Chapter Text
It all happened in the blink of an eye.
In the aftermath of another successful mission overseen by their respective workplaces, currently allies, Atsushi and Akutagawa were leaving the hideout where their targets once held their secret meetings. None had been killed, as per Atsushi’s insistence plus the weight of their mutual agreement hanging on Akutagawa’s shoulders. The mafioso might have been cold, arrogant and ruthless, but he was a man of his word, at the very least.
Even though Atsushi could smell his bloodlust from miles away.
That didn’t mean the thugs they had been tailing came out of their fight unharmed. Far from it, in fact. Atsushi was sure they wouldn’t be regaining consciousness any time soon. And even once they did, the ones that gave him and Akutagawa the most trouble would have to deal with numerous fractured bones, if he were to be optimist about the whole ordeal, that is.
Did he feel bad to be partly responsible for their pain? It was hard not to, but a job was a job. The numbers of that small organization had been rising alarmingly quickly, as did the way their crimes escalated, ranging from petty pick-pocketing to outright murder in cold blood.
Those factors left both the Agency and the Mafia uneasy, thus metaphorically shoving the mission on the two man’s faces without granting them much information to go off of.
‘They’re far too much of a bother to leave unchecked.’ Akutagawa quoted his boss when they were reviewing all the information they had before storming in.
They did not need another Guild.
Despite the lack of intel, they managed to bring down any members that came their way. When he and Akutagawa cooperated enough to sync their movements, it was over for their targets. Atsushi couldn’t help but be proud of the outcome. Both he and Akutagawa barely had a scratch on them.
In the end, it was a surprisingly easy task to accomplish, but exhausting all the same.
Now? All Atsushi wanted to do was to stuff himself with a quick meal before passing out for the next ten hours or so. He was dead on his feet and didn’t bother to hide it.
He and Akutagawa usually went their separate ways the second they were done with a job. Neither of them wanted to stick around with their arch-nemesis for longer than what was strictly necessary, after all.
Sometimes, Atsushi would bid his reluctant partner goodbye with as cheerful of a wave as he could make it. He knew it was beneficial for the both of them to be in good terms so that they wouldn’t make their missions harder than needed to be with their bickering.
(That had indeed happened once or twice, and although they had still had been able to successfully complete the job, the resulting reaction from Dazai haunted him to this day.
That look of utter disappointment reflected in his mentor’s eyes was worse than any kind of lecture for them to endure. Atsushi never wanted to see that expression directed at him ever again, and he suspected that Akutagawa agreed wholeheartedly)
If he was in a good mood, which was rare in itself, Akutagawa would respond to his attempt at being amicable with a nod of acknowledgment. Whenever it happened, it would feel like a small victory.
That particular night was different than most, when it came to that. Instead of parting ways as soon as they left the worn down building where they had ambushed and incapacitated their targets, Akutagawa chose to head in the same direction as Atsushi, right beside him on the sidewalk but still keeping his distance.
Atsushi could ask, and he probably should, but he had no energy left in his body to be cautious about it. Besides, if the mafioso had somewhere to be, pestering him about it would be fruitless. Akutagawa would dodge the question, ignore him altogether or insult his intelligence like always.
Was it strange that Atsushi was starting to learn how to decipher Akutagawa’s mannerisms, enough to predict his reactions towards certain things? Someone who had appeared to be impossible to figure out the motives or motivations of? Atsushi wouldn’t claim he could read the older man like a book, but he could say he was beginning to understand the language it had been written in.
One paragraph at a time and he would collect all the pieces to form the puzzle that was Akutagawa Ryuunosuke. Only because it’d make his own job easier.
Regardless, walking with him in the dead of night, in the stillness that washed over the city as most of its inhabitants had long since fallen asleep, against his own better judgment, Atsushi felt at peace.
Akutagawa had either felt as reluctant to break the unusually comfortable silence as Atsushi was or was too tired to argue over trivial matters, because he kept quiet as he appeared focused in admiring the gentle rays of the moonlight above them.
