Chapter Text
It was a good idea. The sort of idea that came from a kind heart, filled with good intentions and earnest hope.
Still… maybe he should've thought it through a little more.
The idea had sounded harmless: spend a few hours over two days in his tiger form and pose behind glass for Nogeyama Zoo's new fundraiser campaign. And, it really was harmless. There was no risk in training his endurance in such a way. The zoo was one of Atsushi's favorite spots in Yokohama because it didn't have an entrance fee, and while he did toss some coins into the donation box on occasion, he wanted to give back more.
The public could ooh and ahh, take photos for a price, and hopefully raise enough money to keep the habitat renovations going. A "real" tiger exhibit, close enough for selfies but safe behind reinforced glass. And no one had to know he wasn't really a tiger at all.
He could be majestic. Quiet. Dignified. Safe. Safer than an actual wild animal. Or, at least, Atsushi hoped he was the safer option.
When he'd agreed to volunteer, a rush of optimism had drowned out the quiet warning in the back of his mind. Despite all of his progress, all of his self-acceptance, holding his composure fully transformed was still untried, untrained.
He was unsure if some aspects of his ability were entirely under control when he fully transformed. Especially the instincts.
And instincts didn't always care about good intentions.
Maybe it was a good idea. Noble. Charitable. A good training opportunity. But… was it a smart idea?
Now, trapped in a cage of his own making, Atsushi wasn't sure who he was putting on the show for anymore. The public or himself? Flashes of memories from the orphanage crept into his head if he let his mind wander too long. Pushing those old memories aside was becoming easier each day, but the sting remained, no matter how dull it now was.
He reminded himself that the bars and glass weren’t meant to confine him. He could walk out at any moment.
Atsushi caught a ghost of his reflection in the thick glass that separated him from the crowd gathered outside the make-shift enclosure. White fur. Golden eyes. Almost regal, and far from the ravenous beast he once viewed the tiger as. Once, the tiger had only ever meant survival. A last resort. A weapon.
He didn’t want any part of himself to only be a weapon. Even if his ability was specially suited for violence, Atsushi knew there were more uses for it. Just like Akutagawa and Rashomon.
Akutagawa.
Always Akutagawa.
Even without seeing the other man in nearly two months, Atushi couldn’t go long without his thoughts drifting back to him. How could he not? After all they’d been through, after all their growth… after they started to become something more than enemies.
Thankfully, his thoughts were interrupted before he could dwell on Akutagawa too long. Before Atsushi could start to wonder if that budding friendship was maybe, just maybe, not all he’d wanted.
“You’re doing great!” The zookeeper, Hirata, gave him a thumbs-up. She was one of the few people ‘in the know’ about him and was careful to limit communication.
As the previous family left the area, she angled herself away from the distant crowd gathered to the side. Without anyone on the bench in front of the glass, no one was close enough to hear her. She pointed to her earpiece, “We’re officially halfway through today, and the director just announced we’ve already met our goal!”
Atsushi bowed his head slightly to acknowledge he had heard her. It was great news, enough to fund new habitats, better equipment, maybe even more public education events with the animals.
And still, beneath the praise, something in his chest stayed tense. So far, the tiger was quiet, and Atsushi remained fully in control of himself. This was the longest he’d purposefully transformed to the full extent of his ability. It was new territory for him. Deep down, he knew how thin the line was between control and instinct.
Atushi’s eyes scanned over the people waiting to see him. Some stood in a neat line that went up the hill and past the red ruffed lemur enclosure, waiting for the private close-up photo they’d paid for. Others crowded at a distance, just hoping to catch a glimpse.
So many children whose families couldn’t afford the cost of the private photo opportunity, but were still so happy to see him. To see the white tiger ‘on loan from another zoo’. Small children gripped at the rope divider keeping them at a distance, wide-eyed and thrilled just to catch a glimpse.
He hoped, quietly, desperately, that none of them ever found out it wasn’t real. Still, he had to trust himself. Trust his control. He could make it through the day without slipping. Without letting the tiger take over. He was the tiger, and the tiger was him.
