Chapter Text
Trouble has a habit of following Atsushi wherever he goes.
The Headmaster always said that the darkness inside him was at fault. That he ought to pray more and more and renounce his wicked ways. Kunikida-san said that it was troublesome and went on about his ruined schedule. Dazai-san said it was a talent. Because whatever Atsushi had gotten into usually ended up as their next case anyway, so why not get a head start?
Atsushi doesn’t know how he feels about it or if he even should feel a specific way about it. He had a problem giving voice to his opinions for fear that they were wrong.
Atsushi also wishes he’d gotten another job.
That wish gets stronger each time he’s either a) strangled b) poisoned or c) stabbed. So far one out of those three things has happened.
Goncharov's ability wraps around his throat from behind. As Atsushi stops to catch his breath. “Ah!”
He screamed, slicing through it. He fell to his knees, hand grazing his neck. He jumped into a sprint, dodging his following attacks.
He was getting sloppier, Atsushi could tell. If Dazai was here he'd tire him out the man before striking him down.
"Push the pace Atsushi-kun! Give them no room to run!"
“Focus you curr! How the hell does Dazai-san even put up with you-–”
“Fuck off!” Atsushi struggles to defend himself. A swarm of projectiles launches at him, scraping his neck. That bastard has some nerve to yell at Atsushi. Considering he’s the one who got trapped in quicksand in the first place.
To dial this entire situation back to the beginning. A group of terrorists had poisoned the President and the Mafia Boss. Which resulted in some sort of all-out gang war. It was after they'd defeated the Guild and they'd had a smooth run of the following weeks. In a semi-sedated haze, doing incident report after report. Atsushi could find nothing to complain about. It had been a rather peaceful period for him, though he knew the others didn’t share his opinion. However, that break ended when Fukuzawa got attacked in an alleyway. Thus sparking this entire mess.
The only way to describe it; It's a mess.
Atsushi stills. Feeling the vibrations of the ground.
If the shaking came from the right that meant –
The stone monster Goncharov puppeteered, launches another punch at him. Which was sure to break his skull upon impact if it hit him.
(Duck!)
Atsushi’s body moves on its own, be that his instincts or his sense of danger.
Still, it works.
Just barely.
“Focus you fool!” Akutagawa called out to him.
“I’m trying!” He crouches and jumps with the tiger.
"Try harder!"
Atsushi flies towards Goncharov. Claws out in a jump, jaw clenched in a fight. He was slicing through any and all boulders in his way. He inches closer to the Russian, hopping to and fro shards of stone as leverage.
“Miscreant, surrender!” Goncharov growls at him, his pale face red in fury. The monster’s big hands close in on him in a clap, as if it was batting at a fly.
“Guh!” Scrambling to his feet from the fall, dodging as Goncharov tries to squash him like a bug.
“You know – “ Swipe “I’ve read your file Man-tiger.” Swipe ”We all have –!” Smash.
Atsushi yelps. Jumping back from where Goncharov hit, colliding with the cave walls instead.
"Oof!"
'Ok', this was really starting to get more tedious than it was worth. Atsushi thought.
Struggling to catch his breath and beat in his throat. He ducks and runs up to the monster's side, the debris and dust getting into his eyes. Atsushi tires of the chase. Enough struggle, he was ending this now –
Goncharov snarls, flailing heavy limbs
“How sad to be the least talented one of your bunch huh? At least the other detectives have a role in the agency. Suppose there is some merit in being the forgettable one. The replaceable, exchangeable one---!?”
A stone pillar springs up on Atsushi’s path and suddenly it stabs through him as if a stake.
Pain blooms in his chest, unraveling and tightening with its own heartbeat. There's a ringing in his ears, so he can't hear if he screams at all.
Ok, let that be two out of three then…
His lung felt like it was in his throat and his heart in his foot. He’d never get used to being stabbed, despite Akutagawa’s own efforts.
He could feel his determination slipping – There was a large chance that he’d lose this fight. That he’d die trying and the idea made him want to lay down in defeat instantly.
But the director relied on him, the entire agency did!
No matter how many times he’d get hurt, he wouldn’t back down….There was no way he’d forgive himself if he did.
Atsushi stands up shakily.
“Besides it’s a known fact that you can’t give filth value–”
Atsushi stops as if paralyzed.
Huh?
What he did say?
("I don’t even know why we try anymore, you’re a lost cause. Filth stays filthy, no matter how many times you wash it…But, our lord is a merciful God and so am I.”
That night. The Headmaster had been 'merciful' enough to whip him with a goat hair whip, instead of the horse hair one. It’d been the luckiest Atsushi had gotten in weeks.)
Stab.
His knees buckle beneath him, and his breath’s caught in his throat but he heaves anyway. He reaches out at anything, grasping at his sides. Ah. His fingers were prodding something wet. Pulling his hand back he looks. Ah, yeah that is definitely blood. It hurts. Of course, it hurts but Atsushi has been hurt more times in his life than he's told, this shouldn't be anything new.
So why isn’t the wound closing?
Why isn’t it healing?
“Soon the world will be rid of people like you, Master told me. The Mafia and Agency alike.” From where Atsushi crouches, clutching his side, hunched over in a heap. Goncharov looks like a blob of mangled messy colors. But the smile in his voice doesn’t miss his ears.
"Purged of filthy miscreants plaguing our society! In the eyes of God, you're sinners deserving of the worst damnation of all!"
Plaguing? The eyes of God? Wow. That guy had some nerves preaching to him after stabbing him with what must be some sort of poison. Way to shit in a guy's mouth. But then again, he's unhinged enough to proclaim it's in the name of divinity?
