Archive of Our Own

The café was agreeable. The tea was brilliant, considering its low price, and the customers were few and far between. The building was secluded enough for a person of his reputation to feel comfortable in. The only bad thing about it, in Akutagawa’s opinion, was that the Port Mafia hadn’t laid its claim on this part of the city yet.

Which explained the ruffian with a death wish that somehow found the nerve to slide into the chair opposite. There was no reason for him to be here, especially now that Akutagawa had learned of the perfectly adequate café he had on the ground floor of his own workplace.

“I'm done,” Atsushi groaned, knocking his forehead into the table. Akutagawa had to grab at his saucer to stop his teacup from rattling. It came with a little floral spoon, the pattern of which he was happily admiring until his present company arrived. “Kill me. I surrender. You don’t have to wait six months as long as you make it quick.”

“Don’t just come marching over here like we’re acquainted,” he hissed. “Find your own booth if you must stay. I have no desire to speak with you.”

Atsushi didn’t respond, keeping his face smushed against the wood. “Stab me,” he mumbled after a moment.

Akutagawa was deliberating on whether it would be so bad to grant his wish, promise be damned, when a waitress walked over carrying a mug of hot chocolate and a plate of shortbread. The weretiger’s childish order, no doubt. Atsushi picked his head up at once, thanking her. The table had printed a red mark onto his skin, a line running from his temple across his brow.

“Do I have to ask why you have adopted Dazai’s suicidal tendencies, or will you leave me alone if I ignore you?”

“You have to ask,” Atsushi chirped, taking a loud slurp of his drink. “I need to complain to someone.”

So you chose me? Akutagawa almost snarled back on reflex, but he knew that asking any unnecessary questions would do nothing but prolong the time he was forced to spend in his enemy’s intolerable presence.

“Fine,” he grumbled instead. “Out with it.”

Despite his apparent need to complain, Atsushi didn’t explain anything at first. He chewed at his bottom lip, adjusting the way his fingers gripped his mug over and over. Akutagawa was seconds away from getting up and switching tables by the time he finally spoke.

“I tried to seduce someone,” he said, gazing into his hot chocolate.

Akutagawa’s eyes widened. That was not what he was expecting.

Atsushi rushed to elaborate, “I didn’t want to do it! It was for an Agency job, to get information. Normally Dazai would handle that kind of thing, but he wanted to pass it off to me for some reason, and I really wish he hadn’t, because I tried to talk to her earlier and it went so badly, Akutagawa, this is why I need to die—”

Akutagawa found himself glad that he hadn’t yielded to the weretiger’s begging and ran him through. His pathetic displays weren’t a rare sight, but they were delightful to witness nonetheless—they only further proved his obvious inferiority.

“So you want me to put you out of your misery? A tempting offer, but I must decline. I rather enjoy seeing the torment you experience as a result of your own shortcomings.”

He eyed the plate of biscuits. There was a fair chance he would be able to steal one without being noticed, if he was fast.

“As a result of my— oh my god, you suck so much,” Atsushi whined, rubbing at his face in despair. “Why did I even bother telling you?”

“I’ve been wondering similar things since you arrived,” Akutagawa murmured, using his teacup to hide his mouth as he chewed. The shortbread was superbly sugary. “If I were in your place, I would have completed the assignment without issue.”

Strangely, Atsushi was more insulted by this comment than any of the other jabs Akutagawa had made at him throughout their conversation.

“As if,” he snapped, and his tone made Akutagawa start to regret the no-killing deal again. “I bet you don’t know the first thing about wooing someone.”

“Of course I do,” Akutagawa retorted, because there was no way he was backing down now. Let alone admitting that the weretiger, of all people, was right about his inexperience.

“Prove it, then.”

“How on earth am I supposed to prove that?”

“I don’t know!” Atsushi threw his hands up in exasperation. “Never mind, don’t listen to me. Just forget I told you anything.”

Akutagawa frowned, stirring his tea with the tiny spoon. It screeched against the porcelain, and a nearby customer winced at the sound. He was too lost in thought to notice.

The weretiger wanted him to drop it, but maybe this was his chance. If he could show that he was better at this ridiculous seduction business, it would show that Dazai was a fool for choosing him to do the job. No, more than that, it would show that Dazai was wrong in his judgment that Akutagawa was less capable than Atsushi in the first place.

Humiliating the weretiger and winning back Dazai’s favor in one fell swoop? It was too good an opportunity to pass up. Akutagawa didn’t know how to flirt, but it couldn’t be that difficult to figure out. It wasn’t like he had to be good. He just had to be better.

“Where is this woman you speak of?” he demanded, rising from his seat. Atsushi startled at the sudden movement and began to choke on his shortbread.

“I ca— I’m not telling you that!” he spluttered, slamming a fist against his sternum to dislodge the trapped crumbs. “You’d scare her away! And I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to, it’s confidential Agency stuff.”

Akutagawa huffed, falling back into his chair. So much for that. With the number of random women Dazai flirted with each day, it would take forever to figure out which was the one from the mission. He didn’t have that kind of time to spare.

But, he considered, that didn’t mean he couldn’t press on with this idea. It was perfect—he’d been fruitlessly searching for other ways to demonstrate his strength ever since the weretiger had robbed him of his ability to kill, and perhaps cajolery was the answer. It was clearly a tactic his former mentor approved of, since he’d put Atsushi up to the task. Akutagawa just had to show that he could be charming, and the acknowledgment he yearned for would be his.

Maybe he could even stick to the original seduction plan, but with a different target.

