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Working at a coffee shop was still rather bewildering.
Not just because Atsushi had been living on the street until the week before, when Dazai had found him, dubbed him ‘a useless but adorable kitten’ and whisked him away to the shop. Not just because he no longer had to fear the orphanage or the white tiger rumored to prowl the city at night. And not just because of the endless variety of coffee orders, either, although it seemed like with all their customers Atsushi never made the same drink twice.
It was bewildering because it felt…safe. Atsushi did not belong in a safe place. Something told him there was always going to be danger here, as if the orphanage had tainted him, cursed him to bring him bad luck. Especially after the tiger had attacked the orphanage. It felt like bad luck was buried right under Atsushi’s skin, and he would never really be able to escape.
And yet Dazai had found him and brought him here, and Naomi the manager was always so kind and patient. The shop’s accountants, Kunikida and Ranpo, were frequent visitors who acted grumpier than they were, and Dazai, the shop’s marketing department, dropped by almost as frequently to check on his kitten and beg free drinks off of Naomi. There were a few other regulars who came on an almost daily basis, too, and when all of them were together it was almost like one big party. Atsushi didn’t talk too much, but he liked it. Everyone laughed and talked and teased each other like they’d just come home and could finally relax. Sometimes the owner of the shop came by, too, and as stern as he seemed, he loved the shop almost as much as Dazai. Atsushi couldn’t believe how lucky he was to work in a place as warm as this.
But Atsushi had only been working at the shop for a few weeks before he noticed something troubling. Dazai always carried a little book with him, and eventually Atsushi caught a glimpse of the title. When he caught Atsushi looking, he grinned, waved the book under his nose and said, “Best book I’ve ever read. Tried nearly all the techniques in here, too. Oh – it’s three thirty already? I’d better hurry or I’ll miss trying fifty-three! Need to get to a good place at sunset for that one!”
And he’d whisked himself out the door before Atsushi could say another word.
Atsushi glanced around. This time of day, the shop was empty except for Kunikida and Ranpo, both of whom had filled their table with accounting papers.
“Um…is Dazai okay?” Atushi asked them.
“He seemed as annoying as ever,” Ranpo said, from under a paper he’d dropped on his face like a tent.
“But…he was kind of just reading a book on suicide…”
Ranpo blew the paper off and rolled his eyes. “He has to attempt suicide at least once a week or he’ll lose his reputation as a useless idiot.”
“Once a week!?”
“He is a useless idiot,” Kunikida grumbled. “Six different law degrees and he can’t be bothered helping me with the paperwork for the new coffee shop on Cherry. We’re about to become a chain and he’s our weak link!”
Atsushi winced.
“Aw, let ‘im grumble,” Naomi said, patting Atsushi’s shoulder. “It’s cathartic. If Kunikida didn’t have something to grumble about, he’d lose his sense of purpose. Like Dazai attempting suicide. It’s their Thing.”
“But isn’t attempting suicide kind of bad?”
She shrugged. “Not like he tries anything that works, in spite of that book. If he really meant it he’d have done it by now.”
“But –”
“Oooooi,” Ranpo whined, waving his coffee mug in the air. “Purple Hair, I need coffee. That’s my Thing and I need it to live.”
“Then perish,” Naomi said cheerfully.
“I’m just worried!” Atsushi protested. “He makes actual attempts to kill himself all the time! What would you call that?”
“Dazai’s M.O.,” Ranpo said.
Atsushi gritted his teeth, which suddenly felt too big for his mouth. “And who is he trying to murder?”
“Himself.”
“And that’s a symptom of…?”
“Dazai,” Kunikida said promptly.
“Something else that starts with a D…”
“Dorkdom?” Naomi asked.
“Depression! It’s depression!”
Kunikida sighed and sat back from his paperwork. “Look, Atsushi, let it go. Dazai just jokes about suicide. Anyone with his skill set could off himself any time he wanted. He’s just doing it for the attention.”
