Chapter Text
I lost? How did I lose?
He was too dizzy to even protest, to send Rashomon slashing through the air, shattering this filthy table and all the glasses piled on it and expressing just how bloody wrong this was.
And what was worse: Dazai was here. Akutagawa couldn’t see him, not when every person in his vision looked like they might actually be two, no three, then two again when they melted back together. But he could hear his old mentor’s voice, laughing, saying that name in a jovial manner, like how he’d never once said Akutagawa’s name.
Ryunosuke.
That’s my name.
“Atsushi-kun, Atsushi-kun, well done!” Dazai cackled.
Ryunosuke-kun . He’d never called him that.
And the worst part, the gnawing black pit in his stomach, the bile clawing to escape one more time, was that he knew that even if he’d won this most trivial of contests, Dazai wouldn’t call him that, wouldn’t laugh and clasp his shoulder, give him that winning smile that Akutagawa could never tell whether it was real or not and didn’t even care.
I lost. In. A lot of ways tonight.
How did this even happen?
It’d begun that morning, that much Akutagawa remembered. Mori-san had called him into the executive room, hands clasped as he sat in his high-backed chair, voice dark and crimson wine stirring in his cup. Gin had watched a vampire movie the night before, and Akutagawa couldn’t help but notice a resemblance between his boss and the cliche sexy villain of the piece.
“Akutagawa,” said Mori. “I have a task for you.”
Elise sat on the floor near Mori, humming a child’s rhyme. It didn’t help the creepy atmosphere.
“Yes?”
“We’ve received word that there’s a potentially troublesome guest arriving in Japan. His name is Robert Louis Stevenson, and he’s got an ability named Jekyll and Hyde, but we don’t know what it is.”
“You want me to capture or kill him?” Akutagawa’s heart pounded. If it was kill… damn you and your stupid blasted ugly promise, Jinko!
“Find out what his ability is,” said Mori. “Capture him if he won’t talk, and I doubt he will.”
“Why are we so suspicious of him? Has he threatened us?”
“Fitzgerald from the Guild said he’s formidable and then began ignoring my phone calls,” said Mori.
“I won’t fail you,” Akutagawa promised.
Mori nodded, turning to Elise. “Elise-chan, are you ready to go shopping?”
Akutagawa ignored them, striding out. He tapped Higuchi on her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Higuchi whipped off her sunglasses, eyes shining. “Where? Did we get a mission? You need my help?”
“Obviously.” He scowled, striding out into the crisp fall air. “We need to find a Robert Louis Stevenson. And find out his ability. Rashomon will make him talk, and we have his real name.”
A few hours later and the sky was decaying like an autumn leaf, orange with yellow veins, red tingeing the edges and night coming to crumble the color away. And Akutagawa and Higuchi had the man’s hotel, which, after a few threats and sacrificial drops of blood from Rashomon, yielded the name of a bar.
Olalla . A strange, foreign name. Bars were not Akutagawa’s scene; he drank on occasion, but not with strangers, and people giggled too loudly and sweated too much in bars, and the music was always so loud the floor quivered under his feet. He adjusted his coat. Of course it was too fucking warm in here.
Higuchi’s eyes swept the crowd, looking for a caucasian man.
Akutagawa didn’t find him. But he did find, instead, someone else. You would like bars, you loser!
“Senpai?” asked Higuchi. “Are you all right?”
“Mm.” Akutagawa strode forward, pushing his way through the crowd. A stray elbow knocked into him. He glared at a balding businessman. Avoiding your kids?
“Oh, no,” he heard Jinko say to the redheaded girl beside him. From the Guild, if he remembered correctly.
“Why are you here?” Akutagawa demanded, folding his arms as he stepped in front of Jinko. Because he already knew the answer.
“L-Lucy says that there’s a man we need to catch here,” said Atsushi. “Dazai tasked the two of us with—”
“Well, I’m catching him for the Port Mafia, so if you don’t want to die a few months early, then scram.” Akutagawa couldn’t take it if Dazai were to hear Atsushi brag about how he’d beaten Akutagawa to get Robert Louis Stevenson.
“No!” Atsushi drew himself up to his full height, glowering up at Akutagawa. “I’m not letting Dazai-san down!”
“Well, I can’t let Mori-san down.”
Atsushi blinked.
“Go ahead and say it,” Akutagawa said. “We all know you’re thinking it!”
“Shut up!” Atsushi’s face paled.
