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Atsushi should have known something was going to go wrong sooner or later. Things had been going too well since Dostoevsky was defeated a few months prior, between the Armed Detective Agency returning to normal and his relationship with Akutagawa changing so pleasantly. He was overdue for a disaster to throw his life into chaos once more, but no one could blame him for basking in the peace while it lasted, right?
So when disaster did strike, he was unprepared.
“Does this job really require Akutagawa’s help?” Atsushi asked his mentor, lips forming a slight frown.
Dazai only smirked in that way that signaled to Atsushi he was in for some teasing. “What, are you refusing the opportunity to spend some quality time with your-”
“Okay, okay! I get it,” the younger detective huffed. “I’ll get going.”
It was far from the first time he’d asked such a question, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. If he really thought about it, it was almost funny how the reason for it had changed so drastically over the past year or so. At first, Atsushi had wanted absolutely nothing to do with the mafioso and couldn’t understand why Dazai kept pairing them together. Now though, after everything they had been through together and how they came out of it closer than either of them ever could have imagined, he simply didn’t want to bother Akutagawa with a mission he felt he could handle on his own.
Dazai was right to some extent though, he at the same time didn’t mind an excuse to see his… whatever Akutagawa was to him. They’d yet to put an exact label on it, but it didn’t seem particularly important at the moment. Atsushi was too busy reveling in the newfound closeness to worry about it. Honeymoon phase or whatever, it mattered little to him.
So when he met Akutagawa at the designated spot soon after, he smiled brightly at the other. The mafioso looked the same as always—black overcoat billowing as his hair fluttered in the wind. The only real difference between how he looked now and how he appeared the first time they had met was the faint pink scar peeking out from under his collar and the way his expression softened ever so slightly upon catching sight of the younger man.
Atsushi approached the other with a wave. “Hey.”
“Weretiger,” Akutagawa said by way of greeting with a slight incline of his head.
Atsushi clicked his tongue in mock annoyance. “You don’t have to act so cold. There’s no one else around.”
That wasn’t entirely true, there were a few people scattered around the otherwise empty street, but no one who recognized either of them. Still, he knew better than to think Akutagawa would treat him as anything other than a colleague outside of the privacy of his own home—a friend at best. Not that Atsushi actually minded of course, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take the opportunity to tease the other about it.
“I’m working. We both are. And speaking of,” Akutagawa began, stopping when he and Atsushi were face to face, “I’m assuming you’ve reviewed the mission details?”
“Scout out the areas the rogue ability user was recently spotted in, and apprehend her if we see her,” Atsushi recalled dully. “Couldn’t be more straight forward.”
The mafioso nodded. “Yes, let’s make this quick. It would be faster if we split up.”
“That eager to get away from me?” Atsushi joked lightheartedly.
Expression unchanging, Akutagawa explained blankly, “I would like to finish with work in a timely manner so we can have dinner at that new restaurant that recently opened. Do you have any objections to that?”
“Oh,” Atsushi said dumbly, face flushing. “No objections.”
“Good. I’ll head north—call me if you catch sight of the target.”
The detective wordlessly nodded, watching Akutagawa walk away before turning in the opposite direction and doing the same, the promise of dinner with the dark haired man making him smile.
__________
After walking around the streets of Yokohama for nearly twenty minutes, Atsushi was beginning to grow bored. The rogue ability user was nowhere to be found and if the radio silence he was getting from Akutagawa was any indication, the mafioso wasn’t having any luck either.
Or what if he was engaged in combat right now and just hadn’t had the chance to alert Atsushi? What if he was badly injured and in desperate need of back up? What if-
Before he could even think about it, Atsushi had already pulled out his phone and was dialing Akutagawa’s number. It only rang once before the call was picked up.
“Have you found her?”
“Ah, no,” Atsushi admitted sheepishly. “I wanted to check in and see if you had any luck on your end.”
“You were worried.” There was no accusation in Akutagawa’s voice, just a dull assertion.