“He’s making actual attempts all the time!”
Ranpo shrugged. “If anyone else tried it, they’d probably die, but Dazai knows how to outlive any attempted murder. Kunikida’s right, he just likes the attention.”
“But –”
“Here,” Naomi said abruptly, plopping an entire pitcher of black coffee in front of Ranpo. “Drink your sludge and leave the kid alone. No teasing the newbies.”
“I am highly susceptible to bribery,” Ranpo said cheerfully, and then began chugging the coffee straight from the pitcher.
“Hey.” Naomi nudged Atsushi and he jumped, landing oddly on the balls of his feet. “Easy, easy,” she soothed. “Look, sweetie, it’s really great that you care so much. And it’s little wonder that you do, since Dazai’s the one who dragged you in off the street. But you can relax, alright? Dazai’s pretty much the smartest guy on payroll, when he bothers doing anything, and as much as he talks about it, literally none of his suicide attempts have an actual chance of working. Dazai’s just too tough to kill. I should know, I make his coffee, and not even Ranpo will drink that stuff.”
Atsushi nodded, eyes cast down.
Kunikida glanced up and frowned. “You’re looking awfully pale. Do you need to take a break?”
“Oh gosh he does!” Naomi gave him a gentle shove toward the breakroom. “Go on, you’re nearly three hours overdue. Go take a lunch or something and come back when you’re ready, alright?”
Atsushi opened his mouth to say he was fine, but nothing came out. Even worse, he realized his hands were starting to shake. So he nodded, walked to the breakroom, and then managed to wait until the door shut before sprinting to the sink and dry-heaving.
He’d spoken out of turn! He’d argued! Over and over! At the orphanage he would’ve been severely beaten for such behavior.
Sweat rolled down his back and he heaved again, stomach cramping painfully. Nothing came up but his body still convulsed. After a few minutes when the cramping eased, he moved to turn on the faucet. As soon as he heard the rushing water, he felt phantom fingers on the back of his neck and shoved backward so hard he landed on his butt. Don’t, don’t, don’t drown me, please, I can’t breathe –
“Are you alright?” Naomi called from out front.
“Fine!” Atsushi called back, and miracle of miracles, his voice didn’t shake even if the rest of him was trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. The water must’ve made it sound like he’d dropped a dish, not dropped to the floor.
This is what it must be like for Dazai, Atsushi thought with sudden clarity. Everyone out there really did care, but they mistook symptoms of depression or – or whatever Atsushi had for something different. For jokes or exhaustion. Atsushi hid the worst of his vulnerability away from where anyone could see, out of shame and fear.
Maybe Dazai was hiding like that, too.
Over the next few weeks, whenever Dazai visited the shop, Atsushi went out of his way to be gentle toward Dazai. He brought him fresh eclairs and coffee, learned how to fold napkins into paper cranes just to make him smile, wove a bookmark for his suicide book out of threads from his pillowcase.
“You’re spoiling him,” Naomi teased, hip-bumping Atsushi as she passed them. “Keep that up and you’ll make him miss his daily dose of emo.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” Atsushi said, or started, to say, but Dazai tugged at his sleeve.
“It’s fine,” he said with a wink. “If I don’t keep up my reputation, I’ll have to start actually working around here.”
“That would be nice,” Kunikida called from across the shop.
“But Kuni-kuuuun, you keep everything so organized!” Dazai called back, flopping over his table. “If I tried to help I’d mess up your ideal system!”
“You wouldn’t if you bothered to learn it!”
“It’s haaaard.”
“It’s literally alphabetical filing!”
“Who decided to put the alphabet in that order, anyway?”
“Refill on life juice, kitten-boy!” Ranpo said, waving his pitcher (Naomi had given up on mugs and let him keep it).