'Jesus Christ.'
That's the only thing he can think before black spots cloud his vision.
“Farewell, Man-tiger.”
“Jinko!”
He’s out like a light before the final blow hits.
…
Outside the cave on the grass, the entire Mafia and Agency were gathered, waiting. Akutagawa-kun and Atsushi-kun still hadn’t emerged from the tunnel. Not without its own discomfort, Yosano and Dazai-kun both choose to stand as far from Ougai as possible. Typical. He could tell by the way their shoulders stood tense and straight -- something he’d taught both of them.
“Never show your emotions openly, it could leave an opening for your enemy. You wouldn’t show off your ace that easily now would you?”
While their faces were blank their body language spoke volumes. They still had a long way to go.
A young man, around Dazai’s age, hasn't stopped staring at him while fidgeting with his glasses. Taking them on and off anxiously. He was clearly frustrated. If Ougai remembered correctly his name was something reminiscent of…K-Kunichi? Kuniki? Whatever, it was hard to picture that this would be
Fukuzawa’s successor. While Ougai had his fair share of regrets for not picking up Fukuzawa's disciples before him. It was rather hard to imagine that as the future head of the Armed Detective Agency.
When that time comes he might as well have left the building vacant. It would make a lovely corporate office for Mori Corporations. Humbly shaggy like a refurbished hut. Ozaki-kun might even move some of her girls there for efficiency.
Their chamber was getting rather crowded…
Regardless, Kunichi was absolutely terrible at hiding his emotions. Whether it was working with the mafia after fighting each other to death mere hours ago. Or if the sad puppy hasn't gotten his fill of violence, Ougai couldn't care less. Beside him, there was a young boy in cheap denim overalls and a straw hat. He was suspiciously cheerful considering their predicament. Ougai had seen his ability, he'd fit on their extortion team wonderfully. Then, an interesting ginger boy with a sharp glare – Ooh~ he'd make a splendid assassin. Ougai could already see it in front of him! Then there was sweet girly Kyouka in her little yukata. She hadn’t changed a bit and neither had her intimidating stare. He'd already seen her assets when she belonged to them, so there was nothing worth noting there…
The point of the matter is they would all do wonderfully. But obviously, not as well as Dazai or Yosano.
He’d taught them both well. They’d come to realize that in due time.
Ougai checked his wristwatch again, sighing. Something tugged on his coat.
“Rintaro? Is it time?” Elise asked. Ougai smiles down at her sweetly. Ignoring Yosano’s scoff.
“Yup!” tapping his earpiece “Send him in. Oh, and Shibu-chan? Try not to make too big of a mess…”
“Yes, Boss.”
The familiar static of his voice flooded his ears. It was disappointing to use his biggest, most hidden weapon in this pitiful array of enemies. Ougai would have to play his cards better next time. He counts down silently, following this age-old ritual to the t –
5
After this moment they’d never be able to trust each other in an alliance ever again. While the Agency as an understaffed private investigator benefitted the most from it. Ougai couldn’t kid and say it hadn’t been a nice run. Being able to rely on someone that is, he hadn’t done so in a while. “Fukuzawa.”
(In his memories there is a younger, sharper Fukuzawa with his younger self beside him. They were being scolded by sensei again. )
Ougai sighed. To think that man would still meddle in their lives fifteen years later…
As much as the Silver Fox had been a legendary myth in the past when Ougai looks at him now all he can see is an old goat of a man. “We both have so much more to protect than before.”
4
Straightening his back, he stared his old partner down, they’d always been neck and neck like this. Behind him, his subordinates readied their weapons at his signal.
“To keep protecting Yokohama, our companies need to separate. The Tripartite Framework could never collaborate like this.”
“...As with everything, this comes with a price.” A hushed silence hit the group like a brick. They hadn’t been talking anyway but suddenly everyone was holding their breath.
Fukuzawa stared at him with saucers for eyes. “What are you talking about –”
After this Yokohama would be different. There’d be another child to break in and mold, another reason for Fukuzawa to preach at him needlessly. It all seems to be too much and not enough at once.
Ougai counts in his head.
3
They’d always been neck and neck. This would cement them as enemies again.
“As a reward for saving your life by using the mafia’s oldest secret. The transfer of a member is to be made. To keep the Tripartite Framework alive and keep the Special Division out of our business. Wouldn’t want another gang war on our hands now would we?”
“Mori-dono –” Yukichi looks at him with wide eyes.
Ougai pushes through –
2
“ — This is not up for discussion. They are to be transferred by the end of the week.”
“Stop speaking nonsense —!” By now the younger Silver Wolf would've stabbed him where he stood. He'd always been hot-headed like that. Whether it be his aching bones. Or the fact that Fukuzawa actually broke his stoic stare with what can only be….heartbreak?
Was the Agency really that tightknit?
…Now Ougai just felt like he was stealing candy from an overgrown baby, this was hardly as fun.
(He’d met sensei while waiting for Fukuzawa. They’d decided to settle the situation between themselves. Unnecessary bloodshed not being on either’s agenda. Until Natsume had to go and lock Fukuzawa away and ‘talk’ Ougai into this dreaded arrangement. This would certainly save Yokohama but the organizations were another issue entirely. )
“Natsume-sensei has already approved of the deal, there’s nothing you can say to change this.” Had speaking with Yukuchi always been this exhausting? Or did the years age him backward?
"What are you even saying?! Stop speaking in riddles, say it properly!" Ougai yawns in response.