Atsushi had to admit he was impressed, but what he wouldn’t admit to, not even to himself, was that the lack of words shared between them had begun to bother him. Not because the silence was awkward, rather because he somehow missed their usual, meaningless squabble.
Reminiscing, Atsushi then thought about what had changed between the pair since they were first assigned a joint mission nearly three months before. At first, Akutagawa would quip a snide remark or two every now and then, plus a few empty death threats, though somewhere along the line his words had morphed from comments that were rude just for the sake of it, to what Atsushi now recognized as awkward attempts at constructive criticism.
It was kind of endearing, in a way. They weren’t at each other’s throats anymore, at least for the time being, so Atsushi told himself it was fine to appreciate such a thing.
He was lucky Akutagawa couldn’t read his mind and decide to stab him for daring to claim he was anything but intimidating. Unconsciously, the corners of his mouth tilted upwards the slightest bit at the thought.
Unbeknownst to Atsushi, the mafioso had been stealing glances at him from the corner of his eye, thus doing a double take once he saw his content expression.
“Stop doing that,” Akutagawa’s annoyed and harsh tone shattered their brief moment of somewhat companionable silence. “It’s creeping me out.”
Rubbing his left eye sleepily, Atsushi shot his partner a puzzled look. “I’m not even doing anything.”
Akutagawa huffed, crossing his arms as he pouted like a spoiled child that wouldn’t get what they wanted. The comparison almost made Atsushi giggle, but he held it in. He was not in the mood to be impaled by Rashomon, thank you very much. He highly doubted he would be able to dodge in his current state. “Aside from being a coward, you’re also brain-dead?”
Atsushi said nothing, waiting for the other to elaborate. He brushed off the insult, far too exhausted to bother with being offended.
With a long-suffering sigh that was far too dramatic for the situation at hand, Akutagawa vaguely gestured to his own face. “That. Quit doing that immediately and never do it again.”
He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Are you telling me to stop smiling?” He tried to keep the amusement out of his voice, but judging by the deathly glare he received, he wasn’t successful, not even a little.
“Are you deaf as well, stupid jinko?” Was it just him, or were Akutagawa’s cheeks a little pink? Nah, it was probably his tired mind playing tricks on him.
“I have a name, you know,” Atsushi told him for the hundredth time, his voice coming out as more of a mumble than anything else. It was a weak comeback and he knew it, but in his defense, he wanted nothing more than to reach the Agency’s dorms and bury himself in his futon. His legs were aching and his shoulder was sore from where he had been shot earlier. The bullet had only just barely grazed his fur, so it was nothing his healing ability and a good night’s sleep couldn’t fix, but still.
“Does it look like I care, jinko?” Akutagawa managed to sound smug and annoyed at the same time. Atsushi gritted his teeth, unsure of why the emphasis on the unimaginative ‘nickname’ –if you could even call it that– had been the last straw.
Atsushi clenched his fists until his claws dug into his skin.
Why, oh why, was he stuck with someone so irritating?
“It’s Atsushi. Nakajima Atsushi,” He corrected slowly, as if the mafioso didn’t know.
Out of seemingly nowhere, he heard the sound of soft but hoarse laughter. Blinking, Atsushi looked around for the source, confused out of his mind.
Who in the world…?
Then he realized.
It was coming from his partner.
Akutagawa was laughing. But it wasn’t malicious snickering or a mocking chuckle, the only show of amusement one would expect from him. No, this was genuine, full-on laughter; one that made his eyes squint slightly as he tipped his head back, holding onto his stomach like he couldn’t help it.
Atsushi should be annoyed, as it was clear he was being made fun of for whatever reason, but instead he was just…
Mesmerized.
“What’s so funny?” He eventually snarled, tone way more hostile than necessary, but he was desperate to get rid of the confusing feeling clawing up his chest. To his utter disdain, despite his best attempt to lace his words with as much as venom as he could, his reaction only made Akutagawa laugh harder.
“You’re– I can’t believe– And you just–” Akutagawa reached out to wipe a few gleeful tears from the corner of his eyes, trying and failing to regain his composure. “You refuse to accept your inner feline, and then you growl at me like a pissed-off kitten–”
Wide-eyed and dumbstruck, Atsushi blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “Are you calling me cute?”
