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Atsushi had always been able to see ghosts his whole life.
When he finally realized that it wasn’t normal, he had told one of the nurses in the orphanage. The orphanage was filled with the undead. Transparent nurses mulling around, yelling at children with no voice coming out from their open mouths. What’s more concerning was the wisps of children, running around and blending in with the more vivid, alive children. It unsettled Atsushi, so he decided to tell the older woman.
Later that night, he was denied dinner, so Atsushi never brought the issue up again.
Atsushi was kicked out of the orphanage.
He was alone, and he was starving, so starving he could almost eat the grass. He was practically on the verge of passing out. Against his own morals, he tried to steel himself, tried to convince himself that he would rob the next person that pass.
Only that it was a quiet evening, and no one passed by the calm riverbank.
He might as well already be a ghost of someone who died from hunger.
A movement caught his eye, and he turned his head to his left to find a person walking along the river flow. He was quite tall, his long red hair being mussed about by the wind. And he was transparent. So, not a real living person anyway. Atsushi sighed, before realizing that the ghost’s gaze was pinned to something on the river.
Or more like someone. A pair of feet were floating on the river. Real human feet. The water rippled around it and all. Atsushi stared at it in horror as the water brought it closer to him.
The ghost man was also walking closer. His gaze finally lifted up, and they met Atsushi’s. His eyes were a deep blue, and one of his eyebrows raised in something like ’you can see me?’. Atsushi broke his gaze in favor of looking at the mass on the river.
The human was floating past him, now. It unsettled him, and all his inner alarm, his instincts, yelled at him to ’jump! save them!’. But Atsushi’s knees were weak and his stomach’s walls were grinding against acid and he just felt like passing out. He shouldn’t jump. He should look for food, immediately.
The ghost man just stood beside him, and when Atsushi turned to look, he still had the stoic expression. His head was tilted to the river. Like he was asking Atsushi. Simply questioning what Atsushi was going to do next. No silent demands from open mouths that a lot of sleepless ghosts had festered Atsushi with.
Maybe it was because of that. Maybe it was because of the squawks of crows from somewhere afar. Maybe it was because Atsushi’s own consciousness wouldn’t let him sleep if he turned a blind eye on this, or simply because he’d hope this drowning person would open his way to food.
Nonetheless, Atsushi jumped to the body of water.
When he pulled the man out, coughing heavily, but with the man alive (he was going on a tangent about suicide—did the weird man actually wanted to die?), the ghost was still looking at him silently. Atsushi thought he saw gratitude inside those dull eyes.
Atsushi hated cemeteries. For most people, it was a quiet and sacred place, but for Atsushi, the place was just a crowded carnival. If there was no lights and fun in a carnival. And if the people visiting were half-vivid, restless figures that would stare at the breathing humans with dead eyes.
So when he stepped foot into the cemetery beside the sea, Atsushi kept his gaze down. He ignored the ghosts passing through him, tried to shake off the itchy feeling every time he passed through another translucent body. He made a beeline to the lone grave underneath a tree, the one that wasn't so crowded with spirits, one with the presence of someone who’s actually living and breathing.
He stopped in front of the grave. Dazai was leaning his back against it with his eyes closed. Atsushi would assume he was sleeping, but the man proved him wrong by saying, “Atsushi-kun?”
“Yes?”
“Do you know whose grave this is?”
Atsushi hummed, eyes reading the engraving on the stone. He didn’t recognize the name, but the fact that Dazai visited definitely meant something. This person was someone important to Dazai. He told his mentor as much.
“What makes you think so?” Dazai’s voice for that question was quiet, too quiet and solemn for his usual self.
Before Atsushi could blink, the red-headed ghost appeared beside Dazai. He was standing, his eyes fixed on the brunette whose eyes were still closed. The wall on his face never faltered.
Atsushi didn’t know how, but he instantly knew that ghost was the owner of this grave.
The ghost of a man who followed Dazai. He didn’t have any evil intent directed towards the man, though. Not like the ghost of a soldier who appeared when Yosano did her treatment, his resentment seemingly passing through dimensions towards Yosano. Not like the ghosts of men with blurred faces who sometimes flickered behind Fukuzawa. Not like Dazai’s own other ghosts, who sent him death glares from behind his back—quite literally and figuratively.
