Work Text:
Sweet summer child: Hy in sivk toda ,sorr.
Dazai squinted at the message on his phone, trying to decipher it. It wasn’t like Atsushi to send such an incoherent message, much less one that skipped letters. His typing style was grammatically correct to a fault, and devoid of slang; he was meticulous even when in a hurry, and more likely to repeat letters than skip them.
Then the actual contents of the message sunk in. Hey, I’m sick today, sorry. Well, that would explain a few things.
“Looks like Atsushi’s sick. I’m going to head over and check on him,” he told Kunikida, tucking his phone into his pocket.
“Why didn’t he call in? There’s protocol for this, you know!”
“I think you should cut him some slack. He’s still pretty new, and I don’t think he’s used to working in an office,” Kenji said thoughtfully.
“Fine. Please inform him of the proper procedure for next time,” Kunikida said, pinching the bridge of his nose to fend off the incoming headache. “Yosano, would you go with this idiot? I don’t trust him not to skip work.”
“Kunikida!” Dazai exclaimed, clutching his heart dramatically.“You wound me.”
“What about wounding people?” Yosano asked, looking up from what appeared to be a scrapbook of...people’s internal organs.
“Atsushi texted me to say he’s sick, and Kunikida doesn’t trust me enough to let me go alone.”
“In fairness, last time you tried to bury yourself on Kenji’s farm.”
Dazai pouted. “You’re all so mean to me! And it was his neighbor’s farm.”
“Well, maybe if you hadn’t been tunneling like a freaking mole— “
When they arrived, Atsushi’s apartment was dark, sparsely populated with the furniture that he’d added since the last time Dazai had seen it. The curtains were drawn, barely letting in a sliver of light, and the occupant was nowhere to be found.
“Aaaaaatsushiiiiiiii,” Dazai called, wandering inside. “Pspspspsps!”
“He’s not going to answer to that,” Yosano said, shoving him lightly with one shoulder. He returned the gesture, grinning.
From the closet came a noise not unlike a surprised housecat being woken up. And both of them would know, after being shown a compilation of Haruno’s cat making that exact noise.
“I have got to take a look at that kid’s vocal chords sometime,” she muttered, setting down her bag with the clatter of weaponry.
“No dissection,” Dazai insisted.
She rolled her eyes. “I said sometime, not today. You go wake him up; I’ll see if there’s anything in the kitchen. We might as well take care of him while we’re here.”
Dazai nodded, and opened the closet door slowly. Atsushi was curled up in his futon, staring blankly through him with no sign of recognition. His eyes were glassy, skin flushed and damp with perspiration.
“Hey there, kitten,” Dazai said gently. “How are you doing?”
Atsushi huddled deeper into the futon, expression like a cornered animal. “Cold.”
“Do you want to borrow my coat?” Dazai coaxed. “Come on out, and I’ll let you wear it.”
He shook his head fervently. “No. I’m not going back.”
“Back where?”
“The cage. Don’t make me, please. ”
“You’re never going back to the cage, you hear me? You’re with us now. I can’t promise that no one will ever hurt you again, but you’re not going back to the place where you grew up.” He’d known that Atsushi came from an abusive orphanage, but never the full extent of it. Atsushi didn’t really talk about it much, but now Dazai was wishing he’d asked, or investigated, or somehow known that things were so bad.
“How do I know you’re real?” Atsushi was close to tears now, pressing himself against the wall and pointing at Dazai with a shaking finger. “Authors, and characters, from the books I read, they all talked to me there, promised to take me on their adventures, but they couldn’t save me. They just kept me company when I was lonely.”
“I’m not a hallucination,” Dazai promised, holding out his hand. “I’m right here, kitten. Go on, take my hand.”
Atsushi regarded him suspiciously, but slowly reached out, fingers shaking. Dazai continued crouching there, telegraphing every movement, making sure not to invade Atsushi’s space. Finally, their fingers brushed, then clasped together.
“It’s warm,” Atsushi breathed. “I’m cold. It’s so cold, but you’re warm.”
“Yeah, I know. C’mere, let’s get you fed, all right?” He guided Atsushi out of bed, draping the coat around his shoulders before picking him up and carrying him into the kitchen. He’d intended to just hold his hand and walk with him, but, well, Atsushi looked like he was struggling just to stand up, and his protective instincts took over.
