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The Jinko is surprisingly bold.
Any respect that Akutagawa Ryunosuke has for Nakajima Atsushi is hesitant and vague, but he’s reached a point in recognizing his enemy as having grown far more formidable these days than he had been when they had started going at it with one another. He’s not so foolish as to deny when his opponents can hold their own and, in any more significant capacity, he holds the balance between life and death with enough reverence that he isn’t so stupid as to pretend that the Jinko hasn’t come close to killing him once or twice over the last few years. It isn’t that he likes Nakajima, because he absolutely doesn’t, it’s simply that the Port Mafia taught him better than to ignore strength when it’s staring him in the face.
He is stronger than Atsushi, but Akutagawa is stronger than most people, even in the realm of special abilities. Dazai-san may not have valued Rashomon much, but Akutagawa cares that his gift is capable of keeping him alive, and he has worked to hone it accordingly. Of course, he was at a point too young and naive to admit that defense had its merit, too, but he’s taken enough of Dazai’s harsh words to heart in order to adjust since the time they used to train together. It’s fair to say that while Nakajima is spoiled under Dazai’s leadership in a way that Akutagawa never will be, he is certainly not better than him for it. If anything, it must make him weaker, because the Jinko still hesitates to take a life where Akutagawa never would.
All of that being said and - appropriately - considered, Akutagawa has decided that today is the day that he is going to finally kill Nakajima.
When Dazai left the Mafia, everyone assumed that he had finally managed to kill himself, which was oddly more comforting than the thought of betrayal or defection. What Akutagawa had never expected was for his former boss to resurface with a brand new light in his eyes that was almost disgusting, and a sorry excuse for a replacement apprentice in tow. It was infuriating, and Akutagawa had hated Nakajima for being allowed to have the praise and the attentiveness from Dazai-san that Akutagawa could only dream of; obviously, the Jinko had deserved to lose his head for it. And while he had long intended to make good on that promise, Dazai-san had asked them to cooperate once, then twice, then a third time and well…
Akutagawa had a tough time saying no. To the point that, ironically, killing him at the cornerstone of half-a-year apart lost a lot of its appeal.
Nakajima wants to steal Dazai from him? Fine. Akutagawa doesn’t need them, either. He’s a grown man with a career and a trust fund, no longer able to smell the ash and grime of the slums that once imprisoned him, and Nakajima is pathetic and sad and emotional, so Akutagawa wins by default. Let him have his sap if it’s that important; Akutagawa doesn’t have the time to waste on such trivial feelings.
Except, apparently, none of that had been enough to satiate the Jinko’s thirst for everything that Akutagawa is meant to have.
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow Kyouka!” Nakajima calls from the doorway of the dinky café positioned beneath the Detective Agency’s offices. He has one foot on the sidewalk and half of his body still inside while he pulls the door shut behind him, looking all-too polite. “Remember to have Yosano-sensei call me if anything changes!”
Akutagawa watches him from the deserted, concrete-laden rooftop across the way with a face twisted in disinterest. His obliviousness to his stalker is almost arrogant, and if he weren’t so annoyed, Akutagawa would laugh at him for it.
But Nakajima leaves behind the brick building, alone, bathed in the waning oranges of the sun setting over the city skyline, none the wiser as to what he’s done. There’s a skip in his step as he adjusted his shoulder bag that Akutagawa loathes. He’s smiling to himself, and it’s gross. The balls on the Jinko, to act as though he hasn’t gone and wronged Akutagawa for the umpteenth time, as if he’s as innocent and unassuming as the day he was born. If this is what happens to people who have the luxury of being in love, then Akutagawa wants no part of it.
Rashomon writhes for blood underneath the cloth of his tattered overcoat. He wants to tear the tiger’s throat out.
It started a week earlier.
First it was only little remarks here and there. Akutagawa hadn’t known that THEY had been acquainted with one another in that way, but he had supposed it was only a string of coincidences during peacetime that had allowed for the amicability. He had only started to think about it more when it had evolved into daydreaming, which was something he had never seen from ANY of his superiors before, let alone in the middle of a meeting; it was subtle, unnoticeable to the untrained eye, but Akutagawa was familiar enough with all of the executive’s behavior to recognize that SOMEBODY was distracted who had never been quite so in the past. When the unmistakably fond mentions of the accursed Jinko became somehow more frequent, Akutagawa dared to wonder if THEY had somehow become friends. It was a horrible thought; he could never imagine willingly spending his time with Nakajima, but he’s self-aware enough to know that he’s considered less friendly, especially in comparison to the Jinko’s newfound ADMIRER.
