Chapter Text
Akutagawa hated bustling, packed crowds. He found them claustrophobic, suffocating. Weaving through clusters of people – where’s the appeal in that? Suppose it was just his luck that he got sent on such a trivial errand for the Port Mafia.
The sky was dark, littered with stars, and there were far too many people around for the time of night. It was an extremely simple task, in fact, it almost felt like an insult to his strength for him to be sent on a mission this simple. This was a task for a low-level grunt, not for the Rabid Dog of the Port Mafia. He just had to observe a location and report any movement/deals going on to the Mafia for further notice. Apparently it was ‘important.’
Akutagawa felt the taste of iron burn the back of his throat as he hoarsely coughed into his hand, it was a taste he was well accustomed to. In his peripheral, he caught his reflection illuminated by the night time streetlights in one of the store’s dark windows – sharp jaw, unsettling dark eyes, mouth permanently set in a scowl. All harsh lines and intimidating shadows. Fitting. At least the familiarity was pleasant.
A stranger’s shoulder brushed harshly against his own. Subconsciously, his fingers curled into fists, eyes narrowed, biting the inside of his cheek. Even with the limited space, how hard is it to just step aside? Pathetic. All of them. He still had quite a long journey until he arrived at the destination he was supposed to be observing and his patience was already running thin.
He watched the people around him as he passed, inspecting each unfamiliar face. He’d learned through years in the mafia that it’s always handy to have an eye on the people around you, even the ones you deem unthreatening. After all, underestimation can be lethal. Instinctively, his arms crossed over his chest in a protective barrier against the strangers as he weaved through the tight crowd.
Neon lights from nearby clubs and bars beat down, practically headache-inducing. Most of the commotion came from there, he supposed. It wasn’t Akutagawa’s scene–being in public–along with the fact that the cold seeped straight into his bones and clung like a leech.
It took around 10 minutes of wandering before the warehouse he was meant to be watching came into his view, looming in the distance. The heavy, fall wind bit at his cheeks and made the default burn in his throat intensify, making every breath feel like labour.
Akutagawa dipped into an alleyway where he had a clear view of the warehouse, yet could still be concealed by the shadows, and slumped against the wall. White ghosts of breath escaped his mouth and curled in the cold air. His coat was keeping him warm enough but the breeze still nipped at his knuckles, making him tug his sleeves over his hands to preserve heat.
His sharp eyes remained fixed on the warehouse–well they did. Rocks shuffling and light taps on the pavement pulled his attention away from his job and to the dumpster that stood proudly just a few steps next to him. A few more scurries and out came… a cat? It was clearly a stray: underweight, no collar, dust collecting on its black fur.
Akutagawa felt the simmering itch to attack dissipate, unclenching his tight fists. Cautiously, his eyes followed the small creature as it padded towards him. He fought back the fleeting, ridiculous urge to reach down and pet it; he couldn’t get distracted, couldn’t afford sentimentality. Nevertheless, his mouth softened around the edges.
Incessant, his lungs ached as he cleared his throat. Perhaps this was a form of punishment for causing too much mayhem and bloodshed on the last mission Mori had sent him on. Even he can admit, he had gone a bit overboard. However, in his defence, the crew he had been tasked with controlling had been painfully incompetent and the simmering irritation from the gruelling day had fuelled his unnecessary bloodlust.
As per usual, his dull eyes were calculating even with his head pounding against his skull, keeping his eyes peeled. Every throb of pain was a reminder of his weakness–he could handle fatigue and the cold. He had to. Exhausted, Akutagawa sighed and tipped his head back, kicking his foot on the pebbled ground.
The night slowly settled into the sky, moonlight peeking through the dirty, graffitied alleyway walls. The putrid stench of the nearby dumpster filled the area and made Akutagawa scrunch his nose in distaste. The atmosphere would make any normal person shake where they stood, however, Akutagawa had endured worse conditions. It was sort of peaceful–not having to do anything for once, even if it did make him slightly restless and on edge.
He wasn’t quite certain just how long he had been standing in the same position, all he knew was that his legs ached and he was getting tired of doing nothing. His phone had lost battery upon setting off for the mission, so he had no way of knowing the time and no way of contacting anyone. Surely nothing would happen this late at night though, right? Might as well just make his way back, it was getting painfully uneventful.
Casting a glance down the dark alley, he pushed his back off of the dirty brick wall and brushed his coat down with his hands out of habit. Slowly, he began to stroll back the way he had come, planning to report back to Mori in the morning and say that nothing had occurred for hours, so he eventually left.
His plans were soon interrupted by the sound of something (someone?) slurring, and the sound of shuffling, heavy boots against the ground. Okay, definitely someone. Not a cat. Curiosity got the better of him and he made a slight detour down the alleyway to see what the commotion was about. Perhaps someone was watching him.
A man, maybe in his twenties, stumbled past Akutagawa and bumped his shoulder, which only worsened his dizziness and irritation. The mysterious, probably drunken man laid a heavy hand on Akutagawa’s arm that was crossed over his chest and grinned toothily up at him. An odd warmth spread where his hand was, burrowing deep in his bones, sinking past just skin level; it felt like his very structure was being altered.