The laughter was abruptly cut off, and Atsushi couldn’t help but miss the sound, despite its roughness. It was worth it, however, because Akutagawa only stopped to choke on air, uncharacteristically flustered.
Before he could deny Atsushi’s assumption or retort in any way, the atmosphere around them shifted just slightly, the change barely there, but it was enough for both of them to notice.
It seemed Akutagawa was a little faster on the uptake, because as soon as the familiar sound of a gunshot cut through the air, he shoved Atsushi with as much force as he could gather in the heat of the moment.
“Jinko, move!”
Caught off-guard, Atsushi took a few valuable seconds to react, and his inability to listen to his instincts almost cost him everything.
(Later, the weretiger would blame it on the fatigue he still felt at the moment, but deep down he knew that wasn’t just it. After all, Akutagawa had been tired too, hadn’t he?)
Thankfully, Atsushi watched as the bullet fell to the ground without harming his partner, stopped by the red-black shield summoned just in the nick of time. Rashomon had successfully protected its user.
So it was with dread that he realized something was wrong. The moment after the bullet hit Akutagawa’s barrier, the mafioso briefly looked startled before toppling towards the ground. He landed on his knees, clutching at his chest as he began to cough desperately. Blood accompanied it, a few drops tainting the sidewalk.
Atsushi had his suspicions that Akutagawa’s health wasn’t the best, judging by the coarse sounds he would sometimes make from the back of his throat after using too much of his ability as though it drained him, but this felt different. Akutagawa seemed confused and terrified. If it was due to a condition he was used to, surely he wouldn’t look so panicked.
Atsushi almost rushed over to kneel beside him to try and help, before he came to his senses and realized that his top-priority for the moment was to find the shooter. He would go to Akutagawa’s aid after he put them out of commission.
Activating his superhuman sight, he searched around the tallest buildings around him, as he was sure the shot had come from above. A sniper, perhaps?
Why weren’t they firing again? Didn’t they want to harm Atsushi too? They had gone for him first, after all. Or had they predicted Akutagawa would take the bullet for him instead, and everything went according to their plans? No, that couldn’t be it. Who would guess that someone like him would be willing to do that for another person? Even Atsushi was in a state of shock. Unless…
Did Akutagawa have a strategy, hence why he had chosen to do that? Was this part of an elaborate plan? Glancing at him, it didn’t seem plausible. His face was contorted in clear pain and he looked unable to move a single muscle.
Oddly, his heart squeezed painfully inside his chest.
As he thought, he continued to scan his surroundings, growing more and more frustrated as the seconds ticked by. Maybe Akutagawa had indeed been the target and they left after a job well done? The Mafia and, by extension, Akutagawa himself, did have its fair share of enemies, didn’t they?
Then his eyes landed on a figure standing on the roof of a nearby apartment complex. They were seated right on the edge, dangling their legs back and forth without a care in the world.
Atsushi focused even more, perplexed to see that the perpetrator had the short stature of a child. They looked to be no more than ten years old.
He was relieved when he saw no sign of a weapon on their hands, meaning they couldn’t possibly have done it, but it was short-lived. The second the child realized they were being watched, almost as if they could sense him, they stared right back and winked. So much for that theory.
Flabbergasted, Atsushi was prepared to find the fastest route to where he could reach them, only to remember the mafioso struggling behind him. It was likely someone so young hadn’t come alone, which meant that they might have backup waiting. There was no way he would leave a vulnerable Akutagawa behind to confront the child, not knowing if that happened to be the case or not.
Not that he had much of a choice in the matter, considering how, when Atsushi looked up again, the child had vanished, like they were nothing but a figment of his imagination.
“Akutagawa! Are you okay?” Shaking his head in order to dispel such a thought, Atsushi asked softly as he approached the injured man. At least he had halted with his coughing fit. The small puddle of blood on the ground in front of him was worrying, however.
