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The agency building sits dark and abandoned with the sole exception of two people in the infirmary. An LED light burns weakly, casting a streak of light on one’s face while the other stares in abject silence while busying himself on a creaky, old bed. It should’ve been replaced ages ago, as the good doctor had requested, but the agency’s funds hadn’t allowed for that and thus they were stuck with the noise and discomfort.
The one that suffers most from this lack of comfort is the one person she cannot treat by way of her gift, the one person that requires a good, old-fashioned patching up that doesn’t involve any sort of chainsaw, maiming, and a night spent delightfully being torn apart to accelerate the healing process.
She thinks about how he’d probably avoid her like the plague if she could use her ability on him, all too aware that his distaste towards pain runs as deep as their shared ties, and for many women being avoided by this man would be a blessing (in disguise).
But Akiko doesn’t feel the need to be wary of him, because he knows better than anyone her ails and woes.
“How is it that your suicide attempts see you return cleaner than you did going into them, yet whenever a seemingly small case happens you come back with broken bones or bullet wounds.” She questions him as she takes his wrist in her hand to stretch his arm, assessing the damage properly while ignoring the wince of pain that visibly forms on his face for that split second.
“Maybe I just like your company, wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gotten shot on purpose, right Yosano-sensei?” The faux grin on his face does little to convince her and the answer he gives is anything but satisfying, there’s little chance he’ll be honest with her regardless, but she doesn’t like being taken for a fool regardless.
“Don’t think I’d believe a weak lie such as that, Dazai. I know all too well how much you despise pain. I’m not Atsushi-kun, you can’t fool me the same way.”
“Ah, but I can fool you, can I not?”
The hidden mirth behind the statement twists her previous calm demeanour to furrowed brows and an annoyed sigh, she pulls his wrist with a little more force than needed which earns her the reward of an overt yelp coming over his lips.
“You could fool anyone if you wanted to, but you’ll have to do better than that with me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Is the responsive coo he gives and Yosano has to resist the urge to smack him in his face. It’s almost baffling to her that this man, the bane of the agency’s existence, is simultaneously the most intriguing mystery that ever had the displeasure of presenting itself on her.
She’s not one for backing down from mysteries, and somewhere deep down the admittance claws at her insides that the childish tendencies are a particular weakness to her.
It’s not something to be spoken out loud and god would it make him obnoxious if she did say it, so it’ll remain her secret to be kept and chuckle at in silence.
It takes precision and dedication to remove the shards of glass from the battered and bruised arm, forced to remove the bandages that litter his skin while pretending not to see what hides beneath them for his sake.
She’s a doctor, a professional, and thus she’ll remain that way to preserve her every patient’s integrity no matter how it irks her to see the scarred skin hiding underneath. It wouldn’t be the first time the sight confronts her and it won’t be the last.
“You’ve got frustrating habits.” Is all she says. The short breath of laughter that fills the space feels more genuine than the smiles from before and the tension drops to a comforting level.
“I’ve had a bad teacher in life, but I don’t think I’d need to tell you of all people that.” The statement comes loaded, the weight of a past far in the distance flooding back to through the crevices of her mind, yet she does not break or yield, instead opting to pull at the shrapnel like before. Ignoring the hidden question behind that statement.
“Is this your way of dredging up the past? You can do better than that can you not?” The sharp edge to her voice is given weight by her continued, practised routine. Not missing a single beat as the last of the shards is freed from the skin that held it in place.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t care less about that. You’re clearly doing fine.”
An unintelligible murmur escapes past her lips. The surgical pliers weigh in her hand, still tightly gripping the bloodied piece of glass before being unceremoniously dropped next to the others on the tray.
Dazai eyes them with an inexplicably distant look, remembering the things that she’s already managed to grow past, forget.
Dazai is younger than her, and his time with Mori came to an abrupt end only four years ago. It’s only natural that he struggles and even more natural for him to be drawn to the nonchalant ways Akiko has learned to brush Mori off of her.
Sometimes she wakes in the night, cold sweat and fear clouding her mind, those strings of influence that held her like a puppet materialize again, and again.
But they always come and go instantaneously, her mind refusing to be held by them any longer.
Dazai admits he does not dream about it, the influence that holds him runs deeper and in different ways. He doesn’t fear Mori, it’s the teachings he finds hard to shake.
A wet cloth soaking up old blood before being discarded, new bandages tightly wrapped around the marred skin. All anew, Dazai will be fine.
And yet he looks at her with an intensity she has yet to have witnessed from him before. Learning new things about the enigma that is the agency’s very own, fucked up little lapdog.
