand perfectly. You say you're sorry, give me a hug, we're all good now, and then you convince me to do whatever the hell you wanted in the first place. Well, I'm sick of it. So why don't you just tell me why you're really here?" 

"I'm here to apologize," Dazai says, slowly, incredulously. "Because I hurt you." 

" Fuck you!" Before he can stop himself, he's already lunged across the room and slapped Dazai in the face. His heart is pounding, every inch of him screaming to run away . "Just tell me what to do, you fucking asshole!"

"I'm not gonna do that," he says, hazy. 

"Like hell you aren't!" Ryunosuke slaps him again. And again. And again. Each time harder, his hand stinging, his breath heaving out of control. "Tell me what to do already! Yell at me, hit me, I don't care! Do what you want, I don't care! I can take it! I'll prove I can take it!" 

He stays looking down, refusing to meet Ryunosuke's eyes. "I don't want to do that."

Ryunosuke cries out in rage and grabs him by the collar, throws him off the bed, onto the floor, kicks him in the stomach, again, again. Dazai curls up on himself, both hands over his head, and Ryunosuke kicks him until he sees blood on the floor. It feels like his blood is full of glass shards. He's heaving for breath, staring down at Dazai, his vision buzzing with static. "Why won't you fight back?! Tell me to stop! Do something!" 

"I don't want to," Dazai pleads, face still buried under his arms.

"Then what the fuck do you want to do?!" Ryunosuke snarls. "Huh?! What game are you playing? You don't have to do this anymore, I said! I don't care anymore! Stop pretending and just give me an order !" 

Dazai doesn't answer. His shoulders are shaking. 

"Are you fucking laughing at me?"

No answer. Ryunosuke's about to kick him again when Dazai finally breaks his silence with a pathetic, tearful whimper. 

What. The. Hell . 

Dazai presses his knuckles into his eyes, takes a shuddering breath. "Oh, Akutagawa," he sobs. "What the fuck have I done to you?" 

It's like every emotion has been blown out of Ryunosuke's skull, leaving him completely hollow. His knees give out on him and he sinks to the floor. Reaching for Dazai despite himself.

Dazai hugs him. 

He's stick-thin and bony and freezing cold, and he smells like blood and suede and somehow gunpowder, but Ryunosuke doesn't care, can't care, because fuck, the last time Dazai wrapped his arms around him, he was just a little kid. 

Dazai buries his face in Ryunosuke's shoulder. "I know you're still in there," he shudders. "You're gonna get better, I promise. I'm not gonna leave you like this." He tries to keep going, but he just starts to cry again. "Fuck, I'm such an idiot. I'm so sorry." 

Ryunosuke nods, because he knows, knows Dazai's smarter than anyone, but knows he's also a complete imbecile at the same time. He's the same. They're too similar. "Who," he says, barely aware of his own voice. "Who did it to you?"

"Mori did." Dazai runs a hand though Ryunosuke's hair, and he shivers. "Some fucking inheritance, am I right?" 

"I'll kill him," he says hoarsely. "I'll kill that bastard." For what he did to Dazai, to Ryunosuke, to Higuchi and Kyoka. Four whole generations of dehumanization and fucking misery. 

"No," Dazai says. " I'm going to kill him. You are going to rest and get better. Okay?" 

Despite himself and his revulsion, Ryunosuke nods. "Yeah," he manages. "I'll try." 

"Good," says Dazai. "I'm proud of you, Akutagawa. You should go home and rest." 

Ryunosuke nods, but he doesn't move to extract himself from Dazai's arms, and Dazai doesn't push him away. 

Higuchi arrives home late from a job, covered in dried blood and looking absolutely exhausted. Ryunosuke, as usual, is up late because his chest hurts and he can't breathe, among other things. He pushes himself off the pillow mountain he's lying on as she comes in. 

"It's one in the morning," she says, closing the door.

"I couldn't sleep," he says. "Are you injured?"

"Just scratched up. You should see the other guy." She puts her pistol away and walks into the bathroom to get cleaned up. With difficulty, Ryunosuke follows her, going to get the bandages. He has to sit down and catch his breath once he gets to the bathroom, which would be fucking embarrassing around anyone but Higuchi. He passes the bandages to her along with the rubbing alcohol, and she nods her thanks at him as she gets started cleaning the wound. "You look awful," she says. 

"I talked to Dazai," Ryunosuke says. 

Her eyes sharpen. "What did he do?"

"Nothing. He just apologized." 

She blinks in surprise and looks up. "What? Really?" 

"Really." He nods. "So I guess that's everything."

"Well, I'd hardly say so," she says. "We haven't even gotten close to taking down the Port Mafia yet, never mind the Guild. We don't know what's up with the weretiger. You still need new lungs. And a wheelchair, soon, from the way you're headed. There's lots to do." 

"Yeah," Ryunosuke says. "I just... I dunno." It feels like the end of an era , he thinks, but he doesn't say it. The cycle is broken, I hope. For all the good it did me. I still feel like shit. 

"Yeah," she says. "I get that. Pass me another cotton ball." He does. "Thanks." And she goes back to cleaning. 

"Want me to do that?" Ryunosuke asks. He's cut off midway through by a yawn that he's too lazy to suppress. 

"It's fine," she says. "It'll take a minute, anyway. Go try to sleep."

But it hurts , he wants to complain. Instead he says, "We should invite Gin to the Agency."

"You miss her, huh?"

Deeply . "It's safer here."

"I agree." She nods. "In any case, it's not up to us." She hisses through her teeth as the rubbing alcohol meets a particularly deep scratch. "Ow."

A long silence. 

"So what did Dazai say?" she asks. 

"Like I said, he just... apologized."

"And that's it?"

"And that's it." Ryunosuke pauses. "I guess he also said that the Boss did the same thing to him." 

"Jeez. Really?" Higuchi hisses again. "Guess we'll just have to kill him."

Ryunosuke can't help but smile a bit. It feels alien on his lips. "He said I'm not allowed." 

She smiles at him, a cursory, distracted thing.

Ryunosuke takes a deep, long breath, then yawns, and takes another. He doesn't feel jittery, oddly enough. No, he feels calmer than he has in years. The hardy ache of his lungs and the beating of his heart combine in rhythm, a steady drone to back up his words. "Ichiyo," he says, because he's being brave, and sometimes being brave means you sound like a stupid toddler. "I'm sorry. Thank you for everything. I love you."

She does a double take, then the widest, brightest smile Ryunosuke's ever seen spreads across her lips. "You're forgiven," she says. "I'm glad you're doing better, Ryunosuke. I love you too."

"Well," Ryunosuke says, "goodnight."

"Goodnight," she agrees. She helps Ryunosuke up and out of the bathroom and into bed. He lies down across the pillows, closes his eyes, and then he's gone.