Work Text:
As the afternoon turned to evening, the sun’s rays slipped through the curtains, lazily spilling across the room in streaks of pink, orange and blue. Despite this, the ceiling bulb was on, casting light on a wooden desk where a red-haired kitsune sat.
Oda squinted at the pages at his hands, willing them to write themselves. The entire desk’s surface was cluttered with similar sheets, all covered in the same looping font. Alas, he’d been sitting there for nearly an hour with no progress. Dammit. His tails were sore from being squished against the back of the seat for so long. Oda ran his hand through his hair in resignation, tugging at knots and massaging his temples. Maybe tomorrow he would have better luck.
He sighed through his nose as he twisted out of the chair and took a step, only to promptly trip over a fluffy white tail-
“Shit!” Oda cursed loudly, just narrowly grabbing the chair for balance. What the-? He looked down in confusion.
There, sitting cross-legged on the carpeted floor, was the said owner of the tail. Who was currently cowering from Oda like a kicked puppy-
Furry, red-tipped ears were flattened against soft brown curls. Their head hung low like they were scared of being punished and they attempted to tuck their tails closer to the rest of their body, loosely wrapping their bandaged arms around themselves guiltily. Crap.
“Ah, sorry I didn’t see you,” Oda patted the teen’s head, smiling apologetically. “How long have you been up here?” And how had he not noticed sooner?
The boy flinched but mumbled, “About three hours. I’m…” They paused, as if about to confess a horrible crime. “...hungry.”
Oh. He considered telling them that they should have asked directly, but decided against it. The kid was already anxious enough, and any criticism would most likely lead them to clam up. Instead he held out his hand, beckoning them closer, keeping his tone light, “Come on then, let's go eat.” The teen’s eyes flicked to his hand anxiously, but they took it and allowed Oda to lead them downstairs to the kitchen.
It had been a week since Oda had picked the boy off the road, but they were still terrified of him. The younger kitsune only did anything when given permission and avoided the other children like the plague. One time, he found them sleeping in a closet instead of their room because they “didn’t want to take up too much space.” A closet-
Oda knew he had to be patient with them, but god, it hurt to see the kid as a shell of what they could be. Every glint of excitement or calculation, all quickly tucked under a dull expression like they were afraid of being human.
He was rummaging through the fridge when sudden realization hit him. Holy shit. Oda didn’t even know the boy’s name.
He turned to look at the younger kitsune. They watched with void-like eyes, eerily still like a statue. Too still for someone their age.
“Hey kid, what’s your name?” He asked as he reached for and began peeling an orange for the teen.
The change was immediate. From the minute stiffening of their spine, to the way their eyes darted around looking for an escape. Oh, this must be a sensitive topic for them. Ignoring the way his heart was breaking, Oda added softly as he handed them the bowl of orange slices, “You don’t have to tell me.”
The silence that followed was deafening, only disturbed by the occasional chewing noises. Oda’s tails swayed behind him as he watched the kid pick at the fruit. He felt so powerless, unable to give the kid the love and support they were missing.
__
Dazai poked at the bowl of fruit in his hands. He didn’t want to be rude, so holding back the urge to scowl, he shoved a few pieces into his mouth, willing himself not to gag. Ew, ew, ew. The juice dripped on his fingers, making them unpleasantly sticky. He wiped them on his shirt.
Dazai fucking hated oranges. Stupid, good-for-nothing fruit. He despised it with all his being for a multitude of reasons; the way they popped when he bit into them, the white things that he had nearly choked on several times, the sourness. He chittered angrily.
Then he froze.
Fuck. Dazai slid an inconspicuous peek at the red-head man, no- Oda. Thankfully they hadn’t seemed to notice his slip up. Despite the fact that Oda was also a kitsune, Dazai was still cautious. He didn’t know the rules of this house yet. Mori had always been strict about not acting like a fox. No nesting, no noises, nothing. His tail had to remain glamored, as did his ears.
Dazai had grown lax here.
He had gotten too relaxed. Too trusting. What would Mori say? His ears went back and he clutched the bowl tighter, making his palms go white. Dazai knew the answer to that question.
But Oda was so… nice. And kind.
“Hey, it’s okay, see. I’m like you. A kitsune.”
“Shh. You’re safe. Go back to sleep-”
“Come on then, let's go eat.”
And he asked for Dazai’s name…
Mori said monsters like him didn’t deserve names, calling him a demon instead. But if he was a monster because he was a kitsune, that meant Oda was also a monster? Oda couldn’t be a monster. He was too… good. And if Oda wanted his name… did that mean Dazai wasn’t a monster? No! Dazai bit his tongue hard. What a foolish thought.
Still, Dazai didn’t know what would happen if he disobeyed. Oda hadn’t hit him yet, and Dazai wasn’t trying to give him reasons to. So he hesitantly opened his mouth and murmured, “Osamu Dazai.”
The man turned around with mild shock on his face that smoothened out to a careful smile. “Nice to meet you, Dazai.” That was it. No yelling, no pain. Dazai did good. The monster did good.
He smiled back.
Epilogue!! (Takes place a few months later)
A loud screech rudely interrupted his sleep, promptly followed by the sound of a lamp being turned on.
“Odasaku!” The brown-haired teen next to him wailed.
Oda blinked sluggishly as a phone was shoved into his face with no warning, the brightness turned up to display an exchange of messages filled with insults and jabs. Dazai flopped dramatically on the ground, holding his hand to his forehead like a Victorian-era lady. Their nine tails fanned out next to them, thrashing in mock outrage. “Can you believe it?” The kid howled as he rolled on the floor, “Chibi called me, me- a slimy fish-!”
The youth these days. Oda rolled his eyes in exasperation. “He also said yes to your date on Tuesday- which you would know- if you read the text fully.”
“Really?” The bandaged boy perked up and snatched the device back. “Oh yeah!”
Oda couldn’t help but to ruffle Dazai’s hair. Their fluffy ears twitched as the kid squawked in protest and swatted back. “Now go back to sleep, it’s three in the morning.”