Work Text:
Dazai never thought he would see the day he enjoyed spending time with subordinates. To him, the lives of those in the mafia were expendable and cheap. A dime a dozen. Akutagawa was forced upon him by Mori, someone he thought was good for the mafia, but never wanted to train himself. And despite Chuuya starting out at a lower position than him, he was never directly under Dazai, and Dazai always thought of him more as his partner than a subordinate. Or his dog.
And yet, Atsushi was different. He followed Dazai around, always interested in what he had to say. He’s eager to learn, and smart, able to pick up concepts fast. He is much easier to teach than Akutagawa, who sometimes needed a lesson repeated four or five times. He also liked to be with Dazai randomly. He would seek him out during company parties, not always engaging in conversation but happy to simply be and listen. He reminded Dazai of a cat more than a tiger. Quiet, alright to be on their own, yet always finding themselves in the same room. Off-handedly, he wonders if that is Atsushi’s own personality trait, or the tiger’s?
On Dazai’s walks, really escaping from work, Atsushi would sometimes follow, pointing out shops or street stalls that caught his attention. He never bought anything, but was always happy to look. Sometimes, Atsushi would get so excited he’d drag Dazai over by his wrist, letting go immediately when he realized what he did with a sheepish expression. He never recoiled from the feeling of rough bandages against his hand.
It was easy to push his work onto Atsushi too, always eager to help and earn approval. A few words about how happy it would make Dazai if Atsushi were to take on some of his work, and his desk would be empty by the end of the week.
And so now, sitting at his desk, Dazai can only ponder why Atsushi suddenly removed himself from Dazai's life near entirely.
Dazai has no clue what happened. He doesn't often miss things that would be so large as to change someone's entire outlook on him, and yet Atsushi’s avoiding him and he has no clue as to why.
It started small enough, he finished his lunch as soon as Dazai found him, he was busy after work today, he has to leave early for something. Small things like that.
Now it's Tuesday morning and he’s still filling out the paperwork for their fight against Kyu, made even more difficult with the fact that the entire agency has to fudge their paperwork to cut out the help received by the port mafia.
The government would still know of course, Chuuya’s true power is a little too large to hide, but it is best to fake ignorance when possible. Deny, deny, deny is their saying. And frankly, Dazai can complain all he wants but that is also part of the reason it only took two years for his record to be wiped. There is plenty of fudged paperwork filed there, no doubt for of either ‘Double Black’’s or ‘The Demon Protégé’'s kills being attributed to someone or something else. So it worked out well for him.
He looks around the office, looking for Atsushi. Maybe he can finally pass off his paperwork today. All he can find though, is Ranpo, who meets his gaze with judgmental green eyes. It never fails to send chills down his spine. Something about being truly seen makes him feel sick, but he pushes it down and smiles before breaking eye contact.
“Kunikidaaaaa,” he whines, “Where did our dearest Atsushi go?”
“He’s out right now. Why do you want to know anyway?”
“I have something for him.” Kunikida’s brows furrow in anger when Dazi shakes his pile of paperwork in explanation, enjoying the rustle of paper and making it clear exactly what he wants to give him. It is becoming more common for Atsushi not to be there. Odd.
“Do your own damn paperwork, you waste of bandages!”
“Boo!”
Nevertheless, Dazai sits back down. He does not think he’d be able to convince Kunikida today, and with no Atsushi it really does mean he is regulated to doing his own work. At least, for now. Maybe he can slip a few sheets onto a couple of the others’ desks.
Thursday is when Atsusi actively makes an excuse to not be with him. It’s only a small mission, not something Atsushi would need Dazai for, but normally he leaps at the opportunity to go with Dazai, especially with something as non-stressful as finding a stolen bike. Atsushi loves low stress missions, and helping on smaller jobs helps him feel more fulfilled. Dazai theorizes it has something to do with needing to feel useful and the immediate gratification of finishing small tasks. Instead of responding with his normal joy though, Atsushi panics.
“Oh! I was thinking maybe me and Kyoka could take this one.” One of his pale hands scratches the back of white hair, messing up his choppy bangs.
