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Sitting in front of him, in a mockery of their previous tea time, was the weretiger. There were no cups to share, no tea to splash, and the one who held the power was Atsushi Nakajima. Confidence was brimming from his posture, lacking the bite of fury he usually held when facing his enemy. Fyodor, meanwhile, was chained to his seat, with his arms bound by the prison’s straightjacket to prevent him from using his Ability. “Weretiger.” Fyodor greeted. “Is it wise for you to be here without your mentor’s supervision?”
Atsushi gave an annoyed smile, “Because I’m naive?”
“How self-aware of you.” Fyodor let the bitterness slip ever so slightly. He was the angry one, now. How could he not be? The weretiger rejected the role they especially crafted for him, a role of a messiah, a role dedicated to bring salvation from this world of sins-- and destroyed The Book that could have granted them freedom with his own two hands.
How selfish of the boy.
“I’ll cut to the chase.” Nakajima cut him off. “The Agency has received permission to rehabilitate Gifted criminals. Would you like to be part of the program?” Then, hastily, he added, “Fukuchi-san already accepted it.”
“Somehow, I expected this from you.” Fyodor tilted his head, the only part of his body he could really move. Did the boy truly think Fyodor particularly cared about the fallen commander? “But I am unsure of your motivation. There are too many variables in play-- your ego being one of them.”
“How about my sincerity?”
“We have already mentioned your naivete, yes.”
Nakajima snorted, “Hah! You sound just like Dazai-san!”
“That’s another variable, that you’re offering me this chance because of something the Demon Prodigy has told you.”
The smile turned from amused mirth to something softer and melancholic. “Dazai-san changed for the better because someone gave him the chance to be. I figure I should extend a similar offer to you, regardless whether you’ll accept it or not.”
“And your agency simply let you meet me?” Dubious.
Nakajima shrugged. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Fyodor was unimpressed. “Surely they’re not as naive as you are.”
“They might not trust me to handle you, but I trust them to protect me. And they know they can protect me.”
Ah, now that was interesting. “Well, then. For their sake, hopefully you won’t fail and become my puppet.”
“Cranky because you already failed once, aren’t you?”
That shut Fyodor up.
“Well? Are you interested?” Nakajima changed the subject.
“Come visit me again tomorrow. Maybe I’ll have an answer to give by then."
Fyodor had no intention of ever giving an answer. The boy came again, of course. As expected from someone with his boundless positivity towards the concept of redemption. He could imagine the high blood pressure his guards were experiencing right now. Is the weretiger insane? Is the weretiger stupid? That demon will use him to escape!
Fyodor smirked in frustration. Escape where? There was nowhere left in this world for him. His life’s work was shredded into pieces by the person who now offered him a second chance. It was mortifying. It was grating. How nice it must be to look down from his moral high ground to where Fyodor was at. The bottom of the barrel.
Now all he could do was to torment his captors by making them question what-ifs.
“At which point will you give up?” He asked the weretiger.
“At any point necessary. I’m not going to throw away my life to help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.”
Fyodor couldn’t help but to chuckle. “I doubt that. After all, you still pay me a visit.”
“Well…” Nakajima shrugged. “You haven’t told me no.”
Fyodor studied him for a bit. “Come back again tomorrow. I might have my answer then.”
They had the gall to keep him alive instead of killing him. He had no doubt they wanted to make a big show of his execution, something to erase the humiliation of being tricked by Fukuchi.
He had always hated the government, and the United Nations even more so.
Eventually, Nakajima would have to give up when they finally decided on his execution. Fyodor thought he would take pleasure knowing he foiled the weretiger one last time.
Talking to Nakajima was the only form of entertainment he had so far. The boy would talk about meaningless, trivial things happening outside of his prison. The weather, the new books published, the recipes he made with his roommate-- meaningless. Full of life.
Was he trying to tempt Fyodor into accepting his offer? Cute.
Most of the time, Fyodor only listened, but sometimes he would chime in with a comment or two. He snidely reminded Nakajima of his naivete, and Nakajima laughed. “Do you need a new material? Even Dazai-san has gotten more creative than that nowadays.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
“He’s stressed. And it’s not like he has been in the best place lately. Everyone in the agency is helping him out.” There was not an ounce of bitterness in his voice. Again, with that patience. Fyodor hoped it would be his downfall.
“You shouldn’t tell the enemy that.”
“And what can you do, exactly?” Nakajima goaded him.
“You never know when it comes to me.” Fyodor bluffed.
“We know, though. You have no one left to help you. No matter how smart you are, there’s only so much you can do alone. And in this situation? Alone means doing nothing.”
“Haven’t your friends told you to give up on me, yet?”
Nakajima scowled. “None of your business.”
Fyodor for once laughed freely. “But it’s about me?”
Nakajima’s cheeks were flushed in embarrassment, coloring his pale skin a pretty red.
Nakajima visited less and less lately. Busy with work, he said. Fyodor believed him. The man was a terrible liar, and everyone knew it. Unfortunately, it made Fyodor restless.
“‘How’s the rehabilitation program going?”
“Hm?”
Fyodor refused to look up and meet Nakajima’s gaze. “How is it coming along?”
“Are you interested?”
“...I might apply.”
“Really?” Nakajima sounded pleasantly surprised.
Fyodor found himself a bit bitter by his reaction. Didn’t he say he would give up on someone who refused to save themselves? Then why was he surprised if he had yet to give up on Fyodor?
“I’m-- I’m really glad!” Nakajima sounded relieved. He sounded like he wanted to cry. He can imagine the protests he received taking on this fool’s errand.
“Though, I can’t promise it will go all too well for you to take in not only the traitor commander, but also a demon like me.” Fyodor taunted.
“You can stay a demon if you want to, but I will still treat you like a person you are.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Fyodor told him bluntly.
“You wouldn’t be our first demon.” Nakajima shot back with the same tone.
Fyodor found himself annoyed. “Stop bringing up Dazai into our conversation. I’m the one in front of you.”
“Ah, sorry.” Nakajima apologized sheepishly. “But, really, it’s alright to not be human. You’ll still be a person.”
Of course. A child of The Book would say that, wouldn’t he? “Figuratively speaking, your heart is a human’s. Mine is just… a mess, I suppose.”
“What’s your definition of a human?” The weretiger tilted his head in curiosity.
“Someone guided by their feelings. Regardless whether or not they know what to do with it. Or what to make of it.”
“...why did you create me, Fyodor?”
“To erase Abilities. We’ve already been over this.”
“Why? Why erase Abilities?”
“It’s a sin--”
Nakajima cut him off, “You were driven by your loathing. That’s a form of feeling.”
Fyodor raised an eyebrow in bemusement.
“I was driven by my spite against the orphanage to continue on living. Now I have so much more to live for. You have your hatred, that’s a start. Now let’s add some more.”
“Your spite let you live without hating yourself. It’s already too late for me.” The smile that graced Fyodor’s lips was as insincere as they came.
“Ah.” The fingers gently tucking Fyodor’s hair behind his ear was unexpected. The gentle gesture took him off guard. Atsushi’s sympathy was thick in the air. “You’re human, after all.”
Ah.