Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Dazai, I’m going to put you in a blender!” Atsushi hisses at the ceiling.

Akutagawa stares at him with disdain. “Can’t you threaten the man with something more realistic? I, for one, am going to put him through an industrial mincer when we get back.”

Atsushi grimaces. “I don’t actually want to kill him, just so you know.”

Akutagawa raises his hand, which is cuffed to Atsushi’s. “Are you sure you don’t want to?”

Atsushi rolls his eyes. “Give me a pin.”

“What makes you think I have a pin?”

“You dress like you’re trying to squeeze into a runway show. You have to have a pin of some kind somewhere. Bobby pin, straight pin, safety pin, I think you know that anything will do at this point.”

Akutagawa glares. Atsushi raises his eyebrows. Akutagawa sighs and lifts his chin. 

“The top button on my shirt broke ages ago and I’m using a safety pin in its stead.”

“Y’know,” Atsushi says as he lifts Akutagawa’s cravat and undoes the pin. “I could sew a button on there for you.”

“I can sew too, I just don’t feel like doing it.”

“Suit yourself. How’s your arm?”

Akutagawa glances down at his uncuffed hand, hanging in a cast and sling provided by Rashomon. “Possibly broken. Definitely fractured, if not.”

“Will you listen when I tell you to stand back, now?”

Akutagawa doesn’t answer. “Where’d you learn to pick handcuffs?”

Atsushi shrugs and focuses on the cuff around his wrist. “Beats me. I found out I could when Dazai handcuffed me to a gate and said he’d buy lunch if I got myself out of it without dislocating my thumb. He maintains that it was sheer luck, even though I’ve done it a few times at least since then.”

“I take it you didn’t learn, then.”

Atsushi scoffs as he frees his hand and gets to work on the cuff around Akutagawa’s wrist. “Some soulmate, out there picking cuffs and locks. I didn’t know you entertained the whole soulmate thing.”

Akutagawa shrugs. “I don’t, for myself, at least. I find others fascinating. Allowing your lives to be dictated by someone you may have never even met is so strange to me.”

“Not all soulmates end up together,” Atsushi points out, pocketing the cuffs in case he needs them later. He sighs as he sits properly again and leans against the wall too. “Some of them are good friends with no romantic involvement. Some of them even choose to part ways, but promise to always come if called. I think it’s a sign that your soulmate isn’t automatically someone you’re meant to fall in love with. It’s someone who just understands you better than everyone else, who makes you want to be better.”

“That’s . . . not entirely stupid.”

Atsushi shrugs. “I like to think about it like that. It makes the whole thing less stressful.”

“Stressful?”

“Yeah, I mean some people spend their whole lives trying to be perfect for their soulmate, so that they won’t disappoint. But if mine is just supposed to get me in a way that no one else can, then that means they’ll understand me for who I am, flaws and all. They may not love me, but they’ll like me anyway. Y’know?”

Akutagawa turns his head to stare at Atsushi. “It’s very rare that you open your mouth and make sense. This is one of those times.”

Atsushi draws his knees up and rests his arms over them, leaning forward and turning to look at Akutagawa. “Why don’t you think about yours?”

“Look at me, jinko. The things I’ve done, the things I know how to do. Who could ever want that?”

“Well, they wouldn’t know unless they’ve tried to do it. I didn’t know I could pick locks until I tried. So, if your soulmate knows before they meet you that you know how to murder and torture, then don’t you think that they’d know it because they’ve done it too? It would be hypocritical of someone like that to reject you for that.”

“And if they haven’t? If we meet and they cannot grasp the truth?”

“What makes you so sure they haven’t?”

“The skills I have because of them point to someone who is not of our world. Baking and singing and — fucking embroidery.”

Atsushi giggles. “You sound like you hate embroidery. It’s nice, though. Don’t you like stabbing something hundreds of times over? I hope mine likes embroidery, because I sure do.”

Akutagawa rolls his eyes. “Of course, you do. Look, it doesn’t matter. I have no intention of ever seeking this person out.”

“What if they want to find you?”

“Then that’s their prerogative.”

Atsushi sighs. “All right. I get it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. It’s not my place to judge you, anyway. If you’re meant to find your soulmate, you will. Nothing either of us can do about it. Now, are you feeling rested or shall we stay here and chat a bit longer?”

To his credit, Akutagawa doesn’t say anything about needing the break. He shrugs. “A job’s a job. I’ll get the data, you take care of the grunts.” 