He’d have to find someone close enough to Dazai for the man to notice Akutagawa’s influence, but not so unshakeable that his flirting attempts were doomed to failure. All of the women Dazai had tried to seduce in the past were off of the table, too. They surely already had experience with rejecting the most inane of courting attempts.

A member of the ADA seemed promising, but Akutagawa didn’t know the extent of Dazai’s relationship with most of them. If he chose the wrong person, everything could go catastrophically wrong. Factoring this in, his options were narrowed to a mere two people.

Dazai’s new partner, the blond-haired man, was one of them, but he gave the impression of being rather hard-headed. That, and their main encounter with each other had ended with him electrocuting Akutagawa, so he likely wasn’t open to romantic pursuit. And as for the other option…

The other option was sitting with him at this very moment, gulping down hot (now merely warm) chocolate and blinking back tears from his coughing fit. Akutagawa’s lip curled.

He supposed there was a kind of sadistic gain from it, if he really wanted to embarrass the weretiger. He would also be indulging Dazai’s strange desire for the two of them to spend time with one another, so that was an extra plus. Courting Atsushi would certainly catch his mentor’s attention, and his deplorable needy personality meant there was a high chance he’d be receptive to Akutagawa’s advances. From every angle, he was the smartest choice.

But that didn’t mean Akutagawa was happy about it. He resented Atsushi, more than anything in this world.

“You sicken me,” he said, unprovoked, just because he could. Atsushi kicked him under the table.

His eyes then fell to somewhere beside Akutagawa’s mouth, before shooting down to his plate. “Did you eat my…?”

Akutagawa stood abruptly, brushing off his coat. He had important places to be. Mafia jobs, and the like.

one.

His first attempt at wooing Atsushi was a plan he came up with entirely by himself, which may be the reason it failed so miserably.

It was simple, in essence—he would acknowledge the weretiger’s fighting prowess. Flattery of that nature appealed to Akutagawa, so he couldn’t see why other people wouldn't be endeared in the same way.

“Weretiger,” he barked, catching him at the end of a mission. It had been an easy one, fighting against a rival gang that had no gifted members. They hadn’t been forced to combine their abilities, and Atsushi had dealt with most of the combat. Given the circumstances, it seemed an appropriate time to put his plan into action.

Atsushi turned, bug-eyed, his shoulders rising higher and higher with every step that Akutagawa took towards him.

“What do you want?” he asked, suspicious. Akutagawa stopped, planting his feet and setting his jaw.

“You…”

You’re a formidable fighter. Your courage is admirable.

“You… are…”

You are a suitable partner. Working alongside you is a pleasurable experience.

“Str…” Why was this so hard? Had he turned into a mute? “…ong.”

Atsushi blinked at the incredibly strained, vaguely complimentary words he’d received. “I’m… strong?” He looked puzzled for a moment, before his eyes narrowed. “Did Dazai put you up to this?”

What? The one time Akutagawa had tried to praise him of his own volition, he was being accused of relaying a message from Dazai? This was unacceptable. 

“You shouldn’t keep letting him torture you by doing everything he says, you know,” Atsushi chided, his mouth flattening into a thin line. “Anyway, you don’t have to be a jerk about it. I know you’re stronger than me, that’s why I’m training. So I can beat you.”

Akutagawa gaped at him. How could the weretiger admit such a thing so readily? It was as if he was mocking him, speaking highly of his strength right after watching him struggle so much to give a sincere compliment.

He fought back a scowl. “You have misconstrued my meaning. But I suppose I should have expected that from…”

He trailed off. Now he was going in the completely wrong direction. He had to find some way to fix this.

“Dazai had no part in anything I told you,” was what he went with, folding his arms. Atsushi gave him a disbelieving look.

“Then you just decided to make fun of me for no reason.” He seemed more put off than before, if anything. How had this gone so terribly? “I should have known.”

“No, that’s— are you slow?” Akutagawa hissed. He could feel the aggravated twitches of Rashomon gathering at the hem of his coat. Atsushi balled his fists.

It was safe to say that little progress was made in his seduction plan that afternoon. Akutagawa stormed home still simmering with anger, his left eye blacker than it had been before.

two.

After that mishap, even Akutagawa was able to concede that he was not good at coming up with courting methods on his own. He admitted this in the privacy of his mind, obviously. The weretiger would not be finding out that his claim of Akutagawa knowing nothing about romance was being proven truer by the hour.

He realized that if he wanted to succeed at this operation, he would have to consult with somebody else, someone who could give him better ideas. There was only one person he trusted enough to share with them the full details of this nonsense, which is how he found himself confiding in Gin on one of their monthly shopping trips.

She laughed at him. For a long time. Akutagawa really didn’t see how any of this was amusing.

Once she’d calmed down and finished wiping mirthful tears from the corners of her eyes, she dragged him into a nearby jewelry store.

“You should start with a gift,” she said. “There’s no misinterpreting that.”

He examined the various necklaces, bracelets and earrings that lined the shelves. Was the weretiger a jewelry person? Akutagawa had never seen him wear anything of the sort, although there was no way of knowing if that was down to preference or simply his being financially destitute.

It would be better to go for something practical, he decided, just in case Atsushi was opposed to personal ornaments. He drifted over to the watches, pausing to study each one.

Would it be sensible to pick any of these? He had substantial reason to question whether the weretiger was even capable of telling the time, given the way he showed up red and winded at their meeting locations. Not to mention a watch would be destroyed should he have to call on his ability without any prior warning.

Akutagawa sighed, and was about to give up on that choice of gift when gentle fingers curled around his palm and pulled him to another part of the store.

“Look at this one,” Gin said, pointing into a glass display. In the center rested a timepiece, a miniature clock without any attached strap. The face was black, but the hands, numbers and frame were a sparkling white. It was looped through a white-gold chain, so as to be worn about the neck. Akutagawa’s attention was captured by it at once.

