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It starts, as always, with Oda trying to butter him up.
Akutagawa says nothing the entire time, only eats his free shiruko as slowly as possible and waits for the inevitable. The morning rush has long since passed, so he feels no pressure to hurry. They’re the only customers in this quaint little cafe anyway, and judging by the menus that date back two years, it’s probably been ages since the place has had a full house.
The lead-in is not long in coming.
“What do you think of Nakajima?” Oda asks after dashing off his onigiri with a gulp of tea, and he does it in such a bored tone that one would have thought he had no personal stake in this.
Unfortunately, Akutagawa knows exactly who he’s dealing with, and after the last request his mentor made ended with him being dogpiled by a swarm of hyperactive brats, he’s not too keen to see where this is going.
“He’s…acceptable,” Akutagawa settles for. “Meek and overall a little pathetic, but he can fight well enough.”
“Meek—that’s one way to put it.” Oda waves over the sole waiter on standby to refill their drinks. “He seems to be having trouble fitting in with the other members. Izumi too, though to a lesser extent.”
As if Akutagawa hasn’t noticed. Nakajima and the assassin girl are like cogs that don’t quite mesh with the rest of the agency. Part of the reason for that is, of course, the lingering unease brought up by their previous occupations, and part is by their own design. The two of them tend to keep to themselves, that unnerving distance of theirs a wall blocking out those that come too close.
“How unfortunate,” Akutagawa says. He had been trying for sympathetic—as much as he could manage anyway—but it comes out more dismissive than anything.
It’s not that he doesn’t feel some tiny shred of pity for the tiger. He’s just spent most of his life only caring about one person, so it’s hard at times to notice the dim lights dancing around the periphery of that one bright star. The agency members may have wormed their way into his heart at some point, but that’s as far as his sentiments stretch.
Then again, Nakajima and the girl are technically agency members now, so he supposes he should care for them too.
Oda quirks an eyebrow, and Akutagawa hopes he hasn’t just earned himself another round of empathy lessons with Kunikida. He’s still recovering from the aftermath of the last one.
“It is, isn’t it? If only there was something we could do to help Nakajima open up. The others would probably be more accepting of him if they could see what he’s really like.” Oda looks at him expectantly.
“I refuse.”
“Listen to the rest first.”
Akutagawa pokes at the blob of mochi floating among the red beans in his bowl with his spoon. The shiruko here is a bit pastier than the one he’s had at Uzumaki, and he’s still trying to decide if he likes that or not. “If you want to take on another charity case, then do it yourself.”
“This is something only you can do,” Oda insists. “Out of all the members, you’re the one he’s closest to. He’s more likely to open up to you.”
Well, they had tried to split each other open on several occasions, but Akutagawa knows this is not what his mentor is referring to. Really, he wants to ask, what part of their numerous murder attempts on each other gave away that they were close?
Seeing his reluctance, Oda casually adds on, “He could be the key to finding your sister.”
“How so?” Akutagawa leans forward, not bothering to hide his sudden interest.
“You should already know that Nakajima’s ability gives him heightened senses. More importantly, he knows Gin’s scent. It was one of the first ones Dazai had him learn.” A hand gripping the handle of a pot comes between them to pour steaming tea into their cups, and Oda turns to give the waiter a nod before continuing. “Gin’s currently outside the range of his senses, but it’s still a lot more effective than searching blindly.”
It seems the man in black’s schemes never cease. “What’s the catch?” Akutagawa asks, because there’s always a catch when Dazai is involved.
“In return for this information, Dazai requested that you become Nakajima’s friend.”
Him and the tiger? Friends? What a preposterous proposal—or so he would have said, but then he recalls a moment of respite in a different cafe, and a young man’s unfettered laughter amidst the soft jazz ambience and the fragrant aroma of coffee.
He would do anything to find Gin, short of murder. Maybe even murder, under extenuating circumstances. In comparison, making a friend is relatively tame, especially compared to the ridiculous tasks the agency members put him up to with the stamp card.
“Very well,” he responds gravely.
Once he’s done with Nakajima, they’re going to be the best of friends.
***
Monday rolls around and Akutagawa is struck by the realization that he doesn’t know how to make friends. For most of his life, he had been hellbent on finding his sister and getting revenge on Dazai, so everything outside of that was irrelevant, and then his friendships with Tanizaki and Kenji just kind of…happened.