I already let Dazai-san down. Akutagawa opened his mouth to call Rashomon, but Lucy grabbed his arm. “Excuse me?”
“Calm down!” Lucy hissed. “If you want to catch this guy, and I don’t care which of you does, a fight is not going to—he’s notoriously quiet, likes to blend in—”
“Do you know what he looks like?” Akutagawa eyed Higuchi. She gave a small nod. They could use Lucy and Atsushi for now, dump them when they got what they needed.
“I do,” said Lucy. “But I’m not helping either of you two doofuses if you fight now!”
Akutagawa and Atsushi both backed down. Higuchi glared. She clearly didn’t like Lucy threatening him. Well, whatever. If Higuchi wanted to gun down everyone who wanted to kill Akutagawa he’d never see her again. He couldn’t bother with them.
“He’s not here yet,” Lucy added. “And I asked the bartender, and he hasn’t seen him. But when he comes, we can be waiting.”
“Fine.” Akutagawa coughed as smoke tickled his nostrils. Damn people so eager to die. It was a wonder Dazai hadn’t taken up cigarettes.
“What do you even want with him?” demanded Atsushi. His chest heaved. “To send him after us again, or—”
“No, weretiger,” Akutagawa retorted. “It’s none of my business. My boss ordered it.”
“And you don’t even care to know?”
“I care about doing what he asked me to do!”
“So in addition to viewing people like currency, they treat you like a slave.”
“Are you asking me to punch you with Rashomon? Because I don’t think it matters that I promised not to kill for six months if I kill you!”
“You promised what?” Higuchi demanded.
Great. Akutagawa scowled. “I listen to Mori because he’s my boss.”
“Do you trust him?”
Akutagawa leaned closer, putting his face close enough to Jinko’s to make out the pores in his skin, glare at his stupid sunrise eyes. “Do you trust Dazai-san?”
This is what I do to useless subordinates.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
He could never be useless again.
Jinko paled.
“How lucky for you,” Akutagawa said, pulling back. That you have to luxury to trust .
And how foolish. Jinko might as well dig his own grave if he could trust so many people. Or, maybe not. Maybe the light would protect him, the light that never welcomed shadows like Akutagawa. Scorch any people who dared to step into the sunlight.
No, I can still reach you!
“Excuse me,” interrupted a voice. The bartender. “If you’re going to stay, you’ll have to order a drink.”
Lucy shrugged. “Why not?”
“I doubt Jinko drinks,” Akutagawa taunted. He was too pure. Despite the fact that Dazai-san had definitely started drinking way before Akutagawa knew him.
Jinko’s eyes narrowed. “A beer, please.”
Oh? Akutagawa lifted his brows.
“The fuck are you doing here?”
Both of them shouted at the same time. Dazai glared at Chuuya. His ex-partner glared back at him. Little brat. Emphasis on little .
“I’m here to pick up your leftovers,” Chuuya snapped, caving first. As usual.
“And I’m here to pick up my bratty protege because he was supposed to be back about an hour ago.” And truth to be told, Dazai knew that Stevenson was supposed to be beyond the pale in terms of his ability. But he still didn’t know what it was. Fitzgerald didn’t know either, but he seemed certain that if the man got to use it in Japan, it would not end well.
It didn’t surprise him that Mori knew, too, and had alerted the Port Mafia. It was the smart thing to do. And a shin soukoku team up would be ideal to prevent—
“ You don’t get to speak about brats.” Chuuya stepped on Dazai’s foot to be the first one inside.
Dazai immediately rammed into him. “Hey!”
But Chuuya didn’t even make a snarky comment. He gaped. Dazai frowned, following his gaze.
Atsushi stood clutching the end of a table. And at the other end stood Akutagawa, glaring as he finished a glass of beer. Dozens of empty glasses were lined up between them. Higuchi passed Akutagawa a cup of water. He almost missed his lips.
Atsushi rubbed his temples. Lucy stood next to him, eyes scouring the room. They landed on Dazai and she swore.
“Are they…” Chuuya began.
“They’re having a drinking contest,” Dazai stated, rubbing his chin. He couldn’t tell if the cool feeling in him was subtle rage or impressed amusement.
“We couldn’t find him!” hollered Lucy. “He’s not here!”
“Well, great associates you have,” Chuuya said sarcastically. “Why not alert the entire world?”
Atsushi grabbed another beer.
