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For a criminal with a non-combative ability, Atsushi thinks as he tries to stand, he packs quite a punch.
He braces himself against the wall, his stomach aching, the phantom pain of a heeled boot pulsing against his skin. The criminal had clocked him in the face as well- Atsushi feels a white-hot pain somewhere below his right eye.
Dazai and Kunikida are wrapping up the fight already, and he can’t help but feel ashamed. All he did was get thrown into a wall. What was he even here for?
Atsushi groans and rubs his face because it’s still hurting-
His hand meets the skin below his right eye and touches something unnaturally smooth.
Atsushi freezes. He touches his face again. It doesn’t feel quite right. His stomach does several painful flips, and it’s not because he’s reeling from a kick.
“The criminal’s ability makes the victim a carrier,” he recalls Dazai saying.
“Of…a disease?”
“A contagious one. It’ll spread to whoever they touch, but funnily enough, the carrier doesn’t experience any ill symptoms.”
Atsushi would kick himself, but that’s already been done for him. He hears footsteps approaching him and flinches, eyes darting up to meet Dazai’s.
“I-I’m sorry, Dazai-san.” He says automatically, at a loss for anything else to say. “I-I…”
Dazai peers at Atsushi with his usual smile. “You’ve got a little something under your eye, Atsushi-kun.”
“I-I know, it’s that disease, isn’t it? You won’t catch it, will you?”
“No.” Dazai fishes his phone from his pocket and turns the camera so that Atsushi can see himself. “But we’re going to have to put you in quarantine until it wears off. About two weeks’ time.”
There is a smooth black marking under Atsushi’s right eye. The shape reminds him of a bird’s beak. He brushes his fingers over it again.
“Ah, I’m so jealous. You won’t need to come into the office at all!” Dazai whines. “Don’t worry Atsushi, I’ll make sure you have plenty of paperwork to keep you company~!”
Atsushi laughs weakly despite himself. Even now, his mentor still shoves his work onto him. “Sure, Dazai-san.”
Off to the side, he sees Kunikida frowning as he approaches. Atsushi quickly takes a step back to keep a little more distance between them. “K-Kunikida-san.”
“Kid.” Kunikida replies levelly. “We warned you that the disease spreads through contact.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” He lowers his head, feeling red-hot shame crawl up his back. He expects Kunikida to launch into some sort of rant, but to his surprise, the man just shakes his head and gestures.
“Let’s bring you back to the dorms. It’s going to be a long two weeks.”
—————
He remembers a time when some of the orphans had caught a contagious disease. They had been quarantined, and all contact with the others in the orphanage had been severed. Adults bringing them meager rations would wear full face masks, and they never lingered in that room full of the sick.
Atsushi had been fortunate enough to not contract the disease, but he couldn’t help but wonder: what would be worse?
Staying in that small and lightless room, forced to mingle with the other sick orphans, fighting over who got the last piece of bread or the last drop of water, his only company being the moody, sniffling kids who were just as miserable as he would be.
Or, the cage that was already his reality? Small, cold, dark. Always in pain and starving. His only visitor inflicting further misery on him.
Atsushi did not catch that disease, but for a moment he had dared to hope for something.
—————
Kyouka has to move out of their dorm until the ability wears off. Atsushi is left alone in his room, and even though he should be used to this by now, it still feels oddly empty.
He’s sitting on his futon, aimlessly staring at the wall and regretting ever getting close to that criminal, when his phone buzzes.
It’s a message from Kunikida, explaining the new ground rules from now until the two weeks are up. It’s pretty standard; no leaving the dorms, don’t open your door, if you must (for some impossible reason) be in the same room as anyone BUT Dazai, stay six feet away at all times. Do not, under any circumstances, make physical contact.
Deep down, Atsushi knows that this is a given due to the nature of the ability, but he can’t help but take it as a punishment for his carelessness.
It’s okay, he tells himself. I deserve it. It’s just two weeks. It could be worse.
He could give his friends a serious disease just by touching their skin.
His phone buzzes again.