Atsushi sighed. He never really could hide his concerns from the other man. “Maybe, but can you really blame me? The more I think about it, the more it seems this ability user must be pretty powerful if both of us were assigned to find her.”
“Mm, I’m curious to see…” Akutagawa suddenly trailed off.
“What? What is it?” Atsushi prompted him.
“I believe I’ve found her.”
“Really?!” Atsushi immediately spun on his heel and began running north. “Where are you? Don’t do anything yet, I’ll be right there!”
All Akutagawa said before abruptly hanging up was the name of the street he was on, no doubt ignoring Atsushi’s warning to wait for him. People were staring as he sprinted past, but he didn’t care. He just had to get to Akutagawa as soon as possible.
He arrived at the street Akutagawa had named a few short minutes later, and he spun around frantically searching for his partner. He caught a glimpse of a familiar black coat down an alleyway and immediately darted after it.
“Akutagawa!” he called, rounding the counter just in time to see a petite girl with light blue hair and a purple eyepatch put out her palm towards the mafioso. A stream of light shot out from her hand, bending around the tendrils of Rashomon Akutagawa put up for defense. He twisted to dodge, but the light still grazed his shoulder before enveloping him completely.
Yes, this was indeed a disaster he was not prepared for.
__________
Akutagawa blinked rapidly, attempting to gain his bearings. He had been with the tiger for a mission, and the next thing he knew he was being surrounded by a blinding light. Now he was on the ground in some alleyway he didn’t recognize, presumably teleported? But why, and by who? Had that damn reaper set him up?
“Hey,” came a familiar voice in a startling unfamiliar tone, “Are you alright?”
Rashomon shot out from his coat protectively, forcing the other person to back off. Akutagawa whipped his head around to level the owner of the voice—Nakajima—with a glare only to stop short.
He looked… wrong. His hair was different, longer on one side, and he had clothes more befitting of an office worker than a mafioso—though he supposed Nakajima technically was no longer with the mafia. What really struck Akutagawa though was the other man’s expression. The dead eyes he was used to seeing from Nakajima were instead full of emotion, a mix of worry and confusion. He wasn’t staring at Akutagawa with hatred or anger but with concern. It was strange, unnerving even.
“What…” he began, not even sure what he should address first. “What are you wearing?”
Nakajima balked like he couldn’t believe Akutagawa would ask such a thing. “What am I wearing? What are you wearing?! Did the ability give you a wardrobe change or something?” He sighed, exasperated and more expressive than Akutagawa had seen him in a long time. “Seriously, are you alright?”
“What’s it to you?” Akutagawa snapped back, pushing himself up off the ground. Nothing was making any goddamn sense.
A look of anger flashed across Nakajima’s face—finally something familiar—but it was quickly replaced with realization. “You… you’re not my Akutagawa, are you?”
Ah. So that’s what this was.
The different worlds the man in black had spoken about, Akutagawa had somehow found himself in one of them, presumably switched with another version of himself.
Okay, not a great situation to find himself in, but he just had to keep a level head. He was a detective after all, surely he could figure out how to get himself back.
Nakajima—this world’s Nakajima—seemed incapable of staying calm though. He was rambling in a panic, “What did she do to him? Who are you? How am I going to get him back? What-”
“Calm down,” Akutagawa demanded, contemplating how he was going to explain. He didn’t know how many people in this world were aware of the book or the differing worlds, he may cause a mess if he were to disclose that. “You can just think of me as… a different version of Akutagawa,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. Nakajima didn’t seem to completely understand, but he nodded anyway. “Now, you said something about an ability?”
“Yeah, you- I mean, um,” he fumbled with his words for a moment before continuing, “my Akutagawa and I were tasked to track down a rogue ability user, but he got hit by her ability and then you… appeared.”
Putting his hands in the pockets of his coat, Akutagawa asked bluntly, “Do you not know what her ability is?” Nakajima shook his head. Of course, just his luck. “Well regardless, we should head to the agency. At the very least Ranpo may know how to get me back.”
“Oh! Yes, that’s a good idea. You… you know where it is?”