“How is he?” Yosano asked, shutting the cabinet door and striding over to the kitchen table. She pulled up a chair for Atsushi, sitting down on the table and rifling through her pockets.
“Not great. He’s pretty out of it right now.” Dazai situated his apprentice on a chair, wrapping the coat tighter around his shoulders. “I’m not sure if he even recognizes me, to be honest. He asked if I was real.”
“Huh. We were lucky to get that text, then.” She pulled out a small penlight and a thermometer, sliding a disposable sterile cap onto the latter. “Hey, Atsushi? I’m going to take your temperature.”
“I’m...sick?”
“Well, I certainly hope so, since the alternative would be poison.” She performed a few more tests, checking his blood pressure, response to light, and asking a few basic questions before turning back to Dazai. “Looks like he caught whatever’s been going around lately, combined with overwork knocking out his immune system. He’ll be back on his feet in a week or so, as long as he takes it easy. There shouldn’t be any long term damage, but with the delirium he’s experiencing, he shouldn’t be left alone. I’ll talk to Kunikida about making sure someone stays with him at all times.”
“That’s good to hear.” He ruffled Atsushi’s hair, and was surprised when the latter grabbed his arm with both hands and looked up at him with pleading eyes.
“Don’t disappear, okay?”
“I’m not going anywhere, kitten,” Dazai assured him.
“Did you just call him kitten?” Yosano snickered. “Damn, I had no idea you were going this soft.”
He gave her a flat glare. “How much hush money do you want.”
“Enough to cover a grocery trip for him.” She gestured to the counter, where she’d gathered a rather sorry assortment of ingredients. “Would you believe his medicine cabinet is empty? Nothing. Not even ibuprofen. You’re cooking for him, and I’m going shopping.” She scowled at the ingredients, as if they were to blame for his predicament. “Geez, it’s like he’s got no idea how to survive on his own.”
“Yes, in retrospect, taking in an orphan with no real life skills and a chronic fear of asking for help, we really should have seen this coming,” Dazai mused.
“We?” She hopped off the table, giving him a withering glare. “There is no we about this. He’s your apprentice. It’s your fault, so take responsibility.”
“If it’s my responsibility, then how come you’re helping?”
“Because he’s one of us, and that makes him family.” Her tone left no room for argument, and she was gone in a clatter of weapons from her bag.
Well. Dazai gently pried his arm out of Atsushi’s grasp. “I’m just going to walk to the sink and get you a glass of water, okay?”
“Mm.” Atsushi didn’t look happy about this, but he let go and watched silently as Dazai found a glass in the cabinets and brought it back. He sipped slowly, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light filtering through gaps in the curtains.
“Feeling any better?” Dazai asked. Atsushi didn’t answer, just shrugged. He seemed a little more coherent than earlier, but it was hard to tell. “Are you hungry?”
Atsushi just shook his head, staring blankly at the table.
“All right. You should still eat something, though. Yosano was nice enough to go through your stock of ingredients.” He ruffled Atsushi’s hair, making a mental note to take him out for dinner sometime. “You know, you can buy protein occasionally. I know it’s not the most lucrative job in the world, but you’ve got enough to put meat on the table.”
Atsushi spoke for the first time since he’d asked Dazai not to disappear on him. “Can’t.”
“Why not?”
He shook his head. “Can’t. I need to save the money.”
“What are you saving it for?”
“For when they leave me.”
“When who leaves you?” Dazai asked more urgently.
Atsushi swallowed hard, his grip around the empty glass tightening. “The, the job, the people, they’re going to throw me away if I’m not good enough. I need to save up for when that happens. Kunikida’s going to be so disappointed that I didn’t come to work, and I don’t think Junichirou likes me, and Yosano’s scary, and Kenji’s four years younger but already so much better than me, and— Dazai?”
“Yeah?”
“Dazai,” he repeated, blinking rapidly as if that would help to clear away the fog in his brain. “Dazai. Is nice. But he’s going to throw me away too. Please don’t, I’m sorry, I swear I’ll be good...”
“Hey. Look at me, Atsushi. When I said I was going to take you in, I meant it, okay? I meant every word of it.”
“Don’t go,” Atsushi said, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m so confused, I don’t even know what’s real, I can’t— I know you but I don’t know if you’re really here. Maybe I just made you up.”
