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“One hour,” Dazai exclaims in the tone which always sends Atsushi’s nervous system into overdrive. “Just one hour after each training session.”
His self-satisfied expression is Atsushi’s second warning that there’s a hidden agenda to this. Which is extremely bad, considering the idea alone is horrifying enough.
“Why?” he says weakly, watching as Dazai hums delightedly, “What’s the point of spending time with Akutagawa? He’ll just try and kill me.”
“No killing, that’s not permitted. Training, then one hour of quality time.”
“Quality time?!” Atsushi repeats, aghast that Dazai is even contemplating this.
Dazai nods, humming another few bars and leaning back on the sofa. The agency is fairly quiet this morning, most of the staff out on their own business. Other than the two of them, Ranpo sits on the other side of the room, decimating a box of cookies and ignoring them entirely. A good thing, as no one should be witness to this dire turn of events.
“You’ve both done all you can in honing your abilities. To combine them effectively, you need a level of trust, and to do that, you need to learn to tolerate each other. So quality time, until you manage to meet my expectations, then we’ll see about the next steps.”
Once again, he looks like a contented cat, then sprawls back on the sofa closing his eyes, Dazai’s way of indicating the conversation is over. Atsushi stares at him for a few minutes, willing his mentor to decide this was a great day to mess with him, but eventually gives up.
Great. Just great.
It is true, they’ve come a long way from how they started. The current truce between organisations and their wary personal alliance to combine their powers against greater threats is more advantageous than just tearing into one another. At least in Atsushi’s mind. But it is also true they’re at a stalemate: he and Akutagawa can merge their abilities, but not consistently, and usually under duress, which isn’t ideal.
Something does need to change, but spending an hour doing…he has no idea what is not the answer. Atsushi doesn’t have a better plan though, so he gets back to work and silently dreads his next training session.
It goes as well as expected. No change from the last few times, Dazai watching with a calculating eye, Chuuya joining them to add his observations, and just becoming aggravated by everything Dazai does and does not do. Atsushi is certain Dazai’s deliberately making it worse, although he can’t tell how.
Akutagawa looks to be in a particularly sour mood when Dazai calls time with an overly cheery air; that doesn’t bode well. He gathers the two of them together, and Atsushi doesn’t miss the sympathetic glance Chuuya sends toward his subordinate.
They’re in one of the Port Mafia’s training facilities. Atsushi didn’t even realise they had actual, real sparring rooms. He assumed they just met in dark alleys and burned-out warehouses to challenge one another to near-death combat and call it training. Much to his relief, it’s more akin to a gym, one of the few things about this situation that eases his nerves.
“Now, you have an hour. Spend it wisely! Chibi and I will be outside, so you can’t run off.”
Chuuya looks incredibly aggravated but agrees. The situation clearly must be dire, as for the first time in Atsushii’s memory, he doesn’t react to the nickname. Instead, he grips Akutagawa’s shoulder as he passes, a kinship of people suffering with Dazai’s scheming. Atsushi feels ridiculously left out for a moment before the door closes and he’s left alone with his enemy.
Growing up, he’d never imagined he’d have an actual mortal enemy, but here he is.
They both stare at each other across the training mat. Atsushi makes a huge effort to not blink, meeting Akutagawa’s vicious stare. He loses count of how long they stay locked like that until Akutagawa scoffs and turns away. He walks to the nearest wall, leaning against it.
“Do not speak to me, weretiger,” he announces, folding his arms.
Atsushi rolls his eyes, not that the other notices. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear Akutagawa actually closes his eyes and half-naps against the wall. Except he knows that without a doubt if he opens his mouth or takes a step closer, he’ll be dodging a Rashomon tendril.
And…that’s it.
A whole hour of ignoring one another on opposite sides of a training room until Dazai returns to let them out.
“That was pointless,” Atsushi complains as they make their way back to the Agency.
“Was it?” Dazai says, looking suspiciously pleased with himself.
Atsushi can’t possibly think of what use that hour was until it clicks. “What did you do to Chuuya-san?”
“Swiped his credit card!” Dazai cheers in glee.
Atsushi spends the rest of the afternoon terrified that either a sudden, brutal gravity ability or an enraged Kunikida is going to crush him to pieces as Dazai drags him along to skip work and eat at a cripplingly expensive seafood restaurant.
And so continues their one hour of post-training torment. They change venues, but all else remains the same. Each time, Akutagawa stalks off to the furthest corner and ignores him, while Atsushi wanders around, tries to entertain himself, and occasionally ends up in shouting matches against his companion when his pacing irritates Akutagawa enough to strike out.
“Well, it doesn’t sound too bad,” Tanizaki tries when Atsushi breaks down and complains loudly after four sessions.
