Chapter Text
Akutagawa Ryuunosuke entered the confectionery shop with the singular purpose of procuring a gift for Gin. The shop was as busy as he’d expected, considering it was well-known for its handcrafted sweets. Thankfully, most patrons were engrossed in their own search and spoke to one another in soft, easily ignorable murmurs, the sounds blending into an almost pleasant susurration.
With the anonymity granted by his civilian attire and an occupied crowd, Akutagawa took his time browsing for items Gin might not have tried yet. Though they discovered Gin’s preferences long ago, he preferred to gift such predictable things for their recently observed birthday. Valentine’s and White Day may have specific expectations for the nearby women cooing over macarons and tiny heart-shaped chocolates, but for him, they were simply excuses to acknowledge the one person who stood by him through everything; every vicious failure and every triumph, no matter how trivial. Gin deserved as much as they would permit him to provide, and far more besides.
As it was, Gin would most likely glow with delight over their gift—two dozen unique candies, all with fruit elements to compliment the other gifts he had in mind, nestled within an artfully crafted keepsake of a box—but once that delight waned, they would look at him with the strange sadness he pretended not to notice and did not understand.
Even with the knowledge there were others now who would provide for Gin in more meaningful ways than his meager attempts, he could not bring himself to give up the small pleasure of doing so himself. He would continue until told she requested he stop.
Such thoughts served no purpose. Akutagawa pressed a finger to the bridge of his dark lenses and refocused on examining his selection. Once he was confident both box and contents were pristine, he moved aside. A pair of women stepped forward with unnecessary thanks. He merely nodded as he slipped around the corner.
A week remained until Valentine’s. The accompanying pastries were already on order from Gin’s preferred patisserie. He would retrieve them first thing that morning for breakfast. With that and the confectioneries out of the way, he was left with several days to decide on tea flavors, as well. There was a blueberry mixture they’d mentioned an interest in, and a Kenyan one the color of ripe plums, though he wasn’t sure what flavor it was intended to be. His sibling was far more adventurous when it came to taste: Akutagawa found what he liked and rarely bothered to look further.
Behind him came a rush of clicks and a harsh, fearful gasp. He tensed and spun, ability blurring the swirling hem of his knee-length coat.
A small gray creature darted between the two women. One of them smothered a shriek, bag upended at her feet. Her foolish companion dropped to her knees and lunged. The creature’s claws scrabbled over the polished floor, tail lashing. It evaded the woman with ease.
It, irritatingly, evaded Rashomon’s leash with equal swiftness, darting between Akutagawa’s boots to fling itself further into the shop.
“Come on,” one woman cried as Akutagawa turned on his heel. “We have to catch it before it bites someone!”
“No. Remain here,” he ordered over his shoulder.
As though the little beast knew his intent, it waited for Akutagawa to close the gap. Then it shot forward and tangled around his ankles a second time. Akutagawa growled, thin threads surging forward. The creature gave a playful bark, tiny teeth snapping at the threads attempting to cage the silly thing in. Rather than flee again, the animal began making noises akin to speech. It ducked Rashomon’s grasp once more and dug annoyingly sharp claws into the wool of Akutagawa’s coat. In a move only the weretiger would consider appropriate, it skittered up Akutagawa’s side and flung itself from his shoulder onto a shelf. Miraculously, nothing fell, though the display collapsed on itself. Tiny hands grabbed a small box and held it up triumphantly.
“Not as clever as you think, are you,” Akutagawa grit. “That is poisonous to you, you miserable rodent.”
He was not in the habit of keeping food on his person. Gin would no doubt have a jelly pouch stashed somewhere, and if the damned weretiger were with him, then the raccoon would have been tempted to drop its unsuitable prize for an onigiri or a flattened sandwich. Without proper food to keep its attention, Akutagawa shook Gin’s box gently, much like he’d once shaken a bag of sweet potato chips to get the weretiger’s.
The raccoon tilted its head back and forth. Ultimately, curiosity won. It gave another incomprehensible noise and stretched out one tiny, disconcertingly human-shaped hand. Minuscule fingers flexed as though attempting to grab the box from afar.
Rashomon struck. Finger-width tendrils snatched the animal up, fitting a harness around its torso in a blink. Other ribbons tidied up the mess it made.
“Ha,” Akutagawa crowed as the raccoon began to scold him furiously from midair. “Behave. You do not possess the claws needed to sever my Rashomon’s bindings. Once I complete my business…”
The ringed tail whipped through the air much like a longer, white and black striped tail tended to. Behind the fluffy animal’s determined attempts to bite through its leash, a cheerful banner proclaimed “Special Treats for that Special Someone!”