He’s a natural flirt who quickly burned himself flying too close to the sun, learning exactly what it means to incur Akiko’s wrath from the day he became a member, he’s never made the mistake again and while she’s appreciative of the respect, a part of her now wishes he would.
“Do you dream often, of him?” He asks, gaze refusing to part from hers. A strangely straightforward question coming from him.
“Not often anymore, no. When I do it’s brief, gone as quickly as it comes. Why?”
Eyes averted, a wistful daze passes over them. Akiko recognises them with fervent familiarity.
“How long did that take…” The sentence trails and drags, an uncertainty passing through it. It’s phrased like a question that wasn’t meant to be asked, but Akiko answers all the same.
“A long time, accelerated by having the pleasure of witnessing Ranpo-san’s social idiocy first-hand for so long.” It’s her turn to laugh now, at the memories she so dearly holds.
Fukuzawa and Ranpo were there to guide her into this world, the world of light that asked nothing of her besides the kindness she was so desperate to place. A world with patience for her guilty conscience and the ability to cut the bonds that threatened to forcefully drag her back, fingers dug in the ground as she struggled to fight against it.
Regardless she succeeded, Akiko won.
The angel of death no more, Akiko Yosano stood proud besides her fellow detectives with the ability to keep them safe in this home they created for her. A favour that needs no returns, she’ll fight tooth and nail to keep them safe.
This includes Dazai, no matter what any old outsider may think, because he belongs here, in this world.
His habits are hard to shake, but when he does so the power held within his mind is almost unrivalled. Watching him work is as fascinating as the creatures from the darkest depths of the ocean, unknown and almost alien, yet he is so painstakingly and undeniable human.
“It gets better, you’ve seen the way Atsushi-kun looks at you, he holds you in high regard.”
“A mistake on his end really.” The tone conveys a bitterness, one that irks the doctor to no end. Strides forward, her hands slide along his jaw, holding his face with a gentleness she trained to be capable of.
“It means you’re doing a good job, you’re learning from your past mistakes.” Stern, but warm.
It’s as if his heart stops when his eyes widen at the response, unsure of how to take it because Dazai does not know how to accept himself for the new person he’s becoming.
“I can’t believe Yosano-sensei is cheering me up, what a world we’re living in today.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
Lithe fingers rake through short but soft, brown hair. He lets her do so without protest. There’s something there, between them, in this shared sanctuary past midnight. Reserved only for them because only for Dazai do the treatments take as long as they do.
In part she knows both of them drag the times far past necessary, artificially inflating the personal times spent in each other’s presence.
To Akiko it’s her comfort to know someone understands the pain she harbours on a deep, intrinsic level. The simple rising and falling of his chest reassures her that it’s fine and they will come out of it better than before. The temporary fears that plague her mind whenever Mori’s visage intrudes her vision for that split second all dissipate on the knowledge that she’s not alone.
“Getting a little handsy there Yosa-“
“Akiko.” She cuts in without so much as a spared breath or glance. “You’ve earned that right.”
“Oh? Pray tell, what have I done to earn that?” The grin returns in all of its Dazai-esque glory and instead of gracing it with an answer, the warmth leaves his face while Akiko takes several steps back.
“Shouldn’t you know that by now?” It’s a challenge, an invitation to pick her mind apart right here and now, one the man isn’t used to being issued by his fellow agency members and least of all Akiko.
Her back turned to him, she forces herself to focus on cleaning the bloodied mess on her tray, to ensure it’s disposed of properly before the quiet night overtakes her concentration to make her forget altogether.
Dazai doesn’t move an inch from the edge of that bed, but the rhythmic creaks inform her of the restlessness that plagues him. The gears in his mind turning as to answer her challenge in a satisfactory manner. The ex-mafioso isn’t stupid and neither is Akiko, he’s stalling for time for whatever reason and the well-constructed façade of patience is starting to wear thin. She won’t yield that easily to him though, if he wants something he’ll need to work for it and Akiko is a first place winning prize.
The brunette hums a tune while she works tirelessly on wiping all the traces of use from the infirmary’s counters and tables, her hands work quick and efficient without missing a beat. Clean the bloodied cloth, throw away the old bandages, scrub the metal tray, all those things, until the creaking stops and footsteps can be heard drawing near. Stopping right behind her.
She doesn’t so much as turn to face him. “Get back on the bed, that’s an order Dazai.” She states matter-of-factly without a hint of emotion.
“Let me help-“
“You don’t ‘help’ unless you want something in return. Just be yourself and let me handle my job.” A silent pause ensues and when she can’t hear the footsteps again a sigh escapes past her lips, finally turning to face the man directly.