Atsushi reluctantly moved back to the counter to retrieve the order, still listening to Dazai and Kunikida teasing back and forth. But he saw the way Dazai stayed limp over the table, like he was too tired to get up. It reminded him of the day before the orphanage had chased him out. He’d been beaten and left in the garden, and as terrified as he was of the tiger rumored to prowl the neighborhood, he didn’t have a single ounce of energy to spare for walking three feet to the orphanage door.
When Atsushi came back with Ranpo’s refill, he left a fresh pastry next to Dazai’s hand on the way.
Three nights later, Atushi lay in the small cupboard in the breakroom, curled up on his pillow. Everyone had gone home for the night. Dazai had shown him the room above the shop when he’d first come to work here, but he preferred the cupboard. A whole bedroom to himself was too much of a gift for a nothing like him. Besides, the cupboard was quiet and dark, and he liked it – especially on nights like tonight. It was a full moon tonight, and the tiger always used to attack the orphanage on a full moon. Tonight was the first full moon he’d spend at the coffee shop, but he was sure the tiger wouldn’t find him here. Not so far away.
He shifted on his pillow, curling tighter. The thought of the tiger was making his chest hurt. Drawing breath was painful, as if his lungs weren’t big enough. Was he going to freak out again? At least no one would be around to see, but he didn’t want to lose himself in fear or flashbacks. He hated how naked and shaky he felt afterward, like a baby bird with a cat’s claw poised above him.
Cat’s claw –
Something shattered, and for a moment Atsushi thought it was his bones before he realized the sound came from the front of the shop. Protective instinct reared in his chest and he shoved the cupboard door open, crawling with surprising speed across the floor. His arm felt funny and he couldn’t work his fingers but he shoved the door open.
The floor of the shop was a mess in the moonlight. The front door was open, the left window was cracked, three tables had been overturned, the shakers and napkins on them sent flying – and Dazai and a stranger were fighting tooth and nail, rolling on the floor.
“Get AWAY!”
Atsushi leaped. He didn’t know what he expected to do, only that that was Dazai, Dazai who had saved him, and whoever that stranger was could absolutely not be allowed to hurt him.
Power he didn’t expect uncoiled in his body and he shot through the air, striking at the assailant with his left arm. There was the flash like knives at the end of his arm and the man screamed. The force of the blow sent him hurling back through the already-cracked window. It cracked like a spider’s web but the man bounced off of it, gasping, reaching for something under his coat.
Atsushi didn’t give him time to get it. He hit the floor and leaped again, this time shoving with all the power he could. He and the man burst through the window, finally setting off every alarm in the store. The noise blasted through Atsushi’s skull like red fire, blazing through his brain.
In retrospect, Dazai thought, maybe the alarm system had been a bad idea.
At least the first part of it, anyway. The first broken window had triggered a silent call to the police, but the actual noise alarm didn’t kick in until two minutes later. The idea was that the coffee shop’s cameras would record villainous action instead of just scaring criminals away so they couldn be legally apprehended. Maybe if he’d set the alarm to go off right away, he could’ve startled his assassin and left him a split-second opening to finish the fight.
Then again, he was glad the alarm had kicked in when it did. He’d certainly been right about Atsushi’s hidden form, and it seemed like the alarm was painful enough to make him revert to his usual human one. Lucky thing, that, or the police would’ve shown up to a homicide.
As it was, he’d grabbed the blanket from the emergency kit in the breakroom and had Atsushi wrapped up like a burrito well before the police showed up. Atsushi's hands weren’t quiiiite back to normal yet, and he didn’t want the police asking awkward questions.
They asked him plenty of questions anyway, of course, especially after the ambulance showed up and rolled the assailant onto a stretcher. He woke up halfway and began babbling about a tiger.
“It was burning!” he gasped. “Burning white! Made of moonlight! The tiger!”
The first of the pair of officers questioning him raised an eyebrow. “Care to explain that one?”
