Chapter Text
The first sign that something is wrong is Akutagawa's face when he receives a phone call from that Izumi girl.
It's unholy, that face. Sadism and fear struggle for dominance, underlaid by a thick current of relief, shock colouring the whole array of dancing emotions like stained glass. It's an awful face. An uncharacteristically open face. It only lasts for a moment, but Ichiyo sees it, all right, from where she's standing, waiting for him to finish the call so she can continue her report.
"Understood. Stand by where you are." Akutagawa hangs up the phone and sets it down, long and bony hands fidgeting. He looks up at Ichiyo, frowns. "Are you done?"
She's not. "Yes," she says.
He gets up and leaves, leaving her to stare up at the cracks in the ceiling and wait.
That's the first sign. The rest is all just aftermath.
Akutagawa comes back practically steaming with fury. Ichiyo avoids it as a matter of instinct. She certainly isn't stupid enough to mess with him when he's in a mood like that. She stays far away, cleaning her precious Glock P80. She'll be debriefed later, whenever Ozaki gets around to doing her job for once and interrogating the captured ex-exec—Dazai, was his name—or never, if it's not relevant to her. Either way, all she needs to know right now is to duck her head when Akutagawa comes stalking past.
He heads out the door without a word when he's done sulking around in the office, still in a foul mood. Ichiyo misses his presence, of course. She's always less motivated when he's not around.
The phone rings. It is twelve fucking thirty and the phone rings.
She checks the ID. It's Akutagawa.
She answers it.
" Higuchi ," he says. " I'm leaving ."
She doesn't even have to ask. The trepidation in his voice says it all.
"I'll come with you," she says. She never asks why.
They meet outside a 24-hour café at half past one. The night is alive with people, of course; in the urban centre of Yokohama there's no such thing as an abandoned street. But it's different at night. It just feels quieter, more muffled. All the people who are here would rather be asleep, and all the sleeping people would rather be anywhere but here. Ichiyo and Akutagawa, standing in the cold air and pretending not to shiver, are no exceptions.
"Well," Ichiyo says. "If you want to flee the Port Mafia entirely, we should go overseas." It's hard to pretend she hasn't thought about this before, but even through her sleepy state, she thrills at the idea of taking Akutagawa with her.
"No," Akutagawa says, and his voice is low and slow from exhaustion, but firm. "We're staying here."
"What do you mean?"
"We're staying here," says Akutagawa, "at a hotel."
"What? Why?!"
"I'm not running away," Akutagawa says. "I've still got work to finish, so we're staying in Yokohama."
Shit, Ichiyo is so dead.
For a moment the idea crosses her mind to just leave, go back to the Mafia, but... no. There's no point now. Besides, Akutagawa looks so tired.
"Did the hostage put you up to this?" she asks.
He twitches, but stays miraculously calm. "No. I decided myself."
So he just happened to do a complete 180 directly after talking to Dazai. Riiiiight, Ichiyo definitely believes that one.
"Well," she says, not questioning it. "Let's go."
Akutagawa nods and heads off towards the edge of the city.
Ichiyo follows.
It's a shabby hotel that they settle down in eventually, but at least it's not Suribachi city and not Mafia-owned. They only get one room to save on the limited money they brought with. There are two queen beds, and the room is shockingly clean for something so cheap. The wallpaper is some awful shade of mauve and the edges of the dresser are chipped.
When they arrive, they dump their bags on the floor and Ichiyo immediately goes about searching for bugs. None to be seen anywhere except one or two in the bathroom, so at least there's that. She covers them and gets on with things.
They don't unpack, just yank clothes out of their bags in silence. It's not like they've never slept in the same hotel room before, so it's not as awkward as it could have been. Akutagawa's got one duffel bag of clothes and toiletries, out of which he pulls the exact duplicate of the outfit he's wearing right now and goes to change. Ichiyo's got the same luggage, plus a water bottle, a few pictures, her wallet, her passport, the basics of makeup, and the few pistols she couldn't bear to part with—her Glock P80, of course, and a lighter Sig P365. Her sub-machine guns were all left at home with Natsuko or in the Mafia armoury, which is a shame, really. Her weights are all gone too, and most of her makeup. Damn it, those were expensive.
She settles on a hoodie and sweatpants, stuffing her Sig under her pillow and changing quickly underneath her hoodie. By the time Akutagawa's out of the bathroom in a fresh shirt, she's already sitting cross-legged on the bed, waiting.
"Did you tell your sister?" Akutagawa asks.
"I left a note," Ichiyo says. "What about your family?" It's probably a bad question to ask, but she asks it anyway. Maybe he doesn't even have one. It wouldn't be uncommon.
"Not an issue," Akutagawa says, and nothing more. He busies himself taking his bag right up to the foot of his bed.
"What's the plan?" Ichiyo asks. She's falling back into the old pattern of command. That's fine. Akutagawa will probably explode if he doesn't have someone to order around, and she works well under orders.
He doesn't answer for a second, frowning. "We'll stay here for tonight," he says slowly. "Right now, we need to find out what's going on."
"What's going on with what?"
"The weretiger."
Oh. She should have known. The weretiger's been Akutagawa's latest obsession ever since they ran into Dazai in the alleyway. Ichiyo's a bit disappointed with herself that she hadn't guessed that much.
"When we know what's happening, then what?"
"Then I'll decide what to do," he says sharply. "Tomorrow, we're looking into the group that put out the bounty on his head. Be up by six-thirty."
"Understood." Ichiyo nods, reaching over and setting the alarm clock on the bedside table to 6:15. It's almost 2:15 right now, so yeah, she can function on 4 hours of sleep. Sort of. She gets into bed and turns away to face the wall—Akutagawa might be sleeping fully clothed, but it's still a private thing, or it feels like one. She won't watch.
This isn't really so bad, she thinks as she traces the cracks in the plaster ceiling with her gaze. Maybe it's just that the idea of leaving the Mafia hasn't hit her yet. She knows Natsuko can take care of herself, and she knows the Mafia's general policy on murdering civilians ("leave them alone, you idiot, are you trying to get the police on our asses?") intimately, which is comforting at least. The only one who regularly broke that rule was Akutagawa and he's with her, so no problem there. Besides, her skills are replaceable. Rashomon? Not so much. If the Mafia goes after them, it'll be either for the secrets they know or for Akutagawa.
She's been thinking about this for a while, now, just up and disappearing, but always under the assumption that they'd hunt her down, break her jaw and shoot her for defecting. Or that she'd get impaled by Rashomon—or, even worse, that something would happen to Akutagawa while she was away. Not that she could protect him more than his own ability could, but it's a matter of duty. Maybe she was just afraid of being stranded, alone, standing on her own, with nobody telling her where to go.
With Rashomon on her side, though, and Akutagawa by her side, a direction, a source for orders—maybe this could work. No, it will work. She feels safe, with these assurances, or maybe it's the way her spine tingles with quiet delight that she can hear Akutagawa's slightly laboured breathing beside her as he climbs into the other bed fully clothed. A moment later, a hum of power, a crackle, and the lamp turns off. Ichiyo can't help but smile to herself. Did he just use Rashomon to turn off the lamp? Lazy ass.
Yeah, maybe this won't be so bad after all.