It would suit the weretiger. To a somewhat ludicrous extent. Gin was the right person to go to for help with this matter, not that he’d had any doubts. The timepiece was beautiful. Maybe if Atsushi wore it, he would become more punctual, meaning everybody else around him would benefit too.

With the help of an employee, it was removed from the display case. The price was enough to raise eyebrows, but it would hardly make a dent in Akutagawa’s bank balance. He would pay the amount several times over if it meant winning back Dazai’s recognition, anyway.

As they left the store, the gift packaged in a velvet box in his pocket, he turned to Gin.

Whether it was a random bout of insecurity that had struck him, or if it was natural to need such reassurance, he wasn’t sure. Regardless of the reason, he asked her if she truly thought this would bring him what he wanted.

Gin nodded without hesitation, but there was a glimmer in her eye that he didn’t really like.

+

Akutagawa presumed he’d have to wait until their next assigned mission to see the weretiger again after that, but he bumped into him by chance the very next morning.

He was scurrying along by the waterfront, shaking out his wallet and counting the coins in his palm. He appeared otherwise occupied, but Akutagawa found it hard to believe he could be doing anything more important than being given his gift. Striding over, he positioned himself directly in Atsushi’s path.

Atsushi didn’t glance up from his hand until the last possible moment, and almost fell over himself trying to stop the two of them from colliding. He opened his mouth, probably to ask what the hell Akutagawa was doing there, but before he could get any words out Akutagawa had pulled the timepiece from his pocket and was dangling it in front of his face.

“Feast your eyes upon this, fool,” he said, trying to fight back a self-satisfied smirk. It was unthinkable that the weretiger would react poorly to a gift so far out of his usual purchasing power.

As predicted, Atsushi’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Oh, wow. That’s really nice, Akutagawa.”

Akutagawa waited, but he said nothing else. Was that it? Where was the passionate thanks? The flushed stammering to which he was so inclined?

“Weretiger,” he muttered, shuffling on his feet. An unpleasant slimy sensation was beginning to develop in the pit of his stomach. “Do you dislike it?”

“Huh?” Atsushi stared at him like he was crazy. “No, why? I think it’s great. I didn’t know you were into that kind of thing, but it matches your style.”

Akutagawa froze. So that was the reason for the lackluster reaction. The weretiger believed he had bought it for himself. He supposed he had only shown it off, rather than explicitly presenting it as a gift, but he’d thought his intentions were clear.

“I don’t see why you’d care so much about my opinion,” Atsushi continued, his brow knitting. Something must have dawned on him, because he became affronted out of nowhere. “Wait, is this you flexing your salary on me again?”

And quite like last time, everything was going sideways out of Akutagawa’s control. He stood straighter in alarm. “No, you’re mistaken. Listen—”

Atsushi waved him off. “Look, whatever, I don’t have time to fight with you right now. I’m supposed to be meeting Kyouka for dessert. That’s where I was going before you stopped me. Can we do this another day?”

His voice was firm and left no room for argument, and Akutagawa wilted. It wouldn’t be becoming of him if he tried to make the weretiger stay against his wishes. He grumbled and let him pass by, shoving the timepiece back into his pocket in frustration.

three.

Akutagawa felt he must have reached a new low, to be requesting assistance from a numbskull like Tachihara.

According to Gin, he was trustworthy—Akutagawa held his reservations about that. However, seeing as nothing else he’d done so far had worked out, and his sister had managed to convince him that Tachihara would be more of a help than a hindrance, he'd made the potentially regrettable decision of giving him a chance.

Now, they were sitting at a bar, as a result of Tachihara’s refusing to engage in normal human conversation until he had passed a certain amount of alcohol intake. He’d prattled some nonsense about not being able to have ‘proper bonding time’ while sober, and Akutagawa had tuned out in order to not give up on listening to him before they’d had an opportunity to discuss the more pressing issue.

“So,” Tachihara began after his second drink, setting his glass down on the bar with a grin. “Gin tells me you need pickup advice. You’ve come to the right guy.”

Akutagawa had never believed anything less. But times were getting desperate, and this wasn’t the sort of thing Tachihara would ever let go of now that he had been given an inch of it.

“Just tell me what to do,” he gritted out, putting as much venom into his voice as he could muster. Tachihara chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Well, you’ve tried complimenting him and giving him a gift already, right?” he asked, and Akutagawa nodded. “You’ve forgotten the most important thing.”

He turned on his stool with interest. Maybe he’d been too judgemental, and Tachihara could provide him with some valuable insight after all. “What is it?”

Tachihara smiled wider. “The element of proximity.”

He leaned into Akutagawa’s space as he spoke, and Akutagawa reeled back to regain the distance, face pinched. His expression caused Tachihara to let out another loud cackle.

“Relax, man,” he snickered. “Physical touch is a love language! You’d do well to learn that.”

He took an obscenely large gulp of his drink, one much too great for anyone unfamiliar with alcohol. The fingers of his other hand tapped a rhythm against the bar, before stopping as he cringed at his thumb brushing something sticky. Akutagawa glared at him, but he couldn’t stop himself from considering the suggestion.

Physical contact was never something he was partial to—in fact, the only person he allowed to touch him without losing a limb was Gin. But that didn’t mean that the weretiger felt the same. He didn’t appear to show any discomfort from Dazai’s hair ruffles, or even any more than was normal from Akutagawa hauling him around by the shirt collar. Maybe the occasional flinch, if anyone moved too quickly, but he didn’t lock up solid the way Akutagawa did from unexpected touch.