“Awwww, Atsushi! You don't want to go with me?” Dazai goes to lean against him, to drape his weight against him, but almost stops and falls when Atsushi moves out of the way. It's not something large or obvious. He just shifts a little to the left, just barely enough that it makes Dazai graze off of his shoulder. And the look he gives Dazai after, gold eyes wide and dilated in shock, tells him he didn't mean to, it was an instinctual reaction.
Before he can say anything else, Atsushi is already grabbing Kyoka, creasing her red sleeve. Distently, he thinks Kouyou would have heads rolling for that.
“Sorry Dazai!, but we've got this! Easy!” And then he is gone. Out the door before Dazai can ask what happened.
With nothing else to do, Dazai pushes it to the back of his mind. Instead, he pulls out his favorite book, “A Complete Guide to Suicide”, and sits on the couch. He's not really reading it, staring blankly at the page, and moving his eyes and turning a page every once in a while to keep up appearances.
Instead, he's running through his history with Atsushi, trying to find where their relationship had gotten so bad that Atsushi would avoid going on an assignment with Dazai, to the point of outright replacing him.
Nothing comes to mind, instead going in circles and coming back to the same clearly incorrect conclusions. Maybe the large mission against Kyu scared him? Unlikely, he's never buckled under stress before. Made poor decisions? Yes, the outcome of his entrance exam proves that, but actually collapsing is unlike him.
He's still thinking about things, running possibilities over and over in his head, until it feels like he's exhausted all his ideas and still gotten nowhere, when Atsushi comes in with the missing bike.
It's pink, and has glittery ribbons hanging off the handlebars. The seat has stickers on it, wrinkled and warped by the movement of the fabric on the seat. It’s clearly a child's bike. A young girl's to be more precise.
Atsushi trades a few words with Kunikida, pointing out a few more specific things, before turning around and leaving. There is no possibility he missed Dazai staring at him the entire conversation, but not once did he turn to meet Dazai's eyes.
Dazai is left staring at the empty doorway, still thinking. Maybe it was something he said? Atsushi always was put off by the suicide jokes.
He finds out later that Saturday and Sunday are even worse. His weekends used to be filled with Atsushi’s presence. Sometimes outside his apartment, sometimes inside, but the feeling of being alone on a Sunday night, one usually spent eating dinner at a crowded table, Kyoka always following Atsushi, is strange. Something he's unused to, even though he spent his teen years strictly that way.
The next week drags on into the next, and the next, and the next, until he realizes it's been three weeks since Atsushi interacted with him at all. And well, you know what they say, desperate times, desperate measures and all that.
So, he makes sure Kunikida is busy the next time he hears more… complicated things going on underground. Yosano has always been more of a healer, and Ranpo is easy to convince with a large bag of candy, even if he can't convince him to tell him why Atsushis avoiding him. The candy was even bought on Kunikida's dime too, which means it cost him nothing! A win! Kunikida needs to keep a better watch on his wallet though. One day it won’t be Dazai who takes it.
Ranpo looks over him as he hands over the candy, feeling a little like he’s making a drug pass with the way he takes it, not quite hesitation in his eyes but clearly wanting to say something, when he settles on,
“Be careful, Dazai.”
“What are you talking about?” Dazai cocks his head, trying to add a physical element to his confusion. But Ranpo refuses to elaborate, instead choosing to shove a handful of candy into his mouth, and chewing slowly with his eyes closed, their conversation clearly over.
So Dazai leaves and he waits. He rereads a few pages from his book, fiddles with a pen on his desk, watches the people outside his window, he even resorts to lounging on the couch half napping. Actually resting, this time, not pretending. Anything to keep his mind occupied during the wait.
The sun is nice, golden and bright. It filters in through the window, making the couch warm, the fabric absorbing the heat. It's a slow heat. The kind you fail to feel right away, but instead gradually grows as you lay still, until you stretch and realize your skin and clothes are nearly hot from soaking in the sun, and anything you look at carries black spots from the bright light in your face even though you had your eyes closed the entire time.