Akutagawa let it be as it was. It wasn’t his place to lecture HIM on who he could and could not hang around with. As volatile as they both may be, HE was never one to pick a fight that was unnecessary, nor is Nakajima, so it made… sense, at least enough for an explanation, that the two of THEM might collide by chance and keep things civil.
But then Gin had mentioned, much more attuned to these sorts of things that she is, that it sounds more like SOMEONE has developed feelings - ROMANTIC feelings - for the Jinko, and that is where Akutagawa had to firmly draw the line in the metaphorical sand. It made far too much sense to ignore her input, and by the time he had gotten over the very shock of the idea to ask HIM outright what HE thought of the Jinko, HE had been too wine-drunk to preserve himself with a lie.
‘Atsoo-shi? Heh, yea’, he’s fuckin’ gorgeous, ain’t he? Nev’r thought I’d get so lucky to-‘ he was interrupted by a hiccup that felt like it was mocking Akutagawa. ‘-uck, to know some’on so sweet and pretty ‘ike tha’.’
He had never been quite so inclined to suicide until he heard such revolting affections from someone he had long since respected so ardently.
Because while Akutagawa is no expert of intimacy, he knows what happens when people ‘develop feelings’ for each other, and HE had only gone on and confirmed what Akutagawa attempted at first to deny.
Confessions. Dating. Kissing. Touching. Sex. Eventually, marriage.
He doesn’t dare to think about it in any more detail. It makes him nauseous.
How DARE Nakajima seduce a Port Mafia executive, let alone Akutagawa’s most trusted confidant, his successoral mentor, and - even though he would be hard pressed to say it aloud - one of his few… friends.
Nakajima hops down the sidewalk as though he were energized. It must be the lovesickness that drives him to act so embarrassing. Either that, or he’s aware of the weight of his schemes; he may be an idiot, but he’s never kept his disdain for Akutagawa a secret anymore than Akutagawa has in return. He must be proud of himself, encroaching on Akutagawa’s territory, and walking away with such insurmountable triumph to boot. Corrupting Dazai just wasn’t enough, so he had to come along and rob the Mafia of Twin Dark’s other half, too.
How utterly greedy.
Akutagawa watches him - the nerve of his carelessness - for a whole sixty-seconds, the amount of time it takes for the Jinko to turn off the main road into the first residential street for the neighborhood closest to the Agency. The city is quiet, supper time has passed, commuters have gone home, and Nakajima is alone. If his heap of recent transgressions wasn’t enticing enough already, his vulnerability would be. He’s alone, on the side of the road, closed in by a row of apartments in a part of town that’s too far into the middle class to have the means or the time to worry about what happens during the twilight. Nobody will come to his aid, and Akutagawa will teach him a lesson in overstepping.
Rashomon gets her wish; Akutagawa flings a pair of sharp, airy tendrils across the street to find purchase in an apartment roof not a block away, and in one quick motion, closes the distance between himself and his prey. The building shakes with the impact of his landing, and Akutagawa takes full advantage of the momentum to send a bright red set of angry, cloth jaws careening towards the surface. They intercept the Jinko’s roadway and he yelps, much to Akutagawa’s amusement, leaping backward just in time to narrowly avoid the attack.
That’s fine, because Akutagawa wasn’t yet going in for the kill, anyway. While Nakajima regains his balance, Akutagawa jumps over the railing of the roof, calling Rashomon back to his waist, and lands precisely where the jaws had carved out a place for him. A minute crater of cracked concrete outlines his impact like a sort of threshold. There’s a foot of space in between Akutagawa and Nakajima, and it’s just close enough that Nakajima’s wide, startled eyes are clear to him. They sparkle with an alarm that only serves to feed into Akutagawa’s hunger for his demise. How remarkable.
“Akutagawa?!” Nakajima squeaks, lacking in all composure. “Where did you-“
Akutagawa hates the sound of his voice. To rectify the intrusion, Rashomon is allowed to surge forward yet again, eight thin sheets like arms wiggling around until the Jinko is encased in a makeshift straitjacket, and gagged by her theoretical palms. He tries to move and free himself as he is, but they both know by now that, without his tiger’s strength to aid him, Nakajima is no match for Rashomon’s vehemence.
“Listen to me, and listen well, Jinko,” Akutagawa hisses. His teeth are clenched so hard that it hurts his jaw, but he’s too offended to care. “I am only going to say this once, so it would be smart of you to take it to heart.”
Nakajima’s brows draw together in a manner of confusion and frustration, but he neglects to call the tiger out, so Akutagawa assumes he’s willing to heed the warning. Whether or not he’s angered by the fact that Nakajima is choosing not to fight back, and therefore counting on Akutagawa’s mercy to keep him alive, he’ll decide at a later time; that isn’t what he came here for.