Atsushi looked down at his paws and inhaled slowly. As he exhaled, he reminded himself that he was no longer the scared kid he was just a year ago; he was in control of his ability. It did not control him.
He looked back up to the line, expecting the next person to be ushered over for their photo. No one was walking towards him yet. It was a welcome break; the groups had been nonstop since they started, the staff efficiently keeping the line moving while still giving each person the few private minutes they’d paid for.
Atsushi was about to turn his attention back to the public crowd when someone in line shifted, and he caught a glimpse of two people who made his heart nearly stop.
There, about third in line, were Akutagawa and Gin. Dressed in civilian clothes, they blended in rather well. So well, Atsushi made himself turn his head and blink a few times. There was no way. His eyes were playing tricks– they had to be. But no, there was no mistaking them.
The universe was not cruel enough for Akutagawa to be there. To… what? Mock him? Try to get under his skin to make him lose his composure?
Hirata’s soft voice cut through his racing thoughts. “We’re going to pause the private photos for a few minutes to allow the general public to get a closer view. If you need to step away for a moment, feel free.”
She smiled down at him a moment before pressing a button at her station that opened the small door behind him.
Atsushi turned towards the open door, debating. A break would be nice… the area he was in for the photos was small, a repurposed temporary holding cage. It offered him enough room to walk around while still being in full view of anyone who walked up to the cage. Since he wasn’t an actual tiger, it was perfectly fine for him. But, if he went through the door to the attached tunnel, it would lead him to the off-exhibit area of the old tiger enclosure. The area was strictly limited to staff who knew who he was, so he’d be able to take a break from his ability and stretch his human legs.
It was tempting.
He turned his attention back to the crowd as the staff unhooked the stanchion line blocking the main path. Several children immediately ran towards him, faces lit up with toothy smiles as their parents scrambled to keep up with them. He couldn’t leave, not with so many children looking at him with such wide-eyed wonder. The zoo hadn’t had a tiger in years, so this was a rare treat for the children.
With a swish of his tail, he began to walk the entire length of the glass, making sure everyone was able to see him. He basked in their joy, forgetting, for a brief moment, about the Akutagawa siblings.
As he made another pass along the glass, the crowd parted slightly, and he flicked his eyes past them to the line waiting for photos. It was still long. Long enough to easily fill the last two hours. He didn’t see Akutagawa before the crowd shifted again, and he lost his line of sight. Maybe his eyes had played a trick on him. There was no way Akutagawa could have found out he was there, and there was no way he’d accidentally stumble upon him at the zoo. In broad daylight, no less.
With practiced efficiency, Hirata ushered the crowd along, gently but firmly encouraging everyone to keep moving. Atsushi flexed his claws, making a show of it for each new group of kids watching. His tail swished behind him in annoyance as he continued to pace. He was just a tiger, just part of the show. But his eyes flicked back to the line each time he walked to the left. He couldn’t help it.
On the fourth pass, the crowd in front of him again parted slightly just as people in the line shifted. The two he thought were Akutagawa and Gin were turned away, watching the penguins in the exhibit down the hill.
He watched them from the corner of his eye, trying to convince himself it was someone else.
But then Akutagawa looked up.
Their eyes met.
Akutagawa’s eyes widened, those dark depths softening as he watched Atsushi from a distance.
It only lasted a heartbeat before the crowd shifted, blocking Atsushi’s view of the line.
His fur bristled, and he froze just for a moment. Just long enough for the kids nearest the glass to gasp at the tiger’s sudden stillness, as if they could sense the shift, a reminder that the tiger was a predator.
A low growl escaped him in place of a swear.
Does he know? Atsushi couldn’t tell from the brief moment.
He sat down in the short grass, facing straight ahead, tail swishing behind him in annoyance. Seeing Akutagawa brought the tiger’s will closer to the surface than it had been all day. Not out of rage, but out of something wilder. Recognition. Challenge. Something else he couldn’t name.
The tiger pushed for more. More action, more reaction, more teeth, just more. It hated the stillness, the watching eyes, the stifling cage he’d willingly stepped into.