Akutagawa’s jaw flexed. The box of chocolates felt strange in his hands. It was ludicrous, preposterous, but his heart sped up and the weretiger’s rare snaggletoothed grin flashed through his mind. Pins prickled along his arms.
The weretiger would not welcome anything from him on any day, of that Akutagawa was certain.
He pulled the creature closer. It sulked and grumbled in Rashomon’s secure grip, ungrateful for how Akutagawa ensured none of its limbs were askew.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
Weeks of meticulously keeping the weretiger’s visage from his mind undone in a span of five minutes by a raccoon. Ridiculous.
A breathless voice cried out, “Karl!” The raccoon perked up in obvious recognition, whinging and mewling like a spoiled child. Tiny hands grabbed fruitlessly in the air over Akutagawa’s shoulder.
The voice belonged to a disheveled foreign man. He was tall, taller even than Dazai-san, a mop of dark brown hair hiding his eyes. “Sorry, excuse me, sorry,” he said with nearly every step, pushing his way through the knot of watching patrons. His heeled boots clicked over the floor much like the raccoon’s claws. The man was clearly well off but unconcerned with his appearance: the make of his boots and cloak were fine indeed and heavy rings glittered from his hands, but the hem of his vest was frayed and ragged.
Rashomon pulsed with recognition along Akutagawa’s spine. The former Guild member paid him no attention at all, nearly tripping in his haste to gather the captured beast to his chest.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re alright. You gave me a terrible fright, running off like that!”
The raccoon burrowed into the man’s arms, shamelessly rolling to present its belly. It began to make a sound which reminded Akutagawa of the weretiger; not quite a house cat's purring, but close enough. And there, again, was another thought which ought not to have happened. Akutagawa gave a low, irritated tch and Rashomon finally unwound from the no-longer-escaped pet.
The man jumped, hugging Karl to his chest. A faint “Ah,” escaped as he clearly recognized Akutagawa in turn.
Akutagawa felt his lip curl but the man glanced down at his animal and then bobbed his head in an approximation of a bow.
“Thank you,” he said in a barely audible whisper. “I do apologize for Karl’s behavior—“
“I have no use for either sentiment. Take better care of that creature before it succeeds in poisoning itself next time.”
“Poisoning?” The man’s head jerked up, mouth comically parted. He held the animal up between them. “Karl, what on earth did you do?”
The creature made more speech-like noises. Obviously, the man spoke to it often for such a habit to develop. For half a second Akutagawa entertained the thought that, again like the weretiger, the raccoon was in truth an ability user, and the once-terrorist its partner rather than minder.
With a twist of its spine, the animal managed to scamper along the man’s outstretched arm to his shoulder. It launched itself back onto the shelves, knocking the same stack of boxes over before once again proudly hefting a chocolate orange aloft.
“Oh, Karl,” the man sighed. “Were you trying to be helpful? I do appreciate that, but I don’t believe…” His melancholic voice faded to nothing. He dipped two fingers into the pocket of his vest and withdrew something that made the raccoon fling itself back into his arms. It—he?—draped himself along the man’s shoulders and promptly shoved the snack into his greedy maw.
“So you do feed it, then,” Akutagawa noted. His gaze flicked up to the sign one last time before he turned away. “Good.”
“Oh! Wait a moment, if you please?”
Against his better judgment, Akutagawa paused. The man took a great, trembling breath. “If you don’t mind, would you tell me who you’re purchasing that box for? You see, I noticed you when I was lingering at the window and I’ve heard—well—I have—I also—that is to say—“
“My sibling,” Akutagawa cut in, impatient.
“Oh.” Supporting the raccoon with one hand, the man looked behind him.
The motion dragged Akutagawa’s gaze back toward the horrible banner, branding that confounding word into his head again. Special.
“I understand the customs here are not quite what I’m used to at home,” the man began again, voice once again barely audible. “But do you think, perhaps, it might be permissible for me to gift something to a…friend?”
Flatly, Akutagawa echoed, “A friend.”
“Yes. Well. In a manner of speaking. He is…many things, you see. It’s hard to define. I believe you know what that’s like?”
Rashomon wicked restlessly along Akutagawa’s sleeves. “Explain yourself.”