Instead, the Jinko squirms as though he has something to say. Figuring it’s either a plea for his life, - ideal - or an insult, - a provocative excuse to get it over with and take his head off, at best - Akutagawa frees his head from the grip of his ability while reinforcing the confines of his torso.
The Jinko gasps for his breath. “What are you doing?! The Agency and the Port Mafia have a truce!” he cries as though Akutagawa’s displeasure is somehow unprecedented. “If we start fighting here and now, it could cause a lot of problems for us both! The President gave us strict orders not to engage with you on the field-!”
“This isn’t about work, Jinko!” Akutagawa shakes his head, squeezing Rashomon until he feels Nakajima’s knees buckle beneath her. “This is personal! Is there no end to your conquest?! Must you take everything away from me?!” he barks louder than he means to. It doesn’t matter so long as Nakajima flinches under the attention, and he does just that, so it must be worth it. “Will you not be satisfied until I have nothing left?!”
Nakajima’s confusion is practically tangible, now; it echoes in the silence of the neighborhood, and the Jinko’s hands flex nervously against Rashomon’s hold on his wrists. “What- what are you TALKING about?” Nakajima coughs. It’s desperate and sad and Akutagawa doesn’t have the patience for a ‘dumb’ routine. “I haven’t seen you in weeks! How could I have done anything to you!”
In another life, the Jinko would have been well-suited for the Mafia, if only for his readiness to deceive. Maybe Akutagawa didn’t give his cunning enough credit, before. He must know, if not from Dazai-san, than how often Akutagawa’s been made to cooperate with him, how earnestly he looks up to Chuuya. When Dazai had been harsh, Chuuya had trained Akutagawa without the added punishment. When Dazai had run away, Chuuya had taken over his teachings. When Dazai became soft, Chuuya held his own to obliterate his opponents without such weakened reservations. Chuuya is strong, and serious, and he has always been friendly and open with Akutagawa while Dazai-san’s praise would be barred behind lock and key. He was never a replacement for Dazai-san, but he is an entity of intrepid POWER, everything that Akutagawa aspires to be, and everything that he believes the Mafia is MEANT to embody.
To think, then, that the lowly Jinko could harbor such affections towards him, to the point of winning Chuuya over? It was hardly possible, yet Chuuya’s new habit for drivel could only be defined as ‘smitten’. Little comments and anecdotes featuring Nakajima when he was otherwise irrelevant, lost in thoughts that seemed to coincide with operations in which the Agency was involved, mentions of this and that and the other thing that ‘just so happened’ to cross their paths. Then he goes and calls him ‘gorgeous’ - what a revolting word that is - and Akutagawa tries so hard to chalk it up to drunken delirium that not even he is able to pretend that Chuuya’s inhibitions are unintelligible. The Jinko is so sweet, the Jinko is so pretty. Frankly, Akutagawa doesn’t see it, let alone how someone so secretly EVIL and dishonest could earn Chuuya’s hard-won loyalty.
Nakajima poaches Akutagawa’s mentor, only to allow him the time to get over it before he swoops in to steal Akutagawa’s best friend away, too.
“You vile beast,” Akutagawa hisses. “You dare to act ignorant, as if you haven’t dedicated your life to ruining what little I have in mine?!”
“I haven’t!” Nakajima’s voice cracks.
“You have!” Rashomon doubles down without him ever needing to give the order, until there is no more room to apply pressure without popping the Jinko like a balloon. “You never would have seduced him if you hadn’t!”
To his - marginal, and covert - surprise, Nakajima’s otherwise pale features flush a bright, sickening pink.
“S-Seduced?” he stutters, much more subdued this time.
Akutagawa blinks for the first time in what feels like a millennia, and the genuine bewilderment sewn into the Jinko’s features causes him to falter for the first time. He looks… flustered. Like he’s been caught in the middle of something nobody was ever meant to find out about.
Which hardly adds up, because if he’s been trying to rob Akutagawa of his happiness, then surely Akutagawa was meant to recognize such miseries for what they were.
“Don’t play coy,” he growls, although he finds it difficult to bite back his own growing uncertainty without some amount of conscious effort. “He never stops talking about you. If you have the impudence to involve yourself, undeserving as you are, in a relationship with a Port Mafia executive, then you had best be prepared to own up to it, Jinko.”
The pink dusted across the tips of his ears becomes a deep crimson the closer that Akutagawa scrutinizes him. He can practically feel the heat radiating off of Rashomon’s tendrils.
Nakajima swallows. “H-He- I- I’m not-“ he clears his throat, averting his gaze to the much-more-interesting sidewalk. “I’m not dating anyone, Akutagawa. This is just a big misunderstanding. He- whoever you’re talking about-“ Nakajima shifts uncomfortably. Rashomon sags ever so slightly. “You’ve got it all wrong. They must be talking about someone else.”
