Work Text:
Akutagawa had figured that fighting alongside a person would instill some sense of camaraderie between them, but even after everything was said and done, the boy with the tiger powers refused to meet his gaze.
Was he so intimidating? He turned this way and that, examining his outfit. Perhaps it was rather outdated when compared to contemporary styles, but they had just been in a battle of mythical proportions, and the otherworldly creature they’d faced off against was far more peculiar to the eye. And the tiger boy wasn’t exactly normal himself, with his bulging limbs that tore his clothes and his sharp claws that could cut through the fabric of a singularity.
Even if he was shaken from what they'd been through, ignoring Akutagawa like this was disrespectful, especially when he'd taken more than his fair share of hits to shield them both. It wasn’t that he worked for praise, but he’d thought that saving someone’s life would at least have earned him a pat on the back. His body was stronger than average thanks to the gifts bestowed upon it by his late master, but a strike from a space-time sword still hurt, damn it.
He shook his head. Someone entrusted with such an important responsibility couldn’t let their judgment be clouded by personal feelings. He pushed down his apprehension and approached the tiger boy with an open mind, letting his weaponry and bitterness dissolve into his sleeves.
“You fought well,” he said. Simple, appreciative words that no one could fault him for.
But at the sound of his voice, the tiger boy curled into himself further, turning away and burying the lower half of his face in his knees.
“Hello?” Akutagawa tapped his foot, growing irritated by the lack of acknowledgment. “You. Weretiger.”
That made the boy's head snap up, his eyes filled to the brim with something Akutagawa failed to identify. Before it could be asked about, it was gone, shuttered away behind the reserved outer shell that had made an appearance whenever Akutagawa had tried to speak with him up until now.
“Are you unaware that your companions are alive and on the mend? I fail to understand why you’re dampening the mood with your moping.”
“M’not moping,” he said, though he most definitely was. “Dazai will be here soon.”
Another unfamiliar name. Akutagawa sighed.
“Then that person will sort you out, if we’re lucky. I have more important matters to attend to than dealing with your tantrum.”
With every passing second that he stood there, the atmosphere grew more dour. Akutagawa clammed up, unsure of how to proceed. His mere presence seemed to be making everything worse.
Maybe it would be better if he left the tiger boy to his own devices. He knew when he wasn’t wanted, and he hadn’t been lying about having other priorities. The princess was waiting for him to wrap things up. And if the tiger boy had his own people coming to collect him, Akutagawa felt much less guilty about leaving him be.
So with an awkward farewell, he walked away. He listened for any sound from behind him, but didn’t get a goodbye in return.
Aya was exactly where he’d left her, kicking her legs as she sat on the roof of what used to be a car. He held out a hand, helping her jump down onto the pavement. Her attention was still glued to the miserable tiger he’d been talking with.
“Do you have a crush on that guy?” she asked. There was no judgment in her face, or even any hint of teasing. She asked like it was the most reasonable conclusion to draw.
“No?” Akutagawa replied, confused. “I have no idea who that is.”
A completely honest answer, but her nose wrinkled as if she didn’t believe him. Strange as it was, he struggled to believe himself, too. The tiger boy had a mysterious allure, despite his standoffish attitude that should be sending Akutagawa running in the other direction.
“He kept staring at you in a really sad way. I think you hurt his feelings.”
“I don’t see how I could have.”
She tilted her head. “I'd guess it’s ‘cos you had that fight under the tower. You should make it up to him now that everything’s okay.”
Akutagawa frowned, caught between telling her how little he wanted to do that and inquiring about the fight he’d supposedly had. But he would never defy the princess’ wishes so outright, nor did he want to make her think poorly of him by refusing to get along with someone. If not for his commitment to being her knight, he doubted his pride would let him chase after a boy who clearly wanted nothing to do with him, but he bowed his head in surrender. She stood up on her toes and patted his arm.
“It’ll be alright. I’m a warrior of justice, so I can beat him up if he’s mean to you.”
“Very gracious of you, my lady.”
“I know, right?”
Unlike the princess, the tiger boy was uncooperative, and didn’t stay put long enough to make his plan to clear the air easy. It took some time to find him again. Only Akutagawa's spur-of-the-moment decision to check out what remained of the airport yielded results, as he spotted a head of silver hair in one of the empty rooms, watching the sun rise through a cracked window pane. The orange rays gave his skin a healthier glow, lessening the exhaustion that had worn down his face.
“It’s impolite not to introduce oneself when meeting someone new,” Akutagawa said from the doorway. “Or so I’m told. You can call me Akutagawa, though it appears you already knew that.”
He was met with silence once more. He was about to turn on his heel and leave, making amends be damned, when there was a soft whisper.
“Atsushi.”
Atsushi’s lack of enthusiasm couldn’t be more obvious, but he brushed it off and pressed on.
“I see. The princess has it in her mind that I’ve somehow wronged you, so I’d appreciate it if you stopped slinking around and informed me about—”
“I hate this,” Atsushi said, interrupting him. “You look the same, you talk the same, so I can’t even pretend it’s not you. I don’t understand what’s happening.”
Akutagawa stopped short. “I’m not certain of your meaning.”
With heavy steps, Atsushi came to him. He kept walking until the space they shared was compromising, scandalous for two strangers. Akutagawa remained perfectly still, curious to see what he would do next.
He didn’t anticipate the hand reaching towards his jugular.
“Going for the throat like a beast?” he asked quietly, not jerking away despite his self-preservative instincts screaming at him to do so.
Atsushi snorted, but it was humorless. “Payback.”
Instead of closing around his windpipe as expected, Atsushi's thumb hooked under the cloth that wrapped Akutagawa’s neck. The pads of his fingers were coarse where they met the delicate skin of his Adam’s apple, and Akutagawa couldn’t will down the goosebumps that broke out across his nape.
“Nothing that leaves your mouth makes a modicum of sense. Are you an escapee from some institute? Is that ‘Dazai’ character your handler?”
Atsushi laughed again, but this time it tinkled with genuine amusement. “In a way.”
His fingers trailed downwards. When they brushed the raised edges of a scar, the oxygen left Akutagawa’s lungs. He felt terrifyingly vulnerable, like he was baring his throat to the tiger from the battlefield and not the human in front of him now. Atsushi’s expression softened.
He drew his hand back. He smiled, small and melancholy, but it was the realest smile Akutagawa had seen from him since they’d met a few hours ago.
“You—We’re alive. Things could’ve gone worse, I suppose. Thanks for having my back.”
“About time you said as much,” Akutagawa grumbled, unable to keep the annoyance from leaking in.
“Yeah.” Atsushi looked down at the floor, sucking in a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, Akutagawa.”
Akutagawa didn’t understand why his ‘sorry’ had so much weight. It was an apology too earnest for a slip of bad manners. But as a knight, he knew to be chivalrous and show forgiveness to the common folk, particularly those undergoing hardship he couldn't imagine the depths of.
He placed a steadying palm on Atsushi’s shoulder, all too aware of the way Atsushi sank into the touch until it seemed to be the sole thing keeping him upright.
“It matters not.”
His voice came across hoarse rather than comforting, the result of a sudden tightness in his chest that only took shape as he coughed it out. Atsushi’s shoulders slumped, eyes more distant than they’d been at the start, and he wondered where he’d misstepped.