Akutagawa began walking out of the alleyway to figure out where exactly in Yokohama he was, but glanced back to hit Nakajima with a bewildered look. “Do I know where the agency is?” he repeated the utterly absurd question as the other man hurried to keep up. “Of course I know where the agency is, I work there.”
“You work at the agency?!” Nakajima exclaimed so loudly that a few passersbys on the main street they just turned onto looked their way. “We’re talking about the same agency, right? The Armed Detective Agency?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions, Nakajima.”
“Just call me Atsushi. And wait- so in your… wherever you’re from, you and I are colleagues??”
Akutagawa did not slow his pace but he whipped his head around to once again stare at Nakajima with astonishment. “You work at the agency? You?”
The thought was almost laughable. The feared White Reaper, working as a detective at the Armed Detective Agency? What a joke. Though, now that he thought about it, this Nakajima didn’t exactly seem cut out for the mafia. Still, he couldn’t picture him leading such a life on the side of ‘light’ either, even if that was what the Nakajima he was familiar with was now attempting to do.
Nakajima’s pale eyebrows scratched up in confusion. His emotions showed on his face so clearly it was almost bizarre. “Uh, yes? Obviously? If not that, what does your Atsushi do for work?”
“Until recently, he was one of the Port Mafia’s dogs.”
“The mafia?!” he gasped as if horrified by the thought, and again the people around them turned their heads at his volume. Then, quieter, he mumbled, “It’s like we switched.”
Akutagawa raised an eyebrow. “Switched? Do you mean to say this other version of myself is in the Port Mafia? Don’t be absurd, Nakajima.” Truly, the idea of working under that man who had taken so much from him—or his right hand man who supposedly succeeded him—was revolting.
“Seriously, just call me Atsushi! And he is, but… you don’t seem so incredibly different from him.”
There was a strange look in Nakajima’s—or Atsushi’s, he should say, if the other man was so insistent he called him that—eye, like he understood Akutagawa on a personal level. It was oddly disarming in a way he found far from comforting. Just how close did Atsushi and his counterpart have to be to warrant all this behavior?
“If he is one of the Port Mafia’s rabid beasts, then we could not be more different, just as you and the White Tiger I’m familiar with are practically night and day,” he replied defiantly.
Atsushi looked as though he wanted to argue, but stopped short when the agency building came into view. The two of them fell silent as they entered and walked up the stairs, tension thick between them. There was no real malice though, and Akutagawa simply could not understand why this Atsushi appeared to hold no resentment or even discontent for either Akutagawa.
Finally they reached the door to the agency, and its familiarity was a welcome comfort. It seemed unlikely the agency would be all that different in this world compared to his own, the only major discrepancy being Atsushi being a member instead of him for whatever bizarre reason. At the very least, the coworkers he had come to trust and respect should be able to help remedy this whole mess.
Atsushi spared him one subtle glance before pushing open the door and walking inside with Akutagawa following behind.
Just as he suspected, the agency looked largely the same—some of the other members dressed slightly differently and now only looking at him with mild confusion instead of greeting him warmly—but no other noticeable changes.
“Back already?” asked a young-sounding voice, and Akutagawa blatantly realized it belonged to none other than Kyouka Izumi, seated at a desk like everyone else. She looked so different, fit in among the other members so well, he hadn’t even noticed her at first. It made sense though, of course she would end up wherever Atsushi was. At the very least she seemed happier, with less of a weight on her small shoulders. She did eye him with something akin to distrust or wariness though, so perhaps some things remained the same.
Without looking up from his paperwork, Kunikida asked, “Did you find the ability user?”
“Yes, well, about that…” Atsushi began while awkwardly scratching the back of his head.
It was such an odd action coming from him, boyish in a way he had not seen the tiger be since they first met in that café all those many months ago. Perhaps being in the agency, away from the influence of that awful man who surely did nothing but use and manipulate him, he actually felt comfortable enough to conduct himself in that way. Even though it was still hard to imagine him in this line of work, maybe the agency was really beneficial for Atsushi; helping him just as it had been helping Akutagawa.