“I can help with that, if you want. Telling reality from the tricks your brain plays.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Dazai flipped open his phone, opening the camera app and passing it to Atsushi. “Take a picture of what you see. Hallucinations don’t show up on camera.”
Atsushi stared a moment, then took a picture. “You’re here,” he said, staring at the screen. “Dazai.”
“Yeah. I’m right next to you.”
He swung the camera a few feet to the side, and clicked the shutter. “He’s not here,” Atsushi muttered darkly. He glared at the space where he’d taken the picture. “You’re not even here! Leave me alone. I’m not going back, I’ll never go back to that place.”
“Is that—“ Dazai pointed. “Is that the person who put you in the cage?”
“I hate him.” He was shaking now, though it was hard to tell if the source was cold or fear or rage or some combination of the three. “I hate him so much! He tortured me my entire life and then kicked me out to die, and every time I try and make something of myself he’s there, calling me worthless! I’m not worthless! I. Am. A. Tiger.”
“He isn’t here,” Dazai said, uncertain whether his reassurance would come across or not. “But I am. I’m here for you, kitten.”
Atsushi took a shaky breath, reaching out across the table to grab Dazai’s arm. “Don’t go. Please don’t go. It’s worst when I’m alone.”
“I’m right beside you.”
“ Don’t leave me. ”
Dazai knelt in front of Atsushi’s chair, pulling his apprentice into a hug. “I won’t.”
Half an hour later, Dazai found himself lying on the floor of Atsushi’s floor, trying to play Tetris on his phone with one hand. Atsushi had somehow managed to curl his entire body around Dazai’s other arm, and was clutching it in his sleep like a lifeline. He’d passed out shortly after taking an ibuprofen, and now Dazai was just killing time.
Not a bad way to skip work, really. The late morning sunlight was streaming through the window, Atsushi was chuffing, and Dazai was half lost in memories of a certain old friend. Would Oda be proud, he wondered? Take in orphans. Make the world a brighter place. Maybe it took a lot more learning than Dazai had known at the time, but he was on his way, wasn’t he? He was trying to break the cycle of abuse that had haunted him all his life, trying to break Atsushi out of the abuse and trauma he’d endured. And he’d make mistakes, of course, but he was still trying.
His phone vibrated just then, with a message from Yosano.
Pure of heart: I’m on the way back; what’s the status on your end?
Dumb of ass: Atsushi’s doing much better. he’s currently sleeping in the middle of his room. I’ve got a cool washcloth on his forehead and am currently typing this one handed since he’s claimed my arm as his emotional support object
Dumb of ass: he had half a bowl of chakuze and two glasses of water, and some ibuprofen I obtained
Pure of heart: please tell me you didn’t steal from his neighbors
Dumb of ass: I didn’t steal from his neighbors
Pure of heart: you know what I don’t even want to know what you did
Dumb of ass: good. You’re my alibi, it would suck if you got charged as an accomplice
Pure of heart: ...I do not have time to unpack all of that or figure out if you’re just messing with me
Pure of heart: anyways. Seeing as he’s latched onto your arm I’ll pick up a plushie or two for him to cuddle. I ended up recruiting Kenji to help me carry stuff, and I’ve got enough food to stock his fridge plus a decent first aid kit
Pure of heart: I also convinced Kunikida that it’s our job to give Atsushi basic training including life skills, so you’re in charge of teaching him how to cook meals other than just his comfort foods. He needs some variety
Dumb of ass: by basic training you mean trying to be the parental figure he never had?
Pure of heart: parental figures, plural. I already called teaching him how to recognize toxic people, budget for the month, dispose of a body, and help someone through a panic attack
Dumb of ass: I’m sorry what was the middle one
Pure of heart: budgeting
Pure of heart: listen this is the stuff I would have wanted to know when I was a kid!
Pure of heart: what would you teach him, huh?
Dumb of ass: i mean if you’d known how to dispose of a body and recognize toxic people i think my biggest childhood problem would have been solved
Dumb of ass: namely, mori.
Pure of heart: ...are we just. Coparenting someone barely younger than us and projecting our messed up childhoods onto him
Dumb of ass: probably, yeah. We’ll have to be careful with that. Don’t want to pass down our secondhand trauma, just teach him useful skills to avoid trauma
Dumb of ass: i call teaching him how to disarm a bomb!