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Atsushi stared at the steaming paper cup like it was a bomb about to go off.
“You sure this is okay?” he asked, ears already twitching with nerves. “Kunikida-san said coffee helps with focus, but…”
Dazai waved a hand lazily from the couch, legs dangling over the armrest. “It’s just coffee, Atsushi-kun. One little cup won’t turn you into a tiger. Probably.”
That “probably” did nothing to reassure him.
Still, everyone else in the office drank it like water. Even Kenji had a mug sometimes. Atsushi wanted to be useful today—he’d stayed up late on a case file and his eyes felt gritty. Just one cup. What could it hurt?
He took a cautious sip. Bitter. Really bitter. The sugar he’d dumped in barely helped. Another sip. Then another. The warmth spread through his chest, and for a second it actually felt kind of nice.
Five minutes later, his heart started doing something weird.
It wasn’t the slow, steady beat he was used to. This was faster. Sharp. Like his pulse had decided to sprint. His palms grew clammy. The lights in the agency office suddenly seemed too bright, the chatter too loud. His tiger senses, usually quiet unless he called on them, prickled under his skin like static electricity.
*Thump-thump-thump-thump—*
“Atsushi?” Tanizaki looked up from his desk, frowning. “You okay? You’re pale.”
“I—” His voice cracked. He set the cup down too hard; coffee sloshed over the rim. “My heart… it’s really fast. Is that normal? It feels like it’s going to explode out of my chest.”
Dazai sat up, interest sharpening in his eyes. “Caffeine jitters? Cute. First time?”
Atsushi nodded jerkily. His breathing was coming quicker now, shallow little gasps that weren’t bringing in enough air. The room tilted. He could feel the beast inside him stirring, restless, feeding off the panic like it was prey. Claws threatened to push through his fingertips.
“I can’t— I don’t know what’s happening—” His hands started shaking. “Everything’s too loud and my chest hurts and I think I’m dying—”
“You’re not dying,” Kunikida’s steady voice cut through the haze. The blond agent was suddenly kneeling in front of him, glasses glinting. “It’s just caffeine. It stimulates your nervous system. For someone with your metabolism and… unique physiology, it’s hitting harder than average. Breathe with me.”
Atsushi tried. In for four, hold for four, out for four. It mostly came out as panicked hiccups.
Yosano appeared with a glass of water. “Here. Sip slowly. And next time, maybe don’t go straight to a triple-shot latte on an empty stomach, tiger boy.”
“I just wanted to keep up…” Atsushi whispered. His ears were ringing. The panic felt like a wave crashing over him—he knew it was the coffee, logically, but his body was convinced something was actively trying to kill him.
Dazai crouched beside Kunikida, unusually gentle as he pressed a cool hand to the back of Atsushi’s neck. “Hey. Remember when you first joined and everything scared you? This is just another new thing. Your body’s throwing a tantrum because it doesn’t know what to do with all this fake energy. It’ll pass. You’re safe.”
The words helped more than Atsushi expected. He focused on Dazai’s voice, on Kunikida counting breaths with him, on the solid floor under his feet. Slowly—agonizingly—the racing heart eased from gallop to trot. The claws retreated. The world stopped spinning quite so violently.
Twenty minutes later he was slumped in his chair, exhausted, a cold compress on his forehead courtesy of Naomi.
“Never again,” Atsushi muttered. “I’ll just drink tea. Or water. Or nothing.”
Dazai grinned, poking his cheek. “Welcome to adulthood, Atsushi-kun. Coffee is a cruel mistress.”
Atsushi groaned and hid his face in his arms. His heartbeat was finally normal again, but the embarrassment might kill him instead.
At least the agency was used to weird reactions. They’d probably tease him for weeks.
But they’d also stayed with him until it passed. That part felt… nice.
(Still. No more coffee. Ever.)