While the lines of time had settled on Yukichi's face. He'd never stopped being so naive and pure-hearted. Years ago, Ougai would've found it laughable. Nowadays he just considers it bad etiquette.
To be the leader of an organization when you have no sense of order or direction seems helplessly dull.
"...This alliance would've never stood against the test of time, it only makes sense to split ways now, don't you think? — and what better way to end this but with a victory?"
Ougai turns to him. His subordinates are ready to pounce and descend like bullets.
Yukichi's own little band of misfits stare him down with equal levels of hatred or despair. From now on, anywhere he looked and how long he stared could be a hint of who'd be chosen. He purposefully glides over the rest. And stares right back at Dazai and Yosano.
With every ounce of black blood inside him, Ougai smiles playfully and counts.
1
Mere nanoseconds have passed. Like clockwork, a bright red light erupted from the cave. His staff, Fukuzawa, and the Agency winched at the brightness, a gasp heard among them. He’d bet that Dazai and Yosano were staring as hard down the tunnel as he was. Or they could be staring him down with full black irises. Either way didn’t matter. Soon enough he’d lean forward to glare at his own reflection in them. Soon.
They were after all made from the same dark material. The thought made him so happy he couldn’t help but smile wider.
…
Dark, dark, dark. Everything was dark. The world was spinning around him and Atsushi couldn’t keep a sharp shooting pain flared up his side. His head throbbed. Agonizingly dizzy.
“Oh, poor little kitty. Are you hurt?” A voice flooded his mind, and he winced at the volume. It was all out bright and loud for him. Atsushi moaned in pain. Grunting at the sound as it returned. The voice laughed at him. This stranger is laughing. Deep, velvety --- A dangerous riddle. ‘Uncanny’ is the best way to describe it. Though the low growl in the back of his head didn’t help for shit. Which is to say it never did.
Anxiety sprouted in his chest. His breath came out too quickly. Harsh. As his chest caved in on itself.
'Oh my fucking god', Atsushi’s gonna die here, isn’t he?
“Shush you’re alright, you’re safe.” It sounded so menacing – the remark was sharp and cold as it trailed down Atsushi’s body. Making him shiver. He is hurt. He was in pain and couldn’t move. There was no way of escaping, so like a good prey he went limp in the voice’s grip and promptly passed out.
(In the far back corners of his mind there was a growl left unheard, fading in and out like a dying ember.
Byakko was already damn tired of this Demon.)
…
The world was shrouded in brightness, brilliant lights that would make anyone hiss. And the harsh smell of bandages hit his nose fiercely. It was all too silent as Atsushi stared up at the white ceiling tiles. So quiet the light could even be excused for this serenity. Safe for intakes of breaths, the whining of paper, and the scratch of scribbling in the corner. Huh. He couldn’t remember the infirmary ever being this cold.
Atsushi opened his eyes, his brain felt like it’d been scrambled “Ugh…”
Jesus fucking Christ.
What happened?
Of course, this is what happens after a month of 'boring' paperwork and leaving the office early. He wants to curse whatever member asks for something exciting to happen. As if their lives aren't exciting enough, Atsushi could turn into a fucking tiger.
And frankly, he'd had enough near-death experiences to last a lifetime.
He groans as he sits up, which his dry throat doesn't appreciate very much. How long was he out for?
A voice calls out "Oh good you're awake."
Kunikida is sitting by his bed with his book in hand as always. He glances over at him and just by his appearance Atsushi can tell he is stressed out.
Atsushi and Kunikida stared at each other.
Why would he be stressed out?
Atsushi jumps up. "What’s happened? What's wrong — How? How’s the President? How long was I —”
Kunikida immediately jumps back "Brat, calm down! The cannabilism ability user has been taken care of. The President’s alive and well… You’ve only been unconscious for a couple of hours." Kunikida sighs but the way his gaze flickers over Atsushi makes it seem like there's more left unsaid.
"S-Sorry…" Atsushi hesitantly adds.
"It’s fine, yesterday was a tough day. It’s only….Goddamnit! Where are my glasses, have you seen them? —"
Obviously, it wasn’t fine.
Kunikida had always had a habit of fiddling with his glasses and notebook when he was anxious. By the looks of him holding his ideals upside, right now must be one of those times. Instead of commenting on it, because he was injured and could do without a slap upside the head. Thank you very much. Atsushi just points to the top of his senior’s head. He'd probably rested his glasses on his head as he panicked and forgot they were there.
Atsushi smiles shyly at him as if to say ‘spare me.’
With an embarrassed cough, Kunikida righted his glasses on his nose bridge.
Pauses and says "…There is a bit of a predicament. However. It seems that there’ll never be changes around here. Changes even my ideals had no way of accounting for…"
The older man looks over at Atsushi with an expression of regret. It squeezes something in his heart, Kunikida should never look that way.
"Due to our poor performance on the last mission, The Mafia has made a proposition. An agency member has to be transferred in exchange for their help during the conflict."
...What?
"What?!" Atsushi yells "W-Who is it? Did they steal Kyouka back? Are they trying to?! Is Dazai-san ok? What about —"
"Calm down!" Kunikida shouts "...They still haven't made a decision yet but the member is set to transfer by the end of the week. Tch, they're trying to hold this over our heads for as long as they can. Shameless bastards."
"But…can't we just say no? What would happen if we refused?"
"Oi, you think we haven’t thought the same thing? Don’t look down on your seniors! But if we refuse we’re putting a lot of civilians at risk. Hell. The entirety of Yokohama would collapse, and there’d be too much collateral damage to account for. Too many deaths. Too much blood on our hands,“ Kunikida looks out the window. shoulders in a tense line his expression unchanged.