“I believe it’s the same tiger rumored to be haunting the city at night,” Dazai said cheerfully. “I’m quite lucky it happened to show up when it did! Not sure how the poor kit got such a bad reputation. Somehow it knew that my life was in danger and went out of its way to save me. It didn’t even eat my attacker, although maybe it just knows rotten goods when it smells them.”
“Do you know why he was attacking you in the first place?” the policewoman asked.
“Just a little disagreement at a pub the other day,” he said airily. “Seemed to think the President was using the coffee shop as a front for secret government business. Can’t say where he got that idea. The President is using the coffee shop as an excuse for Naomi to make the best hazelnut vanilla coffee this side of the Pacific.”
“Dazai…”
Dazai glanced back at where Atsushi was propped up against the counter. “Ah, the little tyke’s awake. If you’ll excuse me, gentleladies, I have a little kitten of my own to patch up.”
“Try to stay out of trouble for the rest of the night, hmm?” the second officer asked.
“At least we didn’t have to fish him out of the river this time,” the first one said.
“Only because it was too cold for a swim tonight!” Dazai said, grinning as he waved the officers goodbye. Atsushi struggled to stand up and Dazai was at his side immediately, one hand holding Atsushi’s, the other steadying him across his shoulders. “Easy, easy now. And do watch the broken glass.”
“What happened?” Atsushi asked numbly.
“Hmm, I do believe I’ll tell you in the morning,” Dazai said. “In the meantime, we should get you cleaned up and back to bed.” He started leading Atsushi to the opposite side of the shop, where a nondescript door led to a small flight of stairs.
“But the breakroom’s the other way,” Atsushi said.
“How observant! But I’d prefer that you’re awake enough to clean the shop with me tomorrow, so bed it is.”
“But my bed’s in the breakroom.”
Dazai paused just outside the door and looked at him. “Come again?”
“The – in the cupboard,” Atsushi said weakly. “The pillow you gave me fits just right, so I…”
Dazai was now staring incredulously. “You’re sleeping in the cupboard? What about the bedroom upstairs?”
“I couldn’t!” Atsushi protested. “Something that lavish, it’s too much for someone like me!”
“Too lavish for – it just has a bed and a nightstand! Nope, nope, you’re going to get washed up in the bathroom upstairs and then you are going to bed upstairs in the actual human bed. Kitten boy indeed,” Dazai muttered under his breath, and all but dragged Atsushi up the stairs. “Come on, the breakroom door doesn’t lock but this one does. I’d like you to have a little security even if you don’t have enough common sense.”
Atsushi went with him meekly enough. Then they reached the bathroom and Dazai turned on the light. Atsushi gasped, staring at Dazai. He glanced at himself in the mirror and grimaced.
Blood streaked the sides of his face from under his hair, staining his usually pristine white collar. His throat was livid with deep red and purple bruises, his clothes were torn and thick with dirt and dried blood, and his hand where he held Atsushi’s looked like someone had tried to cut his fingers to ribbons.
“You’re hurt!” Atsushi cried.
“Oh, this?” Dazai grinned dangerously. “This is nothing. You should see the other guy after a certain tiger got through with him. Now into the tub with you! If you haven’t noticed, you’re covered in blood, yourself.”
“I – I actually feel fine, I promise!”
“I expect you do. But –”
“No more buts! You hit your head, or something cut you, do you remember which? Does it hurt?”
Atsushi reached up with his free hand to brush his fingers through Dazai’s hair. Immediately Dazai’s breathing seized and Atsushi whipped his hand back, alarmed, but Dazai just stared at Atsushi with wide eyes. That touch had been…
“Go on,” Atsushi said, and he used Dazai’s own grip on his hand to sit Dazai down on the edge of the tub. Dazai opened his mouth to protest, but now that he was sitting he could feel every ache and bruise. Before he realized it Atsushi had leaned over, turned on the water, and moved the showerhead over Dazai’s hair.