It was a horrible thing to admit, but maybe Tachihara had come up with the best contribution to his plan thus far.

“How do I…” Akutagawa coughed and adjusted his neckpiece. It felt tighter around his throat than usual. “How do I do it?”

Tachihara’s eyes sparkled with amusement, and he scratched at the bandaid on his nose. “I’ll tell you…” he said, and Akutagawa perked up, “...if you buy yourself a drink.”

Akutagawa scowled. “Absolutely not.”

“Aww, come on! You need to loosen up!”

“I need no such thing, and especially not with you.”

“I guess you won’t be needing my help either, then.” Tachihara tutted, shaking his head in disappointment. “That’s a shame. Do you think you can figure it out on your own?”

Akutagawa couldn’t stand him. Gin must be afflicted by some sort of brain parasite, to willingly spend time with this brute. He would have to take her to visit a neurologist soon.

With a pointed exhale, he waved over the bartender and ordered his first shot of the night.

+

Akutagawa wasn’t a lightweight, so alcohol had a negligible effect on his cognitive and motor skills. This was a belief he held onto with confidence until the exact moment he stood up from the bar stool.

Tachihara had already crashed out on the bar, a small puddle of drool forming under his sleeping face, and that was what prompted Akutagawa to decide it was high time for him to get out of there.

He didn’t make it far. The second he was on his feet, the room rotated around him. He staggered over to the door, grappling at the handle for support. If he’d had more sense and been less intoxicated, he would have known that a door handle is not a stable thing to lean one’s full weight into, and he also wouldn’t have fallen in such an embarrassing manner onto the ground outside.

Groaning, he pushed himself back up, wiping his scuffed knuckles on the front of his coat. He began to stumble down the sidewalk. It was dark, and he wasn’t sure where home was, where he was, or even where the bar had suddenly run off to. After walking past the same street corner for a third time, he opted to take a break, leaning against a (thankfully sturdy) lamppost. He let his eyes fall shut, sucking in deep breaths of the crisp night air.

When he opened them again, he was greeted by gold and violet. “Akutagawa?”

Akutagawa nearly jumped out of his skin, and he would’ve crumpled to the ground once more if not for the arms that swiftly wrapped around his midsection, hoisting him up.

Atsushi’s nose wrinkled. “Are you drunk?”

He growled in response, batting at Atsushi’s face in an attempt to shove him away. Atsushi allowed him to pry himself free, but his hands hovered in the air nearby as if waiting to steady him.

After that horrendous conversation with Tachihara, he’d encountered the weretiger far sooner than he expected to or was comfortable with. That ridiculous advice had yet to leave his head, and now that he had drank, he felt less inhibited. If there was any time he would be able to bring himself to carry out what Tachihara had suggested, it would be now.

Reaching out, he grabbed Atsushi’s wrist with something akin to desperation. He could feel a pulse under his fourth finger, quickening under his touch, though Akutagawa suspected it was more out of terror than anything desirable.

“Wh— Hey!” Atsushi yelped, interpreting the contact as some form of attack. “Th-The promise isn’t actually over, you can’t kill me yet!”

Atsushi’s skin was warm, and it was a pleasant warmth to Akutagawa, who always had fingers so cold they ached. He was hit with the grossly mushy thought that they balanced each other out, even regarding something as fundamental as body temperature. He stroked a thumb along the inside of Atsushi’s forearm, but it made his stomach take up some unwelcome rendition of acrobatics, so he let go.

Perhaps it was his silence, or he had a scary look on his face, because Atsushi clutched his violated wrist to his chest like a storybook maiden. His eyes flicked over Akutagawa’s features, growing more confused as he was unable to find whatever it was that he was searching for.

“Are you alright?” he eventually choked out.

Akutagawa squirmed. He felt restless, all of a sudden. It was probably the alcohol. “Quiet, weretiger,” he spat.

Atsushi’s jaw snapped shut. His troubled expression was sobering, and Akutagawa felt compelled to ask, “Why are you even here? Isn’t it past your”—he hiccuped—“bedtime?”

“I don’t have a bedtime,” Atsushi crossed his arms. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk. And then I found you, having a bit too much fun, it looks like.”

“Not fun,” Akutagawa grunted, trying to fix his posture into something more composed. “Awful.”

His goal was to take another step, to leave the weretiger behind and go home and go to bed, but he tripped over his own feet and face-planted a white shirt. Those same arms hooked under his armpits again, propping him up like a toddler learning to walk.

He heard a huff of laughter, and if he’d had any semblance of coordination left he would’ve skewered the source of it through the abdomen. Instead, he rubbed his hands over his numb face, trying to restore feeling into the nerves.

“You’re a lot less scary like this,” Atsushi said, and there was a fondness in his voice that made Akutagawa’s head hurt.

“‘M gonna kill Tachihara,” he slurred. Everything was blurry at the edges, and moved around each other in ways that he knew wasn’t natural. He squeezed his eyes shut, crouching to bring himself closer to the ground.

There was silence for a while. Then, he heard something being whispered to him, felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He was pretty sure he'd managed a response. After that, there was a similar warmth curling under his thighs, and pressing against his front. He remembered it being comforting, soothing the bite of the evening chill. Akutagawa blacked out before he could feel anything else.

He awoke in his bed, in his and Gin’s shared apartment. He had no memory of how he had gotten back home, but Gin was stifling giggles when he wandered into the kitchen, cranky and hungover.

four.

“Ah, I don’t know,” Chuuya said, sounding exhausted even over the crackle of the phone. “Take him to the damn theme park. But don’t let him eat seafood beforehand if you’re going to go on any of the rides. You’ll end up spending the next two weeks trying to scrub crab-scented puke out of your shirt.”