“Innocent lives lost in a show of who’s the stronger organization. Ridiculous .” He clicks his teeth.
Atsushi looks down at his hands in his lap.
That’s right. It’s hard to remember that the Agency and Mafia’s altercations had such big ramifications for the rest of the city. While it was impossible to forget that you’re not normal as an ability user. Nothing could make Atsushi forget the looks he’d gotten back in the Orphanage. How the others treated him as if there was some dark matter impeded into his skin that only he couldn’t see —
It’s funny to think that the other kids were right in the end.
Atsushi was different, just in a way no one could ever hope to be.
“It’s good that you're awake. Rest up brat, you'll need your strength." Kunikida-san moved to leave. Before pausing, moving awkwardly, and reaching out to pat Atsushi’s head. Unsure of himself. Atsushi wasn’t Dazai or Ranpo-level smart. But he could tell when someone was leaving something out like anyone else.
"You said that the mafia had to help us and that's why they want a transfer….D-Did we fail because I lost to Goncharov? " Kunikida’s hand stills and Atsushi’s heart shatters.
"....This is all my fault."
"Brat– "
“It is isn't it?"
Kunikida sighs again, pushing his glasses up to pinch his nose bridge. The second time he’s done that in five minutes, Atsushi could already see the grey hairs coloring his scalps. He does that when he's frustrated, Atsushi knows this from hours of paperwork. "I can't say who’s at fault here but pointing the finger won't help us…. Even so, there isn’t much I as your senior can do to make this any easier. For any of you. Nothing any of us can do really. Besides being there for our coworkers. Again, use your time here wisely. Think first and foremost about what you can do to help – the rest of us are. Rest up. We’ll need you soon."
After months of being at the Agency. Atsushi had noticed that Kunikida had always had a soft spot for the younger staff members. It could seem quite the opposite for outsiders. considering he calls them all ‘Brats’ but he was honestly rather soft-hearted. He treated them well, looked for them, and offered silent support and nags when they needed it.
He even comforted them but that was only when shit truly went south. So for him to ruffle Atsushi’s hair like that…Their situation wasn’t looking good. And if his eyes didn’t fail him. The haggard look of the idealist proves that. He'd probably been running around all day trying to account for everyone’s needs.
He looked tired. His voice rang in Atsushi’s ears
(Kunikida with tired eyes, hair a mess, looking for his glasses.)
“Think about what you can do to help.”
“Think about what you can do to help –”
“Think about what you can do –”
(“You can’t give filth value.”
“Filth stays filthy, no matter how much you wash it.”)
He’d failed them all. Once again, he’d failed. He’d shown that he truly was filth, that despite all their good intentions and his best efforts he hadn’t changed at all. Shame gathered in his stomach like a stone, making him sink into the bedsheets of the infirmary’s bed. This side of his pillow was becoming wet with his tears.
Pathetic. A cruel voice in his head whispered to him.
He was, wasn’t he?
Atsushi couldn’t help but wonder if the Agency time and time again protected him as their own, who’d protect them?
Who’d help Kunikida-san when he’d run himself ragged and who’d comfort Kyouka when she got scared at night?
Who’d save them went they were busy saving Atsushi?
“Think about what you can do to help.”
He clung to the shame inside him. He heard the answer loud and clear.
…
Hours passed with the grace of a snail, Yukichi had been stuck in his office for the entire day. The rest of the members outside waited for a command that would never come.
He’d hardly seen Dazai or Yosano since Mori had made that dreaded announcement. Whether it was the young man's need to be alone or to run away and soak his sorrows away. He hadn’t come back and most likely wouldn’t come back until the meeting. Dazai had always been a bit of a free bird. A lone wolf if you will - but isolating yourself in this type of situation was never the answer.
Akiko was an entirely different case to crack. At first, Ranpo had been stuck beside her like they were attached at the hip until she just left and never came back. Yukichi could tell she was nearby still, the web All Men Are Equal cast attached him to each of his employees. Through it he felt her fire pulse and burn out as if doused only to relight, taller than before.
She was frustrated.
Scared even.
Yukichi couldn’t imagine any other person not being. They’d be a fool not to.
While they might act alike at times Dazai and Yosano were strikingly different. All Yukichi could tell on Dazai before he disappeared into thin air, was a hint of moroseness. A wave of quiet anger. His ability wasn’t compatible with Dazai’s. But it didn’t take a genius detective to figure out he was upset, but was acting like nothing was wrong. Sincerity had never really been Mafioso’s style of work and old habits die hard.
Yukichi had decided to stay in the office until nightfall, waving off the others to go home and rest. Atsushi had been dragged off by Kyouka in a hurry, it was obvious he was going to attempt to apologize. Again. Not that it would help any in this situation.
Yukichi sighs.
For the first time in a long time, he felt beyond helpless.
Ranpo had attempted to lighten his mood but to no avail. The detective likely had an idea of who would be transferred but when asked about it. Yukichi had fervently and persistently demanded that he be knocked off.
(He’d have to apologize to him when this was all over.)
If he’d even get the chance to.
When he’d founded the Agency, he’d hoped to leave something behind for others like him to fall back on. Something real and physical. Something that could continue to help others even when he wasn’t around anymore. Of course. Of course, he knew it came with its own precautions but he’d never expected to come to care so much about his employees.
(“We both have so much more to protect now.”)
Yukichi sighs again.
“What’s got you so down Boss-man?” A familiar figure leaned against the entrance of his doorway. Her signature white coat is in hand.