Atsushi looks at him incredulously, and Tanizaki holds his hands up. “I mean, just compared to what he used to be like. He’s not actively trying to murder you, after all.”
Atsushi knows that should be a cause for celebration, but he’s not happy. “It’s not going to change anything though! I’m just standing in a room for an hour, it’s such a waste of time.”
He almost screams as a bag of gummies is dropped on his desk, followed by Ranpo sliding onto the edge. Atsushi watches, heartbeat returning to normal as he places three gummies in his mouth at once, before looking at him.
“Have you tried doing something else?”
“Something…else?” Atsushi questions weakly.
Ranpo nods, eating another handful. “With the time. Bring a book or something.”
“A…book?” Atsushi repeats, but that seems to be all the advice he’ll be gifted as Ranpo picks up his sweets and retreats back to his own desk, refusing to answer the question. Tanizaki shrugs and Atsushi sighs, deciding it’s best to get on with his paperwork before Dazai returns and doubles his workload.
Ranpo does have a point though. If he’s being forced to spend an hour in a room with a person ignoring him, he may as well do his own thing rather than stare at the walls. So next time they meet, as soon as Dazai leaves and Akutagawa stalks into a corner, Atsushi collects his bag, pulls out a book, and sits down to read.
He enjoys reading, it's one of the few activities he has happy memories of throughout his life. It's both escapism and a method of discovery; about himself and the world that was otherwise kept away by the harsh conditions of his upbringing.
And considering he should be spending today doing desk research, this is far more fun.
Or at least it should be. Atsushi gets less than five pages in before a voice echoes across the room.
“You’re reading.”
It’s said with the air of surprise of someone who clearly wants to follow it up with something like ‘I didn’t even know you could read’ in the scathing voice that haunts Atsushi’s dreams, so he snaps the book shut.
“Yes. there’s nothing else to do.”
Akutagawa gives him a flat stare, before pushing off the wall and edging closer. Alarmed, Atsushi closes the book and scrambles up, sparks of power shooting through his limbs in anticipation. But nothing occurs; instead, Akutagawa stops a short distance away, expression unchanged.
“I did not think you would appreciate that type of literature.”
Normally, Atsushi would take offense at the judgemental tone, but he’s too surprised by another realisation. “You’ve read this?” he says, holding up the novel.
It’s ridiculous to be even the slightest bit interested, but Atsushi really enjoys this series, and he doesn’t know anyone else who has even heard of these books, let alone read them.
“Some time ago, they’ve been published for many years,” Akutagawa says, tipping his head to look at the cover.
“Well, I’m catching up,” Atsushi says with a shrug. Silence falls again, and probably because this entire conversation is so strange, Atsushi decides he’ll just lean into the weirdness. “What did you think of them?”
The question is definitely odd as Akutagawa even looks surprised. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, hands pushing deep into his pockets. “Enjoyable. Excellent writing, although it takes some time for the series to reach its potential.”
Atsushi finds himself nodding rapidly, mouth open to add his own opinion when Akutagawa continues.
“The protagonist’s sister dying at the end of the third book was unexpected and harrowing.”
Atsushi pauses, half frozen. “...wait she dies.”
“Yes, surely you have reached that part.”
“No!” Atsushi yells, a sudden rage coursing, both at the author for doing this to one of his favourite characters, and to the one who brought the early revelation. “This is the third book! I’m still reading it.”
“Ah, I’d forgotten,” Akutagawa says, except there’s a slight smile on his face that means Atsushi is almost sure he knew precisely what he was doing.
They’re still screaming at each other when Dazai returns.
“Okay, is his sister actually dead? They never found the body.”
Akutagawa smirks. “You expect me to tell you after you attempted to shred me for spoiling it? Idiot weretiger, read faster.”
Atsushi groans. “I don’t have the next book, I couldn’t find it in the second-hand store.”
“That is not my problem,” Akutagawa says, so Atsushi pokes him with his foot, only to have Rashomon swipe at him in retaliation.
Today they’re in a random room, having been ushered inside by Chuuya post-training, only for him to lock the door, and leave without a word. When Atsushi mentions it, Akutagawa explains there is an Executives meeting this morning, meaning his focus is elsewhere. It’s nicer than just sitting in a warehouse or gym; its some sort of meeting room, but far fancier than anything they have at the Armed Detective Agency, with sofas and a TV taking up an entire wall.
Atsushi tips his head back stretching his slightly still neck. “I didn’t bring anything else with me today, I don’t like reading multiple books.”
Akutagawa, who is sitting on the same sofa but as far away as possible, scoffs while typing away on his phone.
“Your brain is too small to take in such information, it’s understandable,” he says without looking up. Atsushi debates throwing something at him but doesn’t fancy having his wages cut for the next few years to pay for the damage.