“Do not lay your hands on me.” Akutagawa snapped lowly, after a long moment of gathering his thoughts. He bit the inside of his cheek until it was rough beneath his teeth. He didn’t usually react that slow. What was up with him? And did the man just mumble something? Akutagawa couldn’t tell if he’d imagined it because the unsettling grin was still plastered on his face, unmoving.
“Did you say something?” The man shook his head and hunched over, continuing his slumped sauntering. Maybe Akutagawa had imagined it then.
He pressed a shaky hand to his forehead; every bone in his body felt like it was being re-forged, his heart crushed tight against his ribs as though his very frame was rejecting him from the inside out. God, had that man somehow drugged him with his mere presence? Who was that idiot anyway? Getting in his way like that.
Gathering his thoughts, Akutagawa swayed lightly. Man. Bump. Ache. Dizzy. He tried to follow that train of thought but his eyes kept dropping and his body was fluctuating between feverishly hot and shiveringly cold. Shit. He was going to pass out. No, he just needed to get to a bench, or somewhere he could sit, the ground could suffice. He wasn’t that weak.
He took a few steps forward, the world bending and warping around him, he’d never felt anything like it. “Dammit, no.” He murmured under his breath, wobbling and stumbling. Stubbornly, Akutagawa planted his feet, realising he wasn’t going to be able to take more than three steps without hitting the floor. His bony hand pressed against his head as if that would numb the pounding in his skull.
His brain felt fuzzy, full of white noise. Futilely, he tried to slow his shallow breaths but that only intensified his nausea. And then everything was still again. No it wasn’t. Ache. Fall. Shit he was falling.
Akutagawa groaned in pain as his eyes slowly fluttered open again. All he could see was the rough concrete. Had he fell face first? Rolling over, he sighed at the ache in his nose and forehead; he must’ve taken quite the fall when he was passing out. Shakily, he brought his palm up to wipe at his bleeding nose.
When he glanced up at the vast sky, it dawned on him that it was still nighttime, but the sky had taken on a navy blue instead of midnight black. It was almost peaceful if he ignored the throbbing pain that was coursing throughout his body. And the fact that he couldn’t open his right eye properly. Honestly, he was content to just lay there for a few more moments if it weren’t for the memories rushing in his head. Guess something could happen that late at night.
There was a man… He had certainly bumped into Akutagawa, and that was when these weird sensations started. Possibly an ability? He’d have to get back home to tell Gin about it and then his boss, maybe they’d be able to help him figure it out. Propping himself up with his hands behind him, he realized his coat hung looser on his frame, much baggier than usual. Odd.
He used the leverage to push himself off of the ground and brush his coat off without much thought. Taking a moment, the mafioso attempted to breathe through the ache that was persistently throbbing in his muscles and nerves. He felt… smaller. Like he was in a body that wasn’t his. That was certainly weird.
Akutagawa began to walk out of the alleyway, noticing the distinct lack of the crowd that was occupying the streets before. It must’ve been early in the morning if everyone had left. Wandering back the way he came, he briefly glanced at the store window he’d passed earlier. He stopped dead in his tracks, looking into the eyes of his reflection with pure mortification.
What was staring back at him certainly was not what had been there before. His hair had grown, falling to brush just past his shoulders; the frizzy curls that he possessed as a kid making themselves prominent despite all the straightening he’d put his hair through. His eyes were sharp but the frames around them had softened, as had the line of his jaw, and his sharp cheekbones had rounded out. That reflection wasn’t his. Couldn’t be his. Some fragile stranger was staring back, hollow-eyed, mockery written across her features in every soft curve. This wasn’t real. Another ability? A hallucinogenic?
The deep red blood flowing over his right eye barely registered to Akutagawa, instead focusing on the fact that his entire gender had changed. His frame felt smaller, more petite. He loathed it. How could he possibly appease Dazai-san in this state? Weak. He must’ve been weak. His designer clothes he wore beneath his coat were too large, like some rags that didn’t belong to him. He was well aware that before this he had an underweight, slim frame. Now it just felt like a sick joke, the small frame, reduction in height and slightly enlarged chest. A hand came up and he pinched himself.
Was all of this due to the scum that he had bumped into? What a ridiculous ability! If Akutagawa ever saw that man again he would be dead before he could even regain that stupid grin on his face. A groan escaped him and he realized that even his voice sounded higher. Sharp still, yes. But higher in pitch.
He sighed, “what the hell is this?” Cringing at his own voice, Akutagawa swore to him(her?)self to never open his mouth again until this whole thing was over and he was normal.
He wanted to scratch his skin off, claw off the femininity that clung to him like a new second skin. In the back of his mind, he knew that Dazai’s nullification ability could reverse this whole situation. However, Akutagawa was too nervous to face Dazai regularly, let alone in this state. Either way, he probably wouldn’t even take Akutagawa seriously. There was nothing he could do, he was stuck as a woman.
He pushed his, now longer, black hair out of his face, noticing a few of the strands matted with blood that would be a nightmare to remove. This day actually couldn’t get any worse.
“Miss! Are you alright?” A familiar, worried voice yelped, Akutagawa whipped around and locked eyes with the boy he hated most. Jinko.
Yeah. This day absolutely could get worse.