“Akiko…”
Her dark eyes widen a bit before turning away again. Yukichi’s voice constricts at the sight, of Mori still painted all over her –
“Wow, you’re really bringing out the first name to start off with? Am I gonna get scolded?” She adds teasingly.
He does nothing, says nothing, and just stares back at her.
Something in Fukuzawa’s gaze must’ve given away how concerned he is. Because she softens instantly. Like a wilting flower or a cat who realizes you mean no harm —
Lately, Yukichi sees her in all of it.
“I’m fine.” She says but tosses her lab coat on the sofa haphazardly. He remembers how hard she’d worked for it and something in him burns.
“You’re not.”
“I am —” There that same petulant child who he rescued is again.
“Don’t lie to me. I can tell when you are.”
Perhaps Yukichi had been too straightforward. Too brutal in his prodding because everything halts to a stop. Like a spinning record had been destroyed. They stare at each other. And there it is again, that miserable silence of them both knowing what’s to come.
Akiko bursts open inside of it ---
“I’m not fucking going back. Regardless of what that shithead thinks, I’m not. He’d have to drag me by my fucking hair— which might I add he can’t. You two are becoming such old geezers I’d give him a run for his fucking money. Easy.”
“Akiko—”
She snarls like he’d cussed her out “What? Don’t say it like that. Don’t say my name like that. Like I'm something pitiful. I’m fine and I’m not fucking going.”
“I know you’re not.”
Fukuzawa Yukichi had lived a lot of his life alone. Born an orphan he’d taken to joining the military to earn a living. Then he’d been reborn as a bodyguard and nothing had really changed other than his friendships. From then on he’d thought there’d be no place for sentimentalities or feelings. Until he met a cheeky orphan and went on to pick up a little girl working as a nurse. Whether he’d done it subconsciously or not, he wasn't sure. But he’d found his calling in being responsible for others for the first time.
It wasn’t a long stretch to say he viewed Akiko as his own, though that felt wrong to say at this moment.
(He doubted there would ever be a moment where the both of them wouldn’t shiver at the thought. Of having a family.)
“I’m not.”
Yukichi doesn’t really know who they’re saying this for besides to placate themselves. As much as Akiko didn’t want to leave his side, Yukichi couldn’t bear to see her leave his.
He’d never been the most tactile person but he’d never wanted to hug a person more. Instead, he reaches across the table to hold her hand, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. Her head was down, her bangs covering her eyes. She’d been anxiously biting her knuckles again. They were red and bloody. Irritated.
“I’ll make sure you stay. I promise.”
She grabs his hand back and squeezes in thanks. Yosano Akiko had always been a prideful person. If she’d gotten it from her time with Mori or not Yukichi didn’t care for it. It was her, so he embraced it readily.
Mori was right.
They both had more to protect now but his kids would always be at the top of his list.
…
“I volunteer,” Atsushi says. His hand raised as if he was asking a question at the Orphanages’ Sunday school.
It was strange that he’d said it so confidently when his palms were sweating. And he felt like throwing up a lung with the way the Mafia members stared at him.
The entirety of the Mafia higher-ups were here. The Boss, Mori. Kouyou, who had tried to beeline to Kyouka but was stopped by some elderly man with a monocle. Some redhead that Atsushi recognized from the Guild conflict, and a tall blonde man with a cold glare. They were a rather colorful group.
To rewind, it had all started like this. The Armed Detective Agency had arrived at a big building that worked as the Mafia’s headquarters. They’d left late at night to avoid the Special Division and the Police’s intervention. This was after all an internal affair which it needed to remain.
He’d be lying, if he said that the building hadn’t been nice. It was nicer than the agency surely but that wasn’t a surprise with how much the Mafia must rack in revenue.
His body was exhausted but anxiety coursed through his veins and lit up his blood. He’d been wringing his hands since they’d first arrived. Only stopping when Dazai-san tapped his shoulder. It should’ve worked as a scolding for appearing so pathetic in front of the Mafia. But the smile on his mentor’s face did nothing to chip away at his nerves.
The building was plush with dark sleek looking colors. Expensive-looking cushions, as well as a large reception hall. They’d been led to Mori’s office --- the President and Kunikida walking in the front --- by a smiling secretary.
Atsushi and Tanizaki looked at each other nervously.
This couldn't be a good idea.
Atsushi hadn’t been able to sleep at all, he’d tossed and turned like crazy which had in turn kept Kyouka awake. Though she didn’t care, she couldn’t sleep either. As they’d all met up to leave together, it’d been the first time in a few days that Atsushi had seen Dazai. After the news had broken the older man had sneaked off somewhere and no one had been able to reach him. Looking up at him Atsushi couldn’t tell by anything that Dazai was nervous or scared. No. Instead, the man just plopped down into a seat by the long table as the other members poured in.
“Fufufu~ It’s been a while since I’ve been in here~,” Dazai says. “Sad to see you still can’t reach the floor Chibi, do you need a high chair?”
The redhead from before scowls at him, his seat to the right of the Boss. “Kiss my ass, Dazai.”
“How uncivilized!” Dazai says back before he gets cuffed on the head by Kunikida.
Making all the tension bleed into the room once more.
Either his mentor has no situational awareness. Which Atsushi knows to be a lie. Or he somehow felt comfortable in this parallel universe. Atsushi tries to picture Dazai in a black suit like the one Mori is wearing, with a red scarf to match.
He decides it doesn’t suit him.
Atsushi knows Dazai used to be in the Mafia. But looking at him now, the alternative seems as far-fetched as pigs being able to fly.