And Atsushi doesn’t say anything about Akutagawa’s silent acceptance of the fact that he cannot take on their enemies in his current state. Atsushi nods. “I’ll cover you to the server room.”

“Rashomon will cover me. You just make sure you keep the ability users occupied.”

“Akutagawa —”

“I’m fit enough to use her for defense against ordinary people. Let them follow me. Keep the ability users behind.”

Atsushi hesitates, his eyes drifting to Akutagawa’s makeshift sling before nodding. “All right.”

Atsushi keeps the most dangerous of their enemies busy while Akutagawa makes a beeline for the server room. He only notices after he’s the last one standing that two of them have gotten away. 

He looks around the courtyard wildly, searching for the missing men, before it dawns on him. 

“Akutagawa.”

He heads back inside the building and goes straight to the server room. There, he finds Akutagawa fending off several assailants, including the two ability users. 

Akutagawa spots him immediately and wordlessly sends a small pouch sailing across the room. Atsushi pockets it, winding the string around his belt to keep it from falling, before surging forward. He gets behind Rashomon and looks at Akutagawa. 

“Any plans for escape?”

“You’re stupid. You should’ve left with the data.”

“And leave you behind? Gin would gouge my eyes out with their hands. So, any plans or are we going to push our way through?”

Akutagawa doesn’t answer. 

“Pushing through, then. Ideas?”

“Use those brutish arms of yours and clear a path, idiot.”

Atsushi rolls his eyes. “Y’know, you could be a little nicer to me.”

It should’ve been easy. Nothing they haven’t done before. It’s standard practice at this point. They get shoved on a mission together, they form a plan, the plan derails, they have to fight their way out. So, it should’ve been easy. 

But one of the ability users can enhance the physical attributes of the allies around them, increasing the strength of the small army, and the other is unnaturally fast, weaving between people to try to catch Atsushi and Akutagawa unawares. Rashomon does her best to protect them both from the second one while aiding Atsushi in incapacitating their enemies. 

Atsushi, like all the agency detectives, has a firearm license and was quickly trained in firing a gun when he joined, but he’s never actually fired it at a person before. He’s aimed it at people, yes — most often Akutagawa, actually — but he’s never fired it at them. 

Today, however, Atsushi finds himself in a situation he can’t get out of. The ability users have separated him from Akutagawa, who is not holding up well against the first ability user. They may not agree on a lot of things and they may not be all that fond of each other, but for these missions they’re sent on, they’re partners and partners have each other’s backs. 

Atsushi times the second ability user and when he launches himself at nothing, he collides with the speedster. Caught off guard, the ability user fumbles and Atsushi is quick to take him down. It’s not a move he’s ever used or even learned before, but it comes as naturally as breathing. He didn’t know he could move so fluidly, or that he could take a fully grown man down with his legs and his momentum. It doesn’t dawn on him yet that it must be something his soulmate learned. 

He has the ability user pinned down and searches his pockets for the cuffs he’d stored away earlier, but a sharp cry from Akutagawa grabs his attention. The enhancer has gotten through Rashomon and has Akutagawa’s injured arm in his grasp, a knife in his other hand. It comes down on Akutagawa and Atsushi can’t see where it strikes his partner, but the gasping cry is enough to know that the blade hit its mark.

The ability user beneath Atsushi laughs. “And then there was one.”

Atsushi could release the ability user and charge to Akutagawa’s rescue, but the speedster would stop him before he got there. Atsushi reaches further than the cuffs for his pistol. 

He usually has to work himself up to pointing it at another human being, but the possibility that Akutagawa could die overrides that and Atsushi fires two shots in quick succession. Not in any places that would prove fatal, but in places that would render the ability user immobile with certainty. 

Atsushi was trained in aiming a gun at a target. He was never taught how to target weak points like that. The ability to aim and fire is his own. The ability to incapacitate someone so thoroughly is not his own. But he does not register any of this. All he thinks of is that he has managed to keep Akutagawa safe — if safe encompasses Akutagawa slumping against the wall and trying not to look like he’s in too much pain as he fashions a new sling for himself and scowls at his bloodstained shirt.

In his momentary loss of focus, the second ability user throws Atsushi off and starts in Akutagawa’s direction. Atsushi doesn’t hesitate to shoot again. And once more just to be sure. Nothing is more important than getting Akutagawa back to the extraction point alive. Not even the life of one of his enemies. 

When he looks away from the second ability user, Akutagawa is watching him curiously.

