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After finally putting an end to Fyodor and his schemes, they rest on the tarmac, staring at the sunrise—exhausting, weighing them down.
"Well, another case solved," Atsushi commented.
There was a long silence before Akutagawa breathed, "I hate working with you."
"What! Why?" He turned to Akutagawa, "How is this my fault?"
"My life was normal before I met you," Akutagawa was still looking up at the sky.
"I don't know, shouldn't you be saying that to Dazai?"
"No. Cause my life was normal until I met you," more emotion came through his voice.
"—through Dazai," Atsushi rose and instantly regretted.
"Peas and apples," Akutagawa said calmly.
"It's apples and oranges," Atsushi groaned.
Finally, Akutagawa's eyes met Atsushi's, "Listen, I know the concept might be noval to you but I have died twice since I met you—that's not normal, Weretiger."
Atsushi's shoulder slumped, his teeth clenched. It was burning in his chest. Akutagawa's words ring in his head. He knew that—Fyodor made that clear there was no more doubt still.
Akuatgawa murmured almost reverently, "Honestly, I wonder if you can even die."
"Of course, I can die," Atsushi looked away up at the sky.
"You sure, because I have personally ran you through several times with the intent of killing you and somehow you still stand before me."
"I can die."
"Let's test the theory, let me cut off your head," Akutagawa rose from his seat position.
"What! NO! I'm not letting you cut off my head that would kill me."
"That's a sacrifice I'm willing to make," the mafioso nodded to himself.
"Well I'm not. Plus what if I don't die then I'm just a body without a head," Atsushi exclaimed.
"You worry too much, Weretiger. I'd simply put your head back on," he said as if it were the most logical conclusion one could come to.
"What if you put it on wrong?" Akutagawa just stood there, his jacket rippled.
"What am I saying—no. You can not cut off my head, Akutagawa!"
"Tch."
"I have work to do. Goodbye, Akutagawa," Atsushi stormed off.
"We're even by the way," the mafioso said. Atsushi turned to face the mafioso regarding him, trying to make sense of the way his brow furrowed.
"You know on the boat I—," Atsushi was at a loss for words. He looked down, "I'm sorry…"
"Sorry for—?"
"Getting you killed," Atsushi looked at the sunrise: the dark becoming the light.
"Do you think I want your apologizes Weretiger? We. Are. Even. Let's leave it at that," he turned to leave.
"Let's not—."
"What?!"
"I don't want to let it go. I failed you as your partner at that moment. I couldn't see anything but the past, ignoring the danger in the present. And you… you died."
"What is it that you wish for me to say? I forgive you? There is nothing to forgive. I made a choice and prioritized the mission over everything else. So, I didn't save you for some altruistic reason." Atsushi stared in shock at his partner's confession.
"No, if there was anything it would be you not striking me down then. Why don't you start there," Akutagawa dusted off his coat.
"Are you joking?"
"Am I wearing a clown nose?" Akutagawa sneered.
"No, but most days you wear that fluffy scarf thing."
"It's a cravat," Akutagawa corrected.
"Well, it makes you look like a douche," the Weretiger fired back.
"And what do you call your preschool detective outfit?
"Hey, this looks good on me!"
The wind blows sea salt into the air.
"I'm sorry," Atsushi tried again.
"You don't even know what you're apologizing for, Sorry for not taking the shot, Sorry that I die and got turned into an unwilling pawn. God, you're exhausted," Akuatagwa turned away.
"Find me when done with the cleanup and have a better answer. I'm going to go to sleep."
Atsushi opened his mouth to reply, but it died in his throat, he watched the sunrise as Akutagawa faded.