“So nice of all of you to come!” Mori damns near squeals with glee. His enthusiasm is unsettling and foreign contrasted by his stonefaced executives.
“You called us here.” Fukuzawa booms back.
“Yes! Well,” Mori smiles “In light of recent events there is a transaction lying in wait. I’d wish to say it was an honor to work with you but, truthfully, it was a hassle that made us go through more than it was worth! ~”
Atsushi sees it happen. Something changes in Mori as he continues talking. “So I’d like to cut the snake’s head off before it starts eating away at us.” It’s as if there’d been a light switch turned off, leaving only black darkness in its wake.
It reminds him of Dazai in missions and Yosano when she heals. But then the comparison hits him and he feels ashamed for thinking so.
Mori claps his hands together. Kyouka hides her face in Atsushi’s back and he subconsciously widens his shoulders to help. The President, Ranpo, and Dazai are the only ones sitting. One Atsushi thinks is merely a formality (a very unlikely thought) and the other two a display of bravado. The rest of the gang; Yosano, Tanizaki, Kunikida, Kyouka, and Kenji are standing behind them, at the end of the table. Regardless, Dazai had a talent for making himself seem comfortable in scary situations.
Some days Atsushi wishes he had an ounce of his bravery. Looking at him now, his mentor looked bored.
Though having known each other for long enough, Atsushi catches the steely stare in his eyes. He’s focused, zoned into whatever mind games are about to down – and as always Atsushi is left to look on in awe as it happens.
“So –” Mori barely gets to look at Yosano or Dazai or any of the others before Atsushi opens his mouth.
Nakajima Atsushi wasn’t a brave person.
“Think about what you can do to help.”
(“Besides it’s a known fact you can’t give filth value.”
“Our lord is a merciful God and so am I.” )
“I volunteer,” He raises his hand but he doesn’t know why. Either if it was to show that it was him who said it and not one of the others. He wouldn’t allow it ---
Atsushi wasn’t a brave person.
He wouldn’t allow them to be taken away because of him ---
Really. He was truly a coward.
“Think about what you can do to help.”
But even cowards have families.
Atsushi hadn’t. Not until now at least.
As sappy as it is to think.
It wasn’t Kunikida’s fault he was doing this.
It was barely the Headmaster’s, to be honest.
It was all Atsushi’s.
He’d never truly believed there was something wrong with taking the blame. He’d done it too many times than he can count to. In the Orphanage, it was a dog-eat-dog world. Atsushi had prayed that the outside world would be different. But while God is merciful. He cannot create miracles and Atsushi is once again on his knees begging for forgiveness.
He doesn’t know why he says it a second time. “I volunteer.”
Or even a third one “I volunteer,”
But based on the horrified looks in the room it ought to be repeated again. It feels good. Like throwing a bucket of blood into a shark tank. And watching them scramble for more or throw a body off of the balcony, waiting to hear the crack of bones.
Nakajima Atsushi isn’t a brave person.
“Atsushi —” Dazai calls out but he doesn’t wanna hear it.
Kunikida, standing beside him grabs his shoulder roughly; trying to tell him off. If he turned. He could probably hear the words “Be quiet, brat” or “Shut it,” or something along those lines, just from the look in his eyes.
When Atsushi transfers he hopes Kunikida still calls him ‘brat’ and treats him as kindly as he does. It lights a happy flame inside of him that he didn’t know existed. It was nice like there was still a child worth praising inside of him.
Though that won’t really happen. At least not how he hopes to.
“You wanted a reward, right? Well, what’s a better reward than the White tiger you’ve sent groups and groups of men after?” Atsushi wasn’t a brave person. He was a lousy liar but he’d read enough fantasy books growing up to know when to bring out the big guns.
Mori. The Big Bad Bossman. Or whatever Atsushi will have to call him from now on, looks between intrigued and pissed. Atsushi revels in the look. Bites into it how a shark would flesh.
“I hadn’t expected one of you to volunteer.”
“Well, I’ve always been considered a bit of a loose cannon. Arbitrary, if you will. I would ask if you were in need of one but it doesn’t seem like you have much of a choice.”
His hand shakes but keeps his hands out of sight. His haughty reply only hits him in the aftermath. Suddenly he’s scared beyond belief but wills it to the best of his ability to not show on his face.
'Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me oh my god, oh my god.'
“Atsushi,”
“Think about what you can do to help.”
"Atsushi."
Atsushi will stand by everything he’s said. Because it already feels better that he has something to fight for.
That he’s finally changing.
He can’t help himself and sneaks a peek at his mentor. Whose voice has been booming throughout the conference room? He looks angry. Dazai does. Or he at least has…. some sort of emotion on his face. His eyes were wide and his pupils small. The Mafia executives look at him as if he was a moron, so Atsushi rights his back ever so slightly. The redhead especially is looking to and fro him and Dazai in confusion. As he’d never seen such foolishness in real life. Atsushi tries to not let the looks waver him. Letting them prickle off of his body in stride.
He was doing the right thing. He knew he was. Doesn’t quell his need to shit bricks right about now though.
The looks Ranpo sends his way, make Atsushi want to hide under a table and die. Fukuzawa as well. If Atsushi turned around he’d bet his coworkers would have matching expressions. He can still feel Kyouka holding on to him but now his shirt is a tight ball in her fist, as she hides. He can feel the waves of her shaking through his body.
But that’s okay, they’d soon forget all about him.
Nakajima Atsushi wasn’t brave. He also wasn’t that memorable of a man.
“Think about what you can do to help.”