So despite his reluctance to rely on others, he decides to defer to those with more experience. A quick survey of the office gives him the following results:
Tanizaki—“Er, maybe talking about shared interests could help you grow closer?”
Kenji—“As long as you communicate with each other earnestly, your feelings will come through.”
Ranpo—“Making friends? Why would I do something troublesome like that? People should want to be my friend, not the other way around.”
Yosano—“Once you knock back a few together and share two or three dirty secrets, you’ll be buddies in no time.”
Oda—“Ask him if he’s eaten yet.”
Kunikida—“Stop dawdling and get back to work.”
A mixed bag of answers.
He goes through the responses scribbled on his notepad one more time, trying to determine how to best consolidate the information. So he’s supposed to make Nakajima want to be his friend…But what order should he follow? And what does knock back a few together mean? Is he supposed to work with Nakajima to take down a common enemy? He could see how that would foster camaraderie between them. Maybe he should invite Nakajima to the next climate strike with Kenji, and they can protest the illegal dumping of waste materials by big corporations while he strangles anyone who—
Just then, Nakajima and Izumi walk in through the entrance, giving their customary greetings to the office. Akutagawa decides to put the advice to work at once.
Intercepting Nakajima at his desk, he clears his throat and says, “Knock back a few with me.”
Nakajima stares at him for an uncommonly long time with what looks like concern and a little bit of horror. Then he rubs his eyes, blinks, and is somehow shocked to see that Akutagawa is still there. “I’m underage?”
There’s a minimum age for public protesting? This is news to Akutagawa, but considering their agency employs minors, a minor infraction or two shouldn’t be a big deal.
“It’s for a worthy cause,” Akutagawa explains. What difference does age make in the grand scheme of things when greedy and foul institutions are poisoning the very source of life and sustenance?
“...Really?”
Akutagawa nods, a hundred percent serious. “The fate of the Earth rests upon it.”
“I just don’t see why you’re asking me…” Nakajima sounds unsure and somewhat confused. “Wouldn’t Yosano-sensei be a better choice?”
“It has to be you.” Because he’s the one Akutagawa needs to befriend, not Yosano.
Nakajima eyes him warily. “Why?”
According to Kenji, he should be honest with his intentions here. “I wish to know your dirty secrets.”
“No way! If that’s what you’re aiming for, I’m never going drinking with you!” Nakajima takes off before Akutagawa can stop him, stumbling over his feet to escape red-face into the kitchenette.
The now empty chair spins dejectedly in place, and a strange sense of defeat overcomes Akutagawa. When did he say anything about drinking?
His next attempt is far more short-lived than the first.
There’s a lull in operations typical of the afternoon slump, and not even Kunikida has the energy to complain about the various employees milling around, fighting boredom with coffee breaks and gossip. There are slow days, and then there are glacial ones.
Nakajima is standing by the water cooler, chatting with Izumi, a rare little smile on his face that he seems to reserve only for her. When he sees Akutagawa approaching, it immediately falls off, replaced by a tight-lipped grimace and suspicious eyes.
Akutagawa slackens his stance and tries to adopt the same tone he heard Oda use. “Have you eaten yet?”
“Uh, yeah?” Nakajima says, and he’s still making a face like he just bit into a worm.” You saw me having lunch earlier.”
“Very well.” Giving a stiff nod, Akutagawa about-faces and returns to his own work station.
He spends the rest of his break wondering what was the point of that. He’d delivered the line with the same inflection as Oda, but Nakajima hadn’t seemed very impressed.
Upon reflection, he comes to the conclusion that maybe Yosano’s and Oda’s methods are too advanced for him to emulate. He should have started with a simpler approach. Of the remaining members, Kunikida and Ranpo seem the least likely to have any friends. That leaves only Tanizaki.
Akutagawa remembers that he got along pretty well with Nakajima when they were exchanging childhood stories at Uzumaki, so there must be some value to having shared interests. It might be worth testing if the same is true for dislikes.
He puts his plan into motion while Nakajima is stuck waiting for the photocopier to finish up, slinking over with the extreme confidence of someone who has no idea what he’s doing, but is nonetheless very determined to do it.