“You can put the gun down, now,” Akutagawa says, almost experimentally. 

He’s been on more missions than he’d like with the weretiger now, all thanks to Dazai and whatever schemes he has cooked up in that brain of his, but this one has been weird from the start. 

Akutagawa isn’t interested in finding his own soulmate, but he’s always been curious about others’. He wonders often if Gin taught themselves to tread on such silent feet or if their soulmate did. He thinks about the way he caught Dazai spending an entire day learning how to play one of his games, only to later catch Chuuya playing it for the first time with the same level that Dazai did. He never said anything, but it seems like they must’ve said something to one another. 

Like everyone around him, Atsushi is not exempt from these musings. On missions like these, Akutagawa will wonder about certain tricks and whether Atsushi learned them himself or if his soulmate did. Did Atsushi learn how to speak a few foreign languages himself? Did Atsushi teach himself how to mend clothes? Did Atsushi teach himself about dealing with injuries when proper medical supplies weren’t available? 

When they first set out, Akutagawa had been exhausted and had decided that catching some precious sleep was worth more than refusing to let Atsushi drive. They were on the road for six minutes before Atsushi mentioned that he never learned how to drive, himself. 

Then, Atsushi had put up the tent with ease. Akutagawa usually always did, because he doesn’t trust the weretiger not to do something wrong — but again, he was desperate for some much needed sleep before they infiltrated the target building Dazai had sent them to. 

For one terrifying moment when Atsushi claimed to love embroidery, Akutagawa wondered about his own soulmate for the first time. 

He struggles to breathe when the pain in his arm is amplified tenfold and new pain blooms across his ribs but then all of a sudden, he’s released to lean against the wall for support and the ability user is on the ground, writing in pain and bleeding from his hip and ankle. 

He sees Atsushi get thrown off and prepares a list of snarky things he will say later, but it gets put on a back burner when Atsushi stands and raises his gun again, seemingly aimed at Akutagawa. 

Akutagawa never flinches when staring down the barrel of a gun right in his face. But the sight of Atsushi looking ready to shoot him sends a wave of prickling ice over his body. 

He shoots once and the blurriness focuses into the shape of a person, blood dripping slowly from a wound in the center of his forehead. Atsushi shoots a second time and the ability user falls over. 

Akutagawa watches Atsushi curiously. Has the weretiger ever shot another person before? How many, to know exactly where to aim to be most effective? How many, to look so composed when killing a man?

He tells Atsushi to put the gun away and something in Atsushi’s eyes shifts as he tucks it back in its holster and makes his way over. He looks over Akutagawa, noting every little scratch that Akutagawa is aware of and likely others that he isn’t.

“Can you stand?”

Akutagawa shrugs. He’s too far in his own head to act like he doesn’t likely need help. 

As they walk — well, Atsushi walks while Akutagawa limps along with most of his weight braced against Atsushi — Akutagawa wonders why the last moments are burned into his brain. It’s not like he’s never witnessed Atsushi threatening their enemies at gunpoint before. He’s just never witnessed Atsushi shooting the damn thing before. Especially not with such a cold, focused gaze. Such a bored gaze. 

It reminds him vaguely of himself, of the tactics he learned watching men like Dazai wield their weapons. 

Actually, a lot of things about Atsushi remind him of himself. He just hates to think about it. The way Atsushi just knows how to hunt for food, the way he can sing, the way the baked treats he brings to eat on their way to their Dazai-orchestrated missions are always good, the way he can sew and pick locks and embroider and shoot to kill without the slightest change in attitude. 

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Akutagawa eventually asks when they reach the evacuation point and Atsushi lets Dazai know it’s time to come and get them. 

“What?” Atsushi asks, pocketing his phone. “Makeshift bandage work?”

Akutagawa brushes his fingers over the crisp white covering his abdomen, able to reach it because of the gaping hole in his shirt. “No.”

“Oh. I didn’t. I’m starting to wonder if my soulmate is a criminal. Between the lockpicking and the shooting. . .” Atsushi chuckles. “Ask around the mafia for someone who woke up one day and found out they knew how to play the harp for me, would you?”

Akutagawa forgets his entire train of thought for a moment, even missing reacting to Atsushi’s little joke. “When did you learn how to play the harp?”

“Oh, remember that time we got lost and found that abandoned church to stay the night in? There was a harp there and I couldn’t sleep so I just kinda fiddled around with it for, like, four hours.”