With nothing else to do, he gets up and wanders around the room. Apart from the television, sofa, and a small, round desk with two matching chairs, it’s extremely minimalist. It looks as if it’s never been used before.
“Would you cease your pacing?”
Atsushi groans at the now familiar chide. “There’s nothing to do here! It’s been over an hour too, is Chuuya-san ever coming back?”
“The meeting has run late,” Akutagawa replies, still on his phone. Probably gathering help, or at least that’s what he hopes.
His own phone has no signal, most likely due to a jamming programme; he’ll have to ask if he can be exempt next time. Or ask Dazai how to get around it. But he sits back down, enduring the glare he receives from jostling Akutagawa as he does.
Luckily, they’re saved a moment later by the click of a lock turning. Atsushi jumps up, ready to run out and straight to the nearest cafe as he’s not eaten in what feels like hours, only to hesitate when Gin steps in.
She closes the door behind her softly. “They’re still in the meeting. I’m sorry.”
“It cannot be helped, we’ll just go-”
“I don’t think you’re allowed to leave without permission,” she cuts in, ignoring Atsushi and staring at her brother.
The air is tense as the siblings stand off silently against one another, Atsushi stepping back out of the firing line until Akutagawa makes an annoyed noise and looks away in defeat. He can’t see Gin’s expression through her mask, but Atsushi gets the feeling she’s grinning brightly.
“I have work to do,” Akutagawa says as if he’s the only one here with other responsibilities.
“Higuchi has it covered. I don’t think it will be much longer, anyway. Why don’t you watch something?” Gin says, moving into the room.
Akutagawa scoffs, while Atsushi nods, agreeing just for something to do. Gin stands next to her brother, looking down at him as he stares at the blank screen. She huffs, as if he’s the most burdensome thing in her life, and starts tapping him on the shoulder with one finger. Akutagawa’s nose scrunches up, an expression that on any other person might have looked cute, but Atsushi refuses to put that word anywhere near him. Without looking, Akutagawa swipes his hand across to his shoulder, only for Gin to dance her finger out of the way, beginning again on his other shoulder.
Seeing them interact is…strange. Atsushi has an impression of Akutagawa, formed mostly by their conflict and snatches received from what he knows of Dazai’s past, and the small moments between their training regimes.
In many ways, he’s not really been a person to Atsushi. A figment of nightmares, a vexation, and a reluctant semi-partner. To see him with his sister, both of them interacting like normal people, is changing his impression of both of them in a way he isn't ready for. Especially as Akutagawa seems to be sulking as Gin tries to get him to turn on the television.
“They made a TV series of the book you’ve both been talking about.”
“What?” Atsushi says suddenly, tuning into the conversation.
Gin turns her head to look at him, stepping back from poking her brother, and Atsushi can’t stifle the slight stiffening of his limbs, not forgetting exactly who she is. “Didn’t you know? It’s really good.”
Her voice is so genuinely excited puts him at ease. “Can we watch it here?”
“This is a ridiculous waste of time,” Akutagawa states, Gin ignoring him as she picks up the remote, turns on the screen, and flicks through the menu. “I refuse to sit here and watch television with the weretiger.”
“Ignore him, he’s just a book purest,” Gin says, glancing at Atsushi.
He offers a small smile, still having no idea how to interact with her, while behind them, Akutagawa scoffs and starts muttering under his breath. Gin stares at him for a second, eyes so similar to her brother’s, so much so he wonders how he didn’t notice their resemblance before. But she seems to stare through him, rather than appraise him; as if she can know exactly what he’s thinking, even if Atsushi isn’t sure himself right now.
“Here,” she says simply, handing him the remote.
“T-thank you,” he stutters, still oddly off-kilter.
“Why will you not just let us out? Surely that’s a better use of time,” Akutagawa tries once more as Atsushi goes back to the sofa.
“Chuuya-san wouldn’t approve. Do you want some tea?” Gin says.
Which is how Atsushi spends an entire afternoon watching TV and drinking tea with Akutagawa, both of them becoming so absorbed in the show that Atsushi doesn’t notice the time go past until the door bursts open.
“Shit, sorry those assholes were…are you having a tea party?”
Chuuya’s voice rises into amusement that has both of them leaping up to deny such a thing. Chuuya just collapses into laughter though, pulling out his phone. “That mackerel needs to hear about this.”
Atsushi feels his face redden, which it shouldn’t. This is exactly what Dazai wanted, if anything he should be proud he’s achieving the impossible. Then why does he feels… embarrassed, as if he’s caught in the act of something he shouldn’t be doing? Akutagawa excuses himself, Chuuya waving him away as he gleefully texts Dazai, leaving Atsushi alone and mortified.
“You can go, don’t just stand there,” Chuuya says after a moment, and Atsushi flees, breathing a sigh of relief as soon as he’s free of the Port Mafia building, until his phone chimes with angry, then concerned messages from various people as to why he skipped work all day.
