Chapter Text
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“I don't understand. I just don't understand... I don't understand it at all.”
Nakajima Atsushi’s mutterings fill the thankfully-empty convenience store, one early Tuesday morning. He tries angling the shopping list in his hand this way and that, but the chicken-scratch scrawl still don’t make sense to him. He’s been sent out on an errand because he’s arrived quite early in the office—or rather, he’s out on an errand because Dazai-san has this idea that he just can’t exist today if he doesn’t get to have one of those super-delicious, but ultra-obscure crab-flavored snacks for breakfast.
Atsushi isn’t familiar with the brand or the snack itself, so he’s relying on Dazai-san’s shopping list—something that isn’t going to work, apparently, because all the store clerks that he has asked about the snack all give him confused looks and shoo him away.
Defeated but refusing to give up, especially since he’s already wandered a couple of blocks away from the agency, Atsushi dials Dazai-san’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail, the recording of Dazai-san asking the caller to commit double-suicide with him. No good. He tries Kunikida-san next, but is unable to get a word edgewise on the other’s ranting about Dazai-san’s abuse of the younger, more impressionable members and did Dazai-san just spill coffee on his notebook?! Yet another dead-end, Atsushi thinks, as he stares at the ‘call disconnected’ flashing on his phone screen.
Atsushi looks at the chicken-scratch scrawl again and sighs deeply. He’s not about to be defeated by Dazai-san’s ugly handwriting and confusing requests.
He dials another number next, a bit unnerved at how the contact is already in his phone, given that he has never asked for it. He resolves to change his PIN again, because Dazai-san’s sticky fingers are going to get him in trouble, one day, he can just feel it.
The line clicks after very long moments, as though the man on the other end only picked up after leaving the phone on speakerphone in the middle of a huge room, ready to flee in case it’s a bomb.
“—what do you want?”
“Gee, good morning to you too,” Atsushi responds, but then, thinks better of trying to make small-talk. “About Dazai-san. I have a question.”
Coughing, several rounds of it, before Akutagawa recovers, sounding the slightest bit more cooperative. Atsushi congratulates himself on picking out the correct magic word. “I think I need your help buying a snack for him. He requested one, but—”
“I’ll be there. Don’t move.”
The call disconnects, causing Atsushi to stare at his phone screen in disbelief. Somehow, even though he’s counting on it, it’s still a bit freaky to have Akutagawa so gung-ho to meet with him. True, it’s because of Dazai-san, but it’s hard for Atsushi to believe that there’s someone out there who’s so hung up on getting Dazai-san’s approval, especially on an awfully-early Tuesday morning.
Akutagawa arrives ten minutes later, looking out of breath (but to be fair, he does look a little bit like he’s about to keel over every five seconds or so, not that it makes him any weaker; if anything else, there’s something really amazing about how such a frail-looking body can still pack such powerful impact, and that’s not even counting Rashomon). He glares at Atsushi, as though knowing that Atsushi had actually moved after their phone conversation, moving away from blocking the entrance of the last convenience store that has failed him and walking a couple of steps down the road to lean against a vending machine.
Somehow, the fact that Akutagawa just knows where Atsushi is—well, it doesn’t really surprise Atsushi, at all. Freaks him out, yes, but he’s not really surprised. Even though Dazai-san had told him that the Port Mafia isn’t actively pursuing him anymore, now that The Guild had taken down the bounty on top of his head, now that all the fiasco about the Book is over, Atsushi thinks that it’s unlike Akutagawa to stop trying to track him down via GPS or something.
“Thanks for coming out here,” Atsushi offers after a couple of minutes of glaring. He hands over Dazai-san’s list of snacks to Akutagawa and hopes for the best. “None of the shops I’ve been to even have the slightest idea of what those snacks are.”
Akutagawa squints at the paper, before sighing deeply. He looks about 10% starstruck from actually holding on to something that Dazai-san had touched sometime recently, but he looks overwhelmingly done, like it pains him to exist in this plane of existence. It’s a look that suits him even more than Dazai-san’s, which is saying something.
“It’s code from Dazai-san.” Akutagawa glares at Atsushi, daring him to say a word as he pockets the paper close to his heart. “He wants us to go to Chuuya-san.”
“Ehhhhhhhhhhhhh.”
Atsushi’s not expecting to be sent to the den of the Port Mafia this early on a Tuesday. He’s thinking that meetings with tense-not-really-allies are best reserved for when he’s at least eaten two bowls of chazuke, preferably on Thursdays? Just not Tuesday mornings, does Dazai-san have no respect for sensibilities??
Akutagawa scoffs at him, the effect mildly ruined by the fact that the tip of his nose is a bit pink from coughing. “If you don’t have the resolve to proceed with this, I’m going to leave you behind.”
