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They haven’t seen each other since the banquet on Fitzgerald’s cruise ship.
That evening, under the setting sun, Dazai’s eyes held so much fondness Atsushi still doesn’t know how to process it. They stood side by side, the soft breeze playing with their hair, and Atsushi’s heart beat a loud rhythm in his ears, louder than their champagne glasses clinking together in a toast. Then, when Atsushi turned to look at the sun dip into the ocean, Dazai disappeared. Like smoke in the wind, like he always does. Once he lost Dazai from his line of sight, the man was gone, leaving only the words to the stray dogs echoing faintly in the air and the memory of his soft smile.
It’s okay. Dazai always comes back when it matters.
Somehow their paths don’t cross in the next several days, either by coincidence or Dazai’s planning. Dazai is not at the office yet when Atsushi arrives at work in the morning, but this isn’t anything new. The detective has never been the early bird type and he always comes in late, as if annoying Kunikida was his alternative to a morning coffee. During the day, Atsushi is always on the move, accompanying Ranpo to the crime scenes, partnering with Kyouka in investigating simple cases. When he returns to the office, Dazai is already gone.
There’s no reason for Dazai to avoid him, Atsushi thinks, but he’s starting to feel suspicious. His feet slow down as he passes by Dazai’s door on the way to his room, imagining scenarios in which he knocks on it.
What would he even say? I missed you?
That’s silly. It’s only been a few days, however long they felt.
(There’s a phantom feeling of a hand on his head, of fingers moving through the silver strands of his hair, bringing comfort and pride in a job well done. It doesn’t feel like the real thing, not even close.)
Atsushi tries not to think about it. The words in 6 months, in 6 months keep playing over and over in his head, spoken in Akutagawa’s rough voice. He needs to get stronger.
He spends every free moment training hand-to-hand combat with Kunikida, sweating and ripping through countless changes of clothes. Kunikida is a good teacher. Even if he’s easily riled up by the smallest thing Dazai does, when he’s mentoring he’s patient and attentive. He gives good advice, and Atsushi knows what to improve. It doesn’t make it easier, though. The weretiger still lands on his back, frustrated and defeated, more often than not.
“The tiger is strong, but you are weak,” Kunikida says one day after their training session.
Atsushi knows this. He’s well aware that without borrowing the tiger’s strength he’s not that much. He wants it to change, be equal with the tiger, support each other. He wants to give back what he borrows.
The city is not the natural habitat of tigers. They are wild, untamed animals; they are born to run free. One day, when a case brings Atsushi out of the city, he realizes that the concrete jungle he lives in might be the reason for the restlessness he feels in his bones. Close to nature, he feels more peaceful than he’s ever been in his life.
After this discovery, a new idea forms in Atsushi’s head, something to help him connect with the tiger better. Few nights a week, he goes out of the city. He takes the train to the furthest stop, changes into a full animal form, and runs. He runs through the forests as far as he can, exploring every stream and stone, leaving large prints of his paws in the soft soil behind him.
The tiger is thankful to be let run free. They both needed to feel the freedom, to see the vast sky above them and the endless forest paths before them. They’ve never been closer to truly becoming one.
On the full moon, Atsushi feels the strongest. He’s not afraid of it, not anymore. He bathes in the moonlight like one would in sunlight, gathering energy under his skin, charging like a battery. His senses get sharper. He notices even the slightest movement in the corner of his eye, hears the softest rustle of a leaf falling from a tree, senses a scent left by a rabbit in the forest days before.
Long story short, there’s a lot on Atsushi’s mind already. He has no time to be preoccupied with other things. Things like the way his heartbeat races at the thought of Dazai with skin painted in the colours of the setting sun, a champagne glass outstretched in his hand, a fond smile on his face.
So Atsushi doesn’t think about him.
Or at least he tries not to.
It’s not his fault that his subconscious reminds him of that evening in his dreams sometimes. Better that than having nightmares about the orphanage. Atsushi welcomes this change gladly and maybe he even hopes to see that smile when he closes his eyes at night.
It’s late when Atsushi returns to his dorm room today. He’s dirty and wet after his tiger run, since it started raining at one point, and his hurting muscles remind him that even the tiger’s stamina has its limits. He wants nothing more than to fall face-down onto his futon and let the unconsciousness take him. He finds some last bits of energy and uses it to take a shower, sparing his bedsheets from smelling like forest soil. He scrubs his hands and feet from the mud, then changes into a loose white t-shirt and soft pyjama pants. With bare feet on the tatami, he soon finds his way to the safe haven of his futon.
Thankfully, Kyouka got her own room after she became a proper member of the Agency — he’d hate to wake her up when he comes back from his night excursions. He misses her comforting presence in the room, but they still meet up every morning to eat breakfast together, just like they did when they lived in the same room. What he doesn’t miss is sleeping in the closet. It was high time to break free from the confinement of small dark spaces; the tiger in him is pleased to leave them behind.
Finally, Atsushi crashes onto the futon and lays there all sprawled out, looking like a dead body on the pavement and feeling like one even more. His mind is already drifting between consciousness and sleep when the window opens and something large tumbles inside, knocking down a small potted plant he placed on the windowsill hoping to introduce more nature to his room.