‘No, he isn’t,’ Akutagawa wants to say. ‘He’s spoken of you for days now, not only by face, but by name.’ And so it’s only logical that the Jinko is lying to him, trying to save his own skin by denying any involvement with Chuuya that he must be realizing got him into trouble in the first place. Otherwise, he wouldn’t seem so nervous. Fighting back would only exacerbate his guilt and effectively destroy their truce,
Except, if that were the case, then why does he seem so… embarrassed, by it? Shouldn’t he be afraid? Doesn’t he know that Akutagawa could end his life at any moment, if only the Jinko’s denial demands such expeditionary punishment? Yet it’s that same stupid look on his face - that contemptible swooning and sickness - that Chuuya seems unable to steep beneath something more presentable whenever the Jinko comes up in conversation. Chuuya isn’t an actor, a LIAR. He wouldn’t waste his time on something so utterly trivial unless… unless it was real. And while Chuuya DOESN’T lie as a matter of principle, Nakajima CAN’T lie; Akutagawa has seen him try, and it’s something in between atrocious and unbelievable. As much as he hates to second guess himself, especially when it comes to the Jinko’s long-overdue demise, surprise is not so easily fabricated, and Akutagawa wonders if Nakajima isn’t playing coy at all; if he really isn’t going out with Chuuya. As if he really doesn’t know that-
That Chuuya-san…
has developed…
romantic feelings…
for Nakajima…
and…
“Jinko,” Akutagawa’s voice goes hoarse, and he can feel his grip on Rashomon slipping. “Tell me. What do you know of Nakahara Chuuya?”
Nakajima blinks rapidly, daring to look back up at Akutagawa. “Nakahara-san? He- we’ve run into each other every now and then, during peace time. That’s- that’s all.”
“That’s all?” Akutagawa parrots lamely.
“Yes, that’s it. He’s been nice to me but I- ah- that’s all,” he insists. Akutagawa doesn’t miss all it is that the Jinko seems to stop himself from saying. “But I really don’t know what’s going on!” His confusion bleeds him dry all over again. “Akutagawa,” he sounds oddly serious. “If Nakahara-san is with someone who’s wronged you, it isn’t me.”
It’s Akutagawa’s turn to swallow, hard as he tries to hide it.
“You’re sure?” he asks. Rashomon writhes in the disappointment of a meal she realizes she’s about to be denied.
“I’m sure,” Nakajima’s own disappointment, so poorly masked that not even Akutagawa could miss it bathed in lingering ferocity, is not so dissimilar to hers.
Because while Akutagawa is no expert of intimacy, he knows what happens when people ‘develop feelings’ for each other.
Or, at least, what’s SUPPOSED to happen.
Confessions. Dating. Kissing. Touching. Sex. Eventually, marriage.
IF, they make it past the first step.
And it’s dawning on him, only after processing the whirlwind of unpleasantries in which the Jinko is clearly drowning, that Chuuya-san has, in fact, developed feelings for him as Gin suggested. But he does not talk about Nakajima as such because he is blissed out in the company of his boyfriend.
It’s because he’s hopelessly in love with Nakajima, yet he hasn’t said a word about it to the object of his affections, opting instead to yearn after someone that he is apparently too cowardly to pursue, and torture Akutagawa with his untenable romanticisms.
Chuuya, cowardly?
What a disgusting thought.
And over the Jinko, no less.
“Akutagawa?” He must have been quiet too long for the Jinko’s pathetic impatience. Akutagawa glares at him with a renewed anger that somehow rivals what he came here carrying. “I promise, I’m not er- dating anyone, and I don’t really want to fight you, so-“
Akutagawa calls Rashomon back to himself and with it, all of Nakajima’s bearings. The Jinko is wholly unprepared, yelping when his knees hit the concrete beneath them. He catches himself on the balls of his hands, his shoulder bag scraping the ground with a resounding ‘thunk’. Akutagawa doesn’t care to watch him dust himself off and regain his bearings like a groveling beggar. Releasing him is hardly satisfying, not when he had expected a feast of blood and entrails, but he will not hunger much longer; the Jinko will live, for now, and in exchange, the life of his besotted.
“Akutaga-“
“Shut up, Jinko,” Akutagawa snaps, bearing his own fangs. “You may not have a suitor now, but that will not last.”
Nakajima’s eyes blow wider still. His pathetic blush pours around his cheeks. “Is- is that a promise?”
Akutagawa scoffs.
He is going to wring Chuuya-san’s neck, respect be damned, and once he’s had his fill, he will force a love confession out of him with Nakajima as his audience.
“No. It’s a threat.”