The warmth sluiced down his scalp, sending shivers down his back. Atsushi worked his fingers gently through Dazai’s hair, brushing it back from his forehead. Dazai tilted his head back, closing his eyes. Atsushi’s fingers were so warm and gentle. It didn’t even hurt when he reached the two bumps under his head. He just worked slowly around them, massaging the tightness from his skin, rubbing in slow, firm, soothing circles. Some deep, hidden part of Dazai’s brain ached for more. He leaned into Atsushi’s fingertips.
“It doesn’t hurt?” Atsushi asked.
“It’s wonderful,” Dazai murmured, without opening his eyes.
“Let me see your face next.”
Fingertips lightly brushed Dazai’s chin and he turned his face obligingly. A soft washcloth moved over his left cheek. The washcloth steamed with hot water and Dazai felt the strain in his jaw slowly relax. The washcloth dipped under his chin, then rose to follow the shape of his ear, brushing the hair back from his face. Then the washcloth switched to the other side, exactly the same, before moving in slow, firm strokes across his forehead.
Atsushi held the showerhead against Dazai’s back the whole time, and the pressure of the hot water loosened his muscles a little at a time. Dazai sighed, his eyes still closed, leaning forward until his elbows rested on his knees.
“Hmm?” he said, realizing Atsushi had asked him a question.
“Who was the man that attacked you?”
“A messenger from an old colleague.”
“A colleague? ”
Dazai smirked, cracking open one eye. “I wasn’t entirely lying when I told that story to the police. This place isn’t a front for the government…today. But it used to be. There was a man interested in bringing out latent abilities in humans, and I worked under him for a while until I switched sides. That fight has been over for a long time, but my colleague finds my continued existence rather annoying. Unfortunately, I’m not easy to kill.”
Atsushi swallowed. “Your – your coat is practically shredded. Let me help you get it off, and I can treat any other wounds.”
“Wait –”
He hadn’t realized that the water had dragged his coat down to around his waist. One tug from Atsushi and the right arm came free. The sleeve underneath had faced the same treatment as his fingers, shredding the fabric to ribbons – and leaving his forearm completely exposed.
“Dazai,” Atsushi whispered, staring at his wrist.
Dazai tapped Atsushi lightly on the nose, feeling his usual grin stretch over his face. “I told you, didn’t I? I’m not easy to kill.”
“But –”
“Let’s just say the assassin got me, hm? It’s technically true anyway. Besides, that’s not the first time I’ve been targeted, and I doubt it will be the last. At this rate I wouldn’t be surprised if he set up a competing coffee shop right across the street just to get back at me.”
“It wasn’t the first time? But you’ve never said anything!”
He shrugged. “I usually just take the fight somewhere else. No need to bother anyone.”
“No need to – Dazai, someone’s trying to kill you! Do the others even know? Do they know about your wrist?”
He shrugged again. “Kunikida might guess. You don’t have to say anything.”
“Why not?”
“It would…only make things harder.”
“Harder to kill yourself?” Atsushi asked softly.
“It’s just meant to be this way.”
“It’s not,” Atsushi said, reaching for him.
Dazai pulled away, suddenly cold. “I’ve seen more pain and loss than you could ever know. You’re trying to help me, but I’m not even a person anymore. I don’t deserve to be helped. You’re a kind little cub, Atsushi, but you’re the cruelest one of all. You’re only helping me because you’re kind, or because you feel like you owe me. You’re not actually trying to help me! You think helping me will make you feel better about yourself? Then go feed some stray alley cat, don’t use me for your useless self esteem issues!”
He shot to his feet, but Atsushi caught his hand.
“Dazai, wait! I’m a stray cat myself. The way you called me kitten when we first met, and then tonight, you – you were talking about the tiger to the police officers…” He swallowed hard. “You knew, didn’t you? All along? That I was the tiger. But you took me in anyway. Were you just using me for your self esteem issues, too?”
