Work Text:
Ryuunosuke sat on the hard wood floor, a long, rectangular plant pot filled with soil in front of him. In his hands was a little plastic bag formerly containing uncooked rice. It now held a dozen or so shrimp tails, which he had changed the bag’s label to reflect in order to avoid confusion. It was very easy to mistake shrimp tails for rice, after all.
He frowned to himself as he realized he would need to dig wells in the soil before planting the shrimp. He certainly didn’t own a trowel, but he was already so prepared to do the planting today, and finding a store that sold the proper tools would be a massive pain.
Wait. What was he thinking? He already had the perfect tool.
“Rashoumon!” Ryuunosuke shouted into the empty apartment.
Rashoumon shot out, viciously attacking the plant pot. Ah, perfect. The pot was only mildly destroyed, and the soil… Well, there weren’t quite the neat holes he’d been hoping for, but the dirt was certainly not packed together like a brick anymore.
It was good enough to start planting, Ryuunosuke decided, opening up the bag of shrimp tails. He selected one and held it near the soil. He hesitated, hand hovering awkwardly. He hadn’t realized until now that his hands would get quite dirty. Perhaps he should have purchased gloves in preparation?
Oh, well. He hadn’t grown up in the slums only to be scared off by a little dirt. Ryuunosuke thrust the hand containing the shrimp tail deep into the center of the soil in an unnecessarily violent movement not too dissimilar from stabbing. He released the tail and withdrew his hand.
He repeated the process with the next shrimp tail, and the next, until there were only three left in the bag, and he realized he probably should have picked out a bigger pot because this one was not nearly big enough for all of them. Or was it? How big did shrimp plants even grow? To ensure that the shrimp would have plenty of room to grow, Ryuunosuke neglected to plant the last three.
He stood, grimacing at his dirt coated hand. He strode directly to the sink and scrubbed off the filth, alternating between soap and water at least five times before he was satisfied enough to dry himself. He wiped his hands dry on an old towel and tossed the remaining shrimp tails in the rubbish.
Ryuunosuke stared at the plant pot from several feet away, considering. Plants needed water, and that presumably included shrimp plants, but he had no watering can. He did, however, have a teapot, which was fairly similar in both shape and purpose. Gin might stab him for using it to water plants, but that was only if she found out. He could keep a secret from his little sister, right?
Additionally, he’d discovered somewhat recently that boiling water was better than cool or lukewarm water for many things (ex: making tea), so he could give his shrimp plants a little boost by giving them boiling water. He filled the teapot with water and placed it on the stove, proud of his own genius.
Ryuunosuke paced around the kitchen like a fish in a too-small bowl, impatiently waiting for the water to reach a boil. After about ten minutes, he realized he forgot to turn the heat on. Thankful that nobody was around to witness his embarassed flush, he cranked up the stove’s heat as far as it would go. It took only four minutes to begin bubbling after that.
He took the teapot off the stove and brought it to the plant pot. Ryuunosuke moved the teapot left and right as he poured water down onto the planted shrimp tails, trying to water them equally. He couldn’t play favorites with his plants.
Or could he? Ryuunosuke decided that the shrimp plant on the far left was now his favorite, and he would call it… Dazai the second. Then, just in case Gin did find out about him misusing the teapot, he named the one on the far right Gin the second. It was his second favorite, but he would tell Gin it was his first favorite if she asked.
Ryuunosuke dried out the teapot once he was done watering the plants. Since he’d only used it for water, he didn’t really need to wash it. He checked to make sure his plant pot was near enough to the windown to get sunlight, gave it one last appreciative glance, and headed off for his training with Dazai.
“Ryuunosuke,” Gin began sweetly, a clear sign that Ryuunosuke had majorly fucked up. “What the hell is this?”
She was pointing at the plant pot.
“Those are my shrimp plants. I believe they’ll be a bountiful source of food when they sprout,” Ryuunosuke answered curtly.
Gin sighed, rubbing her temples. “Ryuunosuke, shrimp aren’t plants. They don’t grow in soil.”
“Yes, they are!” he protested. “Dazai-san told me so.”
“Dazai-san is a liar.”
Ryuunosuke couldn’t deny that, but he really wanted to. Still, he insisted, “I’m sure they’ll grow. Wait a few weeks and you’ll see.”
“Ryuunosuke—“ Gin cut herself off. “Fine. Disappoint yourself if you want. I’m gonna say ‘I told you so’ when they just get moldy.”
The younger Akutagawa sibling stalked off, likely to go flirt with Higuchi over the phone. Ryuunosuke wrinkled his nose at the thought. He totally won that argument, and he hadn’t even needed to use Gin the second as leverage.
Two weeks later, Ryuunosuke was, as his sister predicted, disappointed. His shrimp had yet to sprout. Not even Dazai the second, which he had very high expectations of, had peeked through the soil. He tried looking up what to do, but Bing was entirely useless.
Instead, he opted to ask Dazai for help at the next training (read: child abuse) session. After Dazai had thoroughly beat his ass into the ground and was about to leave, Ryuunosuke saw his opportunity.
Grabbing the bottom of Dazai’s coat, he shouted, “Wait, Dazai-san! I need help with the shrimp!”
Dazai paused in his exit, looking coolly over his shoulder at the bruised mess of a teen. “The shrimp?”
“Yes! The shrimp! I planted the shrimp tails as you told me to, but they’re not growing! Please, tell me what I did wrong!” Ryuunosuke wheezed, feeling an oncoming coughing fit.