Junichiro
Hey, we heard what happened
Get better soon
Atsushi blinks. Then, after a moment, there’s another text.
Junichiro
I know you’re gonna get better in two weeks
You’re not even actually sick but
I mean, feel better soon?
Sorry
He can’t help but laugh a little at the frantic undertone of the messages.
Atsushi
Thanks :)
—————
Atsushi wakes up the next morning, bleary and disoriented from some ineffable nightmare. His alarm is going off. With a small groan, he turns his phone off and sits up, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. His mind is swimming lazily, crawling through thoughts of getting ready, waking Kyouka, leaving the dorms, and then his fingers hit the mark under his eye and all of those things evaporate.
He sighs, glancing over at Kyouka’s empty futon. He hopes she slept well. Dazai had mentioned that she would live with Yosano for the time being.
Atsushi spends the next hour meaninglessly cleaning his already-neat apartment and staring at the empty sink. He decides to make chazuke for himself.
Eating in silence is something he has done many times before, but it doesn’t feel any different. Atsushi glumly pours tea over a bowl of rice, tops it with the usual, and eats.
He had always enjoyed Kyouka’s quiet presence. Any conversation was light and didn’t last long.
But now, the silence is heavy on his ears, and Atsushi brushes his thumb over the black mark in some accusation of guilt.
Around lunchtime, there’s a knock on his door. Atsushi flinches, having been hovering over his phone for any possible updates from the agency. He approaches the door as if it’s a wild animal, hesitant and slow. He doesn’t dare creep closer.
But then the knock comes again.
“Atsushi-kunnn?”
Atsushi’s eyes widen and his hands snake around the doorknob, but he fights the urge to pull it open.
“Dazai-san?”
“Yep!” His mentor chirps. “Just me~ you can open the door, it’s not against the rules.”
“R-right.” Atsushi grimaces, but there’s a warmth forming in his stomach, bright and eager.
Dazai slips into the apartment with his signature grin. He drops a stack of papers onto the table.
“I just had to drop by and see our tiger. Everyone’s already asking about you, you know!”
“R-really?”
Dazai bops his nose playfully. “Kyouka-chan especially.”
Atsushi smiles, a little sadly. “Is she okay? I hope I haven’t worried anyone too much.”
“Yosano’s taking great care of her, I’m sure. We all know you’re fine, so it’s really a matter of making sure you don’t feel left out, all on your lonesome.” He taps the papers. “So, I graciously brought your paperwork here!”
Atsushi warily eyes the top paper, which is very clearly the report that Kunikida has been hounding Dazai to finish for days now.
“Thanks.” He says aloud.
“Have you eaten yet?”
“Uh, I had some chazuke.”
Dazai hums, turning his back and analyzing the contents of the fridge. Atsushi sits down and starts to work on the report.
He silently relishes in the ruffling noises of another presence. It’s a calming ambience that releases the tension he didn’t realize had built up in his shoulders, and Atsushi can finally focus.
Dazai ends up grabbing a leftover sandwich and plops down on the couch to eat and nap. Atsushi doesn't dare to say it, but he actually doesn’t mind the fact that his mentor is just here to freeload.
That evening, when he is alone again, Atsushi gets another message.
Kyouka
How are you?
He does a double take when he sees that it’s her, fumbling to send a quick reply.
Atsushi
Hi Kyouka-chan!! I’m doing well, not sick or anything
How are you?
Kyouka
Good
For a moment, he struggles to think of something else to say and continue their conversation (that isn’t really a conversation), but then she does it for him.
Kyouka
The disease only spreads through skin contact, right?
Atsushi
Yes…if I touch someone’s skin directly, they’ll get the disease that I’m carrying.
Kyouka
Okay.
Have you eaten dinner?
Atsushi
About to! And you?
Kyouka
Yosano-san got us fried tofu. It was good.
Atsushi
:)
Glad to hear it.
Kyouka
Make sure you eat dinner. It’s bad to skip meals, remember?
Atsushi
Yeah, I remember.
Kyouka
Promise?
Atsushi
Promise!
Kyouka
Okay.
I’ll see you soon.