“I’m impressed! You’re doing well, Atsushi. Better than I expected,” Dazai says the next time he’s in the office, a few days after Kunikida has decided Atsushi is forgiven for scaring them all half to death.
“How? And doing well with what?” Atsushi says, bemused and confused at the sudden announcement, even if deep down he knows the answer.
“Take these cookies next time,” Ranpo says as he passes, leaving a box on Atsushi’s desk, making him even more alarmed. Dazai grins, and leaps back over to his desk without a word, nodding to Ranpo approvingly.
Atsushi has to wonder if they’re both into some scheme to help his and Akutagawa’s powers merge better that involves cookies and TV shows. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he’s seen, but it also might just be. It’s all too much.
But he does as bid. As luck would have it, they’re in the same room as before, and as Atsushi’s been carrying around the snack for a week in his bag just in case Dazai drags him off again, he’s happy to produce it.
Akutagawa blinks. “What is this?”
“Cookies,” Atsushi replies, trying not to feel nervous. He has no reason to be, and yet his hands are clammy and shaking.
Akutagawa stares at him, then at the offering on the table next to their tea, then back up. “What,” Atusushi says, “I didn’t bring anything last time.”
“This isn’t a social gathering. Stop with your foolishness, we only have time for one episode,” Akutagawa says, ignoring him and turning back to the screen.
Atsushi opens the cookies, grinning widely. “What happened to they will never capture the subtleties of the writing, it’s not worth my time? ”
His comment is entirely ignored obviously, but Atsushi has the satisfaction of watching Akutagawa bristle like a cat as he starts the show. Atsushi allows him to marinade in the knowledge he was utterly wrong, reaching out and taking one of the cookies as the show starts.
“Oh, these are good,” he says as the sweetness hits his tongue.
“No talking,” Akutagawa snaps, yet another familiar statement.
Atsushi rolls his eyes and offers out the packet. Akutagawa glances at him in an unimpressed fashion. “Your loss,” he says at the unspoken rejection.
A tendril of Rashomon shoots out just shy of his face, but again, Atsushi ignores it. He’s getting used to the empty threat, Dazai’s original warning held over their heads, in addition to Chuuya’s warning of not messing up the furniture.
If the cookies are all his, then Atsushi isn’t going to complain. They go surprisingly well with the tea, so he sets them back down, watching the show with rapt fascination as he takes turns sipping his drink and eating the treats.
It’s genuinely enjoyable. Atsushi almost forgets where he is, thoroughly absorbed in the leisurely activity. He doesn’t often get time to just exist with no responsibility, usually work or some semblance of worry forming a cloud that follows him.
Why this place is so soothing, he doesn’t know. But the combination of factors: the forced downtime, the delicious snacks, and indulging in something that interests him is…nice.
He reaches out to have yet another cookie, eyes locked on the screen when a sudden soft chill hits his hand, a zap of a spark zinging through his blood, jolting him out of his relaxed lull, and freezing his body with the unknown sensation.
Atsushi glances down to see his hand stock still against Akutagawa’s.
At first, he’s not even sure what’s happening, struck by how cold Akutagawa’s hand is. The other doesn’t move either, both of them locked in what Atsushi thinks must be pure shock. At least, he understands his own is.
He’s never touched Akutagawa except in a fight. It makes sense, but this change seems…monumental somehow. He can’t get over how damn cold his fingers are, and yet the skin feels oddly smooth, not calloused or scratched like his own hands. Despite his regenerative powers, he’s never managed to erase his childhood from his skin. Right now, he feels self-conscious about it in comparison.
It must only be a few seconds of touch, but they seem to last far longer, broken when Akutagawa snatches his hand away. Atsushi’s hand flexes at the sudden loss of that current across his skin, the air around them heavy and odd. He clears his throat, moving forward and taking a cookie, before sliding the rest of the packet over, not looking up from the table as he does.
“Here, I’ve already eaten my share.”
His voice doesn’t shake, but he feels as if it should. He looks up, hoping he hasn’t missed too much of the show, body a livewire of tension until out of the corner of his eye, he sees Rashomon drag the box into Akutagawa’s lap.
For an unknown reason, that makes him feel better, enough to relax for the rest of the episode, and as predicted, that’s all they have time for before Chuuya and Dazai return, both arguing so loudly they hear them coming.
Akutagawa slinks away as soon as the door opens, Chuuya giving Atsushi a questioning look. He shrugs, but sees the way Dazai looks at him, as if he knows about…well, there’s nothing to know about, but he looks as if there is.
Atsushi finds he can’t stop wondering if Akutagawa enjoyed the cookies as much as he did. And if his hands are always that cold.
