Chapter Text
People always say you never know the value of what you have until you lose it. This is a lesson almost everyone learns, and some have to learn it more than once to truly be able to cherish something.
And so, very fittingly, on a mission with Akutagawa, in the corner of Atsushi’s eye, he caught a glimpse of something he could barely see, but never forget.
See, 3 weeks ago Akutagawa almost died. When it had happened, Atsushi felt a familiar pit return to his stomach— one that he hadn’t felt until the last time someone as near to him had died. Except this time, it felt like loosing a friend. Or whatever you called your enemies that you couldn’t bear to lose.
Atsushi was understandably panicked— no, horrified by the near death of his ‘coworker’. For a split second, his eyes stared to burn and everything was blurry. He’d looked around to see who threw a fog grenade before blinking and coming to the realization that it was just him. On the verge of tears. No outside force.
Now, Atsushi was too on the verge of death, but the blood that now rushed through his veins even faster than before, his human heart that seemed to echo every hurried beat to his ears, the adrenaline, had managed to help him end the fight right then and there.
He didn’t scream when he saw it happen, that image of Akutagawa who was supposed to be following behind Atsushi instead being blocked by a hand and a katana.
But it wasn’t that he didn’t care or wasn’t mortified as Akutagawa was struck down through what seemed to be his liver and gallbladder at point blank range— no, it wasn’t that at all. In response, Atsushi had done what he always tries to do; he pushed his anxiety down, banishing it to the corner of his mind like a kid on punishment in a kindergarten.
Later on, as he tried to call and explain to Dazai, it set in. His knees were weak, his hands trembled, and he was hysterical. He knelt to Akutagawa’s side, repeating “It’ll be fine. You’re good” even though he probably needed the reassurance more than Akutagawa.
Atsushi knew he had to be strong— but how could he? The man holding his abdomen with his good arm below him couldn’t heal from that wound like Atsushi could. Losing a limb wasn’t a run-of-the-mill daily routine for Ryuu like it was for Atsushi.
Just the thought of losing Akutagawa, who was in such a critical state that it was a wonder he wasn’t unconscious and had wrapped the abdominal wound with Rashomon, was enough to do make Atsushi sick. Perhaps he’d never considered how close the two had become. How crucial Akutagawa was in Atsushi’s development as his own man.
He sputtered panicked words. He thought the words “Dazai, it’s Akutagawa, he was stabbed through what looks like the liver and needs help. Now” left his mouth, but instead it was a harsh, grueling scream— no— roar. His throat was sore, Akutagawa was no closer to getting the help he needed, but Dazai could figure out it was something serious.
As Atsushi turned back to Akutagawa— his pale skin moist with sweat and chest heaving with each slow, labored breath —he knew he was failing him. It was as clear as day that this, the life of his partner that currently hung in the balance, was his fault. If he was faster to react, had his eye on Akutagawa, listened to his gut feeling, he could’ve and should’ve put his own body on the line! What was the worst that could happen? Ending up with a spare arm?
It was tough to seem him like this, even sadder and more pathetic than he was when they first met. It was especially hard to think about how the odds of him surviving this; Atsushi looked up so much to this man, even if he couldn’t admit it yet. It felt like a death sentence at best to know the man who turned his small world upside down wouldn’t be living in the new, bigger one. Even an hour would feel like an eternity without the special someone he’d unfortunately miss.
So he pulled himself together. Choking on his snot and tears and the air he was barely breathing at this point wouldn’t help get Akutagawa anywhere.
“D-Dazai… I- it’s Akutagawa. He— he got…”
He didn’t want to say how this happened, on account for Akutagawa’s pride. The scene was anything other than a sign of weakness, but he knew Dazai wouldn’t see it that way.
“We need emergency care— we need Yosano.” Maybe she was the first skilled doctor he could think of. Maybe he assumed she was the closest one available, but deep down he knew why said it.
Because he knew Akutagawa was going to die.
Sure a laparotomy and cholecystectomy could help, but Atsushi noticed Akutagawa had had a shattered ulna and used Rashomon as a temporary cast easier on in the fight. Damn him— insisting that he’s fine and trying being independent when when they were a team.
The notable blood loss wasn’t helping either.
119 couldn’t help a dead man— if he needed someone to tell him the time of death he could do it himself, where no one else would have to see Akutagawa in such a humiliating position: lying in a pool of his own blood, no one but his stupid Jinko.