“You don’t have to be so overdramatic,” Atsushi says, offhand, making a face that Akutagawa turns his back from. Atsushi considers sticking out his tongue, but he’s the more mature one, he thinks. He’s not particularly interested in Akutagawa’s personal quest to be The Best Subordinate to Dazai-san EVER, but there’s something that irks at him at the thought of losing to Akutagawa, even if it’s about an imaginary contest that he doesn’t even want to join, much less win.
Akutagawa, having perfected the cold shoulder technique, predictably doesn’t answer.
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The two of them end up walking for a good twenty minutes, which makes Atsushi curious as to whether Akutagawa has ever used public transportation. Rashomon seems like it could be useful during the rush hours, creating a wall that will stop him from getting dislodged or pushed around inside a train…
He imagines Akutagawa using Rashomon inside a train and probably traumatizing all the salarymen there. Or getting admiring looks from schoolgirls who would request for Akutagawa to help extend Rashomon to help protect their bodies from being jostled around by the riders hoping to catch a quick grope? But then again, Akutagawa would probably just scoff at them, tell them to find strength on their own or something equally cutting.
Atsushi shakes his head and calls out to the person five steps ahead of him, “Hey, how did you know that we need to go to Chuuya-san?”
“It’s Dazai-san’s code.”
Atsushi rolls his eyes. “I got that, but how?”
“There’s no such snack,” Akutagawa explains, in a not-very-patient tone. “Dazai-san had mentioned a brown-red color for the crab. The snack is supposedly in black wrapping, size small. The note is written on Chuuya-san’s memo pad. Dazai-san likes crab.”
Atsushi blinks.
“…so Chuuya-san is the crab?”
“…in this code, yes.” Akutagawa responds after a full minute of silence.
Atsushi makes a face, mystified by Dazai-san. “Why not just say it like that in the first place?!”
Also, Dazai-san’s loud, insistent moaning about super-delicious, ultra-obscure snacks suddenly make an absurd amount of sense. Atsushi wishes he could bleach his mind.
“He knew that you’d venture out to this area so you could find the snack. And that you’d call me for assistance once you’ve failed and learned your place, jinko.”
“Again, stop being so dramatic.” Atsushi scrunches his nose as he and Akutagawa make their way to a posh-looking building, near the more expensive real estate of Yokohama. “So he knew that I wouldn’t have agreed if I knew I had to meet you.”
More silence, which is probably just Akutagawa-speak for 'you’re right but damn if I’ll acknowledge that out loud'.
The two of them then ride an elevator up to the penthouse suite, silence filling the distance between them. Atsushi guesses that this is very much progress already, given that months ago, the two of them inside a cramped box like this would already mean broken bones and snarled curses.
Atsushi just sort-of trails after Akutagawa as the man strolls out of the elevator and into a bar-like sitting room, jazz music from an actual gramophone playing. It feels like Atsushi’s been transported to an entirely different era altogether. The room is tastefully decorated in mahogany and amber-red, gold lining on the wingback armchairs and the low coffee tables and the shelves filled with books and records. On the left end of the room, there’s a floor-to-ceiling showcase of different alcoholic drinks; on the other end is a set of double-doors that seem to lead to the actual penthouse suite.
Akutagawa strides towards the intercom beside the double-doors, pressing it without hesitation and announcing his presence. There’s a click, then some footsteps.
Atsushi’s not sure what to expect (butlers?! maids?! naked slaves in cuffs?!) but it certainly isn’t Nakahara Chuuya himself, looking very debonair and party-ready given that it’s still very early.
“Um, good morning, Chuuya-san,” Atsushi offers from some distance away, bowing down. He hasn’t had a lot of chances being in close proximity of Dazai-san’s ex-partner, but he looks like a… fairly okay guy, Dazai-san’s complaints and rants about him notwithstanding. He looks pretty strong too, not in the same way that Akutagawa does, but it’s still there. Like he’s all silent grace and poison assassinations, like he could kill an entire room while he’s busy sipping at his wine while admiring some Renaissance paintings.
Chuuya blinks at him, surprised. “Akutagawa, uh, Nakajima, right?”
Atsushi crosses the distance between them, offers a hand for Chuuya-san to shake. “I’m Nakajima Atsushi.”
“Nakahara Chuuya.” A firm handshake, reminding Atsushi that this is the guy who has single-handedly collapsed The Decay of Angels’ headquarters. “Do you guys want breakfast?”
“I am fine with obtaining sustenance for my body.”
“Yes, yes, pancakes for you.” Chuuya-san cocks an eyebrow, as though asking Atsushi for his preferences. It feels very surreal. But then again, Dazai-san did mention (a lot of times, even though nobody really asked) that Chuuya-san is very good when it comes to hospitality and that he’s very good at cooking…
“Um, is there chazuke available?”