This may not be much but it’s how Atsushi fights. No, this is how Atsushi will fight from now on. For the first time in his life. He has something to fight for, unfortunately, Atsushi is a rather selfish person. He’s not one to let go that easily.
“So,”
He makes sure to smile big and broad to offset the tremors of his body. As if to say ‘Look at me! look at me I already have blood on my teeth what’s an ounce more?’
“When do I start?”
…
Believe it or not, the Mafia is a chivalrous bunch.
Or at least, they're pretending to be.
They tell him the plans for his transfer. As if the sentencing had been placed on their heads instead of Atsushi’s own. The stinging rejection doesn’t hurt him. Not exactly anyway. Atsushi wasn’t a sadist. Not by any means. The headmaster had always told him that people who find joy in others' pain were agents of the devil. Which is ironic. Considering the Orphanage had a literal torture chamber.
So Atsushi wasn’t sadistic nor Machiavellian, really.
But he was petty as shit.
After all, what does a hurt child have beyond their grudges? It’s their only weapon.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
Atsushi’s supposed to meet at dawn outside of the dormitory, where they’ll pick him up.
Again — Rather chivalrous despite the fact that they’re hard-boiled criminals. They hadn’t been able to discuss the matters of his transfer more before Kunikida swooped in. Dragging him off to some corridor.
“Kunikida-san —” Atsushi hisses.
“When I said there wasn’t much we could do it didn’t mean to go off and make plans of your own. I hate when you lot do that. Hell, I hate it when Dazai does it. But he doesn’t bind himself to a criminal organization that’s been gunning for his death for months, now does he?”
“Look, I understand that you’re surprised—”
"Surprised?!”
“But what would you rather have me do? —”
“Not die, you idiot!” He says, glancing around to see if anyone followed them.
And that’s it. The straw that broke the camel's back. The stone that broke the glass house, so to speak. Tension breaks and binds around them. They stare at each other and everything breaks again. Kunikida’s never been good with change. He explains that’s why he wasn’t keen on Atsushi joining the Agency in the beginning. Well, Atsushi’s not keen on being useless, so he guesses they’re even.
“Weren’t you the one who told me you can’t save everyone? Guess what; I found out how.” Atsushi knows it’s low, that’s why he says it. Kunikida is a good man. Perhaps the best of them, but there are times to be rigid and when to bend.
“I have to do this.” Atsushi hasn’t quite learned the difference yet. But knows neither will help him right now.
Kunikida was many things; kind, responsible, dedicated, kind, embarrassing, naggy, kind — But outweighing everything he’s practical.
That’s what Atsushi likes about him. And that's why he's using it against him. Atsushi; Is the newest and least polished member of the ADA. It only makes sense to get rid of the weakest link. Right?
Atlas himself, stands in a lavish hallway with him. And Atsushi can see it — The tug of weight on his shoulders firmly cemented. Kunikida hates change. Like how he hates decaf coffee, Dazai-san's antics, and incomplete puzzles. And frankly, Atsushi’s just swept the last piece away from him.
Sighing, he finally budges “Do what you can and stay out of the way. The Mafia isn’t as forgiving as us.” Don’t die on me, on us — goes without being said. But he looks as if he hates what he's saying as much as how it even leaves his mouth.
“You probably won’t get to keep your phone so I’ll get a burner phone for you as quickly as I can. Call us if you need anything. Ever. That’s an order brat.”
And that’s how the meeting ends. Kunikida and Atsushi are absent, in a luxurious hallway with an iron grip on each other. The child inside him weeps.
They ride home together in silence. The kind of silence that doesn’t invite conversation and just breeds even more stillness. Safe to say it isn’t a cozy car ride. As they get out, the President first — who doesn’t glance in Atsushi’s direction once. Kunikida, Yosano, and Ranpo stalk after him with more purpose than baby ducks. Tanizaki and Naomi beside him. They’ve all taken to waiting in the office, not quite ready to be off on their own just yet. Sitting down, Kyouka beside him and Kenji weeping snottily into his shoulders. Atsushi has never felt quite as loved. Sad; how it’s always in the ugliest situations we feel the loveliest.
A lanky figure walks before him.
“Dazai-san!” He doesn’t respond, nor stop and turn around. Call it favoritism or loyalty but Atsushi feels the strangest about leaving Dazai. The entire Agency means a great deal to him but it’s the same as comparing another dish to Ochazuke. Any other starving man would thank god for either but Atsushi was a selfish, selfish man.
Dazai had saved Atsushi and by proxy – the tiny boy inside him who yearned for help. That enough earned him special treatment in his eyes.
“D-Dazai-san!” Atsushi stands up to give chase. He knows the brunette’s smarter than him by a lot. And can hold his own just fine, but isn’t nice to be left alone after something like this.
They end up in the Agency’s crummy hallway.
“Dazai-san!”
Then the staircase.
And outside the door, out onto the street.
The entire time his mentor doesn’t look back once. Whether a mix of concern and anger for a person is normal. Or if he’s turned into a sinner like the Headmaster told him he’d be — Atsushi doesn’t give up. Selfish. Just like he’d said.
“Dazai!”
Because he’d seen the look on Dazai’s face when the transfer proposal (proposal? more like a demand) had been made. Words couldn’t describe the look better than haunted, hardened, or ghostly —
It reminded him of a memory from when he’d first started at the Agency. How Dazai had looked when he’d tried to guess his previous jobs before this one. How his smile almost looked painted on. How almost they all.
Atsushi runs up to the man and grips him by the wrist to turn him around. Only to be pried off forcefully, and pushed as Dazai continues trudging up the street.