No, the red-headed man had always followed Dazai with a constant flat expression on his face. Sometimes he would even shoo the bad ghosts away, the first time Atsushi saw someone—some ghost?—actually able to stave off their own kind.
The one ghost that watched over Dazai.
“I never saw you visiting a grave before.” Though it is not the first time you visited this one, right? Atsushi didn’t say.
Dazai smiled, and his next tone of voice could be passed as his usual mocking one. “Do I look like someone that’s visiting a grave to you?”
Dazai’s ghost turned to look at Atsushi, and he met his gaze.
“Yeah.”
Atsushi noticed Dazai’s eyes opening, something like shock passing through them for a moment before his expression settled to something gentle that Atsushi had never seen from the man before.
Another thing that Atsushi noticed surprised him even more, as the ever-flat face of the ghost seemed to crinkle around the corner of his eyes.
“Atsushi, can you see ghosts?”
Atsushi jumped on his seat, his work already forgotten as he turned abruptly to face Kyouka. The girl was staring at him with serious expression. Some eyes from the office turned to them as well.
“Huh? Why do you ask that?” Because no one had ever questioned Atsushi, and he never really brought it up anyway. Compared to other things, it wasn’t something as important or as interesting.
“I was just wondering, because some people say cats can sense supernatural stuffs. And your tiger is basically a cat, right?”
Atsushi winced, remembering the few times he was forced to turn into full tiger form inside the agency just for everyone to pet him. “Right.”
“So, can you see ghosts?”
Atsushi was painfully aware of the number of eyes fixed on them right now. Some members weren’t looking at them, but Atsushi knew they were listening anyway. The fact that Kunikida hadn’t yelled at them yet could only mean that the blond was also curious about his answer.
More than that, nonexistent eyes were also looking at him right then. The motherly woman behind Kyouka. The teenage boy sitting on the edge of Kunikida’s desk. And of course, Dazai’s ghost, just standing right beside the man’s chair.
Atsushi scraped the nape of his neck, hoping he wasn’t saying the wrong thing when he responded with, “Well, yeah.”
Kyouka’s eyes widened, and now she was looking at him with more interest. “Really? Do you see any in this room?”
Atsushi hummed, tapping his finger on his desk. He wondered if ratting out the spirits would be a good idea. But the agency wasn’t the orphanage. He trusted every single one of his co-workers with his life, so, “I do.”
“Can you tell me?”
Atsushi smiled, though even he could sense it came off as a grimace. “I don’t think that would be...”
Kyouka pouted immediately, and Atsushi winced at her. He really should stop falling for that.
“Do you really wanna hear it?” Atsushi tried again, and Kyouka nodded vigorously. Atsushi sighed before pulling at his sleeves.
“There’s a woman behind you,” Kyouka turned to look behind her, but soon turning her attention back to Atsushi when she seemingly found nothing. “Dark long hair, wearing a yukata. She looks very kind.”
Kyouka stepped closer to Atsushi, and he took her hand when he noticed it twitching. He saw something bright brimming on the girl’s eyes and instantly felt guilty. The ghost woman gave him a smile, shaking her head as if saying it’s fine.
“Probably my mother.” Kyouka sniffed, and Atsushi’s free hand moved to rub her back. “Can you talk to her?”
“I don’t really hear the ghosts speak, so I don’t talk to them as well…” Atsushi blinked as Kyouka’s mother gave him a thumbs up, gentle smile never falling. She pointed at Kyouka, as if telling him to tell the girl about the gesture she just made. Atsushi nodded. “She just gave you a thumbs up.”
Kyouka sucked in a breath, and Atsushi stood up to envelop her in a hug. He felt dampness on his chest, but he didn’t mention it.
“Who else?” Ranpo’s question startled Atsushi a little bit. He found that detective was vaguely facing him, eyes still closed and mouth still munching on his chips.
“Um,” Atsushi not-answered when Kyouka released the hug, rubbing her face with her sleeves. He stared at Kunikida until the man finally looked up from his paperwork.
“Well?” Kunikida prompted as he pushed his glasses back up. So he really was curious.
“…A teenager sitting on the edge of your desk. Short brown hair, he’s frowning right now.”
Kunikida slid his chair away from said edge a little bit. He stared at where the ghost’s chest was like the spot was on fire. The ghost merely raised an eyebrow at him. On his other side, Dazai’s eyes finally peeked open from where he was slouching on his own chair.