Every sense was heightened when he was the tiger. And, all of his months of training to stay calm and in control were being tested. Part of that training included learning to focus his senses, to pick out scents and sounds at greater distances.
Atsushi’s ears twitched as he shut his eyes.
All the noise from the crowd became muffled background noise as he focused on finding the voice he knew far too well. He didn’t even need to see him. He could hear the shape of his words in his memory and tuned his ears for it.
The crowd seemed pleased enough with him being so close, so he did not feel too guilty about his attention being elsewhere.
It took a long moment to sift through the symphony of voices, the dozens of simultaneous conversations, and the screaming children in such a small area. Finally, he locked onto Akutagawa’s familiar voice.
“–to disturb what little equilibrium remains by voicing what ought never be spoken.” Hearing Akutagawa’s voice after so long was like a balm on a wound he didn’t know he had. There was a quality to his voice that Atsushi was unfamiliar with. If it were anyone else, Atsushi would think he sounded hesitant, maybe embarrassed. But it was Akutagawa.
On the other hand, Gin’s tone was easy to infer. Her soft voice was soothing but amused. “Maybe you should talk to the tiger?”
“Absurd.”
“You say that, but you practically dragged me over to see it, even though all the promotions had an orange tiger.”
“I regret telling you about the weretiger.”
“If you hadn’t, I’d have assumed your eagerness meant you intended to fight the poor innocent creature.”
“It is as close as I’ll get without… Allow me this without further comment.”
Gin made an amused sound, but did as her brother asked. When the conversation didn’t continue, Atsushi opened his eyes again and scanned the line for them. Akutagawa stood with his arms crossed, pointedly not looking towards the tiger enclosure.
Eventually, the event needed to continue, and Hirata ushered the last of the crowd out of the area. With the stanchions back in place, the next in line was then called down.
Atsishi knew he was distracted during the next few photos. He was slower to react to the people approaching, lost in his head as he replayed the overheard conversation over and over, trying to figure out the meaning of Akutagawa’s words.
One person. Then, a large family who paid for several combinations of group and individual photos. Atsushi barely registered any of them, just going through the motions. He only refocused when it was Akutagawa’s turn.
His heart hammered in his chest as he waited for Akutagawa to walk the distance from the front of the line to the enclosure. As they walked, Gin glanced between her brother and Atsushi, an amused grin on her lips.
They paused a moment, just a few feet away, as Hirata gave them the practiced speech she gave every participant.
“Your photos will be available for download using the code on your ticket,” she explained, voice bright, she didn’t know who she was talking to. “It can take up to 24 hours. There’s also an option to have prints mailed for an extra fee.”
Hirata went on, explaining the dos and don’ts for the photos, giving a brief lesson about tigers. Gin nodded politely. Akutagawa didn’t say a word and looked anywhere but at the enclosure.
It was all part of the experience, Atsushi knew. The little spiel made people feel important, like they were being let in on something exclusive. And normally, he could tune it out and have a few moments to himself.
But not this time.
Not with them standing there, so close.
As he waited for them to approach, Atsushi observed. It gave him something to do, something to focus on besides the tiger’s instincts pacing just beneath his skin.
Gin wore a simple long blue dress and a pink jean jacket. Simple, elegant. Looking at her, it was almost impossible to see that she was a highly skilled assassin.
Akutagawa wore dark green slim-cut jeans and a mustard yellow button-up that was mostly hidden under a black sweater. It was… strange. Right now, he just looked like a man in casual clothes, standing in a zoo with his sister. The few times Atsushi had seen him outside of his Port Mafia duties, he’d still worn some combination of black and white. Seeing him in other colors, softer colors, was jarring.
If he hadn’t known better, Atsushi might have thought he looked… normal.
The mustard yellow and green shouldn’t have suited him, and yet it did. It brought out something in his features, something warmer than Atsushi remembered.
It made him look… younger. More human. So much unlike the hellhound he once claimed to be.
And somehow, that was worse.
It made something in Atsushi’s chest twist. A sharp uncertainty he’d tried desperately to bury.
Because this wasn’t the first time. Over the months they’d known each other, through the battles and missions, he’d started to see it. Little things. Brief moments when Akutagawa’s rage slipped, when the bitter pride gave way to something quieter, something real. Something Atsushi had always suspected was there, but was still surprised when he got to witness it.