“Just peachy,” Akutagawa sent him a glare, but the amount of heat in his gaze –or, more accurately, the lack thereof– just made him look even more vulnerable.
Atsushi gave him a shaky smile that he doubted reached his eyes. “Sorry. That was a stupid question, huh?”
The older man did nothing but roll his eyes. Fair.
“We should get out of here,” Atsushi mused aloud, squinting in suspicion as he examined the area for any sign of a remaining threat, unconsciously standing in front of Akutagawa as if to shield him with his body were he to find any. “Do you think you can walk?”
It was clear Akutagawa tried to make a sound like an annoyed huff, but it came out as more of a wheeze. “Don’t underestimate me, jinko. I’m not so weak as to-” He moved to stand up, but it seemed like his wound affected him more than he had hoped or expected, as he paused midway through the action, letting escape a noise Atsushi never would have thought he was capable of producing: a small whimper.
More concerned than he would ever admit, Atsushi’s hands hovered uncertainly just above Akutagawa’s shoulders, almost touching him but not quite. He was worried that if he did, his partner would violently lash out and hurt himself even more in the process. During their time fighting together, Atsushi had noticed how the other man had clearly been repulsed by the slightest hint of physical contact. He had tried to high-five him once and almost got his hand cut off for it.
(At that moment, it didn’t even occur to him that Akutagawa could badly injure him were his touch turn out to be unwelcome like he suspected. All that he cared about right then was to avoid anything and everything that would likely be painful for the mafioso.)
“I guess not,” Atsushi mumbled to himself, but by the indignant complaints Akutagawa began spouting, he had not been quiet enough.
Oh well. If Akutagawa couldn’t walk by himself, then there was only one other option. Atsushi winced at the very thought, bracing himself for the inevitable one-sided argument that would follow.
Without much of a warning because he knew giving one wouldn’t really help his case, Atsushi mentally asked Byakko to lend him her power, focusing on his arms and legs. The beast complied easily and in the very next moment he was back to having paws instead of hands or feet.
Akutagawa seemed to realize his plan seconds before Atsushi went through with it, as his eyes went impossibly wide and his permanent scowl deepened even further. Not giving him time to react, Atsushi scooped him up in his arms as gently as he possibly could whist deciding that the easiest way to go about it was to carry him bridal-style and take off running.
With his newfound strength, Akutagawa felt as light as a feather. Something unpleasant churned in the weretiger’s gut, however, as he couldn’t help but notice something was wrong. It was almost like Akutagawa was too light, even if he didn’t activate his ability. Atsushi knew the mafioso was skinny, but he never wondered to what extent. The coat he refused to take off seemed to hide his condition suspiciously well.
Deciding to worry about his arch-nemesis' apparent malnutrition later, Atsushi pushed it aside to focus on said man who refused to sit still, struggling to escape his careful but firm grasp. Weirdly enough, Rashomon didn’t make its appearance to attempt to maul the weretiger or tear him to pieces for daring to cause distress to its master.
That was extremely concerning.
Had the bullet been doused in some sort of poison? Maybe a sedative? Was there such a thing as a drug that could neutralize an ability, much like Dazai’s own? Whichever it was, Akutagawa obviously needed treatment, and fast.
Said mafioso must have been paying attention to the direction they were going despite trying desperately to wrestle himself out of the weretiger’s grip, because his expression suddenly changed from rage to outright panic.
Out of nowhere, Akutagawa pinched him. Hard.
Atsushi, in turn, let out a pained yelp, stopping in his tracks and almost dropping him.
“Are you insane?!” His partner snapped, eyes wide as saucers. “You can’t take me to the Agency, idiot jinko!”
“Yosano-san is a really good doctor!” Atsushi argued, glancing at the reddened spot Akutagawa had pinched with a slight wince. “Sure, her methods are a bit…” He hesitated, unsure how to describe it. “…unique, I guess, but something strange is happening to you, so we need her help to figure out what it is!” Then, lowering his tone to one he hoped was comforting: “She’s trustworthy, I promise.”