Perhaps in one of the many different worlds which existed, both of them were allotted the opportunity to better themselves within these walls, side by side as colleagues.
“Judging by your tone, I’m guessing something went awry?”
A voice cut through Akutagawa’s thoughts—a voice which used to haunt him, one he thought he would never have to hear again.
He haltingly jerked his head to see none other than Osamu Dazai casually leaned against the doorframe of the hallway leading to the president’s office.
Without so much as a thought, Rashomon shot out from his coat, grabbing the other man’s neck. “Man in black,” he bit out with more fury than he had felt since he saw this man die months prior.
A flurry of voices erupted from behind him but Dazai’s teasing expression hardly changed as his nullification activated, leaving him unharmed. “You must be mistaking me for someone else,” he said casually, “I’m clearly wearing beige. Or tan, maybe. Kunikida, what color would you consider my coat to be?”
Now that he took a moment to look, Akutagawa realized Dazai was right. Instead of the black overcoat he had grown to associate him with, the one he was currently wearing was of a much lighter color—almost identical to the jacket Oda wore.
Before he could say anything else, he heard the familiar sound of a gun cocking followed by Kunikida’s dangerously low voice. “Just what do you think you’re doing attacking one of our members?”
Akutagawa turned to look at this world’s version of his coworker, slow as not to provoke him into firing. “Him? You count that despicable man among your ranks?” He laughed, dry and humorless. “You cannot be serious.”
Stumbling to put himself in between Akutagawa and Kunikida’s gun, Atsushi frantically exclaimed, “W-wait! Stop, just let me explain! He isn’t- this isn’t the version of Akutagawa you know.”
Kunikida’s grip on his gun did not falter, but his expression did. “What?”
“Ah, a guest from another world?” Dazai mused from behind him. “It seems our rogue ability user has a more interesting ability than we gave her credit for.” He whipped his head around to glare daggers Dazai’s way, but he only laughed. “Don’t worry, the world you happened to stumble your way into is the original; you don’t have to worry about the three person rule.”
“What?” Kunikida repeated, sounding more confused by the second. Akutagawa had to admit he was feeling similarly.
“Never mind that,” Dazai waved his hand like what he had just said was irrelevant. He pushed off the doorframe and strolled up to Kunikida who had put his gun away, leaning into the blond’s space as if to taunt Akutagawa with their evident closeness and mutual trust. “I doubt you and Atsushi are particularly compatible like this. Kunikida and I will track down this ability user in your stead. I imagine my nullifying ability is what’s needed to get you back anyway, so just wait here and-”
Akutagawa was no longer listening. He was out the door before anyone could stop him, unwilling to see the man who had taken so much from him mingle among his coworkers like he belonged there. His pace didn’t slow until he pushed open the door to the office building and felt the afternoon breeze hit his skin, flushed from anger.
Atsushi being a part of the agency was one thing, but the man in black? Surely his sins were too great for such a life, regardless of what world he was in—never mind the original one. How utterly absurd.
The door opened, and out came Atsushi who was looking around frantically until his gaze met Akutagawa’s. He visibly sagged with relief upon seeing him, approaching like he was about to lay a hand on Akutagawa’s shoulder but stopped upon thinking better of it. “You’re still here, I was worried you had run off.”
Akutagawa said nothing, hands clenched in his pockets as his gaze returned to the cityscape. It wasn’t Atsushi’s fault, he understood that, but that did nothing to diminish his anger.
The two of them stood in silence for a minute, the air thick with tension until Atsushi tentatively spoke up. “Do… do you want to go back up to the agency? Kunikida and Dazai should have left by now.”
“Did they send you down here to make sure I behave until I’m switched back to your complacent Akutagawa?”
“No!” Atsushi exclaimed. “I mean- yes I was told to make sure you don’t attack anyone else, but I would have come looking for you regardless.”
Akutagawa didn’t necessarily believe that, but he wasn’t about to stand there and argue about it either. “I’m not going back up there.”
A beat passed, then Atsushi began slowly, “Okay, then how about we wait at my place?”
