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A year after Dazai’s death, Atsushi kept the collar latched tight around his neck. A year after Dazai’s death, he’d returned to the orphanage with a new pair of faces managing it and a new hand that didn’t bring him pain. A year after Dazai’s death, Atsushi lived at the orphanage again, unsure of where to go and what he wanted to do. A year after Dazai’s death, he was lost.
A year after Dazai’s death, Atsushi packed his things and left the orphanage.
A year after Dazai’s death, Atsushi returned to a Yokohama that was familiar to him and yet not, Kyouka launching into his arms and wrapping her own around his middle, squeezing him tight. She shook and whispered, welcome back, against his chest, and he stroked her hair. He mumbled, I’m back and smiled softly for her. He’d really missed her. Letters weren’t the same as being with her in person.
When she lifted her eyes to him and smiled, a small gentle curl of her mouth, her eyes had a light in them that they didn’t have a year before.
Atsushi and Kyouka took a small moment to speak softly, arms still wrapped around each other in a gentle embrace, before Atsushi’s enhanced hearing picked up the sound of sock-clad footsteps approaching. Atsushi looked up and met the iron gray eyes that he hadn’t forgotten once during the whole year he was gone, lost and searching for something he couldn’t name.
Akutagawa Ryuunosuke stared at him and inclined his head in a nod.
Atsushi didn’t know how to describe how or why a weight seemed to lift off of his shoulders, weighing down his body like the chains the Headmaster once tied him down with, releasing him with an exhale at the sight of that familiar face. All he could do was mutely nod in return.
Kyouka looked over her shoulder up at the other man and they had a brief conversation through eyesight alone. Akutagawa closed his eyes, grunted something to himself, and retreated to the kitchen. But then he paused and gave a sharp look at Atsushi, but it wasn’t unkind.
“Hang your coat up.”
And so, for the time being— a year after Dazai’s death, Atsushi began living with Akutagawa Ryuunosuke and Kyouka.
The collar remained. Atsushi buried the watch at the bottom of his shirt drawer, pulling it out only when it rained. It ticked softly, on and on.
He saw Ryuunosuke’s scars not three weeks into living with him.
For the first three weeks, Atsushi stayed cloistered in the apartment despite Kyouka’s urging to go meet the rest of the agency so that he could join them as a detective. Despite how much she pleaded, Atsushi smiled softly and shook his head. Kyouka would’ve continued her onslaught if Ryuunosuke hadn’t pulled her aside to have a brief talk with her on the balcony, the door closed behind them. Atsushi was courteous and didn’t listen in on their conversation. After they returned, Kyouka let the matter drop, unhappy as she was about it. Since he was reluctant to face the Agency, Oda Sakunosuke in particular, Atsushi spent his time alone in the apartment trying to learn to live in Yokohama again without the threat of his life on his mind, blood on his hands and mouth, and with the knowledge of a strange book in his mind.
In the year since Dazai died, he’d learned that he didn’t need to kill anymore. But that was when he was living outside of Yokohama; now that he’d returned, he’d have to learn all over again. And in that entire year since he’d been at the orphanage again, he hadn’t taken the collar off once.
Even with the heat rolling into the city with the summer months, he continued to wear turtleneck shirts and light scarves to hide the collar. The looks he got were worth it so long as the tiger was contained and no one was hurt by his claws anymore. But in the safety of the apartment, he didn’t have to hide it anymore. And with the heat, Atsushi made the executive decision to sit in front of a fan right by the balcony, curled up like a cat in shorts and a loose tank top. A small pile of books sat by his knee as well as some iced green tea that Ryuunosuke made for the three of them.
Kyouka was out on an assignment with Kenji— a cheerful boy who smiled like the sun and who was nothing if not kind even, to a former enemy like Kyouka. She’d felt an instant connection with the boy who was around the same age as her and had incredible strength as his ability. Even Ryuunosuke seemed to be fond of him. Speaking of Ryuunosuke—
The sound of footsteps drew his attention from his relaxed curl and he slit open a single eye to see a head of dark hair step out of the bathroom, steam following him as he strode into the kitchen. There was a dark blue towel on his shoulders and Ryuunosuke wiped at his damp face and hair as he started the kettle.