“I realize I potentially have you at a disadvantage,” the other man rushed to add. “My apologies again, Akutagawa…san? I should have introduced myself before this. I am Edgar Allen Poe, former architect of the Guild,” he gave another not quite bow, the raccoon on his shoulders grumbling. “And current, um. Friend. To the detective agency’s Ranpo Edogawa. He’s mentioned your, ah. Partnership? I believe is the word he used? With Nakajima Atsushi?”
Poe’s tone wavered as Akutagawa stared. “I’ve been told traditionally the upcoming holiday is reserved for women to gift items to the men in their lives and while I am decidedly not a woman, I was hoping it might be considered acceptable, in some fashion, for me to give him something as a sign of my—my appreciation. He is, as I said, undefinable. And from what I have gathered listening to his stories, your partnership is similarly…”
“Special,” Akutagawa filled in quietly when Poe hesitated. “Yes,” his gaze drifted back to the damned sign behind Poe’s head. “If the weretiger is anything, it’s certainly that.”
“Oh my gosh, that’s so sweet!”
The gushing squeal made Akutagawa whirl around, Rashomon spiking along his hem instinctively. Rather than an assailant or yet another baffling former enemy, he came face to face with an employee.
“I’m so sorry,” the girl continued, hands pressed to her pink cheeks. She was practically bouncing on her toes. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation just now, and I think I can help, if that’s alright?”
Entirely bewildered, Akutagawa slid a look toward Poe, whose skin was turning a blotchy red. “I—I would appreciate that, yes,” Poe replied.
“Okay, great! So, first off, there’s different kinds of gifts you can give on Valentine’s Day. There’s family chocolates, like he said,” the girl gestured toward Akutagawa’s half-forgotten box. He held it closer to his chest. “But giri-choco’s pretty standard too, y’know, stuff for your coworkers or tomo chocolates, for your friends. That stuff’s usually store bought. However!”
Poe startled as the girl enthusiastically sang the last word at them. The rest of the shop seemingly emptied when Akutagawa wasn’t looking, which might be why the girl was so obnoxiously excited.
“I think maybe that’s not quite right for you two. These boys you’re talking about. Just how special are they? Not like, in general. To you, specifically.”
Akutagawa allowed his eyes to drop to Gin’s box, the skin between his brows pulling tight. “There is no one like him,” he said slowly. “Perhaps that’s just as well. I doubt I could survive two of him.”
A beat of silence wherein all Akutagawa could hear was the pounding on his heart, and then Poe gave a soft laugh. “That is true for mine, as well. There truly is no one who could hope to match him. I’ve certainly tried; he’s bested me at every turn.”
“Yes,” Akutagawa agreed lowly. “He forces me to improve simply by existing. It is infuriating.”
“It was, at first. Now… well, it’s exhilarating, I’d say.”
Akutagawa shrugged and looked up. “With him, those are essentially the same thing.”
“Oh my gosh,” the girl said into her hands. “This is the single best day of my life, I think. Okay!” Her hands dropped and she practically danced around them toward that stupid sign. “I know you’re worried about traditions, Poe-san, but I think you should try to give your special person honmei-choco. If you’re worried about how he might react to a gift with romantic intentions, then he doesn’t have to know you think of him as more than friends yet! But you will, and sometimes that’s the most important step, right?”
“Romantic? Oh, no, I could never presume—“
“And as for Akutagawa-san; handmade gifts just hit different, you know? He’s one of a kind, so maybe you could give him something that’s also one of a kind. We’ve got all sorts of stuff here to try making your own candies, and I promise, it’s so much easier than it sounds. We’ve even got some booklets to help first timers like you two!”
Again Akutagawa found himself staring at the sign. Special someone. His tongue felt tied behind his teeth. Poe looked no better, the red having spread down his throat. The raccoon shoved his nose into Poe’s ear, and the man patted him absently.
The girl raised a decent point. One Akutagawa couldn’t quite believe he was considering, even while unable to shove it out of his head. The weretiger deserved so much. Akutagawa wanted to provide what little he could. And the weretiger didn’t have to know it was from him, after all.
A hand landed lightly on his shoulder, disappearing before Rashomon could think to form teeth. “Akutagawa-san? Or, um, Akutagawa-kun? Do you think…?”
Akutagawa stepped forward, joining the nearly vibrating girl under the cheerful sign. “I think it doesn’t matter that it comes from me so long as he gets something, as he ought.”
“Oh. Well.” Heels tapped softly over the floor as Poe stepped up beside him. “When you word it like that, I find I have to agree. Miss, can you tell us where to start?”