He is still blinking away those dots when he looks at Fukuzawa as he calls for him. He can feel Yosano's shocked stare as he gets up with only a token complaint, if it can even be considered such. It's no more than a grumble, low and vibrating in his throat. He stretches out, enjoying the feeling of strain on his muscles.
He makes his way to the door, Fukuzawas's not Boss’, ignoring the look of panic he can see coat Atsushi's face when his name gets called too.
Dazai stands to the side to give Atsushi space to stand. Fukuzawa is behind his desk already, his hands folded into his sleeves.
Atsushi's steps inside are silent, feline paws helping to soften his footfalls is most likely, but Atsushi tends to be a quiet person in general, and has almost caught Dazai by surprise more than once. Only almost. If Dazai was a normal person, he would have most definitely succeeded, but alas, Dazai is Dazai and so he failed.
Atsushi looks like a man for the gallows. He refuses to make eye contact with Dazai, and even to Fukuzawa, his eyes flick back and forth.
Dazai says not a single word during the entire exchange.
“You called for me president?”
“Yes. I have a mission for you and Dazai.”
“Oh? Are you sure? Maybe I could take Kenji or Kyoka? They could use the practice, you know?”
“No, too dangerous.” The President takes a sip of tea on his desk, still steaming and leaving the smell of fresh green tea in the air.
“Then surely Kunikda should go then A dangerous enemy calls for a more experienced team!”
“You are experienced enough, Atsushi. And anything that needs to be covered Dazai can handle. Kunidida is needed here for other matters. Although dangerous, there are no reported ability users. Should be easy enough for you two.”
Dazai can see Atsushi squirming, looking for another reason they shouldn't go together, and coming up short. Something inside his chest squirms in response.
“Yes, President.”
Fukuzawa turns to Dazai then, holding out a few pages, the details of their mission. Dazai reaches out and takes them with his normal carelessness, crinkling the papers in a single fist ensuring Kunkikidas wrath later. Atsushi flinches at the sound. Dazai pretends to miss it.
“We'll get right on that, President!” Dazai throws in a two fingered salute for good measure, before heading out the door. Atsushi trails behind him, far enough that he can hear the door to the stairs open after he is already halfway down them.
Dazai attempts a few starts at conversation, simple things like what Atsushi ate last night, or if he has any plans this weekend. Stuff he's picked from others that start meaningless conversation, but Atsushi shuts that down with one word answers. It leaves Dazai feeling oddly out of his depth, drowning where he normally swims effortlessly.
Dazai tends to have an easy time with idle chatter, not that he particularly cares but people are easy to read and they like to talk about themselves. Atsushi was no different, always eager to share something new in his life or mundane thoughts that passed through his head. Now that he's withholding them, Dazai feels oddly empty. A silence, lack of knowledge, where he could normally name everything Atsushi ate for lunch in chronological order throughout the week.
It's like a hole in his brain, a gaping wound bleeding, cold, and aching. And Dazai still has no idea what happened to cause this.
That's the way their entire walk goes, all the way to downtown where the store they are supposed to investigate is. It's supposedly only a storefront, and instead of just selling tea, multiple class A drugs are sold under the table.
The small blue sign and chipped exterior paint make for a good hideout, easily overlooked. It appears the same as any small shop along the street, unassuming.
The gold bell jingles as he steps inside, echoing again when Atsushi does the Sam's.
“Hello, welcome to the tea emporium. How can I help you today?” A young lady steps out from behind the counter, black bun done up with a small ornate clip, even though the clip is small, Dazai can tell it is most certainly not cheap, real silver and the cut of the gems flawless. Not even Chuuya would be able to find fault in it.
She eyes both Atsushi and himself, and that level of observation does not belong to ordinary shop owners.
“Hello, I was looking to buy some tea. I have to say, I wasn't expecting to run into such a beautiful lady today.”
Unlike his normal flirting, there is no rising blush or shy reaction. Instead, the lady's gaze sharpens, running back over them a second time trying to get a read on them. Too bad Dazai's not really in the mood to let her.
