Chapter Text
1:00am.
-1st October, 20XX, Tuesday-
Atsushi is standing in front of a glass door, he raises his hand and places it on the smooth, reflective glass. Atsushi looks past his reflection and stares the room the door led to, where a familiar(?) brunette was sitting across the room. Atsushi frowned. All he could think about was what had even happened for this to occur.
"Don't think too much on it, kid," a black-haired man behind him said. Edogawa Ranpo, who called himself as "the greatest detective in the world." Of course, he knew what he'd thought about. Ranpo looked through the glass, also looking at their colleague, while Atsushi briefly glanced at Ranpo and Dazai before choosing to just look at the ground and turn around. It was time for him to gather supplies for the agency, anyway. Ranpo's voice, with an emotion Atsushi couldn’t quite identify, interrupted his thoughts.
"Stay safe."
Stepping outside, Atsushi noticed the streets were deserted, unlike of the usual rush and bustle of Yokohama. His thoughts turned to the rest of the agency. They had become separated and he had no idea where they were. Ranpo was aware but remained quiet about it. Atsushi had to find them—the people who had saved him, shown him light, and helped him recognize the good that surrounded him. But he knew he couldn't.
On the way back, Atsushi was flinched at the sudden shout coming from right around the corner. He peeked from behind the building.
Wait.
Hold on.
What?
Why?
Why was a mafia executive here, and why were they trying to calm down their own boss? The disheveled black-haired man looked almost pitiful (atushsi would say pathetic, but he didn't want to start any problems, not now at the very least)—with messy hair, he seemed on the edge of insanity.
The executive, in contrast, looked fed up with the all the chaos. Atsushi couldn't recall his name, but that was the least of his concerns. He put down the bag of groceries, which had turned into more of a survival kit, and walked towards the executive. The man had turned to a rather... violent approach, striking his boss in a way that he usually wouldnt. Atsushi didn’t care what those methods were called right now. But there he was, the great boss of the port mafia, on the floor. Unconscious.
The executive, panting, glanced up at Atsushi. "What now? Are you infected too?"
Atsushi needed a moment to proccess before he frantically waved his hands around like an idiot. "W-WAIT!? WHAT!? N-NO!!!"
It seemed shouting was a surefire way to irritate a mafia executive. The man's glare hardened as he hissed, "Are you out of your mind? You're going to attract the others!"
Once atsushi realised what he was talking about, he covered his mouth and froze. The executive grabbed both him and his unconscious boss, dragging them into the nearest alley. "Where's your agency?"
"They're at our base..." Atsushi's instincts told him this wasn’t a question for an attack on the agency, given their current situation.
The executive looked at him for a moment, almost as judging.
"The Weretiger, right?"
"Atsushi Nakajika, um..."
"Chuuya Nakahara."
"Oh, right! I totally knew that!"
The awkward silence that followed was definitely uncomfortable.
"Is Dazai with you?"
"...."
"Answer me, kid."
Atsushi hesitated. "W-well, um—"
"He's infected, isn't he?"
".... Yeah."
"…"
Another silence. Atsushi noticed genuine concern on Chuuya’s face, which, compared to their previous encounters where Chuuya had been angry or smug, ws actually quite surprising. Looking up, Chuuya's tone softened slightly. "Where's the base? If he's infected, you must have a place to keep him safe, right?"
Atsushi nodded, and Chuuya continued, "Can I leave the boss with Dazai? The entire mafia is a mess right now, and I can’t do anything as it stands—"
"Okay."
"What?"
"Okay. You can leave him there."
".... Thanks, kid."
While Chuuya didn’t smile, the slight relief in his eyes was noticed by atsushi, which made him feel better for some reason.
The walk back was awkward, especially meeiting the others. Doubt was clear on their espressions, but Ranpos ease had calmed Fukuzawa’s doubts at the very least, which was good... Right? They left Mori with Dazai. Fukuzawa called for a ‘meeting,’ which Chuuya knew would turn into an interrogation. He accepted what was to come by now, not like he had a choice anyways.
"Are you injured?"
"What?" Chuuya was... Shocked?. Wasn’t interrogation supposed to be cold and cruel? The typical ‘good cop, bad cop’ scenario was a lie, he knew that, but this? He was certain that interrogations weren't mostly just sitting in a cold room with barely any furniture and some tea. Yeah, Mori meet his 'guests' with some tea and sweets, but if chuuya knew anything from coming into any room Mori would interrogate in, it certainly didn't end well.
Before he could finish his time with his sweet, sweet memories, Fukuzawa interrupted.
"I asked if you are injured?"
"No...?"
"That's good."
"...?"
"Honestly, it's pointless to be enemies when both our organizations are in dire situations."
"... Fair enough."
"We know something that can temporarily counteract this 'infection.'"
"Huh?" Chuuya's interest was piqued.
"What is it?"
"The blood of ability users."
".... Huh?"
"Ability users' blood calms them down. We don't know why."
"Why don’t you ask your deduction expert?"
"Ranpo? We tried. He wouldn’t share."
"Hm... I know asking why is futile."
Silence.
"So... If I... Show them my blood, they’ll calm down?"
"The blood must come into contact with them."
"So, I have to rub my blood all over them?" A sentence Chuuya never really thought he'd ever say.
"That’s correct."
"..."
-
Minutes later, Chuuya entered the room where Dazai and Mori were being held, syringe in hand. He drew some blood and then dumped it on them.
It worked; the insanity in their eyes had faded. Despite wanting to stay, he couldn’t. Once the blood’s effects wore off, Yosano, who had been recording everything for research, looked up at Fukuzawa.
"Thirty milliliters each lasted about ten minutes."
"Thirty milliliters for ten minutes?"
"Basically."
This was bad. Though Thirty Milliliters sounded concerning, it was the same as someone being stabbed in the heart. Thirty milliliters for ten minutes... that might translate to around 4.3 liters? Math wasn’t his strong suit, but it didnt matter right now. He noticed Chuuya was missing from the room, and nervously glanced inside where Dazai and Mori were kept. Chuuya wasn’t there either.
"Um, Yosano-sensei? Where’s Chuuya-san?"
"Who gave you the right to call me that?"
Turns out Chuuya was right behind him. When did he get there?
"Uh, I hear Dazai-san call you that."
He sighed. "Of course. Anyway, that’s not important. Where's half the agency?"
"We don't know..."
"Looks like we’re in the same boat."
"What do you mean? Is the mafia also seperated?"
"Yeah. It was just me, Kouyou-san, and the boss. Both got infected, as you can see."
"... So where's she?"
"I don't know. She left a note saying she thinks she’s infected. No idea where she went."
"Oh... I’m sorry."
"Yeah, whatever."
Chuuya decided to stay with the agency to keep the boss 'safe'. He and had Atsushi chatted, a well needed break from the surrounding chaos. Yosano joined them occasionally. Chuuya would stare at the room behind the glass door for at least twenty minutes a day before going back to doing chores and just whatever he was doing.
A week passed without change. People stayed indoors, and no new arrivals joined their small group. Each day, Chuuya would 'donate' 60 milliliters of blood—30 for his boss, 30 for Dazai—while watching and replying with them every once in a while. Yosano was always there to make sure chuuya didn't die of blood loss and to record their interactions.
It was Atsushi’s turn to get more supplies, and chuuya decided to tag along.
Atsushi froze upon spotting a black-haired boy around his age, blood streaming from both his eyes...
If he even had any left.