“That was you?! I thought the church was haunted!”

Atsushi smiles. “Sorry.”

“You’re so strange.”

Atsushi huffs. “I was bored, okay?”

“I’m not talking about the harp, Atsushi.”

Atsushi blinks, as though startled by the sound of his own name. “What?”

Akutagawa glances in the direction they’d come from, to the building where a few people should be waking up, trying and failing to find their tail. 

“Oh,” Atsushi says. He sits beside Akutagawa on the fallen tree they’d found so Akutagawa wouldn’t have to stand and wait. “That.”

“You’re acting weirdly normal for someone like you who’s never done that before.”

Atsushi shrugs. “I just . . . didn’t want you to die. You’re still kind of an asshole, but honestly? These missions Dazai throws at us almost always turn out to be the ones I have the most fun on. Usually, it’s just being efficient and polite and proper. Out here, wherever Dazai sends us to fetch his data or capture people or rescue people or whatever, no one’s going to tell on me if I bite a few people, y’know?”

“Atsushi, you killed a man.”

“I know.”

“You’ve never done that before. Y- that’s not something you can just brush off.”

Atsushi nods. “I know,” he says again. “But it didn’t feel like something I’d never done before. My soulmate must be quite the puzzle. They never lose at poker and they like to draw and they know how to kill people.”

Akutagawa stares at Atsushi. He really is acting far too unbothered about everything. “This isn’t about your soulmate. This is about you. Killing people isn’t something you people at the detective agency do. You yourself told me that you actively try very hard not to. How can you just sit there like this isn’t eating away at you?”

“I told you. I didn’t want you to die.”

“Atsushi,” Akutagawa says, aggravated and frustrated and confused, “this is about you.”

“Yeah and I don’t want you dead. I knew what I was doing. I did it on purpose. The fact that it’s a skill from my soulmate just means that I didn’t miss, that I knew how to do it properly. I knew what was happening, Akutagawa. I did it anyway.”

“You made me promise I wouldn’t kill anyone.”

Atsushi’s smile is as it always is — annoyingly bright. As much as Akutagawa has grown accustomed to the almost perpetualness of it, he feels as though Atsushi definitely should not be smiling right now. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t if the need ever arose.”

“You can’t —! You can’t just kill people.”

“If the alternative is my partner dying, I absolutely can.”

Well, when he puts it like that — no. Akutagawa’s not going there. 

“Besides, it’s already done. Even if I wanted to take it back, I couldn’t.” Atsushi tilts his head. “It doesn’t sound like you’re bothered about it because I saved you like I thought you might be, so what is it?”

Akutagawa doesn’t know how to answer. He’s not even sure what the answer is. 

“We don’t have much time before Dazai gets here, you know. You know you’re not going to want to talk to me about this next time you see me, so out with it before whatever has you like this eats your brain or something.”

“I don’t know why,” Akutagawa finally admits. 

“Why what?” Atsushi presses. 

“Why you did it. I don’t get it. I don’t — I don’t understand why someone like you would do that with — with not hesitation and — and I don’t understand why you don’t seem affected at all.”

“Do you think I’m a saint, Akutagawa?” Atsushi asks, and the answer is probably a begrudging yes, but Atsushi’s voice is somewhat empty and there is a glimmer of something feral in his eyes. “Do I look like someone who can do no harm?”

“I don’t mean that,” Akutagawa says. “You’re so against these things and you just — you just did it.”

“Would you prefer I tried to chase after him in the futile hope of capturing him before he killed you? Would you have died thinking about how great it is that I didn’t kill him? Would it make you feel better if I looked like I was going to vomit just thinking about it? I can pretend to do the last one if you like.”

“Why would you do that for someone like me?” Akutagawa asks, quiet, as if the question will shake the entire forest. 

“I think you’re stupid and rude and mean, and I think it’s silly that you only ever wear black even when you’re not on a job, and I think you could probably be a little nicer to me by now, but I would rather murder everyone that tries to kill you than let them.”

Dazai’s arrival saves Akutagawa from having to form a response, but it doesn’t save Akutagawa from thinking about it. 

He thinks about it as Dazai assesses his arm and declares it fractured, not broken. He thinks about it as the driver takes him home. He thinks about it while Gin helps him clean and bandage his wounds. He thinks about it as he collapses on his bed, exhausted. He thinks about it until dawn, unable to sleep. 