He made a disgusted noise, as if speaking from personal experience. Akutagawa decided not to ask.

A theme park. It was a little infantile for his tastes, but he reminded himself that the weretiger was the one being enticed. He could picture it easily—Atsushi standing next to a carnival game with a wide grin and a large spool of cotton candy in his hand. Maybe Chuuya was right, and he would love it.

Then again, he could also picture Atsushi with a giant swirl lollipop and propeller hat easily enough, so maybe it was just his poor opinion of his rival’s maturity.

Either way, he assumed that it would be important to spend time with someone you intended to court. He ended his call with Chuuya, before sending Atsushi two vague messages—a pinned location, with a separate text detailing a time underneath.

He began to walk in the direction of the amusement park. As he did so, he became more and more apprehensive. Would the weretiger agree to spend time with him in the first place? They were enemies, meaning he had every reason to be suspicious of Akutagawa’s motives. If he were in Atsushi’s shoes, he couldn’t say he would trust that there was no foul play involved. To Akutagawa’s mafia-refined senses, it would reek of a setup.

But it was worth a shot. If the weretiger refused to have faith in him, he would simply have to go back to the drawing board and start over. Progress isn’t a straight line, as Mori would often say.

Akutagawa caught sight of the park gates, and rolling his eyes was an intrinsic reaction. The design was abhorrent. He prayed that the outcome of today would justify the humiliation of being seen at such a distastefully colorful place. Leaning against the wall to wait, he glowered at anyone who dared to spare him a second glance. He thought he saw a passerby snap a picture, and it was only his commitment to promise-keeping that stopped him from dismembering them right there in the middle of the road.

Atsushi arrived two minutes after the scheduled time, darting around the bend of the footpath at record speed. Akutagawa clicked his tongue, remembering the gift he’d bought and cursing himself for not bringing it with him.

“What happened?!” Atsushi asked as he jogged up, his face flushed from exertion. He put his hands behind his head, trying to regulate his ragged breathing.

“You’re late.”

“Oh, come on,” he snapped. “You messaged me ten minutes ago. You’re lucky I didn’t get here later. What’s the mission?”

“Mission?” Akutagawa said.

Atsushi paused. “…Isn’t that why you texted me?”

“No.”

“Huh?”

It was at this point in their back-and-forth that he seemed to become aware of his surroundings. He stared at the front gates of the amusement park in bewilderment.

“Akutagawa, why are we at a fairground exactly?” he asked with slight trepidation.

“I am taking you here. To figure out your weaknesses.”

“To figure out my weaknesses,” Atsushi repeated. A wry smile was growing on his face, and Akutagawa sort of wanted to punch him. “Of course, that makes sense.”

“Yes,” Akutagawa agreed, but he felt a lot less confident about it now. “Are you coming or not?”

Atsushi looked at Akutagawa, and at the park entrance, and glanced between the two several times as if trying to commit the image to memory.

“Yeah,” he nodded. He was practically beaming now. “Yeah, I’ll come.”

+

Akutagawa had expected the weretiger’s general cowardice to leak into every aspect of his pitiful life—he soon found that was not the case. Atsushi was awed by just about everything they came across, and insisted they partake in all the park had to offer, putting Akutagawa through varying amounts of misery.

Despite Chuuya’s half-warning, they did go on rides (“Spin this teacup again, weretiger, and it will be the last thing you ever do,”), try out facepainting (“Are you not able to create tiger stripes of your own already?”, “It’s the principle, Akutagawa,”), and play stall games that were definitely rigged, because there was no way in hell Akutagawa would’ve been such a bad shot with a regular gun. He was in the Port Mafia, damn it.

An hour of mindless gallivanting later, Atsushi’s stomach growls became too frequent and annoying to ignore, so they decided to take five and buy some snacks.

“Everyone calls you a hellhound, but I think you’re more of a cat,” Atsushi was saying. “You know how they try to act all aloof, but underneath are big softies?”

“I am a human being,” Akutagawa replied.

Atsushi laughed. “Yeah, okay, whatever. I’m getting cotton candy. Do you want a stick?”

“No. I’m not a child.”

“You say that now, but you’re gonna eat mine when you think I’m not looking again,” he grumbled, switching his choice from a medium-sized stick to a large bucket. He dropped some coins into the vendor’s hand before moving to sit on a nearby bench.

Akutagawa sat beside him, watching as he took small bites. They made eye contact, and Atsushi scoffed.

“Just try some. I can see you staring at it,” he said, pulling off a piece and handing it over.

Gingerly, Akutagawa took it. He popped it into his mouth. In an instant, sweetness overwhelmed his tastebuds.

“It’s nothing but flavored sugar,” he remarked, eyes wide.

“Yeah!” Atsushi grinned. “Great, right?”

It was great. It melted on his tongue, and before long he was tugging away another piece. Atsushi snorted at his change of heart, leaning back on the bench and looking out across the park.

They sat there for a while, calmly watching couples and families stroll by. As Akutagawa began to fully relax, sinking into his seat, the quiet was broken by a cartoonish gasp.

When he glanced over, Atsushi was almost shaking with excitement. “I’ve never been on a rollercoaster before.”

Akutagawa followed his line of sight to see what had caught his attention and went rigid.

There were several rollercoasters on the park grounds, but the weretiger appeared to be taken in by a gigantic metal monstrosity located at the very back.

It was enormous, with several loops, and Akutagawa had to grit his teeth and remind himself that the nervous ball in his gut was not befitting of a wanted criminal. He recalled a suicide method Dazai had raved about in his mafia days, a deathcoaster that could kill the passengers merely by riding on it. There was a strong resemblance between that contraption and this one.