“How often do you bathe?” he says by way of greeting.
“Excuse me?”
“Do you like baths?”
Nakajima looks visibly shaken. “I take a normal amount of baths! I don’t smell or anything!”
Akutagawa wouldn’t know, as he has a rather dull sense of smell. If he had to say though, Nakajima smells faintly like the miso from the instant ramen he had for lunch.
“Do you also experience an intense sense of vulnerability when naked?” he continues. It’s a difficult and deeply personal topic for him, but he has to be willing to experience a little discomfort if he wants sincerity in turn.
A deathly silence descends upon Nakajima, and for a few seconds, he just stands there frozen in place with a completely blank expression. Then, ever so slowly, he inches past Akutagawa, grabs the stack of papers from the photocopier, and walks away.
Shrugging, Akutagawa stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes the return trip to his desk, ignoring the morbidly curious gazes of his colleagues who watched the entire interaction unfold. Nakajima’s timidity isn’t anything new, but maybe it was rude of Akutagawa to bring up personal matters in the vicinity of their coworkers. He’ll make sure their conversation is in private next time.
An hour later, he’s slouched in his seat, counting down the minutes until work is over instead of redoing his report—apparently strangled the perp is not a sufficient explanation, according to Kunikida—when he spots a head of silver hair shift in the corner of his vision.
He immediately gets up and follows, because he is a firm believer of seizing every opportunity available, regardless of the time or place. As soon as he gets Nakajima alone, they can have a nice, long discussion about the god-given gift that is the fig. Or whatever food Nakajima likes, as long as it’s not those disgusting mandarins.
Ahead of him, Nakajima stiffens, and then starts to pick up the pace. Akutagawa speeds up in response, trying to close the gap between them. This creates some sort of positive feedback loop where they both keep going faster and faster, until they’re running around the office in circles and Kunikida has to seize them by the arms to ask what in the world they think they’re doing.
“Figs,” is all Akutagawa says while Nakajima stews in mortification next to him.
They get placed on opposite sides of the office for the rest of the day.
Sitting at his desk, Akutagawa steeples his fingers in deep contemplation, and continues to ignore the emails from disgruntled clients piling up in his inbox. He’s been following the advice of his seniors flawlessly, but Nakajima still hasn’t asked to be his friend yet. What exactly is he missing?
With only fifteen minutes of work left, he decides to retire his efforts for the day and try again tomorrow. That is, until he spots Nakajima getting up and making his way to the bathroom. Bathrooms are quiet and free of distractions, making them the ideal settings for heart-to-heart conversations. Therefore it is Akutagawa’s imperative to seize this final chance.
As soon as the door shuts behind them, Nakajima whirls on him, a heated accusation tumbling out.
“Okay, seriously, what is your problem?” he hisses, jabbing a finger at Akutagawa. “You’ve been harassing me all day and now I can’t even go to the bathroom in peace? I know you don’t like me and I’m sorry about what happened at headquarters, but this is too much!” He blinks back frustrated tears. “What do you want from me?”
This is…unexpected. Akutagawa isn’t sure what has Nakajima so wound up, but the scene before him certainly brings back memories. Whenever he did something to set Gin off, she would show that same expression—jaws clenched, eyes flashing with a mix of hurt and anger.
Whenever that happened, he would always do whatever he could to bring back her smile.
Wordlessly, he holds out his right hand, palm up. Rashoumon ripples beneath the surface of his shirt, twisting and folding the fabric of his sleeve into a six-petalled flower. Surprise colors Nakajima’s expression, and he leans in for a closer look, momentarily distracted.
“Is that a lily?” he asks, voice filled with curiosity.
“I can make other things as well.” Akutagawa demonstrates by having Rashoumon cycle his sleeve through several different forms—a bird, a butterfly, a spider, and finally, a cat, complete with twitching ears and a lazy swish of its tail.
Nakajima cups the cloth creation with careful hands, marveling at the way it quivers against his touch. “I didn’t know your ability could do that…that’s amazing!” He pulls back when he’s done looking at it, and his smile is wryer now, though measured amusement has replaced the wariness in his eyes. “You didn’t follow me into the bathroom just to show me this, did you?”