Despite the exhaustion that weighs his bones down, Atsushi jumps up and transforms his arms, ready to strike in mere seconds, but he immediately knows that he doesn’t need to attack. So many things betray the night visitor’s identity, especially to the heightened senses of the weretiger. There’s a soft rustle of fabric that Atsushi quickly recognizes to be a trench coat. The silhouette is familiar, long legs and a slim body with the lazy self-assuredness inherent in every step. And the unmistakable scent, the ever-present hint of sake mixed with the memory of too many cups of coffee.
But there’s a new undertone to the scent today, of rain and cold stone.
A touch on Atsushi’s wrist changes into blue light, illuminating the room and their faces, and Atsushi is fully human again. He strains his eyes in the dark. Dazai’s face was visible only for a moment, but now Atsushi doesn’t have the help of his tiger eyes when Dazai is still gripping his wrist. He didn’t have enough time to see the expression on Dazai’s face. He wants to see it again, the brown eyes, the molten honey, looking at him like the last time they saw each other. Soft, fond.
“Dazai-san,” he whispers. There’s nobody else here, but it’s night, and the walls of the dormitory building are thin. It seems appropriate to whisper. “What are you doing here?”
Dazai doesn’t reply, but his hand is still on Atsushi’s wrist. It's cold. He must’ve been outside for a while, Atsushi wonders. Was he at the cemetery again, sitting with his back against a cold stone grave despite the rain?
(Only one grave comes to Atsushi’s mind. The grave with the letters S.Oda carved into the stone where Atsushi found Dazai the last time the world almost ended.)
Atsushi puts his other hand on Dazai’s, intending to warm his icy fingers, but Dazai takes his hand away. The movement is slow. The fingertips linger for a second longer than they should, leaving a cool imprint on Atsushi’s skin.
Now Atsushi worries. This whole situation is strange. Many things about Dazai are strange, but Atsushi is used to most of them by now. Somehow, during the few months of knowing Dazai, the double suicide offers, the disappearing in the most inconvenient moments, the bandages peeking out of the collar of his mentor’s shirt and the cuffs of his coat became a new normal. Dazai’s motives are hard to figure out most of the time, but he doesn’t appear in Atsushi’s room at night without reason.
At least he never did before. There’s a first time for everything.
“Dazai-san, is everything alright?”
Dazai sighs. The sound is quiet and could be mistaken for a normal breath by anyone else, but Atsushi’s ears catch the difference with no effort. The line of Dazai’s body is tense; Atsushi sees it clearly despite the darkness thanks to the cat-like slits that appeared in his eyes when Dazai’s touch left his skin. He wants to reach out, touch the cold hand again, and make the tension in Dazai’s spine melt away.
“Atsushi-kun,” Dazai finally says, and Atsushi realizes how much he missed it, how much he missed hearing his name from Dazai’s lips. Nobody else says the same way, as if the honorific at the end is a secret term of endearment, hidden in plain sight before anyone else. How long has it been? Days, weeks? Atsushi is not sure, but he wants to hear it again and again.
“There’s a big storm coming,” Dazai says instead.
Atsushi doesn’t know what he expected, but it’s not this. The words sound ominous in the darkness of the night and Atsushi has to suppress a shiver. It all might be a joke, a prank weeks in the making, and Dazai only appeared in his Atsushi’s room to laugh at his expense, but no. The room is eerily quiet; no laugh arrives to disturb it.
Atsushi frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Dostoyevsky was captured, but his plan is still in motion,” Dazai says, keeping his voice steady and even.
Atsushi didn’t expect the peaceful period to last long, but if Dazai himself comes with a warning, what is waiting for them tomorrow?
“What plan? What’s going to happen?” Atsushi asks as if asking questions would bring him answers. That’s not how it works with Dazai, Atsushi knows. He hopes that one day Dazai would trust him with more than just carrying out important missions. That one day Dazai would trust him with his past, with his heart. It’s not today, not yet.
Dazai’s calm falters for a moment. “I wanted to see you before the storm hits,” he says. “I wanted to tell you...” He looks down, takes a breath and starts again. This time he looks Atsushi straight in the eyes, his gaze determined.
“Atsushi-kun, whatever happens, trust in the Agency. Support each other. Together you will always be strong, even if you’re not next to each other.”
Dazai says all of that, but he says even more between the lines. There’s a hidden message there, made of all the words that didn’t leave his mouth.
He doesn’t say trust in me. He doesn’t say together we will be strong.
Where will you be? Atsushi wants to ask. Why do you talk about the Agency as if you’re not a part of it?
He stays quiet, choked up by questions he knows Dazai will not answer, not in the honest and straightforward way Atsushi wants them answered.
Dazai must sense Atsushi’s turmoil — of course he does, he doesn’t even need animal senses for that — and his mouth curls into a smile, soft and sad. It’s not the smile Atsushi wanted to see; everything is wrong and his tiger instinct screams danger. But it’s not run that his inner tiger commands. It’s protect.
“Don’t worry about me,” Dazai says.
How can he say that when it all strangely feels like a goodbye?