Cotton candy abandoned, Atsushi jumped up and made his way towards the health hazard that had bewitched him. With some reluctance, Akutagawa followed. The queue for the ride was short, likely due to the average carnivalgoer having basic survival instincts. Atsushi’s enthusiasm, however, persisted against the odds until they were strapped in and trundling along the track.

His suddenly anxious face prompted Akutagawa to ask, “Have you eaten seafood today?”

“What?” Atsushi shouted back over the noise. Akutagawa repeated the question, and he tilted his head, mouthing, 'No?'

“Good,” Akutagawa replied, but it wasn’t good at all. What proceeded was the most harrowing minute and a half of his life. He was convinced his vertebrae had been popped out of his spine and shuffled around by the pressure, and he had never missed solid ground under his feet quite so much.

His knees were weak as they stepped off. His heart was pounding in his ears from the adrenaline, and a traitorous part of him began to question whether it was worth experiencing such horrors for nothing but the small possibility of obtaining Dazai’s approval.

“That one was…” Atsushi’s face was pale. “I don’t think I can go on that again.”

Akutagawa hummed in agreement, dragging himself to lean against the fence beside the attraction. Atsushi trailed after him, his face twisted like he’d tasted something sour. They looked at each other, and it morphed into concern.

“Woah, hey, you don’t look so good—”

Perhaps Akutagawa was the one who had eaten crab against Chuuya’s advice, because he turned and emptied his stomach into the trash can.

five.

The fifth phase of the plan could hardly be counted as legitimate, because the progress made was completely unintentional. Akutagawa wondered what it showed about him that this was the instance in which he was able to draw the biggest reaction out of the weretiger.

They were walking home after the unfortunate theme park trip, wherein Akutagawa had been on more emotional rollercoasters than real ones, and were entering a more rundown part of town. Akutagawa had made the decision to walk Atsushi home, having felt an emotion that was almost guilt at the weretiger having to deal with his mortifying vomiting spell.

Currently, they were walking over a bridge, with Atsushi closest to the railing. If Akutagawa wasn’t walking closer to the center, he wouldn’t have spotted the sharp object flying towards them. Or, more accurately, towards Atsushi.

It would have made more sense for him to bring out Rashomon to consume the projectile, but his brain still must have been fogged by some lingering nausea, because the idea didn’t occur to him. He lunged, tugging Atsushi out of the path of the shard.

He put too much force into the movement, and his save ended up being more disastrous than heroic. They tumbled backwards over the railing, and the sole thing Akutagawa could think to do in midair was to pull Atsushi towards his body, in the hope that at least one of them would walk away from this without broken bones.

They landed much sooner than predicted against a hard ground, and pain rocketed through his back. He hissed, scolding himself. That was a bad decision. That was a foolish, illogical decision.

Atsushi seemed to share this sentiment, pulling himself up to glare down at him. “Are you insane?! I could’ve healed from that in seconds! If this platform wasn’t there, you could’ve—!”

He cut himself off with a strangled inhale. If Akutagawa didn’t know any better, he’d say it looked like the weretiger was about to cry. He wanted to suggest that maybe if the platform hadn’t been there, the extra falling distance would have given him enough time to activate his ability and cushion their landing, but he got the sense that Atsushi wouldn’t appreciate that answer.

Crawling off to one side, Atsushi ripped open the front of his coat, as if anticipating that Akutagawa would be lying in a pool of his own blood. He sagged when he saw no visible injury.

“Don’t tell me you did that because—” He pressed his lips together again. “Don’t do that, Akutagawa.”

Akutagawa blinked, thrown by the blatant display of worry over him. He hauled himself into a sitting position, wincing at the ache. It hurt a fair bit, but fortunately not with the sharp throb that accompanied a fracture.

Meanwhile, Atsushi had stood up, and was offering him a hand. Akutagawa didn’t take it, because he wasn’t fragile, and the weretiger’s patronizing was beginning to grate on him. Did he seriously think Akutagawa so weak as to die from a two-meter fall?

Maybe Atsushi had developed mind-reading alongside his tiger claws, because he added, “I’m not babying you. I just…”

He swallowed. Akutagawa stared at him.

“Never mind. We should go.”

When they climbed back onto the bridge, Akutagawa was forced to use his earlier neglected space-devouring ability at once. This led to their discovery that the sharp objects targeting them were shards of ice, shaped into a diverse array of blades and arrows. Following the direction they came from was easy enough, and after a brief pursuit the two of them found themselves face-to-face with a rogue ability user.

It was a tall woman with pallid skin, who lost her nerve significantly now that they were in close quarters. Her ability relied heavily on distance, and with Atsushi’s frontline attacks and Akutagawa backing up the rear, subduing her wasn't much of a challenge.

“I’ll have to keep an eye on her until the police arrive,” Atsushi said, using a foot to pin her half-conscious body in place. “You should get going so that they don’t… you know.”

Akutagawa felt a pang of annoyance towards the woman lying on the concrete, though he wasn’t altogether sure of the reason for it. Thanks to her ambush, he was no longer able to continue walking Atsushi home. He should have been grateful for the excuse to not have to drag himself all the way to the weretiger’s residence, but the thought of leaving didn't sit well in his stomach.

“I see,” he said slowly, not moving an inch.

“Yeah,” Atsushi agreed with an equal amount of stiffness, winding his fingers together in front of him.

“Oh dear god,” sneered the woman on the ground. “Get a room.”

Akutagawa broke into a fit of coughs. Atsushi jumped, his cheeks darkening. Unable to deal with the implications of whatever was happening any longer, Akutagawa spun on his heel, stalking off into the sidestreets of the city.