“What’s on your mind?” Chuuya asks when he spies Akutagawa rummaging around in the Port Mafia’s designated snack cabinet, looking for something he isn’t sure of yet.

“Do you know where I can locate a harp, by any chance?”

Chuuya blinks at Akutagawa. “The things that happen to me every time I come in here to look for coffee are insane. No, Akutagawa, I do not know where to find a harp, but I can confirm that we do not keep one in the snack cabinet.”

Akutagawa sighs and grabs a box of animal crackers that will probably later have Tachihara running around the base and screaming about breaking the arms and legs of whoever ate his crackers. “That’s a shame. I’ll ask Hirotsu, then. He looks like he’d know where to acquire a harp.”

“Why do you even need a harp?”

“I have a theory that needs testing.”

Chuuya raises his eyebrows. “And you need a harp to test this theory?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I need to know if I suddenly know how to play it.”

“Huh? Oh! Oh, is this a soulmate thing?” Chuuya looks delighted at the prospect of Akutagawa taking an interest in his soulmate. “Someone you have your eye on told you they can play? Who is it? Someone in the mafia? A stranger to the rest of us? A friend of yours I previously did not know existed?”

“It was the weretiger.”

Chuuya stares at Akutagawa for a very long moment. “I’m sure a music store will let you test their harps if we pretend we’re interested in buying one. Let’s go.”

Akutagawa considers declining the offer to have Chuuya tag along, but then decides that if Chuuya drags him all over Yokohama to look for a harp, then he doesn’t have to ask one of the Port Mafia drivers to do it. So he nods.

A lot of music stores are willing to let customers test their instruments, but none of them have harps. 

“Where did the weretiger find a harp?” Chuuya asks as they leave yet another harp-less store. “Maybe we can just break in and try that one out.”

“Ah, it’s in an abandoned church somewhere in the mountains and it’s a two-day drive out of Yokohama at least.”

Chuuya grimaces. “Nevermind. Oh! There’s an opera house in the city that orchestras sometimes perform at. They might have a harp.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

Chuuya takes Akutagawa to the opera house and spews a bunch of charmingly-worded bullshit at the receptionist that gets them into the room where the instruments are stored. They look for the harp together. 

“Hey, do you think I could learn to play the flute?” Chuuya asks. 

Akutagawa shudders. “Probably, but that would mean Dazai can too and I don’t need him making a racket whenever I see him. I already get a headache whenever he shows up looking vaguely happy.”

“But you enjoy the missions,” Chuuya points out, “even if you get hurt.”

“That doesn’t mean that Dazai doesn’t give me headaches.”

“Fair. Oh! I found it!”

Akutagawa follows Chuuya’s voice further into the room and stops in front of the harp. He stares at it for a long moment. “How does one play a harp?”

“How should I know?!” Chuuya gestures vaguely at the instrument. “You just kinda sit there, I guess, and pluck at the strings. Like a double-sided standing guitar.”

“Thanks, that’s very unhelpful.”

Chuuya rolls his eyes at Akutagawa.

“Why is it so big?”

“It’s for the orchestra. It probably looks better if you stand and play it.”

“So do I sit or do I stand?”

“Akutagawa, I do not know.” 

“Well, I’m not asking the weretiger. He’d want to know why.”

“So, what, then? We just stand here until divine knowledge intervenes?”

Akutagawa glances at Chuuya. “Do you have a better idea?”

Chuuya shoves Akutagawa towards the harp. “Just go poke around. If you’re right, you’ll figure it out. If you don’t, then we know it’s not him.” 

Akutagawa walks up to the harp and plucks one of the strings. It’s loud and it startles him. He glances at Chuuya, who gives him an encouraging nod, so he picks at a few more, listening to the sounds, trying to figure out how to make them all sound decent together, like they had that night in the church.

As he does, he wonders what had been going through Atsushi’s mind the day before. He’d said that he knew what he was doing, but did he really? Did it feel like the time Akutagawa was craving cake and didn’t know when Gin would be back so being unable to ask them to bring cake home, he decided to attempt it himself, and discovered that he had a talent for it? Or did it feel like the time he needed to mend one of Gin’s coats and the motions felt like they were simply coming back to him like riding a bike, familiar and known?

And what is going through Atsushi’s mind today? Has it finally set in, what he’s done? Has he told anyone? Is he wallowing in self-hatred like Akutagawa always assumed he would be if forced to do the things Akutagawa once did so unthinkingly? Or is he really as unbothered as he had seemed?