Akutagawa scoffed at the idea. “What makes you think I would go to your residence with you?”
“Because you trust me,” Atsushi said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
He turned to level Atsushi with a stern glare. “I most certainly do not.” How had he come to that ridiculous conclusion?
Expression open and earnest, Atsushi offered, “Well, I trust you.”
Akutagawa blinked at the admission, admittedly a little stunned. “Why?”
Atsushi didn’t even take a moment to consider the question. “You might be a different version of him, but you’re still Akutagawa. I trust him with my life, and by extension I trust you with the same.”
“That’s horribly naïve, I could easily kill you where you stand.”
Atsushi shook his head as a small smile formed on his lips. “You can’t, but even if you could, I know you wouldn’t.”
Akutagawa had nothing to say to that. How in the world any version of Atsushi could come to trust any version of him was beyond him. Sure they were capable of getting along—their first meeting was proof enough of that—but at the end of the day, they were two very different people with very different beliefs. He and the Atsushi he knew could barely cooperate on the simplest of matters; this Atsushi had to be out of his mind to trust him so openly and willingly.
There must be something different about the two of them in this world, that was the only explanation. They clearly had something that he and the White Reaper lacked.
Atsushi held out a hand. “So, will you wait with me at my place?”
Akutagawa ignored the offered hand but began walking. “You live in the agency dorms?”
Atsushi hurried to catch up with him, and Akutagawa could hear the triumphant smile in his voice as he affirmed, “Yep.”
__________
Atsushi’s dorm was quaint, but he had admittedly made better use of the space than Akutagawa had. The occasional picture frame or piece of bunny memorabilia made it at least feel lived in. His anger had fizzled out into awkwardness as he sat at the low table in the small makeshift living room while Atsushi fumbled about in the kitchen. He felt horribly out of place despite this exact room belonging to him in his world. This one was cozier, sure, but it was unfamiliar.
Finally, Atsushi joined him at the table with two cups—one a mug of coffee and the other a teacup with green tea—and a small bowl of sugar cubes in hand. He watched as the white haired man settled across from him, placed four sugar cubes in Akutagawa’s tea, and then three in his coffee.
“You know how I like my tea,” Akutagawa murmured without meaning to.
“Hm? Oh, yeah. I noticed he—my Akutagawa, I mean—takes four sugars regardless of if he’s drinking coffee or tea. I had thought putting that much sugar in green tea of all things was kind of ridiculous, but it’s not like I’m one to talk.” He lightly blew on his coffee to cool it before taking a careful sip.
It was hard for Akutagawa not to be reminded of his first time meeting the White Reaper in the Uzumaki café, when they chatted over their respective drinks, sharing a mutual understanding rarely found anywhere else. Had this world’s counterparts of them met in a similar fashion? He supposed there wasn’t any real harm in asking. Besides, the silence was growing uncomfortable. Better to fill it than to let it linger.
“When did your paths first cross?”
Atsushi appeared surprised by his question, smiling sheepishly as he admitted, “Ah, well, he had orders to take me alive so the mafia could collect the seven billion yen bounty set for me.” Something in Akutagawa's expression must have shown his astonishment, for Atsushi said with a slight laugh, “I know, I thought the amount was absurd too. But anyway, we fought, and well… the rest was history.”
Akutagawa took a sip of his tea, contemplating. So they were enemies from the start in this world, no brief moment of companionship before the fighting began. One would think they were even less likely to be civil in that case, but this Atsushi’s behavior indicated the opposite. He knew how Akutagawa liked his tea because he noticed, he was genuinely concerned about his wellbeing when Akutagawa first switched, but most of all, there seemed to be a strong sense of mutual trust between them. He and the tiger he knew had none of that.
“You two seem… close now, though,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t understand how you went from fighting to working together.”
Tilting his head to the side slightly in a way that was noticeably cat-like, Atsushi asked, “Do you and your Atsushi not work together?”
“Begrudgingly,” Akutagawa mumbled over the rim of his teacup.
Atsushi smiled fondly while gazing into his mug as if recalling old memories. “We had a phase like that too. It took time and many shared experiences to get to where we are now as partners.”