Atsushi’s heart skips a beat. Soon. Two weeks wasn’t soon enough for his greedy soul. But he doesn’t tell her that. Instead, he wishes her a good night and tries to sleep in his all-too-silent dorm.
—————
He wakes up in the middle of the night. When he checks his phone to confirm the time (2AM), he realizes he missed a text from Kunikida earlier.
Kunikida
I neglected to mention this rule, though it should be quite standard.
Do not skip any of your meals.
It seems random, but god is it late, and Atsushi should’ve read this hours ago. But still, he feels oddly comforted. When he closes his eyes again, he easily slips back into a tranquil unconsciousness.
—————
…He keeps forgetting to turn off his alarm.
Atsushi lays in his futon and sighs.
When he finally checks his phone after disabling the alarm, he is bewildered to find a mountain of notifications. At first, he fears that something occurred while he was wallowing in his apartment, but when he actually checks, it ends up just being Kenji.
Kenji
Hi Atsushi!!
I didn’t get to text you yesterday, sorry!
Oh and you’re probably sleeping
But! I heard what happened and wanted to say I hope you feel better soon!
We’re all thinking about you!
The rest of it is of a similar vein, mostly filling Atsushi in on the frivolous details of what had happened in the agency. Atsushi is both bemused and touched by the gesture.
Atsushi
Hey Kenji! I just woke up and saw your texts. Thanks, I really appreciate it
I hope you and the others have a good day!
To his surprise, the response is almost immediate.
Kenji
No problem! See you soon!
—————
There was a time when Atsushi had been locked in a storage closet by someone. There was no reason, nor anything Atsushi remembered doing that would warrant him deserving it, but he was shoved into that small space and locked in it for several hours.
Eventually, an orphan who was searching for a broom tugged on the handle of the door, only to find it locked. Curled in on himself, freezing, scared, and lonely, Atsushi had heard the noise and reacted immediately.
“Hello? I-Is someone there? Let me out, please…”
His voice had splintered at the end. The orphan on the other side of the door did not reply, and for a moment Atsushi had been terrified that they were going to leave him there.
But then- the click of a lock, the creak of a weary door, and the chary movements of the orphan as she stepped aside to set him free.
Hesitantly (but sincerely), he had said, “Thank you.”
But the orphan had just given him a noncommittal hum before grabbing a broom from the closet and hurrying away, wanting nothing more to do with the outcast among outcasts.
—————
There’s a knock at his door.
Atsushi jolts out of his daze and nearly drops the bowl he’s holding. He places it in the cabinet and is about to run to the door, but then he stops.
“Dazai-san?” He asks.
“Nope!” is the cheerful reply.
“K-Kenji?!”
Atsushi is mindful of keeping a six-foot distance from the door. Sure, it wasn’t like they could touch him through the wall or anything, but he isn’t risking any sort of accident. Not with Kenji.
“Yep! Kyouka’s here, too!”
And especially not with Kyouka!
“Wh-what are you guys doing here?!” He exclaims. “You know I’m not supposed to-”
“Kunikida didn’t give us any rule about not visiting you! He just said we can’t touch your skin and stuff!”
“Well yeah, I guess, but-”
“We wanted to see how you were doing,” Kyouka says softly.
His frantic train of thought grinds to a halt, and Atsushi tries not to let his breath hitch too audibly. After a moment of silence, he manages to whisper, “Okay.”
“So,” prompts Kenji. “How was everything yesterday? Are you settling in alright?”
Atsushi begins to take slow, lumbering steps forward as he replies. “Y-yeah. I forgot to turn off my alarm, so I actually forgot for a second that I’m not supposed to be going anywhere.”
Kenji laughs in his typical good-natured way. Atsushi eases onto the floor, leaning against the locked door and bringing his legs up to his chin. This way, he can hear them better, and prevent the door from completely swinging open for whatever reason.
“That sounds like you,” remarks Kyouka. “What did you do all of yesterday?”
“Cleaning. And paperwork.” Atsushi glances at the completed stack on the table. “Dazai-san came by and kept me company for a little while.”