+ one.

Five separate attempts, and five times that Akutagawa had failed to achieve a satisfactory result. He was on the verge of giving up. He had no more ideas of things he could do to make Atsushi admit his skill in seduction, and the outlook of his plan to win Dazai’s favor was getting bleak.

The one remaining strategy that his tired mind could conjure up was to combine what he had already learned. There was more he could improve upon—he had yet to give Atsushi his gift, after all. It was certainly possible for him to choke out better praise than he had before. In terms of physical contact, the only way was up after his drunken catastrophe.

He didn’t have a theme park on hand, and he wasn’t too keen on throwing himself off of the side of a bridge again, but three out of five wasn’t a bad score.

Not wanting to risk his final attempt being sabotaged, he decided to revert back to the age-old tactic of cornering Atsushi after a mission. As soon as the Agency’s detectives had pushed their criminal of the week into the back of their car, he grabbed Atsushi by the sleeve and yanked him towards a nearby alley.

It was much narrower than he remembered it being when he had passed through it that morning. That, or he'd become overly aware of the decreased distance between the weretiger and himself.

There was no debating that Atsushi was surprised by the confrontation, but his face lacked the edges of fear it'd held whenever Akutagawa had pounced on him previously. There was a new intensity—determination, was it? Whatever it was, it snatched the oxygen straight from his lungs.

“Weretiger,” he said. “You’ve done well. On— on the mission.”

Not what he was planning to say, but it had come out easier than last time, so he wasn’t complaining. Atsushi fidgeted at their proximity, a light dusting of pink decorating his cheekbones.

“Oh,” he whispered, and the puff of breath that escaped with it made Akutagawa shiver. “Thank you.”

A giddy thrill ran through him. This was more like it. After so much hassle, he was getting somewhere, without the miscommunications that plagued their every interaction. Soon enough, the weretiger would be throwing himself into his arms, and he would be able to lord this success over his old mentor forever.

He fished in his pocket, pulling out the timepiece he had, on this occasion, remembered to bring. “You misunderstood, before,” he explained, pushing it into Atsushi’s chest. “I intended to give this to you.”

Atsushi’s hands flew up to grab the object digging into his ribs, and Akutagawa willed his body to react normally to the way their fingers brushed. It did, mostly.

Breath catching, Atsushi turned the timepiece this way and that, examining every detail. He seemed hypnotized, cradling it between his palms as if to hide it from any harm the outside world could bring.

Praise, check. Gift, check. What came next?

Oh, right.

Akutagawa pried the chain back out of Atsushi's hands, ignoring the resulting noise of confusion. He unclasped it and reached behind Atsushi's head, carefully securing it around his neck.

Atsushi was quiet, watching as the timepiece was settled between his collarbones. When it was done, he peered back up at Akutagawa’s face.

“Akutagawa,” he murmured. His cheeks were a brilliant shade of red. “Seriously, thank you, but are you— is this— am I reading this right?”

The corner of Akutagawa’s mouth quirked up. So, he’d figured it out. He must have remembered their conversation from the café, and had no choice but to acknowledge Akutagawa’s irresistible charm. Any moment now the weretiger would be licking his boots, proclaiming him the winner of their argument and the superior person overall. Victory tasted so sweet.

“You are,” he said, trying not to sound too smug. He still had some good sportsmanship left in him.

Atsushi swallowed hard, nodding like he’d been told life-changing news. He was always one for the dramatics. Akutagawa wondered if he’d do something else pathetic, like crying or getting angry. Best to force the grovelling out now and escape before he devolved into any of that.

“Well?” Akutagawa prodded, looking him up and down. “Are you going to get on with it, then?”

“Get on with…?” Atsushi croaked. His blush had spread to his ears. His mouth hung open slightly, and Akutagawa was seized by an absurd impulse to reach up and close it. Disregarding his strange thoughts, he raised an eyebrow, which seemed to spur Atsushi into action. “Yes. Okay. I’ll… okay.”

Akutagawa breathed a small sigh of relief. Finally. All the effort he’d put into this nonsense was worth it. He looked down, ready to see the glorious sight of his greatest rival bowing to him, but what he was actually met with was a gentle warmth against his face.

The weretiger was kissing him.

By some miracle, Akutagawa did not flinch backwards and crack his skull into the brick wall. Rather, he froze, his heart backfiring in his chest like Chuuya’s old motorcycle. Before he could even start to process the heat on his lips, there was more, in the form of a rough hand threading through his hair and playing with the strands behind his ear.

What the hell was this? Some foul trick? The weretiger’s last ace up his sleeve, designed to pull the rug out from under Akutagawa when success was so near? He was more cunning than expected.

Atsushi’s eyes were closed, and his eyelashes fanned out over his cheeks, casting delicate shadows onto his skin. His lips were soft and warm, and Akutagawa wanted to submerge himself in the flames, to succumb to the tugging behind his navel that beckoned him in Atsushi’s direction. It took considerable concentration to drive away the blanking of his senses.

But the weretiger would have to do better than that. There was no way Akutagawa would admit defeat after getting this far. If that meant playing along with these confusing games, then so be it. He placed a hand on Atsushi’s shoulder, pushing him without disconnecting their lips until his back hit the wall.

Atsushi gasped softly as he collided with the brick, his fingers curling into Akutagawa’s hair. His free arm crept around Akutagawa's side under his coat, pulling the two of them closer together. Akutagawa faltered again as Atsushi pressed against him. He could feel another heartbeat, one that was racing quite like his own. It was odd, he thought, for the weretiger to try and outwit him using a method that he himself was so affected by.