Akutagawa feels a hand on his arm and stops. Chuuya is staring up at him, looking like he’s trying to say something, but unable to fathom words. 

“Does that piece have a name?”

Akutagawa finds the woman who’d guided them to the room standing before them, smiling kindly. “What?”

“The piece you were playing. It was beautiful, but I don’t recognise it.”

“Oh, it’s . . . no, it doesn’t.”

“Well, it’s beautiful either way. Sorry, I just popped in to check on you. I’ll leave you be, now.”

The woman bows her head and leaves. When they’re alone again, Akutagawa looks at Chuuya. “What did it sound like? I wasn’t paying attention.”

Chuuya’s mouth falls open. 

“What? Was it bad?”

“No! No, it was . . . something. Kind of angry. Kind of . . . sad. I liked it.”

“You hate it.”

“I don’t.”

“You do. I can tell. It’s all over your face.”

“I don’t hate it, Akutagawa — and anyway! It looks like you can play the harp.”

“Oh.”

Chuuya blinks. “Oh? Is that it?”

Akutagawa looks at the harp. “Yeah. That’s it.”

“You’re not gonna do anything about it?”

“What is there to do?”

Chuuya seems unsure when Akutagawa looks at him. “You’re not going to . . . tell him?”

“Why?”

Chuuya looks like he’s struggling to understand. “Because . . . well, because he’s your soulmate, isn’t he? Doesn’t he deserve to know?”

Akutagawa thinks about the way Atsushi thinks of soulmates. He thinks about how interested Atsushi is in finding his, and how he seems to like the idea so much. “It’s better that he doesn’t.”

“You can’t make that decision for him.”

Akutagawa tilts his head at Chuuya. “Are you going to tell people?”

“No, of course not. I won’t even tell Dazai if you don’t want me to.”

“Then I can make that decision.”

“What if he figures it out himself?”

“Then that’s his problem.”

“Problem? Akutagawa, you’re not a problem.”

“Easy for you to say. Yours has always liked you.”

Chuuya folds his arms. “He pushed me off a helicopter.”

“You’re a gravity manipulator. I cut his limbs off.”

“He can regenerate,” Chuuya says in the same dismissive tone. “Look, you’re not the same people you were when you met. Dazai keeps asking for you and sending you on assignments with the weretiger. You can’t tell me you’ve spent so much time around him and haven’t gotten to know him a little bit.”

“I have, and that’s why I know it’s better if he doesn’t know.”

Chuuya sighs. “All right. It’s your business. Let’s get back.”

Akutagawa nods. They leave the opera house and he never once looks back at the harp.

Atsushi idly spins a pen — a trick from his soulmate — as he sits at his desk, resting his chin on his other hand. 

“Atsushi,” Dazai says. 

“Hm?”

“Everyone’s already left. It’s time to go home.”

Atsushi sets the pen down and stands. “All right.”

“You’re awfully quiet today,” Dazai noted as they lock the door and make their way down the stairs. 

“Am I? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Is this about what happened yesterday? I noticed there were bullets missing from your gun and the way Akutagawa was looking at you . . . I can only assume.”

Atsushi looks at Dazai when they get out on the sidewalk. “Did you feel anything the first time you killed someone?” 

Dazai blinks a few times. “What?”

“I know you have. Mafia executives don’t get there by being saints. Did you feel any different?”

“No,” Dazai says truthfully. 

Atsushi hums. “Akutagawa thinks I should.”

“Because you’re different from us.”

“Am I? Being on this side of the line doesn’t mean I’m special. It just means I added better cards to my hand, like you and Kyoka. Things could’ve gone very differently if the Port Mafia had found the tiger before you and Kunikida did. Being here or there doesn’t change the kind of person you are. There are good people in the mafia and there are bad people out of it.”

Dazai’s eyes flash with something that Atsushi can only describe as understanding. “You’re not a bad person, Atsushi.”

“It wasn’t self defense. I shot him from behind.”

“And he wasn’t running away. You weren’t defending yourself, but you were defending your partner. That doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“What does it make me if my soulmate thinks they’re a bad person?”

Dazai hums. “I see.”

“What?”

“You’ll understand when the time comes. When you find that person. When you talk to them. In the meantime, you can talk to us. Or perhaps . . . you could speak to your new friend.”

Atsushi looks up at the darkening sky. “You go on ahead. I’ll come to the dorms later.”

Dazai smiles. “Sure.”

Atsushi watches him leave before turning and heading in the opposite direction.