Atsushi had spent so long seeing him as a threat, a rival, a monster on a leash. But now…
Now, he knew better.
He knew there was more under the surface, hidden behind a mask of indifference or rage. He just… didn’t know what to do with the knowledge, and wondered if Akutagawa was even aware that part of him existed.
Just as he’d started to see under the surface, just as Akutagawa began to trust him enough to let his guard slip, he’d disappeared without a word.
There were no pressing cases now. No enemies threatening Yokohama. No desperate need for them to fight side by side. Yet, a part of him thought they would still continue to see each other, to talk, to grow, even without Yokohama facing a threat.
And that silent, unspoken wish had startled him the first time he’d realized.
It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. Not when there was so much history, so much blood and bitterness between them.
Akutagawa shifted his weight and glanced toward the glass, and for a second, their eyes met again. Atsushi looked away first, not trusting himself to not give himself away if he stared into his eyes too long. Someone as smart as Akutagawa would certainly put it together if Atsushi didn’t play the part of the tiger well enough.
Hirata finished her spiel and motioned towards the bench.
Gin approached first. Calm and composed, like every other time he’d come to expect from her outside of her work. Her gaze scanned him with a similar amount of awe and respect as most of the other guests. She wordlessly sat on the bench in front of the glass, smoothing out her dress as she posed for the photo.
Atsushi swished his tail and moved to sit slightly to the side of her before Hirata could even pretend to direct him. The quicker the photos were done, the quicker they would leave. His heart hammered in his chest as Gin motioned for Akutagawa to join her once her photo was taken.
As he approached, his gaze was trained on Atsushi. Atsushi found he couldn’t look away this time, the tiger’s instinct burning below his skin again, urging him to act. It wasn’t the familiar urge to attack, to fight, to bite, to eat, to survive– it was something else, something he couldn’t yet name. It didn’t matter. Atsushi didn’t trust the tiger’s instinct, and he clamped down on the impulses before they could manifest.
Instead of taking a seat immediately, Akutagawa stared down at Atsushi. His gaze traveled down the tiger’s body, unfocused, as if looking at something miles away or years ago. There was no anger in his face. The corners of his mouth turned down just slightly when he met Atsushi’s eyes again.
Slowly, Akutagawa held his hand up, palm hovering just shy of touching the glass, as if he intended to touch the beast before him. Perhaps he would have if it weren’t for the glass barrier separating them.
There was no fear in his eyes. Of course, there wasn’t. A real tiger would pose no threat to him, and this… this was something else entirely. A challenge? A gesture of truce? Atsushi couldn’t tell.
The tiger wanted to move. Atsushi clamped down hard on the impulse.
He blinked at the outstretched hand, his breath stilling in his lungs as he tried to puzzle out what the gesture meant. Akutagawa wasn’t one to act without reason, without purpose.
His control over the tiger slipped, just slightly, just for a moment. Long enough for instinct to take over.
Before he could stop himself, he shifted forward, moving without conscious thought.
Slowly and deliberately, he tipped his massive head forward until it rested, just barely, against the glass where Akutagawa’s hand hovered.
The contact wasn’t real. There was still a pane of glass between them.
Akutagawa’s eyes widened, and he sharply inhaled. His lips twitched upward as he watched Atsushi.
It only lasted a few seconds, and Atsushi regained control from the tiger. He sat back on his haunches, mind whirling. The tiger was quieter now, but he could still feel the impulse to act.
“I think he likes you,” Gin said, her soft voice breaking the silent tension between them.
“The only white tiger in Yokohama who doesn’t want to sink his fangs into me.” Akutagawa turned away from the glass and took a seat on the bench.
That didn’t sound right. Atsuhi stared down at his paws, pondering Akutagawa’s words. Did he think Atsushi hated him, even after all the progress they’d made? Nothing seemed any different from the last time they’d spoken, it had still been their usual banter.
He fought the urge to dismiss his ability and run out of the enclosure to demand answers from Akutagawa. But he made a note to hunt him down later.