“That wasn’t my intention, no.” Akutagawa withdraws his arm, and his sleeve reverts back to normal, Rashoumon settling back into its slumber. This is the most receptive Nakajima has been of him all day, so he supposes there’s no point in keeping his aim a secret anymore.
The start of the explanation earns him a snort, and by the time he’s finished recounting his side of things, Nakajima has to brace himself against his knees with how hard he’s laughing.
“No way! That was you trying to be friendly?” A wheezing breath squeezes out of him, and then another. “I couldn’t tell at all!”
It’s not nearly as funny as he’s making it out to be, but Akutagawa lets him get it out of his system. He’s thought so before too, but Nakajima has the kind of infectious laugh that pulls others along into his pace. That’s why, even in this sterile bathroom with its vile citrus-scented hand soap, there’s an effervescence in the air that makes the corners of his own mouth tug up slightly.
For a moment, his mind is far from thoughts of Gin and distant goals, and he’s simply enjoying the company of a peer.
Just as quickly, the mood is interrupted by a loud growl.
“Have you eaten yet?” Akutagawa asks with a knowing look, eliciting another round of snickers from his companion.
Nakajima’s smile is a mixture of embarrassed and playful. “No, would you happen to know any places?”
“There’s an udon restaurant Oda-senpai introduced me to. Shall we go?”
“That depends. Are you paying?”
Akutagawa props open the door with a strand of Rashoumon and they exit the bathroom, their conversation trailing behind them. “Do I look like I’m made of money?”
“Oh, come on! Don’t be so stingy, Mr. Multimillionaire!”
“Three hundred chocolate bars hardly counts as millions.”
***
“Dazai? What are you doing?”
The man who once held the reins of Yokohama’s underworld pulls his face away from where it’s glued to the window glass to give a jovial wave. “Oda-san! Fancy meeting you here.” He has the gall to act pleasantly surprised, as if he hadn’t been expecting this very result. Oda can't decide if he finds that cheekiness irritating or endearing. Maybe both. “As for what I’m doing, I imagine it’s the same thing you came to do.”
“I take it you’re checking up on Nakajima?” Oda guesses.
He’d seen Akutagawa leave the office with Nakajima earlier, and concern for the new hire’s sanity had quickly won out against respect for his mentee’s privacy. Akutagawa could be a bit much at times, especially for those who weren’t used to his…idiosyncrasies. Figuring out where they’d gone was as easy as turning on Location Sharing on Akutagawa’s phone and then never telling him about it.
“Bingo!” Dazai beckons with his hand, and Oda comes over to stand next to him as they peer through the window of the restaurant together. “Atsushi-kun called me in a tizzy, saying Akutagawa-kun was going to kill him. But as you can see, they’re getting along swimmingly.”
True to Dazai’s words, their wards are seated at a table a little ways from the entrance, noodle bowls pushed off to the side as they engage in a lively conversation. Or, more accurately, Nakajima is in the midst of an animated story while Akutagawa nods along in silence and sips his tea. Once Nakajima reaches the end of his sentence, Akutagawa finally speaks up to make a remark that has his companion bending over the table in stitches.
“Looks like your plan worked,” Oda says, casting a sidelong glance at Dazai.
It seems Dazai is always scheming, but at least his schemes have lost their malicious undertones. Even the way he grins at Oda now, as if he’s divulging a funny little secret, is more boyish than anything.
“Let’s give them a little surprise.”
Before Oda can protest, Dazai brushes past him to pull open the door. They’re halfway through the entrance when two snippets of dialogue drift up to their ears past the low hum of post-meal conversations.
“Dazai-san dropped an entire bottle of sake the other day and he just sighed and said he was sick of being alive.”
“What a fool. Oda-senpai, on the other hand, once collapsed from insufficient sleep after staying up five days in a row to write.”
Dazai backs up, pushing Oda out of the shop along with him, and lets the door swing shut. “On second thought, maybe we shouldn't bother them.”
Well, it’s good that he’s finally learning not to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong. A+ for character development, Oda would say. Though some areas are still lacking…His eyes fall on bony wrists and linger there for a few seconds.
“I’m about to go get dinner. Wanna come with me?” he asks nonchalantly.
Dazai’s response is casual, but the way his eyes light up at the offer is a dead giveaway. “Sure, I’d love to.”
There’s a bounce in his step the entire way to their destination.