The next meeting isn’t a training session. It's a battle, one where Atsushi, Dazai, and Kyoka are brought in to help mid-fight. The Porta Mafia are knee-deep against a surprisingly disruptive group of ability users, a fringe group previously involved with the Guild, but even too rouge to be accepted by them.
Atsushi doesn’t need to be told where to go. He dives over the wreckage of several cars, running through now deserted alleyways towards the mass of spiked darkness ahead. To his right, he hears gunshots and there’s a pressure in the air which tells of a recent change in gravity. The fact that this group is still standing isn’t a good sign, but their arrival should hopefully turn the tables.
He skids to a halt as the alleys widen into what was once a small square linking several streets together and is now a mess of crushed bricks and broken pavement. He vaguely recognises a few members of the Black Lizard facing off against four people, while his target is soloing an ability user who appears to be able to summon lightning. It’s quite a match against Rashomon, and as Atsushi races forward, he catches sight of his reluctant partner sporting several wounds.
Atsushi skids in front of Akutagawa without a second thought, blocking the next series of attacks. The lightning smarts, but doesn’t penetrate, causing the enemy to pause.
“Weretiger, what do you think you’re doing? Be gone!”
Akutagawa must be far more injured than Atsushi first thought, his voice hoarse but with no less outrage than expected.
“I’m not in the business of letting people get killed. We’re better off working together,” he calls back, allowing himself to turn slightly to catch a glimpse of Akutagawa’s expression.
There’s the usual frustration, anger at his general presence, an expression that’s so familiar it’s almost comforting. However, there’s also another new emotion flickering. If Atsushi were to see it on anyone else, he’d call it relief. But that’s entirely impossible, even if it’s clear Akutagawa needs the help.
Any further discussion or argument is postponed by an attack, and fortunately, they’ve managed to grow since their fight with Fitzgerald, so don’t immediately battle one another instead.
What happens is a blur in a sense, mostly as it occurs fast, and also because…it’s unbelievable. Unthinkable, or at least Atsushi’s past self would decide so. As in a matter of seconds, they’re working seamlessly together.
Atsushi springs into action, leaving Akutagawa to back him up without having to ask, Rashomon a presence behind that allows him to focus on his target. Before he knows it, there’s the heaviness of the others’ ability merging with his own, but unlike the last few times, it feels easy . It circles him, melds with him, and acts in a complementary manner that means the ability user stands no chance. Within a few blows, he’s sprawled unconscious, the sky returning to its normal hue.
Of course, the moment the target is downed, Rashomon snaps back to its owner so hard Atsushi lands flat on his back, groaning as the stone shards dig in painfully. Winded, he lies there for a second, the sounds of battle distance and spaced out in a way that tells of winding down. So he simply breathes, then hauls himself up.
“Weretiger.”
He turns, grimacing when he sees Akutagawa limp over. He’s wounded more than Atsushi first thought, so he crosses the distance without thinking.
“Come on,” he says, taking what looks like the less injured arm and throwing it over his shoulder. “The extraction point is this way.”
“Unhand me,” Akutagawa protests, but it’s a token one, as he leans his weight into Atsushi immediately, feet dragging as they attempt to walk.
“I will when you can stand on your own,” Atsushi says. When there’s no comeback or attempt to do as such, he continues, only slightly smug with his victory.
Mostly though, he’s worried. He can hear Akutagawa’s chest rattle as they walk, his breathing wet and fractured. He doesn’t have the best constitution normally, and Atsushi almost finds himself asking if he needs to be taken to a hospital.
“Here…will do,” Akutagawa manages suddenly as they enter a new street.
Atsushi pauses, looking around. “We’re not quite there yet.
“Leave me be and get out of my sight,” Akutagawa says, voice managing to pick up in frustration.
He does as bid, lowering him carefully so Akutagawa can rest against the wall. As he does, his hand glances against Akutagawa’s, and once again, he’s struck by the coolness and softness of the touch. His fingers reach out, only for Akutagawa to slip from his grasp, but the motion registers in his limbs.
Did I just try to hold his hand?
“I-I’ll be going then.”
Akutagawa grunts as Atsushi steps back, alarms echoing in his mind at the realisation. He turns, just about resisting the urge to use his tiger power and launch through the nearest wall, anything to leave faster.
“Weretiger.”
Atsushi almost doesn’t go back, but politeness makes him retrace his steps. When he reaches Akutagawa, he stops a decent distance away, suddenly unsure. With a pained hiss, Akutagawa reaches into his coat, pulling something out of an inside pocket, then throws it toward Atsushi.
Honed reflexes mean he catches it, which considering it’s Akutagawa throwing something at him, isn’t the best use of his training. He almost drops it when he recalls as such, but the item is light and doesn’t automatically explode, so luck is with him today.