“I’m no gardener.” Dazai yanked his coat out of Ryuunosuke’s grasp and strode away.
Ryuunosuke was too busy coughing to try and convince him to stay, but he was pretty sure his mentor would have left regardless. Another resource had proven unhelpful.
“Sit. Please,” Ryuunosuke added, in the unfamiliar position of talking to someone who he actually needed to be polite to (or, at least, was in his best interest to be polite to).
Nakahara sat in the chair provided, looking awfully out of place in the Akutagawas’ dingy apartment. “Thank you, Akutagawa-kun. I don’t have much time to spare, so please just tell me why you asked me to come here.”
“I…” Ryuunosuke fidgeted uncharacteristically. “I need help.”
Nakahara sighed. “Yes, I figured. With what?”
“Shrimp.”
“…What?”
“I planted some shrimp tails because—”
“Hold on. You know shrimp aren’t plants, right?”
Ryuunosuke frowned. “Dazai-san said they’d grow if I planted them.”
“He’s fucking with you.”
“No, he’s not.”
Nakahara furrowed his brow. “Yes, he is. Akutagawa-kun, have your shrimp grown at all since they’ve been planted?”
Ryuunosuke shook his head and lowered it slightly in shame. Were Gin and Nakahara really telling the truth? Had Dazai lied to him? His eyes grew damp, embarassed at his own gullibility.
Across from him, Nakahara made an odd noise. “Shit, uh… Maybe they will grow eventually? Are you sure you’re watering them enough? How about you try watering them more? Maybe put them outside too.”
Ryuunosuke lifted his head and rubbed his eyes dry. “Do you truly think so?”
Nakahara nodded awkwardly. “Yeah, just give it a bit more time.” He looked at his wrist. “Aw, shit, look at the time. I gotta go.”
While watching him leave, Ryuunosuke was too occupied with his newfound hope to notice the ginger’s lack of a watch. His plants would grow after all!
Three weeks after his conversation with Nakahara, Ryuunosuke’s shrimp plants had still not sprouted. However, he now knew that it was due to his own error and not because shrimp tails could not grown into plants.
A few days ago, Dazai had given him a blank piece of paper and told him to kill anyone outside of the mafia who came near. “Killing is the only thing you’re good at, after all,” were the only words he remembered from the instructions. Ryuunosuke would treasure them for the rest of his life because they were the closest thing to a compliment his mentor had even given him.
There was nothing immediately special about the paper. It was a singular sheet, unlined. It was the same shade of white as regular notebook paper. Honestly, he was unsure if the paper was as important as Dazai had made it out to be, or, more accurately, he would be unsure if he was capable of doubting Dazai at all. Which he wasn’t.
The lack of growth in his plants was, quite frankly, driving Ryuunosuke insane. It haunted him every waking moment (and the majority of his sleeping moments). He was even having trouble focusing on training, which horrified him not only because it meant Dazai beat him more brutally. He had taken to mindlessly writing “Akutagawa Ryuunosuke’s shrimp plants will grow” on scraps of paper, which he had started doing now without realizing—
Hold on a moment. The only paper near him was the page Dazai had ordered him to protect. The page he was definitely not supposed to write on .
Ryuunosuke yanked his hand away from the paper, dropping the pen as if it had burned him (in fact, he had reacted less severely to some burns). It was too late. The damage had already been done. There, in small, messy writing, at the top of the previously blank page, were the words “Akutagawa Ryuunosuke’s shrimp plants will grow”.
He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. If Dazai found out he fucked up this badly, he was dead. There was no doubt about it. Slowly, he stood and walked over the a cabinet. He took out his sharpest pair of scissors, feeling very much like he was being watched. He tip-toed back over to the page and cleanly cut off the part with his writing.
Ryuunosuke sighed in relief when he saw the line was straight. Nobody had to know.
Also, maybe he should talk to someone about his unhealthy obsession with the shrimp plants.
A few days after the incident with the paper, and only a day after Dazai came to collect the page, Ryuunosuke found himself metaphorically jumping for joy. He’d checked his precious plants again, no longer expecting results.
The shrimp had sprouted.
Ryuunosuke had to bite down on his finger to avoid squealing ( squealing , can you believe it?). He had a repuatation to preserve, even if the only person around was Gin, and she already didn’t take him seriously. Hands flapping with a childish glee, he opened Dazai’s contact on his phone. Then he thought better of it and called Nakahara instead.
“The fuck do you want?” Nakahara grumbled.
Ryuunosuke was put off by the hostility, but then he remembered it was five in the morning. “Nakahara-san. I thought you might be pleased to hear that my plants grew.”
“And you really had to tell me about it?” Before Ryuunosuke could respond, Nakahara asked incredulously, “Wait, the shrimp ones?!”
“Yes. I wanted to thank you for your encouragement.”
“But that’s not— Hold on. I’m coming over.” Nakahara ended the call.
Ryuunosuke sat alone in pleased confusion for about eight minutes before Nakahara barged in without knocking, Dazai in tow.
“We wanna see the plants!” Dazai announced. Ryuunosuke was always caught off guard by the difference between the Dazai who trained him and the Dazai who was Nakahara’s partner.
Ryuunosuke wordlessly guided the duo to the windowsill, showing them the plant pot with eight little shrimp sprouts. They both gaped at the plants like they thought it impossible for at least thirty seconds, before Dazai cleared his throat.
“Akutagawa-kun,” Dazai grinned, “I’m proud of you.”
Ryuunosuke fainted.