Being this close to Dazai is a treat in and of itself, when you get to watch the man’s eyes so intently to find all the hidden meanings and the hundreds of layers they conceal. His eyes are the most outspoken part of his being, because they fail to hide as much as his tongue and lips do.
It’s easy to tell that his mind is in turmoil, swirling with uncertainties that nobody would think Dazai has.
The gaze is mimicked in intensity, she’s being mentally pulled apart and reconstructed, all so he can figure out the parts that make her tick, the core of her being.
She doesn’t hate the feeling, not even in the slightest.
“I think,” He eventually starts after the long wave of silence “you and I are so similar, yet undeniably different in the crucial ways. And you like that, it’s your own little challenge to make sense of me, as it is mine to do for you.”
“Hm, that so?” The palms of her hands settle against the edge of the counter while her weight leans on it. Dazai stands close but refuses to fill in that empty space sitting between them. He will not touch her nor will he entertain the thought of doing so, if anything is to happen here it’ll be by Akiko’s will and no-one else’s.
A shaky breath escapes past her lips before dissipating completely and instead of rising to the silent taunts, the subject is changed.
“Make an effort to stop getting injured.” She demands instead. “I’d much rather you start being more direct about what you want than this, and-“ A pointed finger lingers on the brunette’s bandage-covered forearm before her voice lowers to a whisper “I’d rather you not hurt yourself either.”
The expression sent her way doesn’t shift, but the dynamic changes regardless.
Akiko is not a patient woman, and what little of it there had been left had been worn out all throughout the night so she reckons this is where the little game has to end for both their sakes.
“The agency values you, you’re a part of us.” She speaks in low tones whilst taking short steps forward, pausing between every single one to increase the tension.
“But you’re right, I find you fascinating, I want to pick your brain, pull it apart and study it under a microscope. Your secrets are both frustrating and understandable.” She sucks in a sharp breath, pausing her spiel before continuing when her mind stops racing and swirling as much.
“At the same time you’re an annoying puzzle to solve, because despite the fact we’ve gone through similar experiences, the scars they left on us couldn’t be further apart from each other in the ways that they differ.” His back hits the wall and the previous emotionless expression morphs into something more genuine, a subtle wistful smile with eyes that open up further than she’s ever seen them be.
“I’m tired of the games, so from now on I want you to be simple about it, and ask. In your own stupid ways if you have to, just use words from now on.”
Despite the difference in size between them Dazai does not use it to his advantage and lets himself be caged in while watching expectant eyes, all but desperately begging for the question at the tip of his tongue.
Ironically enough he reminds her of a puppy right now, a sad, lonely puppy that just got picked off the streets and still has to adjust to new surroundings. Afraid to ask for the food and warmth its not expecting to get, only to be surprised when it’s given all it wants and more.
“You’re a sly one, Akiko.” He says darkly, letting his eyes wander over her frame. “But I suppose I should’ve expected that from you.”
“Because I’m one of Mori’s former subordinates?” She questions sharply.
“No, because you’re a woman.” He coos before quickly adding a “That was a joke, I promise!”
Still he does not ask and it becomes increasingly clear to her he has no intention to, it’s a game and he’s playing to win. It’ll be curious to see whose self-control turns out for the better, but at this point the doctor can’t really care about the competition anymore. So she hooks a finger around the bolo tie decorating his neck and pulls him down to her level where she leaves him for a bit.
“Beg.” She commands. The mischievous glint in her eyes staying clear and true while watching the other struggle at her grasp.
Until a sigh escapes him and the struggling stops.
“I’m never going to win this against you, am I?” He jokes lightly. “Fine, dear Akiko, would you grant me the honour of kissing you?”
It’s an amazing feeling, she has to admit. Something that feels better than finding the solution to any case, better than the usual treatments. Victory is a sweet thing and becomes priceless when earned against a difficult opponent, and she’ll begrudgingly admit this foe was a spectacularly tough one, making the win linger sweet on her mind where it’ll remain for months to come.
“That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?” She mockingly speaks before strong hands find themselves at her waist, cradling her whilst lips press against her. Soft and gentle at first, turning more desperate and hungry the longer they linger. Her free hand moves to cup his face and all the while she can’t think about anything except the sweet taste of cinnamon that stains his lips.
‘He was always planning to kiss her tonight, clever boy’ she thinks to herself, not even able to muster the energy to feel mad about it.
It seems like he’s won in his own unique little way, and as much as it should agitate her she can only admit at how frighteningly thorough he is at every turn, a force to be reckoned with on the detective agency, and now her own fun little challenge aside from that as well.
She’ll pick him apart and understand him one day, safe in the knowledge that she can get him right where she needs him to be to make it happen