Akutagawa enters his apartment calling Gin’s name. 

“Did you cook something or should I?”

There’s no answer. 

“Gin?”

“Gin won’t be back for a while.”

Akutagawa shrieks and jumps about a foot in the air. He glares at Atsushi, who’s seated on the couch. “What is wrong with you?!”

Atsushi jumps up quickly, his eyes wide. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“Jesus Christ, jinko! I thought you were an intruder!”

“I’m sorry! Gin let me in and told me to tell you that she’ll be out! She said she left food in the oven for you!”

Akutagawa clutches the front of his shirt and debates whether shouting at Atsushi again is worth potentially going into a coughing fit. He settles for another glare. 

“I’m sorry,” Atsushi says again.

“Why were you just sitting there in the dark?”

“I like it when it’s dark. It’s comfy.”

Akutagawa stares at Atsushi, trying to fathom how he can seem like the world’s brightest ray of sunshine, the most utterly stupid moron on the planet and a terrifying force of nature, all at once. It’s a little hard to equate the man that killed someone without batting an eye with the imbecile that sits in the dark of someone else’s apartment and gets surprised when he scares them. 

“You’re so weird. What are you even doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I meant about what?”

Atsushi sits down again and pats the seat beside him. Reluctantly, Akutagawa sits too. 

“What?” Akutagawa asks when Atsushi doesn’t say anything. 

“I need advice.”

“Advice,” Akutagawa repeats. 

“Yeah. Uh, Ranpo asked me, but I didn’t know what to tell him so I asked him if I could think about it for a while and I did but I don’t know what to tell him.”

Akutagawa squints at Atsushi. “What the hell could this possibly be about that you came to me?”

“Okay, I actually came for Gin but they had a work related emergency and said you’d be good enough.”

“Wow.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, what is it?”

Atsushi huffs. “Ranpo knows who his soulmate is, but he decided he was gonna wait for his soulmate to figure it out but he’s getting impatient and he doesn’t know if it’s a good idea to tell his soulmate or not.”

Truth be told, the whole story is both plausible and very likely. Anyone who’s met the great detective automatically assumes that he already knows. But then again, this is Atsushi. It’s equally likely that Ranpo is very much not involved in this advice-seeking business. 

Akutagawa decides to risk it. 

“You know.” It comes out a little more accusatory than he intended. 

“Know what?”

“This has nothing to do with that arrogant detective of yours, does it? You know.”

Atsushi sinks into the couch and folds his arms. “Took you long enough. I’ve been dropping hints for weeks.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Akutagawa cries.

Atsushi’s mouth falls open. “Why didn’t you?!”

“I found out this afternoon!”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes! I spent all day hunting down a fucking harp.”

Atsushi tilts his head. “A harp? Really? You couldn’t put it together with the rest of the stuff?”

Akutagawa sinks into the couch too, folding his arms and pouting. “You are the worst.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“It’s not my fault if you’re stupid.”

“I am not stupid!”

“I’ve been waving my face in front of you like a neon sign and you still missed the clues!”

“Well, forgive me for not caring about soulmates before you fucking killed a man!”

Atsushi huffs, returning to his slouched position. “I cannot believe you’re an executive candidate,” he mutters. “Stupid.”

“I’m a what?”

Atsushi snickers. “What, you didn’t know? You’re in the mafia, Akutagawa.”

“You’re lying.”

“Do I look like I care enough about the mafia hierarchy to lie about it?”

“Huh. That’s . . . interesting.”

“You really didn’t know?”

Akutagawa glances at Atsushi, not sure if he means the executive candidate thing or the soulmate thing. Either way, the answer is the same. “I didn’t.”

“Cool. Okay. Uh, what now?”

“You mean you didn’t plan this far?”

“I assumed you still hadn’t figured it out and the Ranpo ruse would’ve worked, so, no. I did not plan this far ahead. I figured I’d get your opinion and then think about how to tell you.”

“Oh.”

“Hey, I’m gonna ask you some questions and I want you to be completely honest with me.”

“How many questions?”

“That depends on your answers. I may discover new follow-up questions based on that.”

Akutagawa sighs. “Fine. What?”

“How long have you known? Like, early afternoon or. . .?”

“Two hours, maybe? I’ve had a hunch since last night, though.”

Atsushi nods. “Cool. Uh, were you ever gonna tell me? Since you thought I didn’t know.”

“No.”

“Do you wanna tell me why?”

“Not really.”