Dear God. Dazai had never seen Atsushi drink so much. Or really, at all. You are gonna have one hell of a headache in the morning. Or would his tiger healing abilities take care of this for him?
Atsushi glugged it down. “T-twelve,” he slurred.
Akutagawa narrowed his eyes, grabbing another.
In all the years Dazai had known Akutagawa, he hadn’t known the boy to drink.
“Dazai-san!” cried Atsushi happily.
Akutagawa almost choked on the beer, but he forced himself to finish drinking. “Thirteen.” He glared at Atsushi. His face was very, very red, and he wouldn’t look at Dazai.
“Are you drunk?” Dazai asked. “Man, Atsushi, Kunikida is going to have a—”
“What happened to your orders?” Chuuya cried out.
Akutagawa hiccuped. His eyes went in and out of focus. “He’s not—here, Ch-ch—yaaaa. Didn’tcha hear her?” He pointed towards Lucy. Well, sort of towards Lucy.
“Give him more water,” Chuuya ordered Higuchi, who scrambled to obey. “Akutagawa-kun, you—”
“Shut up .”
Atsushi gritted his teeth, reaching for another. Dazai swore. But he couldn’t deny that he was intrigued. “Better drink some water first, Atsushi-kun. You can’t win a drinking contest without a decent chaser. Stay hydrated and all.”
“How many have you been a part of?” Chuuya snapped.
“Too many to count, and I’ve won them all,” Dazai taunted. It was half-true. Okay, maybe three-quarters true. “You?”
“None, because I’m a responsible damn human being!”
“Because you’re so short you’d lose, you mean.”
Chuuya punched him. Dazai laughed.
“Oh dear,” said Atsushi, voice wobbling from above him. “D-Dazai—shan? Are—”
“Never you mind; it’s expected,” Dazai said, rubbing his chin as he got to his feet.
“Too slow to evade,” Chuuya mocked.
“I wanted to get hit.” Dazai winked. “I heard that if you hit just right, you can dislodge the vertebrae and—”
Chuuya’s face reddened. “Damn suicidal maniac.”
Atsushi wavered. “I don’t—feel good.”
“Then I win,” Akutagawa ground out.
Atsushi shook his head. “No.” He gulped the water Lucy pressed into his hand. Dazai ruffled Lucy’s hair. And then Atsushi drank his thirteenth drink. “Hey, Akutagawa.”
“What?”
“Why do you—hate me so much?” Atsushi rasped. “I don’t get you at all.”
“You bull—” Akutagawa’s face turned, and he yanked himself to the side, gagging. He fell to his knees, vomit pouring from his lips.
Dazai snorted. He remembered the times he tried to drink himself to death. Those were the days where he thought it was possible, where he didn’t realize his body had things like gag refluxes to expel too much alcohol and ambulances had stomach pumps for when you failed. And, as it turned out, as pleasant as it was feeling so drunk your head might as well be floating above the clouds, it was not fun to think about choking to death on your own vomit. It did not taste good. And nausea did not feel good.
“I win,” Atsushi said, voice dreamy. And then his legs buckled, and he crumpled.
Dazai lunged, catching him before the kid smacked his head on the floor. “Careful, Atsush-kun.’
He was out cold.
“Hey, you won,” Dazai said, clapping him on the shoulder.
Akutagawa stayed on his knees, staring at a pile of his own vomit like a dog, refusing to look at Dazai.
Dazai thought about telling him he’d done well, but he didn’t exactly want to encourage Akutagawa to drink more. It wouldn’t really help the kid. From the looks of tonight, it hadn’t mellowed him out at all.
“Aw, fuck,” Chuuya complained. “Do I have to drag him home?”
“I’ll—go myself!” Akutagawa staggered to his feet and almost collapsed. Higuchi grabbed him. “Go to hell!”
“She’s just trying to help you, you bully!” Lucy shot back.
“Your friend is the one who said—who said—” Akutagawa’s face twisted and Dazai thought he would vomit again, but he didn’t. He only moaned, sinking. This time Chuuya grabbed him, holding him upright. “All I do is let—Dazai—shan—down—”
“He didn’t say that! Stop projecting, asshole!” Lucy snapped.
“Don’t call him an asshole! You don’t even know him!” Higuchi reached for her gun as if to defend Akutagawa’s honor.
“I will use No Longer Human,” Dazai threatened.
Lucy scowled. Higuchi smirked as if to say against a gun? But she withdrew her hand.