She slows down as she approaches, stopping in front of them.
“I have a couple different types of tea. Are you looking for black tea? Green?”
“Blue, actually.” She stares for a second, assessing, before smiling and tilting her head to one side.
“Of course. How much?”
“Just an ounce will do. I'm just sampling today.”
She disappears into the back, and Dazai takes the time to look around the inside of the store.
A few tea sets decorate the walls, and an incense burner is lit in the corner, spilling smoke over it and causing the room to smell of cinnamon and clove. The shutters are pulled halfway down, hiding the inside from street view, but not so obviously as to draw attention.
He can feel Atsushi fidgeting behind him, and when he glances over his nose is scrunched up, likely his tiger nose picking up on notes Dazai himself is unable to smell.
The woman comes back out, the door to the back creaking as it swings open. In her hands is a small brown bag, no label.
“That will be 75,000 yen.”
Dazai reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a stack of yen, and counting it out before placing it on the table. It's not like he needs it anyway, with how often he plays the stocks. He can feel Atsushi's eyes, staring and no doubt the tiger's gold eyes are slitted, wondering where it came from.
She takes it, painted nails double checking his count. Finally she passes the brown bag over.
“Thank you, please come again.”
Without a word, Dazai opens the bag then and there, before breaking into a smile.
He looks up at the woman, and the feeling of his eyes narrowing the smallest amount as his smile widens is satisfying, watching as the woman's alarm sets in.
“No, thank you. You're under arrest for possession and distribution of illegal substances.”
The woman's eyes widen, and she lunges for the desk. Dazai grabs her, but her hand lashes out and manages to take hold of one of the display teapots. It crashes to the floor with a loud shattering sound, even as Dazai pins her to the counter.
His hand reaches for his belt, fingers brushing up against his agency registered firearm. He chooses not to draw it however, ignoring its allure of how easily he could finish this job, and instead calls out for Atsushi.
“There's more people back there, and they've heard us.” He pushes the body underneath him to the hardwood with more force, relishing in the harsh choked breath he gets in return. He can almost feel the ribs ready to snap beneath him. He decides not to push it any farther. “Get ready.”
Atsushi does not respond verbally, but Dazai can hear the shift of feet on the ground as he takes a fighting stance.
Sure enough, two large men come barreling out of the back. One already has a weapon drawn. Blond hair, not Japanese. He has a black pistol, with one hand on the trigger and one on his belt. Must have an extra magazine then.
The other man is even larger, although not obviously armed.
The second they pass through the door, Atsushi lunges for them. The smear of white out of the corner of his eye tells him that Atsushi's adorned his tiger ears and tail. Most likely his claws as well.
He keeps an ear out, and turns to the woman under him. He can feel her buck, trying to throw him off. He grips both her wrists in one hand and reaches for the cold metal of the handcuffs on his belt.
They lock with a satisfying click, and the chains rattle as she tugs on them.
“Shit.” The sounds of Atsushi cursing has him whipping his head over, Atsushi generally avoids swearing. Dazai can only assume a leftover habit from the orphanage, the kid is always too polite.
His arm, covered in white fur, is stained red, and some of the blood runs down it and splatters on the floor in little drops, almost blending into the wooden floors.
His lips are pulled up, showing off teeth a little too sharp and a little too big. The bloodied hand lays limp at his side, while he holds the man’s hand up, pointing the muzzle of the gun skyward.
“Atsushi!” The word has only half escaped his mouth when the second man lunges at him with a knife. Dazai balls his fist in the woman's hair and slams her head against the desk, just once but hard enough for a loud crack to sound, before throwing the limp body aside. She's still breathing so it should be fine, just a little extra paperwork.
He moves swiftly to Ataushi, where he is now grappling both men. The other man was clearly carrying a knife. The silver flashing in his hand a dead give away, and several cuts in Atsushi's clothes, blurred red at the edges, also testify to this fact.
Dazai grabs the man's wrist, and attempts to drag him off Atsushi. The man just has to get one last injury in, and swings at Atsushi in one last blow.