Still nervous, Atsushi turns it over in his hands. He blinks in confusion, at first unable to comprehend he’s holding a book. It’s so out of place, and yet here it is, a pristine thing amidst the chaos. It’s sealed, a film over it to keep the book in perfect condition, far fancier than any of the second-hand paperbacks that litter his small dorm.
Atsushi clocks the title and just about stops himself from dropping it. “T-this is the next one!”
His surprise has him completely forgetting the circumstances until Akutagawa attempts to laugh, the sound turning abruptly into a damp cough, worse than his usual wheezing. Atsushi steps forward automatically, only for Akutagawa to inch away.
“Just read the damn thing already so you stop complaining about not being able to find it. I’m tired of keeping silent about the plot.”
Then without another word, he turns and shuffles away, gripping his shoulder. Atsushi watches him go, part of him seriously concerned Akutagawa will collapse and be left in the rubble, but he’s too bamboozled to make himself move.
Eventually, he manages it though, as he finds himself in the rendezvous point, book under his arm. He only realises when Kyoka slides over, poking him in the arm. “What did you find?”
Atsushi jumps, her touch an unexpected jolt and a wake-up call. “Oh it’s uhh…”
He trails off, catching Dazai’s eye, who is so clearly listening with a scheming look on his face that Atsushi finds himself heating up and snapping his gaze toward the book.
“I don’t know,” he answers honestly.
The book stays bound in the futon closet, like the aforementioned bomb he once thought it could be. He tries not to think about the fact that he’s essentially sleeping with it, as that continues to open up issues that are threatening to spill forth.
On closer inspection, it wasn’t just a new, pristine copy of the book he’d been searching so long for, but a first-edition hardback. It’s exactly the type of extravagance he’d expect from Akutagawa with his ridiculous Port Mafia salary, but it’s also…not.
Because it means something. Atsushi can’t deny that. And he’s not ready to attach meaning to what is a forced partnership for the good of Yokohama and not anything he’s sought out or wanted. He’s only spending extra time with Akutagawa because Dazai told him to, there’s no reason for him to be receiving gifts. Let alone expensive books.
Maybe, Atsushi thinks, as he glances at the clock once again, dreading when it ticks towards the hour and he needs to leave, he’s attaching too much meaning to it. They’ve been talking about this series, he mentioned not being able to read the next book, it’s just a nice gesture.
A cold chill sears though at the fact he’s added ‘nice gesture’ and ‘Akutagawa' into the same thought.
“What’s wrong?”
Kyoka startles him, the stack of Dazai’s incomplete paperwork nearly launching off his desk as he flails. She looks blankly on, studying his face carefully until he can control himself. “Nothing! Why would anything be wrong?”
His voice is far too high pitched, catching Tanizaki and Ranpo’s attention from across the room.
“Ah, you have to train with Akutagawa soon, right?” Tanizaki says, giving him a pitying look.
“You forget to eat lunch,” Kyoka adds.
Atsushi never forgets to eat lunch. This day is a disaster. He doesn’t have enough time to make anything, eat, and finish working before he needs to go either, so he groans, dropping his head onto his desk, not caring that it smarts.
“Why don’t you eat after?” Ranpo says as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. Atsushi raises his head slowly, not caring there’s an invoice for…an obscene amount of damages Dazai caused with his last suicide attempt stuck to it.
Ranpo eyes him for a second that leans back in his chair. “If you have to stay longer, why not go get something to eat? Then you’ll at least make better use of the time.”
“Eating food with Akutagawa,” he says back, feeling like the world is tipping on its axis. Again.
“You already watch TV together,” Tanizaki points out.
“And have tea,” Ranpo adds.
“And exchange presents,” Kyouka finishes.
Horror builds in Atsushi’s chest, a bright, uncomfortable feeling when faced with the growing evidence that he does not argue against. A remembrance of the coolness of Akutagawa’s hand against his surfaces unbidden, the impulsive need he’s had both times to close that distance, to feel it once again…
“Oh no. No no no.”
He slams his head back down on the desk, determined to let it swallow him whole rather than allow the truth of things to cement in reality.
There’s a sympathetic pat on his back, Kyoka’s familiar touch.
“Don’t think too hard about it, Atsushi. It happens to the best of us,” Ranpo calls.
He’s not sure what that statement means and isn’t sure he wants to. Besides, even if he wanted to, Atsushi’s pretty sure his mind is too preoccupied now with his own disastrous life choices.
Part of him considers not going. Part of him considers running away, changing his name, and never facing anyone again, but Kunikida returns shortly after, so he ends up going back to work. Dazai shows up ten minutes before he needs to leave, so he has no escape route.
“It’s not far today, we’ll walk,” Dazai says, ignoring Kunikida’s questions about where he’s been all day.