“I…”
“Don’t go,” Atsushi pleaded, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Please don’t go. Please, Dazai. Don’t go. Don’t go.”
Suddenly the kitten was hugging him as tightly as he could, both of them damp with blood streaking their clothes and the kitten’s body slim and delicately boned as a bird. He’d only suspected the child had been one of Mori’s experiments; he hadn’t known for sure until tonight. But there was no sign of that incredible power now. He was only human, so fragile, and he was holding onto Dazai like Dazai was - was something valuable, was worth something. The kid couldn’t know. He couldn’t know how worthless Dazai was. He wanted to shove him off, to scream that he didn’t deserve it, but instead he felt his arms wrapping around Atsushi’s narrow shoulders, pressing his face into Atsushi’s hair. Atsushi held on even more tightly, the pressure of the embrace grounding them both like an anchor.
When they’d finished crying it was like a weight had been lifted from Dazai’s shoulders. He felt light-headed and dizzy. Atsushi’s looked equally drained. But when he met Atsushi’s eyes, there was a burning brightness to them. Like the tiger in his soul could see Dazai and was roaring soundlessly at anything that would dare touch him again.
“Some caretaker I am,” Dazai said hoarsely. “What does it say about someone when their stray kitten protects them instead of the other way around?”
“It means you showed me how to do it,” Atsushi whispered. “Can…can you stay here tonight?”
Dazai gently patted his head. “Whatever you need, kitten. I’m not in the mood to deal with more assassination attempts on my own, anyway.”
They gently disengaged from the embrace. Atsushi treated his fingers, and Dazai showed him where he’d stored some pajamas in the nightstand. They fit Dazai well enough, but were much too big on Atsushi. The giant neck gap alone left the kitten shivering.
“Come here, then,” Dazai said, sitting down on the bed and patting the spot next to him. “We’ll spoon like two tragic lovers caught in a snowstorm miles from civilization.”
“Or,” Atsushi said, and closed his eyes.
It was smooth, soundless. One moment he was a young human boy standing in floppy pajamas. The next, the pajamas were puddled at his feet, and he was huge tiger with thick snow-white fur and burning yellow eyes. Dazai let out a low whistle.
Atsushi moved, unseen muscle rippling powerfully under his fur. Dazai tensed. But Atsushi merely padded up to him, his claws not so much as whispering on the wood, and climbed onto the mattress. He sprawled across the bed like a cat in the sun. His paws hung off the edges, but the bed didn’t so much as groan – good thing Dazai only bought the best, simple as it was.
He leaned back into Atsushi’s stomach. The tiger curled around him, nuzzling Dazai’s cheek with his muzzle. Dazai closed his eyes and felt Atsushi’s breath moving over his face, the warmth caressing his cheek, his forehead, his hair. Atsushi swept the softness of his muzzle against Dazai’s face, and the perfect warm silkiness almost made him melt. Dazai sighed deeply. Atsushi rumbled in response, shifting gently, and Dazai drew up his legs. Atsushi’s tail curled around and covered Dazai’s feet. The weight and heat of it on his toes grounded him. The last of the aches in his body slowly seeped away. He curled sideways and buried his face in Atsushi’s fur. He could feel the power of the tiger even under the lush coat, but Atsushi was soft, so soft, wrapped under and around him like a blanket.
“You’re purring,” he murmured sleepily. “I didn’t know tigers could purr.”
Atsushi made a soft huffing sound. He shifted and Dazai felt him curl even more around him, his back legs scooping him into Atsushi’s side, front legs tucked under his chest as he nuzzled Dazai’s wrists.
“You’re so soft.” Dazai dug his fingers into the thick mane of Atsushi’s neck, and Atsushi purred louder, nuzzling Dazai’s hands. Something soft and wordless seemed to shimmer in the air between them, quiet and inevitable as a promise.
“I won’t go anywhere,” he whispered.
Slowly, gently, the two of them fell fast asleep.