Chapter Text
It was 6:32 pm on a Wednesday night.
Atsushi Nakajima was tired.
Unfortunately for him, fellow agency member Osamu Dazai didn’t exactly care for that.
“Hurry up, Weretiger.”
Oh right, Akutagawa.
“Urgh… fine.”
Akutagawa turned around and scowled at the younger man, then walked faster.
“Stop being a useless brat, we’re here for a mission, if your own volition doesn’t motivate you then maybe being able to continue living under an actual roof will.”
Atsushi sighed and walked just a bit faster.
They were sent out to investigate the location of a smaller criminal group who specialized in massacres. To both of the young men’s surprise, they were sent out to a neighborhood on the left side of Suribachi City, the slums. Atsushi shuddered at the state of the streets and buildings, everything was coated in a layer of grime. He thought about his days at the orphanage and all the kids who had been taken in from places like these, and the stories they told the others. Specifically about the wild dogs. He wondered if the orphanage was better to grow up in or if here was.
Akutagawa wondered when he could go home.
They eventually reached a large run down warehouse that had clearly been abandoned for a long time.
“Weretiger. Go inside, now.”
“Waitwaitwait- shouldn’t we check if-“
“Are you deaf? I told you to go inside, or I’ll kill you myself.”
“Then why aren’t you going inside? How am I supposed to know you won’t just leave me in there?”
“Don’t be stupid, Weretiger.”
He stepped under the broken warehouse door, turned around and motioned for Atsushi to enter. Atsushi scoffed and entered the run-down building.
“Stop bitching and follow me, Weretiger.”
Atsushi did as he was told. Akutagawa’s even more pissed off than usual, he thought. I didn’t even know that was possible. Maybe he wants to go home too. Atsushi honestly, had never pictured the older man ever having a home, if he did, it would probably be all black and goth or something. Maybe a dartboard with his face on it, like in the cartoons Kyouka watches. He smiled, he was happy that the teenager was finally allowed to act like her age, and that he helped her reach that. He thought more about Akutagawa, and what he may live like. He pictured the mafioso lying on some fancy bed, sleeping with his eyes open or something, he seems like the type. He chuckled despite himself and Akutagawa swiftly turned around and scowled.
“What in god’s name is so funny, Weretiger?”
“Nothing, nothing.”
He remembered a video Kyouka showed him, of a black rabbit who began thumping the floor, apparently rabbits do that when they’re angry. The rabbit had reminded him of someone, but at the time he hadn’t been able to pinpoint who exactly it was, now, staring at a certain black haired mafioso, he figured it out pretty easily. He barely held back a laugh as they advanced into the building.
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6:45 pm
Something felt… off.
The walls felt like they were growing longer and longer and it certainly took a toll on the two young men making their way through the hallways. It had been tense between them, with neither man breaking the silence, until atsushi’s enhanced ears heard a thump.
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
“Hang on, give me a second.”
Atsushi transformed his nose, and both his ears. He focused in on the sound trying to pinpoint where the sound came from. He felt his hands shaking. He heard a small shuffling sound down the hall to the left. He sprinted that way.
“Follow me!”
Akutagawa nodded and dashed quickly behind him.
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Atsushi was still. He was staring straight ahead and he trembled violently, his hands clamped over his mouth and feet completely numb.
Akutagawa ran into the room, clutching his chest and breathing heavily.
“What-“
He looked down, where Atsushi was staring. He gasped, despite himself. Laying on the cold empty floor was a pile of dead people, aged about 8 to 13, all battered and limp. Most, if not all, had bullet wounds piercing their flesh and their blood staining their tattered clothes.
He took a similar position to Atsushi, staring at the bodies piled below him.
One of the oldest children, a girl with dark brown hair, coughed and trembled, a bullet wound in her torso. Atsushi ran up to her and flipped her onto her back. Blood and vomit was running down her chin and down her shirt.
“you… please help my brother… he didn’t get shot too badly…” The girl had a younger boy under her arm.
“Of course! Do you have a parent I can call?”
The girl smiled and closed her eyes.
“Hey! Can you hear me?”
Akutagawa kneeled down and put two fingers on her neck.
“…dead.”
Atsushi slapped a hand over his mouth once again, and felt his eyes sting. Akutagawa jumped up and grabbed the child, probably around 9 years old.
“Nakajima, quit sniveling! We have to see if there are more of them still alive.”
He sniffed and stood up.
“You’re right, I’ll go from the left, you go from the right.”
They searched for a pulse from every child until they came to one girl, who looked about 5. Atsushi picked her up and called Akutagawa to follow him back to the entrance of the city. He pulled out his phone while he ran and called Kunikida.
“Kunikida! There’s been an emergency! We found 2 kids in critical condition and we need you to pick us up!”
“I’ll be there soon.”
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They ran up to Kunikida’s car, both having a child in their arms.
“Atsushi, what happened here?”
He looked over to Akutagawa.
“Did you do this?”
Akutagawa looked like he had been slapped. He tried to speak to defend himself, but no sound came out. Atsushi covered for him.
“He didn’t, we found them like this, and we wanted to bring them back to the agency to get healed…”
“Alright then, get in. Atsushi, you sit with the children in the back, Akutagawa, you sit in the front.”
They both nodded and swiftly got in, placing both kids in the back seat, placing a towel behind them so no blood would get on the seats. Kunikida started the car, and began to drive. The atmosphere was tense and Kunikida took a glance at the two young men around him. Atsushi was, obviously, shaking violently. More surprisingly, the mafioso had bunched his hands together and was picking at the sides of his nails. He eventually scratched through the skin barrier and a sliver of red appeared next to his nail bed. He stared for a second and went to picking at a different fingernail.
“Stop doing that.”
He stared at Kunikida for a moment, then scowled and turned back to his hands, then, put them in his pockets. Kunikida looked back to his steering wheel.