A walk may do him good. It’s a nice evening, the sun setting, highlighting the sky in perfect hues that would be beautiful if he wasn’t so conflicted. Dazai hums to himself as they walk, a mix of what seems to be several different songs.
“What do you think of the training sessions?”
His questions, therefore, comes out of the blue, and yet Atsushi has been so on edge over the past hour, this doesn’t shock him. “It’s…fine.”
“Fine,” Dazi parrots, humming a few bars before continuing. “You once told me the two of you could never get along.”
“I’m not sure we are,” Atsushi says.
That’s not precisely true but it’s not untrue either. He cannot forget how they met, the pain of his leg being torn off, and what Akutagawa did to Kyouka. They aren’t friends, not really, and they belong to rival organisations which only combine out of necessity.
And yet…these past weeks of spending time with Akutagawa haven’t been bad. He’s enjoyed them, and as much as he hates to admit it, he’s looked forward to it. They have things in common, their combination attack is better than ever and-
“Did you set this up?”
“Set what up?”
That tone means yes. Atsushi groans, as Dazai smiles, bright and unbothered. His steps are weighted down as they continue to walk, a swooping hollowness filling out his chest, breathing becoming difficult. He doesn’t know how he’s going to make it to the next corner, let alone to the training session in one piece.
“It seems very simple, doesn't it? The world should be divided into equal parts; the good and the bad, the happy and sad moments, and the sides we belong to all neat and sectioned off. Our emotions should pull us in the correct directions, so we all know where we stand.”
Atsushi frowns at Dazai’s sudden words, watching as he marches forward with a calm smile on his face. But Atsushi has known him long enough to read the expression that he doesn’t choose to show. “But none of that really happens.”
“Of course not. And you know that well. When things become more difficult for us, we all go back to believing those simple parameters, as it’s nice to think that this time, things will work out how they’re meant to. The truth is, we can’t predict what will happen,” Dazai says with a wistful yet melancholic air.
“You can,” Atsushi points out.
Dazai stops suddenly, glancing upwards. “No. Not all the time.”
A breeze picks up, Atsushi’s hair obscuring his vision for the second it takes for something of the past to sink through Dazai, as it does on occasion. But as ever, it’s only for a flash of time, as when he can see once more, the serene look is back.
“I’m not going to tell you what to do or how to feel, but I am going to tell you not to try and draw boundaries where things should make sense. Life doesn’t make sense. And the strangest realisations happen to the best of us,” Dazai says, before striding ahead, resuming his song.
It’s the second time he’s heard the phrase. Atsushi stays still for a minute, watching Dazai’s back as he contemplates the fact that Ranpo is in on this as well, and for some reason, all of them are united in this ideology. After all, he was the one who handed Atsushi the cookies, the precise ones that Akutagawa actually ate. He’s once again shocked at the accuracy of his deduction, although less so that he’s meddling in Atsushi’s life.
Not to mention they're both seemingly supportive of…these feelings . Feelings. That he has. For Akutagawa. Ones that don’t centre around anger or hatred, but softer, lighter things he never even fathomed he’d gain. Let alone for someone who’s tried to kill him multiple times.
Even thinking of it makes his head swim slightly, but Atsushi has resolved to no longer cower in corners, being afraid of every shadow. He will face the world full on, even the strangest of realisations.
So he jogs over, catching up with Dazai just in time to take a turn down an alleyway, emerging on a semi-busy high street that Atsushi’s never seen before. After a moment, he realsies why; it’s far too high-end for his salary, with more boutique-like shops, and fancy, private-looking restaurants.
“Oi, Dazai, you’re late. There’s not much time,” Chuuya greets, walking up behind them, Atsushi only just managing to stop himself from jumping.
“Ah, but I could never be late to a meeting you planned,” Dazai chirps, in a tone that makes Atsushi’s face scrunch up, and Chuuya’s face do something odd and complicated he doesn’t have words for.
Of course, this begins another argument. How these two were the infamous Double Black that teamed up to achieve legendary feats, Atsushi will never know, as Chuuya stalks up to Dazai and starts shaking him by the coat. Behind him emerges Akutagawa, who on the surface looks on neutrally, but Atsushi knows by the tightness in his jaw he’s equally as done with his superior’s antics.
It’s so easy for Atushi to slide over. So simple to share the same space, both of them making faces at the two people meant to guide and train them who are currently having a name-calling match in the street.
“I am not getting another disruption of the peace complaint,” Akutagawa comments, then fastens a cold, slim hand around Atsushi’s wrist, pulling him in the opposite direction.
Their superiors don’t notice, and Atsushi is too consumed by the strangeness of Akutagawa’s grip being freezing and yet somehow managing to warm his skin with each touch. Unfortunately, the feeling doesn’t last, as once they’re out of the shouting radius, Akutagawa lets go.