“Is it…?”
“Probably.” Kunikida removed his glasses, rubbing his face with his hand. “Damn it.”
He looked stressed enough he didn’t continue his work immediately.
Kunikida’s ghost got Atsushi’s attention again when he waved his hand. He gestured at Kunikida, then made a typing motion with his hands. All the while his face contorted in an overly serious expression, what could only be a poor imitation of Kunikida. Atsushi tried not to smile as it seemed inappropriate.
The teenager pointed at Kunikida again, his hands now motioning like how someone would shake other’s shoulders to wake them up.
“I think… he just gestured to wake you up and start working again?” The teenager gave him a nod, his hands now crossed in front of his chest.
As Kunikida was still mumbling things under his breath, Tanizaki’s curious voice piped up, “Is that all of them here?”
Now Atsushi’s gaze was on Dazai’s ghost, still standing beside the man’s chair. He looked back at Atsushi, then to Dazai. Almost like he was saying don’t say if he doesn’t want others to know. Or Atsushi could be over-analyzing. He didn’t display that much expression after all.
“Is it mine?” Dazai said with a cheery tone, seemingly noticing Atsushi’s gaze was bored into the air beside him. “Ooh, is it a pretty woman? Can ghosts be attracted to humans? Maybe I will commit suicide alone to meet the pretty woman already waiting for me.”
His ridiculous comment was enough to snap Kunikida back, and his partner slapped his head with a stack of documents. As Dazai spluttered a protest to Kunikida, the ghost ran a hand through his hair, seemingly sighing. Could ghosts even sigh?
“It’s a man.” Dazai and Kunikida stopped bickering in favor of listening to Atsushi. “Tall, red hair, blue eyes…” Atsushi stopped his description when Dazai paled on his seat.
It was jarring to see that on Dazai, of all people.
“Ah, shame it’s not a woman.” Dazai shrugged, but his quiet tone escaped, well, no one. “Tell, Atsushi-kun, does this man always follow me?”
Atsushi bit his lip, looking at the ghost. His eyes were still on Dazai’s face. “Not always. But I see him around you a lot.”
Dazai hummed, slouching back on his seat. His left hand was gripping a small object that Atsushi couldn’t see. The ghost seemed to be interested in that as well.
The office was silent. Even Kunikida wasn’t typing on his laptop.
“He’s looking at the thing you’re holding.” Atsushi said slowly. He hoped the office would go back to normal right about now, because the air was so tense Atsushi could probably cut through it with his claws.
Dazai huffed, opening his palm to show the ghost—and in extension the others—of what’s inside it. It was a small matchbox; the same matchbox Atsushi often find Dazai holding. The ghost shook his head, expression ever unchanging. A few seconds pass and Dazai pulled his hand back to hide it inside his pocket.
“So? You’re not gonna relay a message from my ghost like the others?”
Dazai’s voice was low, his expression unreadable. But even Atsushi could sense the fragile something he tried to hide underneath.
The expressionless ghost all but patted his transparent hand on Dazai’s head.
“He’s patting your head.”
Dazai looked up at his words. He may not realize It, but he was looking straight to the ghost’s eyes. The ghost merely stared back at him, his hand still floating on top of Dazai's brown locks. Then there was a smile on Dazai’s face—and that slight turn upwards could almost pass as something genuine.
“Sure he is.”
Kunikida went back to typing at that. Everyone in the office followed, going back to their initial work. Kyouka released Atsushi’s hand that she was still holding. She nodded at Atsushi, eyes still red, and went back to her desk. The orphanage headmaster’s ghost was still standing beside him, though he won’t tell anyone about it. The only thing making Atsushi know it was a ghost instead of his hallucination was that this man was looking at him with a soft smile instead of the accusatory glare his hallucination would send his way.
In the still too quiet office, Dazai’s voice murmured, so low he was practically relying on Atsushi’s tiger ears for him to hear it. He was still looking upwards even though he wouldn’t be able to see anything other than the ceiling. “Tell him I said thank you, yeah?”
The red-haired ghost smiled right back at Dazai. Atsushi knew he wasn't over-analyzing when he saw a tinge of something warm inside those dull eyes.
“I think he can hear you just fine.”