Everything about it was puzzling, and it destroyed every preconceived notion that Akutagawa held. His mind was spinning, trying to resolve the disparity between the way Atsushi clung to him now and what he'd imagined. If the weretiger were to touch him so... indecently, Akutagawa pictured something more rough, more suited to the competitive nature of their dynamic. But Atsushi wasn’t kissing him like that. He was being heartbreakingly tender, as if Akutagawa was a precious thing he didn’t want to let go of. None of it made any sense.

He pulled back, but Atsushi chased his lips, leaving one final lingering kiss against them before drawing back in similar fashion. He seemed unlike himself. In comparison, Akutagawa was hyperfocused, taking in every minute detail of his face as though examining Atsushi through a magnifying glass.

“You…” He attempted to speak, but it came out as more of a wheeze as his voice betrayed him and died in his throat. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from Atsushi’s lips, shiny and swollen.

“Only you could ask me to kiss you and then look so shocked by it,” Atsushi teased, but his tone was far from mocking.

It felt impossible to breathe. Akutagawa put a hand to his front, to make sure his lungs were still working as designed. They were, surprisingly, but he was pretty sure he was developing some kind of fatal arrhythmia. He must have been speechless for too long, because Atsushi's face fell.

“Are you upset?” he asked, and Akutagawa realized his hand was still cupping the side of his head, a finger dragging along the shell of his ear.

What was he supposed to say? Yes? After he was the one who dragged Atsushi into this alley, bought him gifts, spent hours trying to woo him for heaven knows what reason?

It was for Dazai, a small voice in his head tried to protest, but the logic sounded moronic even in his thoughts. Dazai wasn’t here. He hadn’t been there for any of Akutagawa’s attempts at courting the weretiger. Why was he putting on a performance for a man that wasn’t present? There was no guarantee that Dazai would perceive this as a show of his wily charisma. He’d probably believe that Akutagawa had developed repulsive gooey feelings for his new apprentice.

And why wouldn’t he think so? Akutagawa was on the brink of a heart attack, just because Atsushi had kissed him. Even now, he couldn’t stop staring. Tracing the splash of color across the bridge of his nose, the small groove that formed between his eyebrows as he frowned. The swirling violet and gold of his eyes that melted together into a pleasant gradient. Countless Atsushi-shaped puzzle pieces, fitting together into a picture that frightened Akutagawa half to death.

He felt so hot in the face it began to overwhelm him. He almost laughed at the idea that if the weretiger were to pour gasoline on him right now and light a match, it would come as a relieving chill. Not that he ever would, being the righteous idiot that he was.

Something in Akutagawa’s disheveled appearance must have calmed Atsushi’s worry, because the furrow in his brow disappeared. His hand fell from Akutagawa’s ear and began to toy with the frilly fabric around his neck.

“I have no idea why you wear this thing,” he commented, working to flatten a particularly tough crease in the material. “It’s kind of ugly.”

If the insult was meant as a distraction, it worked. Akutagawa broke out of his spiralling thoughts to glare at him.

“Brave words from the fool unable to correctly wear a tie,” he hissed, yanking on it as he spoke. Atsushi squawked.

Watching the weretiger struggle to pull away the hand choking him with his own tie, Akutagawa questioned his motivations again. Dazai’s acknowledgment was a given, but there were so many variables of his plan that could have caused his actions to be misinterpreted. It was a stupid move, to pour such a large amount of time and effort into an endeavor with so much at stake. He could’ve permanently damaged his partnership with Atsushi, and therefore severed the last remaining connection he had with his former mentor. There was no way a clear-headed Akutagawa would take that chance. There must be something else that drove him to gamble a hefty chunk of his life away with such recklessness. What did he want?

His shoulders slumped with the realization. The answer was no mystery, despite his efforts to pretend otherwise.

“I suppose,” Akutagawa said, his fingers curling around the knot of the tie, “this hideous thing isn’t entirely without its uses.”

He pulled Atsushi forward, leaning in to meet him halfway. Atsushi was back to smiling when their lips touched, and Akutagawa had the sneaking suspicion he’d started that criticism of his fashion choices in order to obtain this result.

“Four out of ten,” was the next incomprehensible thing the weretiger came out with when they broke apart.

“What?”

“Your seduction skills. I rate them four out of ten.”

Akutagawa's blood ran cold. “How do you know about— Four?!”

“Your sister told me, the day I brought you home,” Atsushi cackled. “And four is totally justified! You tried to beat me up! After that I had to carry you, and then you threw up, and then you almost died—”

Akutagawa smacked a hand over his mouth, face flaming. “Enough.”

“But I guess it did actually work,” Atsushi continued, muffled by his palm. “So I was wrong.”

Akutagawa let his hand drop. “Wrong?”

“I'm saying you were right. You probably could've handled that mission better than me.”

Akutagawa’s eyes fell from his smiling face to the chain peeking out from under his shirt collar, to the brick wall behind him, before returning to his smile again.

“...Indeed,” he said. Atsushi’s admission didn’t make him feel as satisfied as he’d imagined. “I could have.”

“I’d prefer to let Dazai handle it, though.”

“That may be for the best.”

An engine rumbled as a car moved along the nearby street, the sound fading as it turned out of the block. Atsushi reached up, twining his fingers between Akutagawa’s.

“I'm curious,” he said with a shit-eating grin. “Did you talk to all of your mafia buddies about me, or just your sister?”

Akutagawa was reminded of a certain bounty, and had the pressing urge to find out whether it was still standing. “I’ll be talking to those at the morgue about you shortly, when I bring them your mangled corpse.”

Atsushi’s laugh was bright and infectious. Akutagawa knew he had yet to prove anything, but a praise-like euphoria filled him all the same.