But Akutagawa’s eyes only narrowed. “I would rather die than waltz in on enemy territory begging for treatment. Moreover, who’s to say this isn’t an elaborate ploy of yours to eliminate me?”
Atsushi gaped at him for a few moments before sighing in frustration, feeling the urge to rub his temples as if that could lessen the headache starting to make itself known. “No one’s going to attack you there, Akutagawa. No one in the Agency is that barbaric.” Unlike you, was unsaid but hung in the air uncomfortably. “Besides, we have a truce, remember?”
“A temporary truce.”
Mentally praying for more patience to every god that may exist, Atsushi closed his eyes as he took a deep breath in hopes that the urge to strangle the man in front of him would go away.
It didn’t help at all.
“…Fine. What do you suggest we do, then?” Atsushi asked against his own better judgment. He raised an eyebrow at the man still in his arms for good measure, the exasperation dripping from his voice.
A few seconds passed in silence, Atsushi simply watching the other wrack his brain in search of other possibilities.
Just as Atsushi was debating whether or not he should head towards the Agency against Akutagawa’s will –because the blood still dripping from his mouth was starting to become thicker and thicker– the mafioso spoke with confidence. “There’s a hotel a few blocks from here. Drop me off there and I’ll figure out the rest.”
A little surprised the stubborn Akutagawa would be willing to be carried around like a baby to their destination instead of insisting he could walk without a problem despite it being a lie, it took Atsushi a minute to digest the older man’s poorly thought-out plan.
“Huh? Can’t you just call someone from the Mafia to come pick you up?”
Akutagawa let out a humorless chuckle. “If anyone sees me like this, they’ll just finish me off,” If Atsushi didn’t know any better, he would think the mafioso’s voice had a tinge of sadness to it.
A wave of sympathy curled around his stomach, but he ignored it as best as he could. “Really? There’s no one there that you trust?” His mind briefly went to Ichiyo Higuchi, the blond woman that he and Kunikida had stumbled upon during their investigation to find someone they only had a single photograph of, who turned out to be Akutagawa’s younger sister. Gin was her name, if he remembered correctly.
Surely the two of them were in good enough terms for Akutagawa to consider her? If not, perhaps he could count on his sister? But just because they were siblings didn’t mean they had a close relationship, Atsushi thought.
Although, Gin seemed to have a somewhat meek side of her, so it was possible she was out of the question simply because Akutagawa did not want to worry her.
No, certainly not. There was no chance he would be that considerate towards anyone…
…was there?
“Are you taking me to the hotel or not?!” Akutagawa raised his voice, only for his face that had previously been red from anger turn into a lime green instead. Admittedly, Akutagawa did seem like he was trying to push him away, but Atsushi didn’t have time to figure out what was happening before he threw up all over himself plus Atsushi’s shirt.
Great. As if his night couldn’t get any worse.
Shuddering in poorly-veiled disgust, Atsushi swallowed back down his own nausea at the sight and smell of the brownish liquid, its original hue clearly altered by the fact that it was accompanied by even more blood. Not a good sign at all.
At this rate, Akutagawa would surely die of blood loss before they even found out the cause for Rashomon’s sudden refusal to come out.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, the weretiger ignored the way his now wet shirt stuck to his body uncomfortably and schooled his panicked expression into perfect neutrality, struggling to appear calm and collected. The mafioso in his arms had gone silent, but Atsushi could feel him shivering violently. Whether it was yet another side-effect of the wound or simply a show of distress, he didn’t know. Either way, Atsushi felt the sudden urge to bring him some comfort.
“It’s alright-” He started, but the fact that they were pressed so close together made it so he could physically feel that his voice made Akutagawa flinch. Atsushi lowered his volume to just barely above a whisper and tried again: “It’s alright, Akutagawa. I’ll take you to that hotel you mentioned, okay? Do you think you can give me directions?”
Atsushi waited with bated breath for the older man to respond, hoping his attempt at calming him down hadn’t been too awkward. The only one he had ever had to comfort was Kyouka and, well, himself.