There was a side to him that only the Mafia brought out. Atsushi didn’t know what part he hated more — what he did or how he looked while doing it.
…
“Do you have to go? Can’t you stay?” Kyouka asks.
It’s dark inside their dorm so Atsushi can’t see her face but the heartbreak in her voice is clear as day. Oh, breaking a little girl’s heart wasn’t on his to-do list. And so he packs. Continues to pack. Looking down at his pitiful amount of clothing and things. Before shoving them into his bag.
They’d left the Agency a couple of hours after Atsushi ran after Dazai. Who mysteriously still hasn’t soon up to the dorms well into the night. Half of him wants to call for the umpteenth time or just run out to find him. But the pull of his wrist and the throw of his body conveyed that Dazai wanted to be left alone, well enough. Atsushi wouldn’t have to be told again.
He was doing the right thing. Despite what everybody else thinks.
Even as he grew up in the Agency Atsushi hadn’t let go of the habit of traveling lightly. Never knowing when his next stop would be or if he'd be alive to see it.
Unsure of what the fuck he’s doing, Atsushi tries because what if he doesn't try? “We’ll still see each other. Just….not as often anymore. Like how you see Kouyou-san.”
The three of them had reached an agreement that Kouyou could see Kyouka. Or at least watch her from a distance at a nearby cafe whenever the fifteenth of the month hit. There weren’t any blood-stained napkins at the end of it. And Kyouka always seemed lighter after the whole affair.
So they kept doing it. 1) for the tasty crepes and 2) because Kouyou would pay with her big bucks Executive paycheck anyway.
There's a sob. Then a sniffle. And then many sniffles. When Tanizaki had taught him the reality of being an older brother. He hadn’t expected this ability to make someone cry so easily. Then again Atsushi had never felt the weight of someone loving quite as much as Kyouka did. Shame twists in his stomach – she deserved a better role model. The small child inside of him whines at the sight. And the tiger inside him chews him out for being so tactless.
“Hey – Hey, it’ll be okay. We’ll still see each other, I promise.”
“I don’t want you—” Kyouka pauses as if to wretch the words from her throat ”--to die. I don’t want you to kill anyone either. What am I supposed to believe in then? Can’t we just... stay like we are now?”
“Please ?”
It was strange to see her like this. Kyouka never showed this much emotion except anger or fear, most things didn’t show up on her porcelain face. She was a lot like Dazai that way. Though in Atsushi’s eyes, it seems more like Kyouka can’t help but feel, while Dazai held back from feeling anything.
Atsushi could only hope that wouldn’t change as he went away. But then again, he was never that important, was he?
Suddenly his tongue is heavy and limp inside his mouth.
Kyouka will be fine.
She had to be.
Atsushi says nothing. He holds her like he thinks a little sister would like to be held. Tightly, softly, like a flower whose petals would peel off at the sight of violence. Another one of her sobs rattles his resolves, shredding at his heart.
“Think about what you can do to help.”
If it hadn’t been him it would’ve been Yosano or Dazai or Kyouka or anyone Mori had already gotten his hands on. The very prospect made him ill. Because Yosano and Dazai weren’t impressionable little girls or boys. They didn't have stars for eyes anymore. A small voice chips in; ‘I doubt they ever got to be.’ But Kyouka will be. Kenji too, and for the sake of the little boy inside him who used to love playing with the two.
“Think about what you can do —”
“Think about what you can do to help.”
The answer once again stands as obvious as black ink on white paper. But for the sake of a young girl’s heart. And a little boy sick with wanderlust — Atsushi plays the part of a grieving brother as best as he can. For Kyouka, Atsushi’s quite sure he’d rip a limb off if she asked him to.
“That’s brotherhood,” Tanizaki said to him once when he’d relayed the thought.
Nothing entirely made Atsushi feel as tough.
The next morning is as foggy as they come. As hazy as his mind. And as grey as the skies can be in such a sunny city. Atsushi had, had to sneak around the dorm packing in order not to wake Kyouka up, who’d just recently gone to sleep. Her red, puffy eyes closed tightly. Fast asleep.
‘Good’ Is all Atsushi can think. After the night they’d had of crying and crying and crying, there hadn’t been anything else to do but rest. They see each other soon enough again. Atsushi bet that on his life.
They pick him up in a black van, much too fancy for his shabby being and equally shabby clothes. Reminding himself to breathe, Atsushi steps inside. Meeting the eyes of that redhead from the Executive meeting, who stared back at him with bored eyes. Tired icy blue eyes bore into his own. Hadn’t it been for the cold glare, Atsushi could see him as a painting somewhere rich and fancy. Like a historical museum or an art gallery. His posture and position were domineering as he took up half the seat. Quite a feat for such a small person. A street rat in far too expensive clothing for his job’s violent delights. Atsushi rolls his eyes in his head as they drive off. Clutching his bag to his chest, covering its patchwork and loose threads.
Way to make a statement.
...
Back at the Agency, two people were left standing in the early morning light. I stared out the window as a black van came and left. Coffee mugs in either hand.
Had Akiko been weaker and Yukichi more vulnerable they’d have clutched at each other. But they didn’t. And they wouldn’t. At least not today.
“He won’t last a week.” She says, poking him in the ribs with her elbow “You know it too, Boss Man.”
They’d both stayed up for longer than 24 hours these past few days. So whether it was a delusion or reality, Yukicihi can see Atsushi fitting right in. Not without some polishing, but children are often tougher than they’re given credit for. He glances at Akiko —
Somehow, someway. “We’ll see. We will see.”