Atsushi blinked when he realized that the other man only had on a pair of dark sweatpants, leaving his pale skin out for the rest of the world to see. Neither said a word; Atsushi remained in front of the fan and Ryuunosuke started preparing his tea leaves, comfortable silence falling over the pair of them. Drawn by the sweet scent of lavender and jasmine, Atsushi’s stare drew over to the kitchen.
..Ryuunosuke was a very lean and slim young man, almost sickly looking at first sight because of how pale he was, but even Atsushi could see the the lithe muscles in his arms, back and hips that were proof of years of training his body to work with this ability. The muscles gave a nice slope to his back and shoulder blades, sharp and pale and..
Atsushi bit his inner cheek to swallow the sharp intake of breath at the side of jagged scars along Ryuunosuke’s back. Smaller ones were on his upper arms and a messy looking one at the small of his back that looked as if someone had tried to stab him there and failed. They were so evident and clear to see on skin as pale as his. If Ryuunosuke turned his hips some, he’d see another one on his abdomen and chest— all evidence of the hard life he’d lived. Some very old, and some that had to be fairly recent. On his left forearm was a clean white bandage that covered a wound he received on his last mission.
A dark voice whispered in the back of Atsushi’s mind that wondered if any of those scars on Ryuunosuke’s body had been put there by him.
Shame broiled in his throat and Atsushi looked away, his face suddenly feeling hot as guilt sunk into his stomach.
He remembered every person he’d killed. And he remembered every person that he’d hurt. The blood on Ryuunosuke’s body and face from when he’d nearly killed him had haunted him the entire year he’d been away.
What haunted him even more was Ryuunosuke’s offer to live with him and Kyouka in the first letter he’d sent once Kyouka found out where he was. The lack of hatred, the kindest offer he’d ever seen, the sheer lack of any grudge— it haunted him all year. It haunted him, it thrilled him and it scared him.
And so, the guilt and the fear kept him away.
Until now.
The kettle whistled softly and Atsushi heard the trickle of water in a cup. His brow furrowed when he heard the chink of another piece of ceramic being brought out. He looked up when he heard footsteps approach him and saw Ryuunosuke sitting down at the other end of the table, drinking his tea. Another cup had been placed in front of Atsushi.
“..Thank you,” he murmured, taking a sip. The tea’s warmth and taste soothed the anxious twist in his stomach, the heat bothering him none despite the weather. Atsushi gave a half-smile into the rim at the grunt he received as a you’re welcome.
The other man was now wearing a loose black long sleeved shirt, as seemed to be his preference. A thin strip of pink skin rose from the hem of his collar, reaching towards Ryuunosuke’s collarbone. Atsushi looked away, the guilt mixing with the sweet taste of tea, turning it sour.
He missed Ryuunosuke’s sharp eyes on his face. The other man exhaled and lowered his cup.
Even now, after all that’d happened, Atsushi was still so easy to read. Maybe not for everyone else, but for Kyouka and himself, the only ones alive that knew..
“Most of them are very old,” he said.
Slowly, Atsushi turned to face him, eyes widened.
Ryuunosuke drank and lowered his cup, eyes closed. “I lived on the streets until Oda-san picked me up. Just to get food I’d have to fight other people living in the slums. It was just another part of life. Sometimes the fights got bloody and nasty. I’d see people kill each other for money, for scraps, for the most basic things. That’s how I got them, before I learned how to protect myself and others.”
Gray eyes opened and rose to meet Atsushi’s.
“Since Oda-san took me in, I haven’t gotten very many. The newest one I have is almost two years old.”
