Chapter Text
As Kunikida began the morning briefing in the darkened meeting room, Atsushi tried to pay attention, but it was difficult. There were the usual antics of Dazai and Ranpo, finding puns for every other sentence uttered around the table and throwing gummy bears at each other, but really, it was Kunikida who was distracting. Oh, he was saying the usual things, being his usual meticulous self, grousing at Dazai and Ranpo like always, but there was a difference. His voice was flat. The dark circles under his eyes, ever-present since the explosion and death of the little girl in the tunnel during the incident with Fyodor, were even more pronounced. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his tie was crooked. Small things, but for someone like Kunikida, they were flashing neon signs that today was a dark day.
Atsushi always struggled when Kunikida had a day like this. Today he had to ask for clarification on his tasks for the day when the meeting finished, making Kunikida pull his glasses off and wipe them while he grumbled, “Even you can’t pay attention?” before he went over the task list once more.
Atsushi blushed and said, “I’m sorry, Kunikida-san,” and listened carefully this time before he set himself to work. He watched Kunikida out of the corner of his eye. It was definitely a bad day. When Tanizaki dropped his stapler on the ground with a thud, Kunikida full body flinched. When Yosano burst through the front door after being out for a bit, he dropped the file he was holding. When Kenji accidentally nudged him as he navigated the narrow path between the desks, he snapped, “Watch where you’re going, dammit!” Everyone else, used to his temper, ignored it, but it fueled a swirling feeling in Atsushi’s stomach.
The morning waned and Kunikida stayed at his desk, running his hand through his hair a little too often, drinking an extra cup of coffee, declining all the offers to go to lunch or have it brought to him. Tanizaki set a muffin on his desk around one, but it he ignored it.
Around three, Dazai woke himself up at his desk with a snort, startling Atsushi into knocking over a pencil holder, and, with a sigh, he weathered a glare from Kunikida. He stood up and wandered over to Dazai. “Dazai-san,” he said, and he sat on the edge of the desk, folding his hands into his lap. “Are you busy tonight?”
Dazai picked at his wrist bandage and started to answer, but then he shut his mouth and cocked his head. “Why? What’s up, brat?”
Atsushi blinked at the nickname usually reserved for Kunikida to use, but when Dazai purposefully cut his gaze over to Kunikida’s hunched figure, Atsushi grinned and nodded. “Dinner?” he asked. The three of them ate a meal together at least twice a week. Sometimes others came, but not always. It was sometimes raucous, sometimes subdued, but they never went more than a few days without drawing back together at a table somewhere. Today, going back to the basics sounded like a good idea. “Chazuke?” he asked.
Dazai yawned wide and stretched. “I heard about a new place.”
Something stung in Atsushi’s chest and he shook his head. “Not today, okay?” When a frown stole across Dazai’s face, Atsushi dropped his voice. “I think it’s really bad today,” he whispered. The fact that Kunikida hadn’t even noticed the two of them talking quietly was enough evidence.
“Okay,” Dazai said. “We’ll grab him and get him some tea on rice at our favorite place. Whether he wants it or not!”
When everyone started packing up, Kunikida paid no attention to the shouted goodbyes or the rustle of coats. He sat with his chin on his hand and stifled a yawn as he stared at his computer screen and everyone but Atsushi and Dazai left.
Dazai broke the silence with a very loud, “Kunikida-kun! Dinner!” and Atsushi facepalmed as the shout startled Kunikida into falling off his hand.
“Dazai-kun!” Atsushi hissed. “You’re no help!”
Kunikida leaned back in his chair and yawned again. “What? No. Not tonight, you cretin.”
Atsushi brought Kunikida’s coat over to him. “Please, Kunikida-kun? You’re tired and haven’t eaten all day. Let’s go get some Chazuke and then we’ll walk you home. It won’t take long.”
If he weren’t used to the razor-sharp glares of his friend, he might’ve backpedaled, but they needed to do this.
“If you don’t come, I’m dragging Atsushi-kun to my previously made engagement with Chuyya at the bar. I’ll get the kid roaringly drunk and dump him on your doorstep at one in the morning,” Dazai said as he pulled his coat tighter and shoved the office door open. “Right before he pukes in the bushes!”
Kunikida pursed his lips and clenched his fists at his side. There was a pregnant moment before he threw his hands up and shouted, “Fine! Let’s go get some damned tea on rice. Then I’m going home without either of you bullies.”
Atsushi smiled at the short rush of victory, and they headed to the restaurant. Once they were seated and served, Kunikida mostly just picked at his food. The meal was quiet, as he would have predicted, but not the whole time.
“Did you hear about Kenji and the interview he did with that tea vendor down at the market yesterday?” Dazai finally asked around a mouthful of rice.
“Do I want to hear about it?”
“Kyouka wouldn’t tell me what happened! She said Kenji would have to tell me if I wanted to know.”
“Oh god, I don’t want to hear it, do I?”
Dazai laughed. “He came back to the office with the front pocket of his overalls full of tea leaves.”
“Wait, why?” Atsushi asked, leaning forward and setting his chopsticks down on the table. This was going to be good.
“Well, he went to try and find out about a new ‘protection tax’ the goons from the Mafia are trying to collect. We need someone willing to stand up to them and draw out their guns so we can move on them, right?”
Kunikida pinched the bridge of his nose, but his eyes were bright when he raised his head and said, “Yes?”
“So, Kenji talked to the guy for about twenty minutes and Yosano was watching nearby and had settled in to shop for a bit because, you know, Kenji, but the guy went all pale at something Kenji said and scooped a handful of tea leaves out and actually shoved them into Kenji’s pocket himself! Then he tried to shove some into Yosano’s pocket, and anyone else who walked by.”
“Why?”
“Because Kenji convinced him that trusting tea leaves was a time-honored belief in the country and this guy was trying to be more ‘country.’ Kenji told him this long and convoluted story about his cousin’s pig and a tea his grandmother used to brew and convinced him that tea leaves were better protection than the mafia goons could give him. Yosano says he started a new trend!”
“Oh my god,” Kunikida muttered. “Is the vendor going to be our man?”
Dazai laughed. “Yes! Because tea leaves are better than Mafia!”
Atsushi almost fell out of his chair laughing at the image of some vendor stuffing tea leaves in stranger’s pockets, and when he managed to stop and sit back up, Kunikida was grinning from ear to ear and finally eating the rice in front of him without paying any attention to what he was doing.
When they were gathering their coats later, Kunikida leaned over and ruffled Atsushi’s hair with a small smile. “Thanks, brat,” he said, and Atsushi just grinned. They headed out to walk Kunikida home. Atsushi would have been proud of himself for turning Kunikida’s very bad day into a good evening, but as they were walking past a dark alley, there was the sound of a child crying. All three of them stopped and turned toward the sound. Atsushi couldn’t help how his tiger started to stir in his chest and his hands grew a little and his claws extended.
When Dazai and Kunikida dropped like flour sacks a few seconds later, fear pooled in his belly and he growled and scanned the alley with glowing tiger eyes. Four quick shots rang out and needles pierced Atsushi’s skin. Fire rushed through his veins and his chest constricted before he could even draw a breath, and as he fell and darkness rushed in, he saw the bodies of his friends lying slack on the wet, black concrete of the alley floor.