Fast movement caught attention in his peripheral vision, and he looked up, sighing to himself when he saw pink feathers floating in front of him. Hirata tilted her head to the side when he glanced her way. The flirt pole was supposed to be for show, to sell the illusion. It wouldn’t have made sense for an animal to always pose perfectly for each photo.
How embarrassing, she’d actually needed to use it.
He looked over to Gin and Akutagawa just as they turned away to face the cameraman again. They were seated slightly apart, so Atsushi pretended to follow the feathered toy and sat between them long enough for the photo.
As soon as they stood, Atsushi turned around and stalked a few paces away. He needed to focus. Losing control again was not acceptable. This time, it was harmless, but he knew how dangerous the tiger could be when he lost himself to it.
“Brother, take your solo photo. I do not mind waiting. You paid for it, after all.”
“I–” Akutagawa cut himself off and sighed. “...Fine.”
Atsushi dug his claws into the dirt. The knowledge that Akutagawa still believed he was hated, that Atsushi hated him, twisted painfully at his heart. It hurt more than Atsushi wanted to admit.
The more he thought about it, the more it burned. He’d tried. So hard. Tried to show Akutagawa another way. Tried to show him he cared, on some level, even back when they were still trying to kill each other.
What more do you want from me? he thought bitterly, eyes narrowing, tail swishing behind him. The tiger stirred again beneath his skin, responding to the twists of emotion. His tail gave another sharp flick behind him, ears angling back in irritation.
A light tap on the glass brought him back to the present moment, and he whirled around, eyes latching onto Akutagawa again.
If he so desperately wanted to believe Atsushi hated him, then he wasn’t going to let him just walk away.
In a flash of stripes and claws, Atsushi closed the distance to the glass, lunging toward Akutagawa with his fangs bared.
Akutagawa didn’t flinch. Not even a blink.
He stood his ground as massive paws slammed against the reinforced glass, just inches from his face, golden eyes burning into his.
It wasn’t clear if it was Atsushi’s own action, or the whim of the tiger, or if, this once, they both wanted the same thing. Thankfully, he maintained enough control to not slice through the glass.
His breath fogged the glass between them. Sharp claws scraped, just once, before he backed down. He stared at Akutagawa, chest heaving, heart hammering, and his mind racing.
And still– Akutagawa didn’t look away. His eyes widened– but not in fear. There was something wild in them now, mirroring the storm behind the glass.
Awe.
The same wild expression as the first time he’d encountered Atsushi’s tiger form in that dead-end alley. That flash of memory was startling; most of that day was a haze after he’d transformed, after he’d given control over to the tiger. Why did he remember it now?
After a beat, Akutagawa’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly. And, beneath the awe, Atsushi saw a flash of something else. Something he couldn’t pinpoint. Acceptance?
“Ah,” Akutagawa said, mouth twisted into something between a smirk and a wince, “that is what I expected.” He dropped his hand from the glass, letting it fall loosely at his side before turning his back and gesturing for the photographer.
Atsushi stood where he was until Hirata teased the flirt pole again. He numbly took a few steps forward and bared his fangs for the camera.
Just like that, it was over. The photographer motioned to Hirata that he was done, and she stepped towards Akutagawa with her arm outstretched towards the exit.
Akutagawa took half a step before hesitating and turning back around to Atsushi. “If there was a–”
“Sir, I am sorry, but we have a line. You can see our other animals if you follow this path.”
Atsushi wanted to hug her. It was her job to keep the line moving, but it still felt like she was coming to his rescue. Whatever Akutagawa was about to say couldn’t have been good.
His ears twitched, heightened hearing, picking out Akutagawa and Gin’s conversation as they walked away.
“I think the tiger being here today may be a sign.”
“Do not attribute coincidences any weight.”
“Did it help?”
“No.”
“Maybe you need to talk to–”
Their conversation faded as they walked out of the range of his hearing.
The interaction left him off balance. And, although he nodded when Hirata asked if he was ok, he spent the rest of the event replaying Akutagawa’s words. He did his best to play his role, to pose for the photos, but the enthusiasm was gone.