“Partners?” he repeated incredulously. He couldn’t imagine working together with the White Reaper to the point he could consider them as having a partnership.
Apparently misunderstanding his reaction though, Atsushi quickly amended with hands flailing about, “N-not like that! I mean, maybe? We haven’t like… talked about what to label it as…”
Akutagawa just stared. Why was he blushing? Atsushi seemed far from embarrassed about his partnership with the other Akutagawa just a moment ago. There was no reason for a sudden shift in behavior, unless…
“You’re- together?!” he haltingly got out.
“You don’t have to look so appalled!" Atsushi huffed, face reddening further.
Akutagawa could do nothing but sit there in stunned silence with wide eyes. He supposed he could accept him and Atsushi getting along and working well together in the original world. He could even understand them being something akin to friends. But this? What the hell was this other version of him thinking??
“You said ‘your’ Akutagawa and I are not that different, but that cannot be true. I wouldn’t… I can’t… There are more important things that require my full attention. Romance is… I don’t have time for it.”
Atsushi was quiet for a few moments, and for the first time, Akutagawa could not discern how he was feeling from his expression and body language alone. Was he offended? Upset? Angry?
Finally, he spoke up to say, “Can I ask you something?”
Akutagawa blinked, then nodded.
“You don’t seem to cough much—or at all, really. Are you… not sick?”
Of all the things he thought Atsushi might ask him, that certainly wasn’t one of them. “Sick? No, I’m not sick.”
“I see. You’re right then, you and him really are different. Your time isn’t limited like his is.” He spoke with a sort of melancholy that surprised Akutagawa almost as much as the words themselves. Before he could open his mouth to respond, Atsushi continued, “Can I ask what drives you?”
“My sister… I have to become a person worthy of her company; more than just a violent beast,” he answered with conviction.
Atsushi’s eyebrows rose—finally showing an emotion Akutagawa could understand as surprise. “Gin?”
“You know my sister?”
The white haired man nodded. “Yeah. I mean it’s not like I know her personally, but I’ve crossed paths with her a few times. She’s an assassin with the Port Mafia.”
Gripping his teacup hard, Akutagawa fought down the wave of emotion threatening to come to the surface as he slowly asked, “Do you know if she and your Akutagawa were… separated at any point?”
“I don’t think so. Actually, she seems to have been the one constant in his life.”
Akutagawa swallowed. “I see. So he just brought her down with him.”
“You and your Gin were separated?” So much sympathy seeped into Atsushi’s voice it almost made Akutagawa sick.
Still, he answered, “The night Dazai came to recruit me into the mafia, he deemed me unfit to be his subordinate. He took Gin from me, and indoctrinated you into the mafia instead.”
Several emotions crossed Atsushi’s face before landing on understanding, sunset colored eyes practically brimming with compassion. He began to speak, but Akutagawa cut him off.
“I don’t need your condolences. I will see her again some day,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “Now, why did you ask me if I was sick? Is this world’s Akutagawa unwell?”
Atsushi hesitated for a moment before sighing and slumping forward slightly. “He is. His lungs are… he doesn’t have much time left. Five years at most.”
Akutagawa paused. He had once come to terms with the fact that he would probably die young, body rotting in the slums like a dog, but he had not considered illness could take him after he escaped from that life.
“Is there no cure?”
“It’s advanced past the stage where it could have been cured.” He laughed then, voice low and humorless. “He’s accepted it—says he’s already escaped death once, there’s no point in trying to run from it. But I…” He trailed off as if he could not bear to say the rest. His eyes were downcast, whole demeanor shifted into what Akutagawa could only describe as grief. He got the feeling that perhaps Atsushi hadn’t actually spoken to anyone about this before.
“You care about him a great deal,” he began slowly, not at all sure he was saying the right thing. “I should not have undermined your… relationship. I apologize.”
Atsushi waved his hand dismissively, evidently attempting to regain his composure. “It’s fine, I know this is probably really weird for you. But anyway, you have more questions for me, right? It won’t be long until you’re sent home, you should ask now while you can.”