“You mean he was freeloading.”
Kyouka’s deadpan, tinged with annoyance, makes him laugh. “You’re starting to sound like Kunikida-san.”
“Speaking of Kunikida!” Kenji chimes in. “He got so mad at Dazai when he learned you were doing that report he’s been hounding him to do! He told Dazai to come back here and get it so he could do it himself, but…”
“Dazai obviously didn’t listen.” Kyouka finishes. “He got another earful this morning.”
“Haha! Go figure.” Atsushi can envision the scene playing out in his mind. “I actually finished all of the paperwork he gave me. It’s not like I have much else to do, you know?”
There’s a heartbeat of silence, but no footsteps, just soft breathing on the other side of the door.
“You can talk to us.”
“Yeah, we can keep dropping by like this!”
Atsushi would love that- the only thing he can imagine wanting more is the ability to give them both a big hug without infecting them- but he doesn’t say that.
“No, I can’t bother you guys like that!” He cries. “You’ll get scolded too if you take time off work to come visit me!”
“It’s not a bother at all!” Kenji states.
“And it’s worth it for you,” says Kyouka.
Atsushi feels his stomach twist painfully.
The lock does not click, the door does not creak open, and no one steps aside to set him free, but Kenji and Kyouka reply when he speaks and keep the conversation going when he has run out of things to say, and Atsushi does not feel completely alone.
(He can’t see them, but they are there, and if the door between them suddenly disappeared, they would find themselves back-to-back, all sitting cross-legged on the floor.)
—————
A week into the quarantine, Atsushi wonders if he is just insane.
Dazai visits often to give him more paperwork, and even the other agency members have taken to talking through the walls with him, but the warmth they bring always shrivels into cold dread when it’s over.
He feels like he’s trapped in a cage. It’s not as small as he was once used to, but Atsushi still fears that the walls will close in on him, that the ball of dread brewing in his stomach will come alive and strangle him, that he’ll reach out for help and take a hand that drops him. Or worse, infect with this cursed disease.
The only person he can count on to touch him safely is Dazai, but Atsushi is afraid to say anything like that.
You’re being stupid. He hisses at himself. It’s just one more week. Don’t be selfish. You barely touch them anyways- why do you care so much now?
Because I didn’t have this stupid mark on my face!
Atsushi’s nails dig into the smooth, beaklike stain as he drags his fingers down his face in frustration. He’s overreacting. He’s fine. He can’t touch anyone.
He thinks of the agency, his family, who will get hurt if he messes this up. Of course he can’t touch them. Why would they want to touch him? He’s a disease.
No, that’s not true.
He knows it’s not because they’ve been sitting outside his door, talking to him for hours. They’ve been sending him text messages and videos and saying the kindest things that he has done nothing to deserve. Even though it was his fault for getting hit by that criminal, they didn’t really blame him. But Atsushi knows, deep down, that they do not see him the way he sees himself.
But that alone is something he doesn’t understand.
Kenji, Kyouka, and the Tanizakis stop by. He takes a deep breath for the reprieve, knowing he will drown in these thoughts when it’s over.
—————
The next knock is from Dazai. When Atsushi lets him inside, he’s trying not to shake. It’s late, his eyelids are heavy, and it’s like he’s a puppet on a very thin string. Dazai notices- how could he not, when Atsushi is being so obvious about it?
He begins to skim through the papers Dazai has brought him. But instead of rummaging through his food stash (like a parasite, Kunikida would say), his mentor stands next to him.
“Only six days left,” he comments.
Atsushi nods with some difficulty. His fingers fan the papers out on the table so he can pretend to inspect them more closely. “How’s everything going-” he almost says back home, “-at the agency?”
“Everyone misses our favorite tiger.” Dazai chuckles, and ruffles Atsushi’s hair.
He automatically freezes up. The touch snaps the proverbial string above his head and turns his mind into a palimpsest. For a second he’s happy, shocked, confused, and everything else comes second.
Then Dazai is pulling away with a gentler look. “It’s not easy to be alone all the time, and so suddenly, too.”