Oh. Well. That solved that question easily. Tension sagged out of Atsushi’s shoulders as relief came over him in a wave. Hesitating, Atsushi bit his lower lip and asked, slowly, “..How did you get it?”
There was silence, a faint pause, and then a clearing of the throat. To Atsushi’s surprise and amusement, Ryuunosuke’s pale cheeks started to color a faint pink.
“…I was teaching Kasumi how to ride a bike. Only, I may not have… known how to ride one in the first place, and so.”
A beat.
Ryuunosuke’s pale cheeks colored a deeper shade until the flush spread to his ears. An exhale blew through Atsushi’s nose. He thought he was coughing up his tea for a second before he realized— the sound that was leaving him was laughter.
He started laughing so hard that he had to lower his tea to the table, clutching at his stomach as Ryuunosuke barked it’s not that funny and shut up! at him, the flush trailing all the way down his neck and his voice breaking with embarrassment. All of it only made Atsushi laugh harder.
He’d forgotten what laughing felt like, and the freedom that came with it. As if he had no care in the world.
It was a sensation almost lost to him.
one year later.
This was hardly the first time he’d done this, but each time Atsushi lowered the collar of his turtleneck, whatever collar or scarf he was wearing, leaving his neck and shoulders bare, caused a shiver to shoot down his spine. He felt iron colored eyes on his neck and he exhaled, shoulders relaxing. Atsushi’s eyes closed and he didn’t stir as slender fingers stretched out to the black choker on his neck.
They were gentle as they undid the clasp of the choker that’d replaced the collar.
Atsushi would never forget how the President cut it off of his neck so delicately with the sharp tip of his sword, sliced clean in half before Atsushi could even blink or register.
The teeth and the claws didn’t come forth. The tiger was tame, quiet, controlled.
Kyouka was asleep in the next room over and moonlight poured through the slits in the blinds, giving bare skin a pale blue glow. Blankets pooled around their legs and there was a hunger in the pit of Atsushi’s stomach as he saw the skin bared out for him to see, to touch and to feel against his own.
The choker fell into a heap next to the sheets and, on reflex, Atsushi brought up his hands to his neck to cover the puncture scars, ashamed.
Fingers immediately took hold of his wrists, gently pulling them away. “Don’t do that.”
Atsushi bit his lip at the admonishing tone, but didn’t resist, feeling no need to. The feel of his partner’s fingers on his skin was more than enough to ground him back to reality, back to the present. He was safe here. If Atsushi didn’t want it anymore, he’d know. He’d know without any words needing to be said at all.
The muscles in his back loosened when those fingers traced over the scars on his neck, gentle and light as the tip of a feather. “They’re ugly,” murmured Atsushi.
“You say that every time,” said Ryuunosuke, voice just as soft as one hand cupped the back of Atsushi’s neck. Atsushi leaned into the touch as a thumb rubbed at the nape, dragging over the puncture marks with the edge of his fingernail. With an exhale, he let his head dip back as Ryuunosuke leaned forward, heat pooling into his belly.
“I don’t think I’ll ever stop seeing them that way,” he said, eyes closing each as cool lips brushed against his collarbone. His own hands wandered to place themselves on Ryuunosuke’s shoulder blades. The pads of his fingers drew over the raised skin of the scars on his back, jagged and angry in their permanence. He ran his palms over the taut muscles in Ryuunosuke’s upper back and smiled at the little jolt the other man gave at the sensual touch.
Atsushi gasped out a short breath when those cool, thin lips trailed to his neck, peppering little presses and kisses to each puncture scar and jagged mark that was so carefully hidden every day outside of these moments together. The scars he never let anyone else see. Nobody else besides Ryuunosuke had ever seen him laid so bare before.
And Ryuunosuke was the only one he trusted to be this vulnerable with. The one person he could surrender to.
Lips pressed a kiss to the scars that rested on Atsushi’s rolling Adam’s Apple.
“Then.. I’ll just have to keep trying to make you change your mind.”