In Kyouka’s case, he had to wake her up from nightmares more often than not, and every time he did so she would hug him tight and sob against his chest. It was fairly easy to distract her from whatever ghosts would be haunting her that night, however. All he had to do was hold her until her anguished cries became soft sniffles, later offering her a sweet or two that he had taken the precautions to hide somewhere in their little apartment.
They were never anything special, just some cheap dango and things of the sort, as he didn’t exactly have the money to keep buying large or expensive snacks, not to mention it would be unhealthy for her. But she didn’t seem to mind; always taking the offered sweet like it was a piece of gold. Then she would give him a tiny smile, barely there but still visible, and everything would be alright again.
Unfortunately, there was nothing Atsushi could take from those experiences that would help his current situation. He didn’t have any candy on him, and even if he did, Akutagawa would probably find a way to treat the gift as an insult; like Atsushi was insinuating he was childish or that he pitied him.
Hugging him was also out of the question. Akutagawa was already in his arms, but that was out of necessity. Not to mention they were both sticky and gross from being covered in vomit. Not exactly a pleasant atmosphere. Atsushi also had a feeling that Akutagawa would rather die than cry in front of him. Or anyone, for that matter, but also him specifically.
Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed it when the mafioso finally spoke in a low grumble.
“What are you insinuating, jinko? Are you trying to-” He cut himself off by having another coughing fit. The noises that left his heaving chest were awful, like pieces of wood being hacked in two. It went on for a long time, to the point where Akutagawa’s eyes were wet with unshed tears as he gasped out for oxygen.
Unable to do anything but watch, Atsushi did the only thing he could think of. He adjusted his hold on him so that he could trace random shapes on his back in a featherlight touch, muttering reassurances despite the high probability that Akutagawa couldn’t hear him.
He had never felt so utterly helpless before, and he hated it. He contemplated going to the Agency regardless of his wishes. He also considered using his phone to call for help, but he knew Akutagawa wouldn’t appreciate that either.
As soon as the coughing dialed down and he looked slightly less pale, Akutagawa opened his mouth to speak. Atsushi rushed to interrupt before he could get a word out. “Stay quiet, okay? I think it gets worse whenever you say something,”
He half-expected Akutagawa to ignore his advice and try to argue with him anyway, but it appeared the attack really tired him out, as he did nothing more than close his eyes and nod slowly.
Atsushi managed to smile at him, despite knowing that he wasn’t looking. “Now, which way should I go? Don’t speak, just point.”
******************************
Akutagawa had been correct regarding the hotel being only a few blocks away, but Atsushi still felt like he had been running forever. So much so that he almost sobbed with relief when he saw its flashy sign from a distance.
His legs felt sore, like they were about to give up on holding their combined weights at any given moment, so did his arms, but Atsushi powered through, because what else was he to do? Rest for a little while and risk his partner’s condition worsening? Absolutely not. He was not going to die, not if Atsushi had anything to say about it.
(Even if he had next to no clue as to why they were heading towards a hotel of all places. He truly didn’t know, but… just for once, he would blindly have faith in Akutagawa’s judgment.)
He and Akutagawa weren’t exactly friends, as the mafioso hated his guts just as much as when they first met. No, even more –that wasn’t an assumption. Not a mission went by without him being reminded of that very fact from the man himself– but Atsushi no longer considered them enemies either. He couldn’t bring himself to.
Not when they fought so perfectly, so harmoniously alongside each other.
Not when they protected each other’s backs like second nature.
Not when they would wordlessly help patch each other up after a difficult mission.
Not when the jabs and insults thrown at each other had long since stopped having any bite to them.
And he couldn’t help but think that, when Akutagawa claimed the feelings Atsushi evoked on him were nothing but pure, unadulterated hatred…
He was exaggerating a little, wasn’t he?
As he briefly looked down at Akutagawa so that he could examine his features, to try and gauge his current condition, he decided to straight up ask him how he felt. Well, as soon as he recovered from the strange sickness, of course.
Maybe if he repeated it in his head enough times, he could trick his brain into believing it and thus cease freaking out. He needed to be calm, so that he could help him in whatever way he could.