This turns out to be the straw that breaks the metaphorical camel's back, because the sounds that comes from Atsushi in response is nowhere near human. It's animal.
A loud guttural snarl, low, and Dazai can feel the vibrations in his chest. He can feel the man under him shiver, and Dazai finds himself fighting the instinct to do the same.
There is a blue light, and Dazai remembers it from the first day he met Atsushi, a dark warehouse, a frightened child, and a man-eating beast.
Then, that same tiger has its teeth buried in the arm of the gun wielder. The man is screaming, but it is drowned out by the still ongoing snarl.
Dazai is blown away by the size of the weretiger every time. He's always expecting it to be the same size as the ones at the zoo, the ones he's more familiar with. It is not. The thing is probably double the size of its ordinary cousin, standing above the men on two legs on its own four.
It also is of no help that the tiger's at the zoo are always lazy, laying in sunny spaces with their eyes half closed, full and sedated. There's no aggression, no hunger.
Atsushi's tiger isn't like that at all, claws digging into the wood under it, large fangs bared in its anger and ears pinned flat, its gold eyes open wide and sharp.
The worst part is, there is no humanity left in its eyes, Atsushi failing to have the control needed to push to the forefront. Only animalistic anger, something arguably more frightening than a human’s. A human's anger can be reasoned with, understood. Controlled. Dazai used it all the time when planning. The tiger has nothing and knows nothing.
The tiger shakes its large head, and there is a tearing sound as the flesh is rendered from the bone, blood staining the snow white muzzle. The man goes flying, and lands in a heap in one of the corners. A shaking hand, most likely shock, comes up to hold the mess of mangled flesh. It won't do much good, nothing to staunch that much bleeding other than a tourniquet. But he is in no danger of bleeding out so Dazai leaves him be, instead turning his focus to his own enemy, half his focus still on Atsushi, and wraps his arm around his throat. The man struggles for a minute, before going limp, and Dazai holds him for an extra minute, just to be sure.
Last man taken care of, Dazai turns to the tiger.
Without a hand to use the gun, the other man is also no threat, although the tiger spends an extra amount of time staring him down.
Finally, the tiger turns to Dazai. It stares, and Dazai waits patiently for it to attack him, so “No Longer Human” can take effect, but it never comes. Instead, the tiger remains in place, only watching with a low growl. Dazai tires of this relatively quickly, and chooses to take a step forward. Whether to get to it or to provoke it to attack, Dazai isn't sure himself nor does he really care.
What happens is either of those things. In an unexpected action, the tiger backs up, all four paws moving back a foot or so. The head lowers, protecting its neck, but it makes no action to come closer to Dazai.
Dazai finds himself freezing as well. The tiger had no qualms in attacking him when they met, nor had it hesitated to attack the man just now. So what changed?
Dazai takes another step, and the tiger takes another step back. And again. And again. This keeps happening until the tiger touches the back wall. Finally, Dazai thinks, this is over.
But yet again the tiger makes a move he doesn't predict. The tiger jumps straight over him. This time, instead of turning to face him, the tiger runs to the other wall. The wall makes a loud thud as the tiger crashes into it, and there is the rattle of glass as the china on the walls shake. Dazai glances down. There is blood on the floor, where the tiger ran over the previously broken glass. The snarl never stops, loud and aggressive.
Dazai's thoughts are quickly running from one train of thought to another, near frantic in trying to understand what's going on, piecing the puzzle together. The tiger had no problems before, when he was a stranger. Now that Atsushi knows him, the reaction should be friendly. Non-aggressive at least. But the reaction is far closer to a negative emotion. The avoidance looks more like. Oh. Fear. Atsushi is scared of him.
Why?
Dazai was gentle with him. Always. Oda asked him to care for others instead of harming them, and Dazai has done his best to stick to that. It also helped that Atsushi thrived under a gentle hand, eager to please.
So where did he go wrong? Where did he mess up so badly, and not even notice?
Dazai starts running back, looking for any moment where he would have given Atsushi a reason to fear him. He started to act oddly around the end of the mission containing Kyu. So it happened then. He seemed comfortable running the mission itself, so something towards the end. It hits him like a bolt of lightning, and nearly knocks the wind out of his lungs.