Dazai never says goodbye before he disappears. He just does, but then he’s back again, joking and laughing, lounging on the agency sofa, making Kunikida snap yet another fountain pen as if nothing happened. So why is he here tonight? Why does it feel like a goodbye?
Only when his hands are enveloped in slightly bigger ones, Atsushi realizes he’s been wringing them in distress. Dazai’s hands are warmer now but still colder than Atsushi’s. They probably always are because Atsushi’s tiger blood runs hot in his veins. He’s never cold. He would share the warmth if only Dazai asked.
“Atsushi-kun,” Dazai breathes out. It sounds like he wants to say something more, like he came to say something entirely different from the words that have left his mouth so far, but he doesn’t. Instead, he squeezes Atsushi’s hands for a second, relaying a message Atsushi doesn’t know how to read. Then he lets go, spreading his arms wide, spreading his lips wider. “Why not give me a hug before I leave?”
Atsushi is standing there, perplexed. Dazai is looking at him, his arms still open and inviting, but Atsushi knows that the smile on his face is fake, desperately disguising the honesty that threatened to escape him tonight so many times.
Atsushi knows Dazai’s genuine smile. He sees it in his dreams. Soft, fond.
One, two, three loud thumps of Atsushi’s heart, and Dazai closes his arms back. The smile falls from his face like a mask. “When the time comes, remember what I said today. You’ll be fine,” he says and turns towards the door. “I’ll go now.”
Dazai only takes a step before Atsushi reacts faster than he thinks and crashes into Dazai’s back, his arms immediately closing around the body in the tan coat. He presses his cheek into the fabric. The scent is there again, so strong, so close. Atsushi doesn’t need the tiger’s nose to feel it now.
“You tell me not to worry, but how can I not? Dazai-san always wanders off alone and doesn’t let me follow.” Atsushi squeezes his arms around Dazai tighter, feeling the shape of the bandages under the clothes. “At least... stay tonight, please. Before the storm hits.”
Atsushi knows he won’t get more explanation, so he doesn’t ask anything again. But he can share the warmth, just for one night, so that Dazai’s hands aren’t cold where he needs to go. It doesn’t matter if it’s because Dazai can’t say it, or he doesn’t want to, not yet. Atsushi trusts him either way, with his life, with his heart, even if everything and everyone tells him he shouldn’t. It's too late to stop now.
Dazai’s hand touches Atsushi’s hands clasped at the front of his shirt, tentative and careful. They stay like this and Atsushi counts the time by Dazai’s breaths, feeling the chest under his arms expand with each one. Then Dazai finally turns around, untangling Atsushi’s hands, but he doesn’t let go of them. He raises one hand to his lips and kisses it softly, reverently, and then does the same with the other one. He still doesn’t let go. The warmth transfers slowly; Atsushi feels the ice melt under his fingers.
“Okay,” Dazai whispers and it’s there, the smile that reaches his eyes and makes them shine with some inner light. Soft, fond, loving.
Oh.
So that's what it means, the smile in Atsushi’s dreams.
Atsushi tugs on the hands still in his and pulls Dazai towards his futon. The coat goes off, so do shoes, and they fall into the soft sea of pillows and blankets.
It’s strange, Atsushi thinks, to look into these eyes so closely, to feel Dazai’s breath on his face, to press lips to that fond smile and try to mimic the same shape with his lips. At the same time, it’s not strange at all. Maybe every day since they met, every call of each other’s name, every conversation under the setting sun was slowly but inevitably leading to this moment.
“Dazai-san, why did you come tonight? Were you worried about me?” Atsushi whispers.
“How can I not be? Atsushi-kun always ends up right in the middle of the chaos,” Dazai responds, laughter in his eyes. He presses hands under Atsushi’s t-shirt, seeking more of the warmth the weretiger offers. “But you’re strong. Whatever happens, I know you’ll find a way.”
When Dazai’s hands are on Atsushi's face, pulling it into another kiss, they are finally warm. Satisfied, Atsushi falls asleep, tucked under Dazai’s chin, arms around the older man, smelling the memory of rain on Dazai’s skin.
“Come back when the sky clears,” Atsushi whispers, right before sleep takes him. He could fight the exhaustion only for so long. He’s not awake to hear an answer, but he feels something that might be a kiss left in his hair.
Atsushi sleeps hard and deep. The usual dreams and nightmares don’t plague him tonight. He doesn’t wake when Dazai untangles their limbs, tucks the blanket around his sleeping body, and leaves the place on quiet feet. He also doesn’t wake when his alarm rings and Kyouka bangs on his door when he’s late for their breakfast routine.
When he finally opens his eyes, he realizes Dazai is gone. Like smoke in the wind, like he always does. There’s no sign that he was even there. No coat, no shoes, the window is closed. Even the lone potted plant is back in its place on the windowsill. Only the kiss-swollen lips and warm hands hold the memory of the night before.
Atsushi traces his lips with a finger, following a shape of a smile. Soft, fond, loving.
It’s okay. Dazai will be back. He didn’t say goodbye.
The storm is brewing on the horizon. The world will end again, but it’s neither the first nor the last time for them. Besides, tigers are not afraid of rain.