Not for the first time that night, Atsushi wished he could somehow transfer his accelerated regeneration ability.
Regardless, he wasn’t going to let Akutagawa die, not on his watch.
Akutagawa had been slipping in and out of consciousness, but he at least had been aware enough to guide Atsushi to the right location. He was far more resilient than Atsushi had realized.
However, analyzing his face made it clear that it had really taken a toll on the mafioso. His skin had lost the ghostly white complexion that had concerned Atsushi so much, but instead of being relieved, he was even more apprehensive as the unnatural color was replaced by a deep shade of crimson that covered every inch of his face from his cheeks to his forehead. He had also begun to sweat profusely.
Anxious beyond belief but with his hands otherwise occupied, Atsushi didn’t think twice before leaning down slightly so he could gently press his forehead against Akutagawa’s, hoping he could measure his temperature that way. Like he had expected, as soon as they made contact, the weretiger had to pull back with a hiss. Definitely a fever. It felt like he had touched a recently-used stove.
Too panicked to realize the intimacy of such a gesture, it took him a few beats to figure out why Akutagawa had his eyes open, his mouth forming a small oval shape. He suddenly looked wide-awake and far more lucid than he had for the past hour or so. And was it him, or had Akutagawa’s face found a way to redden even further?
Clearing his throat awkwardly, Atsushi decided to ignore his own misstep and act casual, but his flushed cheeks gave him away. Thankfully, Akutagawa was kind enough not to comment.
“We’re here,” He announced in the same soft tone he had been using before, despite the fact that they had already been standing in front of the hotel for a good two minutes. ”What now?”
“You can head back,” Akutagawa spoke slowly and carefully, voice rough like he had something stuck in his throat, leaving Atsushi with the urge to clear his own. “I can take it from here. Thank you for your assistance, jinko.”
Hearing Akutagawa say sincere words of gratitude startled him so much that he struggled to register the dismissal.
Once it sunk in, Atsushi frowned. “What do you mean? What’s your plan?” Then, unable to keep the tentative hope out of his voice: “Does the Mafia have a secret hospital or something around here?” It sounded ridiculous even to his own ears, but it was the only plausible explanation.
Akutagawa shifted in his hold, and this time the younger man complied with his silent request to be put down. He kept a firm grasp around his waist just in case he would stumble, however. He expected at least a glare for that decision, but Akutagawa was staring at a wall like it was the most interesting thing in the world and refusing to meet his eyes.
“Nothing of the sort. I’ll treat my own injuries once I’m inside. Hopefully the symptoms will be gone by tomorrow morning so that I can return to headquarters as soon as possible and write my report.” He said, sounding so detached from the situation that it was almost robotic.
For the briefest moment, Atsushi thought –hoped– he had heard Akutagawa wrong or that what he said was some strange attempt at a joke, because surely the mafioso wouldn’t decide to go with a plan so ludicrous and full of holes.
“So your solution is to try and sleep it off?” Atsushi tried to keep his tone even, but the slightest bit of anger managed to slip through.
Still not looking his way, Akutagawa nodded resolutely. “Yes. Now, if you would unhand me-”
Atsushi’s response was to tighten his grip. “There’s no way that’s going to work. What if you die in your sleep?” The older man didn’t reply aside from a weak attempt at escaping by punching him square in the chest. It barely even tickled. In any other situation, Atsushi would have found it amusing, but at that moment it was anything but. “If you have no other options, I’m sure the Agency-”
“I’m not going anywhere near that place.”
“Oh, come on!” Atsushi groaned in exasperation, wanting nothing more than to take Akutagawa by the shoulders and shake him silly until he understood. He didn’t, for obvious reasons, but the idea was appealing. “They’re not gonna ambush you or-”
Gathering what seemed to be his very last ounce of strength, Akutagawa suddenly yanked himself free from Atsushi’s grasp. The mafioso then glowered at him, assuming a clumsy attack stance. It didn’t last long, for he suddenly lost his balance as soon as tried to straighten his back.
Atsushi was by his side in an instant, using his supernatural speed to catch him before he could fall and hit his head against the concrete.
