Work Text:
Greeting him was the ray of sunlight shimmering inside the room like a rainbow, through the stained glass of this repurposed church. In the place where an altar should have been, was Fyodor Dostoyevsky, sitting on a white garden chair while sipping his cup at a circular, small table. The man-- rat, Atsushi hissed in his mind- gestured as an invitation to join his tea time.
Atsushi walked down the aisle, looking less like a groom and more like Tokisada about to take over Hara Castle. He would not let luck decide whether his head would be displayed on a pike or not. He could feel his fangs poking out, an act of unconscious transformation caused by his anger, his distaste, his hate.
Atsushi had always hated these turbulent emotions, even when it came to Akutagawa. It always left him feeling disgusted at himself. But for this person sitting across him, offering him tea like the man did not cause Dazai to be arrested, for his newfound family to be hunted down, Atsushi thought he would let himself indulge in this fury and disgust.
“Tea?” Dostoyevsky offered the cup he had just sipped. “It’s not poisoned.” He put it in front of Atsushi, who remained stiff on his seat. So what if the tea wasn’t poisoned? It could be the cup itself, it could be the handle, or it could be poisoned but Dostoyevsky was immune to it.
Atsushi did not know how to think like Dazai, and he wouldn’t attempt to start now. He would simply trust his instinct.
Dostoyevsky smiled sadly, a mockery of sincerity curving his lips. He poured another tea for himself in a new cup. “Despite all my effort to capture you unharmed, you still distrust me?”
“Gogol.” Atsushi replied tersely.
“To be fair, he is also trying to kill me as of now.” Dostoyevsky paused. “Well, he has always been trying to kill me. I’m not sure if he noticed that I noticed, however.”
“You’re smart. Use your common sense. No human being would trust someone who kidnapped them against their will.” Atsushi wasn’t afraid of mocking him. The man was, unfortunately, so similar to Dazai. There was no doubt that if anything, Dostoyevsky found him amusing for defying him so openly. Ironically, Atsushi was aware that this would increase his chance of survival.
And as expected, Dostoyevsky looked amused. “Do you consider yourself a human being, Nakajima Atsushi?”
“Spare me your mind game, and tell me what it is that you need from me.”
“Will you play along with my needs?”
Atsushi scoffed, “No.”
Dostoyevsky frowned, “You’re a rather disagreeable person.”
“Why am I here, Dostoyevsky?” He repeated his question, voice still even.
The man tilted his head and rested his chin on his hand, a smile that never reached his eyes still graced his expression. “I ask you again, Nakajima Atsushi, do you consider yourself a human being?”
Atsushi’s ire began to show on his face more pronouncedly. “Because I’m a weretiger?”
“Heavens no!” Dostoyevsky laughed. “Because you’re an artificial living being.”
“...pardon?”
“The Book.” Dostoyevsky tapped on the table twice. “Have the ability to rewrite reality, but that’s not all it can do.” He looked straight ahead and locked gazes with Atsushi, unwavering, unnerving. Atsushi could tell where this was going. “Our Sigma was created from The Book. It took us a couple of years to hunt him down, but it was to be expected. However…” Dostoyevsky pointed at him. “We have always known where you were, and wherever you are, and wherever you will be.”
“Our Guidepost, the culmination of our work… Nakajima Atsushi.”
Before either of them could blink, before Atsushi could even consider his action, he grabbed the cup of tea offered to him from before, and splashed the content to Dostoyevsky’s face. The man squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get the beverage out of his eyes. His posture remained the same, as if he was still processing what just happened. He clearly did not expect Atsushi to lash out this way.
“You’re a miserable little man.” Atsushi snarled. “And so what if I wasn’t human? I have seen beasts with more compassion in its vein compared to you. I am a person first and foremost, regardless of my humanity. And I will not defer myself to a ‘god’ who knows not how to love their creation.”
A smile bloomed, and it was the first sincerity Atsushi has ever witnessed from the man in front of him. “I will do my best to reeducate you, and you will worship the gods that have created you.”
It was the beginning of a very long month.