The train station, the short time frame, the determination of not letting Atsushi go down the same path, the unknown of how to handle an emotional situation.
He hit Atsushi.
Atsushi panicked, and Dazai did what he does best. Hurt. He hurt Atsushi and then forgot about it, so used to correcting behavior through force, and enforcing through pain.
Dazai looks at the tiger through new eyes. He's still up against the wall and snarling, but it sounds less like an ‘I’ll kill you’ and more like a ‘Please go away’ now. Dazai can see one foot is holding less weight than the others, so that must be the foot that stepped on the glass. There are probably still shards stuck in the pad. The gold eyes looking at him seem a little less empty, and a little more wary.
The sight is almost sad.
Dazai keeps his breathing steady, and checks under him. No glass is underneath him, so he sits. The wood creeks, no doubt protesting under all the abuse it went through today.
His coat pools under him, providing the barest amount of cushion, and Dazai internally winces at the idea of getting the blood out of his tan coat. It was so much easier when he wore black.
The hackles on the tiger lower a little, as Atsushi looks down at him, and the lips lower slightly too, only showing the smallest amount of the canines.
“Hey, ‘Sushi” The lip folds up again, growl revving back up. “That's okay. I won't come closer. Cross my heart, hope to die.” He chuckles with a light-heartedness he fails to actually feel.
“I always forget how big you are. There's no way you'd fit through the agency door like this, but it would be fun to see Kunikida's face if you tried!” No response so Dazai keeps going.
“You should lay down, that foot looks like it hurts. Yeowch!” Dazai squeezes his eyes just and shakes his head dramatically. When he opens his eyes back up, Atsushi isn't laying down but he is sitting, so that is some progress.
Dazai scoots forward, moving off his coat slightly, but stops when Atsushi stands back up.
“Okay, Okay. My bad. That one's on me.” Dazai holds his hands up in the universal motion of surrender. They both sit in silence for a bit, just watching each other. At some point Atsushi sits back down, although refuses to lie down all the way. Dazai folds his legs under him and rests his head on one hand.
There is another long silence. Atsushi is so quiet. Dazai wonders if he was originally a quiet kid or if the loud was beaten out of him. Then he winces internally. The thought of this child panicking and getting hit for it hits a little too close to home right now.
After nearly an hour, Dazai has to bite the bullet. Atushi hasn't moved, clearly still fearful, and refuses to allow Dazai to get any closer. Dazai closes his eyes.
“You know, I never really know what I'm doing. With other people I mean. I try but, you know,” Dazai shrugs here, feeling uncomfortable “everyone seems to know what they're doing interacting with others. I must have skipped that chapter.” Atsushi huffs in acknowledgement.
“So sometimes, without realizing it, I fuck up.” The curse feels weird on his tongue but appropriate. There is no response. Nothing. He opens his eyes, and meets the gold ones staring back, interested but not trusting yet. “So, I’m sorry. I shouldn't have hit you.” It comes out stilted and awkward, but apparently it is enough.
The ears that spent the last hour pinned back perk up, and Atsushi stands up. There is the soft padding of heavy paws and the tiger creeps forward and stops right in front of him, pink nose inches from his face.
Brown strands of hair waver as hot, heavy breath fans them. For just a split second there's warm fur on his face as Atsushi's muzzle leans up against his forehead, before “No Longer Human” takes control and Dazai is instead holding a lap full of teenager, curled up and bloody and no doubt in no small amount of pain, but more relaxed then he's been in weeks. Dazai can see the shine of glass on Atsushi’s bloody palms, and Dazai's fingers cramp thinking about all the time he is going to have to spend taking a pair of tweezers to those back at the dorms.
“That's okay, Dazai. Can we go home now?”
Atsushi's ability to forgive blows Dazai away. He swears this kid couldn't hold a grudge to save his life. If only the world had a little more of him in it. Alas, it will have to be grateful for what it has. Dazai is.
“Sure thing, Atsushi.”