Atsushi’s mouth feels dry.
“I’m not alone,” he manages. “You’re here.”
Dazai sees right through his facade, even if neither of them say it outright. His expression is surprisingly soft. This time, when his mentor reaches out, it’s more deliberate, unsure of how exactly Atsushi will respond.
Dazai’s touch is cool and welcome against the mark on his face. It’s simple, really, but Atsushi has not been touched like this for eight days straight, and he thinks it’s stupid because he had gone eighteen years without anything of the sort, so why does he care so much now?
“You’re tired,” says Dazai.
Tired of being unable to sleep properly? Tired of not waking up to get to work? Tired of being alone in this room? Of being a disease?
Dazai knows the answer to all of those questions, and no matter how much Atsushi belittles himself for acting this way, he can’t stop his breath from hitching.
Atsushi was never shown affection in the orphanage. He had never been able to talk to someone so casually through a door, or had the luxury of friends, of anyone who would bother to just be with him, or touch him so gently, or hug him. Words were crafted to nail him to the ground. The other kids either avoided him like the plague or treated him like one. Touch was a stinging pain on his cheek, a kick to the stomach, a crack in his bones.
That is not the case anymore.
(This fact, Atsushi would later think, is what broke him.)
His vision blurs and he starts to tremble like a leaf, hunching his shoulders in the same pathetic way he’s used to doing. Dazai’s hand moves to rest on the back of his neck, and the other tentatively loops around his shoulders.
Of all things, it’s awkward, as if Dazai is attempting something far out of his league. But it’s also everything Atsushi needs at the moment, and he almost laughs despite it all.
Atsushi’s head is pressed against his mentor’s coat. The longer the touch lingers, the more he feels okay, and the lingering dread melts into the warmth he has been longing for.
When he finally comes to his senses, he pulls back and wipes at his reddened face. “I-I’m sorry, I-”
“Ah-ah.”
He shuts his mouth.
Dazai peers at him for a moment longer before he nods, satisfied. “Sit down, Atsushi-kun.”
Atsushi blinks and glances at the stack of paperwork. He sits at the table.
Dazai doesn’t say anything else. He reclines on the couch, just like last time, and sleeps as Atsushi works.
It’s late, but neither of them mind.
—————
Junichiro
Dazai didn’t clock in. Again. I had to take the case with Kenji instead.
Kunikida had a field day.
Atsushi
Not surprised. Did it go well?
Junichiro
Yeah, it wasn’t extremely urgent
Fortunately nothing went wrong
That’s not how Kunikida sees it tho
Atsushi
Well, the last time one of us was complacent on a mission, we had to quarantine them for two weeks
Junichiro
Oh my god
Atsushi
Sorry that wasn’t supposed to be mean
I’m so sorry
Junichiro
Nonono it wasn’t mean
It was funny
Like, dark humor
I didn’t think you could do that
Atsushi
Thanks, I think
Kunikida’s lectures definitely aren’t the first thing on my list of what I miss by being in quarantine
Junichiro
Don’t worry. It’s almost over.
Then you can suffer in the office with the rest of us, I guess
Atsushi
Haha
I can’t wait
—————
Atsushi dreams of the orphanage again. He’s cold, hungry, and scared.
Then something warm envelopes him. It chases away the nightmares and soothes his frazzled mind. It wipes away the tears, the aching, the mark on his face.
A once new and now familiar feeling.
—————
One fine morning, just as everyone knew, Atsushi wakes up with nothing out of place on his features. He looks in the mirror and stares at his unblemished face in awe. His phone buzzes.
Kyouka
How are you?
He laughs, fingers flying across the screen.
Atsushi
Great!
She doesn’t respond, but a few minutes later, there is a loud knock on his door.
He clicks the lock. The door creaks open. He is swept into a flurry of cheerful greetings and warmth. Skin to skin, fingers carding through his hair, hands squeezing his, wrapping around his torso, or patting him on the back. Their affection melts away everything he has been scared of.
“Welcome back, Atsushi!” They chorus.
He feels like crying. But instead, he smiles.
Because he’s home.