“Well, I guess training’s off,” Atsushi says, glancing up at his companion, who is staring stoically ahead.
Silence is the response, but Akutagawa doesn’t demand he leave or vanish off into an alley (not that there are any, this is such a nice part of town every street seems well-lit), so he’s not upset by his presence.
I should tell him , Atsushi thinks. Except this churning, rising, impossible feeling is still not something he can put into any known language. But there is a smaller step he can take.
“Thank you for the book, it’s…nice.”
Or not. Atsushi contemplates walking into the nearest wall, or even back to Dazai. Anything is better than what’s coming out of his mouth.
“Nice,” echoes Akutagawa, much to his shame. “Have you read it yet?”
“No-I-I’m saving it!”
The panic sets in as Akutagawa turns to him. “Saving it? What are you blathering about, weretiger? It’s meant to be read.”
“I’ve never owned such a nice book,” Atsushi says, not a lie at all. “It seems a shame to just treat it like any other.”
Again, another truth. Possibly the heart of it, now he’s said as such out loud. It seems that talking about this is helping him come to terms with it. So he runs with that bravery right until the end.
“Plus as you gave it to me, I have to make sure it’s treated well.”
At the words, Akutagawa seems to be struck dumb, unable to give a retort as usual, pausing in their aimless wandering. Atsushi stops with him, the pounding of his heart echoing in his ears as if he’s just run leagues in his tiger form.
He waits, as Akutagawa looks deliberately into the distance. “Caring for gifts is noble, but don’t insult the purpose of me giving it to you by never using it.”
“I promise I won’t. It just…means a lot to me,” Atsushi says, letting the earnestness drop into each word.
The tips of Akutagawa’s ears turn red, which Atsushi can see as Akutagawa’s still refusing to face him. Instead, he coughs, muttering something that sounds like ‘idiot,’ although it feels affectionate. Atsushi chooses not to judge himself for enjoying that.
He can’t deny the small thrill of knowing he’s not the only one struggling with how to deal with this shift in their relationship. Or that he’s the only one feeling it. It only occurs to him now, that he never truly considered this was one-sided, rather just shocked it was happening.
That probably means something that Atsushi should think about more deeply, but before he can, he notices the writing on a chalkboard outside the nearest shopfront.
“Chuzaki!”
His stomach growls loudly, reminding him that he’s missing at least two meals at this point. A laugh from beside him captures his attention, and he glares at the smirking Akutagawa. “I missed lunch.”
“We should rectify that,” Akutagawa says, finally looking at him.
He looks different , and yet familiar. None of the traces of embarrassment Atsushi knows were there seconds ago, and he almost admires Akutagawa’s ability to reign that in, considering he isn’t usually known for emotional control. There’s also an openness he isn’t used to seeing; the frankness in his speech and the offer giving it away.
But it’s also difficult for him, seen in his stance, the tension in his curled hands and straight back, something that Atsushi has seen in a few situations, mostly encounters with Dazai. Akutagawa’s obviously unsure of what will happen next, although there’s a reply he’s hoping for.
Atsushi is ready. So ready to be the bearer of good news, with a newfound hope he’ll be able to give so much more of it going forward. He holds out a hand, a grin pulling at his mouth. “Let’s go. My treat.”
It feels as significant as it is. His hand is somehow steady despite how it seems the world around him shaking. But he doesn’t regret it, no matter what happens next. That resolve almost falters though, as Akutagawa does nothing, staring at him almost cluelessly.
Until with a look of determination he marches forward, the sudden change causing Atsushi to step back, hand dropping. His heartbeat is fast, just like it was during the first time they met, adrenaline running high. But this time, everything is different.
“Do not pretend you could afford this place, I will not let you pay. But that doesn’t mean you can run riot with the menu, weretiger. Be sensible.”
Akutagawa moves past swiftly, but not swiftly enough so that Atsushi misses the high colour on his cheeks. It’s enough to allow him to snag Akutagawa’s hand as he passes.
Akutagawa’s step falters, even if he doesn’t slow or look back. So Atsushi just squeezes his fingers, reveling in the cold feel, interested in seeing how long he’ll need to hold on for them to warm up.
He’s hoping it’s a while.
It takes them until they’re waiting for the table for Akutagawa to squeeze back; just once, but enough to leave Atsushi smiling as they’re seated. Unfortunately, he has to let go to get to his seat, but the moment he’s ready, he snags Akutagawa’s hand again before he has a chance to hide it.
“Do you think we have the full hour?” he asks.
Akutagawa seems mesmerized by their joint hands, but the question seems to startle him back to the moment. “With how they were arguing, I’d say we have longer.”
Atsushi can’t say he minds. After all, just one hour with Akutagawa isn’t nearly enough.