He made a mental list of all the places he could attempt to find Akutagawa later. Each store they ever bumped into each other, any alley they ever used as a rendezvous point.
By the time the event started to wind down, Atsushi had an extensive list of places to look for Akutagawa. Unfortunately, he couldn’t begin to know where to start his search. The man was elusive on a good day, and if he were actively avoiding Atsushi, as he now highly suspected, then no amount of roaming the streets of Yokohama would be effective.
The sun was low when the last guest left, and Atsushi slowly made his way to the back of the enclosure and through the tunnel. Once away from the eyes of the staff, he wasted no time deactivating his ability.
Overall, the day was a success. He confirmed his control over the tiger, over himself. That was, if he ignored what happened with Akutagawa.
As much as he wanted to relax alone and think about what he’d learned, his attention was needed elsewhere. He promised to show face at the after-party for staff, their celebration of a job well done. Officially, his presence was explained away as being part of the added security for the event.
He took his time stretching his human limbs before making the long walk towards the main office near the entrance of the zoo. Mingling with the zoo staff was fun during their kick-off meeting, and he looked forward to chatting with them again. It would give him a chance to unwind and not think about Akutagawa.
As soon as he opened the doors, his eyes were immediately drawn to the large buffet table. His stomach rumbled, reminding him of how many hours it had been since he’d eaten. He didn’t particularly care if it was rude; he made a beeline for the buffet before seeking out Hirata.
He quickly filled a small plate with whatever food his hands landed on, not bothering to notice what he grabbed. Eating mattered more than choosing. With most of the seats already taken, he began picking at the food as he walked, eyes roaming the room for Hirata or the director.
“There you are,” Hirata appeared at his elbow just as he stuffed a pastry in his mouth. Next to her was the zoo director.
Atsushi waved sheepishly as he chewed. “Hello,” he said after swallowing. “Sorry, I was starving.”
“I’m sure!” The director clapped him on the back. “Good job, kid. I can’t begin to thank you enough for your help.”
Hirata beamed at him. “I wanted to ask about–”
Atsushi tensed, expecting her to ask about Akutagawa. Fortunately for him, one of the staff members hastily approached.
“My apologies for the interruption.” He bowed before continuing. “Someone said they saw someone breaking into the old tiger enclosure.”
The director nodded. “Send security, and I’ll notify the police if there is a trespasser.”
Atsushi held up his hand to interrupt. “I’ll take a look. It could just be someone lost.”
“But–”
“I don’t mind, really. This is your win to celebrate, let me help.”
It didn’t take much to convince them. He scarfed down some more food while he waited for them to return with a walkie-talkie. If his instincts were correct, this was a matter he should handle. The last thing he needed was someone from the zoo attempting to corner the intruder if it was Akutagawa.
Atsushi walked at a brisk pace to the back of the zoo, where the old tiger enclosure was. The zoo hadn’t had a tiger in several years, and thankfully, the enclosure was empty. If it wasn’t Akutagawa, he at least didn’t need to worry about the person being injured. Chances were just as high that the intruder was an overenthusiastic guest who wanted to see the tiger up close to post online.
But, he hoped it was Akutagawa. It would certainly save him a lot of time and frustration. More importantly, he just wanted to see him again.
The zoo’s lights were off, leaving the path illuminated only by the moon and dim solar puck lights on the path every few feet. With his ability, Atsushi had no issue finding his way, but the average person would need a flashlight if they were unfamiliar with the zoo.
After a few minutes, he reached the tiger enclosure. The zookeeper door was slightly ajar. Atsushi slowed his steps, pausing just outside to listen, every sense on alert.
Soft footsteps echoed from inside; they sounded like they were coming from the far end of the cement hallway that separated the staff from the tiger’s interior den.
The footsteps stopped, followed by a sharp scuff against the cement floor, as if someone had stomped their foot in irritation.
“Where are you?” The voice was clipped and irritated. There was no mistaking the voice for anyone except Akutagawa.
Atsushi’s pulse quickened. Slowly, he pushed the door open, letting the creak of the hinges announce his presence.
“Akutagawa, what are you doing?”