“I don’t… I’m not going to let Dazai-san see me in this pathetic state,” Akutagawa grumbled, presumably to himself, but the weretiger heard him loud and clear. “He believes I’m weak enough as is.”
Atsushi inhaled sharply, uncertain of how to respond. If he should even say anything, that is.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew his mentor had done some atrocious things in his past, one of which being how he treated Akutagawa. He didn’t know the details –wasn’t sure he actually wanted to–, but what he did know was that their relationship was complicated at best, and there seemed to be a silent agreement between most people that knew either of the two to never address it. It was clearly a sore subject.
In Dazai’s case, were this rule to be breached for whatever reason, there seemed to be two common responses: He would either laugh it off, or change the subject with a well-timed joke or comment that would make one forget what they had even been talking about. By the time they remembered, Dazai had long since fled the scene.
Now, in Akutagawa’s case…
Atsushi knew better than anyone how he reacted. The way he would lash out with unbridled rage was quite difficult to forget. The phantom pain was still there were he to concentrate too much on it.
Because of this, he was torn. As he pondered if he should pretend he was still oblivious, that he hadn’t heard the admission at all, he had an idea.
A terrible and stupid idea, but an idea nonetheless.
With no other option, he took a deep breath and went for it.
“How about we make a deal?”
Akutagawa’s eyes narrowed, clearly suspicious. For once, he was right to be. “What nonsense are you spouting now, jinko?”
The weretiger in question shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “It’s simple, really. We’re going inside the hotel, together, and I’m going to help take care of your wounds. Does that sound like a plan?”
Barking out a sarcastic laugh that turned into a coughing fit midway through, the mafioso’s glare only intensified. “I don’t need your help or your pity!” He choked out in between gasps, despite his every move indicating otherwise.
Atsushi winced at the rasping sounds that left his partner’s throat, hands shaking with the desire to hold him tighter, but he kept his distance, aside from letting Akutagawa lean on his shoulder for support. The mafioso didn’t complain, likely still dizzy from the earlier attempt to stand on his own, but Atsushi knew that anything more than that, like the hug he wanted so badly to give, wouldn’t be appreciated.
He took another deep breath, telling himself what he was about to say was okay, that it was for the best. Just a last resort to get Akutagawa to cooperate.
Here goes nothing.
Atsushi reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. With a few taps and swipes, he opened the contact information of a certain person, letting his pointer finger hover above the ‘call’ button. Swallowing heavily, he turned the screen towards a wary Akutagawa.
‘Dazai Osamu’ it read.
“If you refuse to let me help, I’m calling Dazai-san and telling him everything that happened.” Then, to add salt to the wound: “He’ll probably be disappointed that you’re hurt so badly over one little bullet, don’t you think?” It was his turn to avoid eye contact, not wanting to see the older man’s petrified expression any longer.
Was it bad to use Akutagawa’s unhealthy desperation for Dazai’s approval to his advantage? Possibly, but what other choice did he have?
He was worried about his partner, and Akutagawa was ridiculously stubborn. There may have been another way to convince him, but that would take a little more time, time they likely didn’t have. It had taken them far too long to get to the current point in the first place. Judging by the numbers displayed on his phone, roughly an hour and a half had passed since the mafioso was shot. A rough estimate, but enough for him to have some sort of notion.
“So you’re blackmailing me.”
Cringing at the wording, Atsushi risked looking over where Akutagawa was still perched on his side, just in time to see his features cross through all five stages of grief in only two seconds.
“Maybe I am, yeah.”
Akutagawa grunted, flickering his grayer than usual eyes over Atsushi’s face, searching for something specific. Whatever it was, it seemed like he found what he had been looking for, as the wrinkle on his damp forehead decreased in size. His shoulders dropped slightly. Akutagawa remained still as a board, but somehow not as tense.
“…Fine. Have it your way.”
With a relieved sigh and a soft smile, the weretiger reached out and curled his dominant hand around one of Akutagawa’s wrists, tugging it gently to get him to follow his lead toward the entrance of the hotel.
Akutagawa let him.