Atsushi nods again. “Okay. Do you . . . are you still not interested in the idea of soulmates?”

“I’m not in love with you.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Akutagawa shifts slightly, relaxing somewhat. “I’m . . . a little interested.”

“That’s cool. You can say no to this one, but would you be interested in a date?”

“I’m not interested in kissing you.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“. . . Maybe.” Maybe it’s because it’s Atsushi, but Akutagawa doesn’t feel the slightest bit nervous about being this honest. 

“Maybe?” Atsushi says. 

“I’m not going to trip over my own feet to impress you or anything, but if you asked me on a date I probably wouldn’t try to stab you.”

“Interesting.”

Akutagawa scowls at Atsushi. “Don’t be weird about it or I’ll change my mind.”

“I have to ask, when did it turn into a maybe? If you remember, I once asked you what you’d do if I turned out to be your soulmate and you genuinely got sick.”

Akutagawa scowls again. “That was coincidence. And I didn’t like you.”

“But you like me now?”

“You’re . . . tolerable.”

Atsushi tilts his head slightly. “You’re not upset about this,” he observes. 

“I’m not,” Akutagawa says, even though it wasn’t a question. “There are far more irritating options and worse ones too.”

“Yeah? Imagine if it turned out to be Higuchi. She’d be thrilled, I think.”

“She’s very good at her job and I appreciate her backup but I don’t have any desire to date her.”

“Wow. You could’ve called her pretty, at least.”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t care much for appearances.”

“She is, though! She’s super pretty and even though she tried to kill me that one time, she’s really cool. She scares me a little bit, though, but I think we’d be good friends. I like intimidating people.”

“You? Intimidating?” Akutagawa scoffs. “As if.”

Atsushi scoffs in return. “You’ve seen me threaten people. I can be very intimidating. I bet I could intimidate you.” 

Akutagawa scoffs again. “I’d like to see you try.”

“All right. Prepare yourself.”

Akutagawa raises his eyebrows. “What, right now?”

Atsushi leans towards Akutagawa. “Gin’s not here to embarrass me, so, yes.”

“You look far too soft to intimidate me,” Akutagawa says, watching Atsushi carefully. 

“Is that so?”

“If you think you’re intimidating me right now, you are sorely mistaken.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Atsushi says, pulling back suddenly. “I’ll have to spring it on you when you least expect it.”

When Atsushi flops back on the couch, comfortable and relaxed, Akutagawa feels like he hadn’t known there were so many sounds other than Atsushi’s voice all around him until Atsushi pulled away. 

“I have another question,” Atsushi says. 

“Of course you do. What is it?”

“Do you want to keep this a secret?”

“Well . . . Chuuya already knows and I’ll probably tell Gin —”

“Oh, Gin already knows. They kinda wheedled it out of me the first time I visited. In my defense, they gave me some illegally strong pain medication that day so I may have been high. I also think Dazai knows, because he gave me a weird look when I left today. Ranpo likely knows but let’s be real, Ranpo probably made a game out of figuring everyone out already. I meant from everyone else.”

Akutagawa hums. “Let’s not tell anyone else for a while.”

“Okay. Wait, I have one more.”

Akutagawa glares at him. “What?”

“Are you gonna be an asshole about the embroidery?”

“Yes. It’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

“You’re stupider.”

“Okay, I’m done for real this time.”

Akutagawa nods. “Okay.”

“So . . . what now?”

“For starters, we avoid Dazai like the plague.”

Atsushi scoffs. “I’m so glad you said that. I’m sleeping here tonight. I have no intention of seeing him any earlier than work tomorrow morning.”

“What? No, get out.”

“Gin said I could. They even said I can wear their pajamas tonight.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

No, he doesn’t, but he’s not going to admit that and lose an argument. 

Plus, the idea of Atsushi in his space isn’t as revolting as it had been the first time he’d brought Atsushi to his apartment. 

“Wait, one more thing,” Akutagawa says. 

Atsushi, to his credit, doesn’t poke fun at Akutagawa for not being done. He simply raises his eyebrows questioningly. 

“Dazai can never find out that it was because of a mission he sent us on. He’d lord it over our heads until we die.”

Atsushi grins. “I have a better idea.”

Akutagawa raises his eyebrows. 

“We should try to convince him that we’ve met our soulmates and our soulmates want to stay out of the affairs of both the mafia and the agency, and see how long it takes before he picks up on the lying.”

Yeah, this is going to be hilarious.