He didn’t know what to say to Akutagawa, and it wasn’t as if it mattered, since Akutagawa would surely not remember any of this in the morning. Dazai hauled Atsushi up and over his shoulder. “The tab good, Lucy?”
“He owes me,” Lucy retorted.
Dazai snickered. “I’ll say.”
Chuuya and Higuchi kept their hands under Akutagawa’s arms, helping him stagger towards the door.
The night air had a cold nip to it. “He’s going to have a massive headache. He doesn’t have to be in until noon,” Dazai warned Kyouka, who gaped.
“You said he’d be fine, Lucy!”
“Well, how was I to know he’d drink himself to a coma to get under Akutagawa’s skin?” retorted Lucy.
Dazai turned Atsushi onto his side to make sure he wouldn’t choke on his own puke. Kyouka had already gotten a glass of water. He wasn’t sleeping in the closet tonight.
When he left under the full moon, he texted Chuuya. He ok?
I put him on his side if that’s what you mean.
And then:
It’s been years since you texted me.
Dazai hesitated. Every now and then, even after leaving the mafia, he used to text Chuuya now and then. Mostly just bitch and fuck you s. Chuuya would respond in very long all-caps rants recounting all of their past missions and his stupidity during them.
But not lately. Not the past year. Maybe longer.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket.
“You’re a curse on this world! Useless shit that should have been aborted; it’d have been a mercy for everybody else!”
A boot flying out, kicking him in the head. He screamed and cried, curling up, trying to protect his skull, but the manacles around his wrists kept him from succeeding.
“What? You disagree? You think you deserve to be protected?”
“No, no, I’m bad, you’re right!” And he still hated him. He still hated the director, because he didn’t want it to be true. And he was scum for not wanting it, scum for being locked in here, scum for being an orphan, scum scum scum.
Someone just scrape me away and throw me in the trash already!
The words were sharper than the director’s boot, slicing through bone and brain, jabbing cold down his spine. He shuddered, gagging, trying not to vomit.
Atsush’s eyes flew open. And he regretted it. Light clawed him. He squeezed them shut and his muscles felt like they were spasming. What—
The drinking contest. Akutagawa. Robert Louis Somebody.
Shit!
How had he been so stupid? Dazai had shown up to help, right? Sticky tears stung his eyes. Now Dazai would think him useless.
Please no, please no.
The voices echoed and echoed, louder and louder, cracking his eardrums. He coughed. His chest burned.
Why was it so damn bright? Even from behind his closed lids, it was unbearable.
Atsushi pushed himself to a sitting position. He had to brace himself, sucking in air through his nostrils, blowing it out through his mouth, calming his stomach. He pried one eye open first. It throbbed.
I am never doing that again.
He had to text Dazai an apology first thing. And then show up and face Kunikida’s inevitable wrath. Shame curdled inside of him. The president would be so disappointed in him. And Kyouka—she didn’t need to see him like this.
Am I really so low of a person?
He pulled himself to his feet, legs trembling.
A pan crashed outside. Atsushi scowled. He stumbled towards the door.
Wait. His door wasn’t white.
Where am I? Had the drink damaged his brain? Did he end up somewhere else and—had Akutagawa captured him? But no, Dazai surely wouldn’t hve allowed that—unless they knew he was in a weakened state, and then—
He peered around the corner. His throat tightened as he whipped back, head pressed back against the wall.
Gin. Akutagawa Gin. Black Lizard member. Port Mafia assassin. She was boiling water and from the smell of it, tea.
He’d definitely been captured!
Well, he could break out. The window was still clear and open. Not very bright of Akutagawa, but then maybe the drink had—
Atsushi halted as he made it halfway across the room. A mirror hung next to the window.
And in the mirror…
Black hair, where there should have been white. A black coat. A cravat. Longer legs, leaner.
Did I forget who I am?
No! No, he knew what a cravat was, he was Atsushi, Akutagawa didn’t know, this had to be a dream!
Atsushi fumbled for his phone. Nope, definitely Akutagawa’s. He clutched his knees, doubling over.
“Nii-san?” Gin’s voice came from the doorway.
“Don’t come in!” Akutagawa’s voice came harsh. Definitely not Atsushi’s voice.
“Too late.” She approached.
Atsushi gaped, whirling to face her. “Gin—I mean, I—this is—where—”
She froze.
“I’m not your brother!” he screamed.