Fine, if he wanted to steer the conversation in a different direction, Akutagawa would let him. He picked up his tea to allow himself a moment to collect his thoughts. It was no longer hot, but he drank it without complaint. “Gin, how is she doing? Is she happy?”
“Like I said, I don’t really know her personally, but based on what Akutagawa has told me, yes. She’s been doing well.”
“…I’m glad.” He let out a breath. “You’ve hardly asked me anything about the Atsushi from my world. Are you not curious?”
“Ah,” he began awkwardly, letting out a small sheepish laugh. “I can’t imagine he’s lived a good life, I’m not sure I want to hear about it. I guess if I had to ask something, is Kyouka by his side?”
“I don’t know for certain, but based on the fact that he hasn’t lost his mind, I’d say so.” He was probably just keeping her away from Akutagawa which, given everything, was fair enough.
A small smile formed on Atsushi’s lips. “Then at least he has her.”
Conversation continued to flow between them with more ease than before. Akutagawa was admittedly still baffled that the original version of him would find himself in a relationship at all, never mind with Atsushi of all people. But if his desire to live without regrets was still true of his counterpart, and he only had so long to live, he supposed he could begin to understand.
This Atsushi seemed like a genuine and kind person. If a version of Akutagawa could earn the love of someone like that, then he should consider himself lucky.
If he and the White Tiger ended up together in the original world though, did that imply that the same was likely to happen in—
His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden ringing of a phone, presumably Atsushi’s, which had been left in the kitchen. The white haired man scrambled to get up and retrieve the phone, leaving Akutagawa alone at the table.
What had he just been considering? He couldn’t recall. Whatever, he doubted it was particularly important.
He stood as well but waited for Atsushi to return. The tiger came back a moment later, smiling. “That was Kunikida, he said they found the ability user. Identified her too. Shiwasu Hoshikawa, I think her name was?”
“Ah. So this is where we part ways.” There were still a number of things Akutagawa didn’t understand—like how the original version of him was a member of the mafia, or how he and Atsushi had grown to trust each other so completely—but he was strangely content with all he had learned. “Thank you for… the tea.”
Atsushi’s smile brightened. “Of course. I hope you get to see your sister again soon.”
Akutagawa opened his mouth to respond, but he was already being enveloped in that same light from before, so bright he had to shut his eyes.
When he opened them again, the sunset colored eyes that greeted him were noticeably less filled with emotion, empty but mildly curious.
“You’re back.”
“I am.”
__________
This time when Akutagawa—his Akutagawa—emerged from the light, Atsushi anticipated he might lose his balance. He held his arms out close by just in case, but Akutagawa remained upright as he blinked his eyes open. Seeing as his weight did not need to be supported, Atsushi began to pull back, but the moment Akutagawa’s gaze met his, the dark haired man was pulling him close. Akutagawa’s arms wrapped around him, holding firm as he buried his face in Atsushi’s shoulder.
Atsushi stood still for a moment, surprised, before returning the embrace. “Missed me?” he teased.
“Mm,” was the only response Akutagawa gave before shifting to catch Atsushi in a quick kiss. “Don’t ever change your hair.”
“My hair?” Atsushi repeated as they separated. “That other me had a different haircut?”
“Slightly different. Probably the only likable thing about him,” Akutagawa said, nonchalantly bringing a hand up to cover a cough.
Atsushi huffed out a small laugh. “Don’t be so harsh on him. And if his hair is better, why’d you say I shouldn’t change mine?”
“Because I like you exactly as you are,” Akutagawa replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, a small satisfied smirk forming on his lips upon seeing how flustered Atsushi became. He reached to grab a hold of one of the detective’s hands and began leading him toward the door. “Come, we have dinner reservations to catch.”
Atsushi knew Kunikida would be expecting him back at the agency to write up a report about all that happened and he would be in for a scolding if he failed to show up, but he just allowed himself to get pulled along. In this world, his time with Akutagawa was limited. It was best to make the most of it.
“Okay, let’s go.”