What Do You Need? (One-Shot Collection)

by FanGirl09

Summary:

A collection of Bungo Stray Dogs Oneshots! Many of them will probably be hurt/comfort. Requests are welcome!

Chapter 1: Scared of Himself (Chuuya/Dazai) -- EDITED

Summary:

Hello!! Welcome to this collection of one-shots! Most of them are angst, but I do write other genres as well.

This specific one-shot has been heavily edited and reposted as of Feb. 21, 2021.

Chuuya has a breakdown after using corruption.

TRIGGER WARNING: blood, mentions of violence.

Successful missions didn’t always mean cheerful nights. The Armed Detective Agency knew that better than most. Many evenings were spent with the members lying awake in their dorms, staring at the ceiling into the early hours of the morning. Bloodshot eyes and empty sake bottles, tears of pain or frustration, the sounds of gunshots or a metallic taste following them into their dreams… there was really no end to the negative experiences that met them after cases. Of course, it wasn’t always that way. Sometimes it was a hearty meal or a good night’s rest. After a particularly difficult, days long case in Tokyo, it simply meant heading back to the hotel, showering, and sleeping. For most of the Agency at least.

 

Atsushi stumbled into a hotel room late the final night, bumping into chairs and searching the walls for the light switch. Akutagawa had worked the case as well and followed him in once the cramped room was illuminated by a yellowish glow. Four bags were strewn across the room, clothes on the two beds and folders of paperwork spread across the miniscule desk in the corner. The two stopped in the doorway with a sigh, staring at the mess they’d have to clean up from the past three-days of non-stop action and detective work. After a few seconds of silence, Atsushi peeked behind him out the door with furrowed brows. “Dazai-san?”

 

“Yeah,” came the reply, and then the tall man rounded the corner, a certain red-head cradled in his arms. Dazai had Chuuya’s hat perched on his head, the man’s blood-coated face bouncing against his chest. He headed straight for Atsushi and turned sideways to avoid bashing Chuuya’s head off the doorframe.

 

“Is he alright?” Atsushi asked, watching as Dazai lowered Chuuya to the bed on the far side of the room. He stirred, curling up on his side.

 

“He’ll be fine. I just need to clean him up.”

 

 Dazai walked into the bathroom while Akutagawa sat in the desk chair and Atsushi tried to find other clothes to wear. The red-stained dress shirt with shredded sleeves and dark pants with fabric missing past the knees weren’t exactly what he felt like sleeping in. Bloody from battle and dangling from his body after transformation, he needed something clean that didn’t give off the scent of death.

 

Akutagawa seemed to have a similar idea, peeling off his blood-stained jacket and shirt. He rolled his eyes at the soiled clothing, wrinkling his nose at the combined musk of all of their blood and sweat—especially Chuuya. The bed-sheets would need to be changed after he cleaned up, streaks of red soaking into the white duvet from where it left his body.

 

Dazai returned from the bathroom then with a few washcloths and a bowl of warm water and set it on the nightstand. “Chibi, let me clean you up.”

 

Chuuya said nothing, leaving Dazai staring at his back. He sighed, then leaned over the mattress and pulled Chuuya towards him, lifting him into a sitting position against the headboard. Ocean blue eyes stared up at Dazai, unfocused. “Leave it,” he croaked, voice hoarse.

 

“I’m not going to leave you in this condition, Chuuya. You’re sliced up, your clothes are torn, and you’re bleeding all over the place.” Chuuya only huffed in response. “I’m going to clean the blood up at least. Then you can sleep. Okay?”

 

A moment of silence passed before Chuuya mumbled a reply. “Okay.”

 

With that, Dazai picked up a cloth and dipped it into the water before bringing it up to Chuuya’s face. He took his time lifting the crimson from his skin: under his nose, the corners of his mouth, under his eyes and around his ears. Chuuya sat in silence, breathing heavy and deep as he let his boyfriend take care of him. Though the warm water running over his skin felt wonderful, he couldn’t help but crave Dazai’s direct touch. Skin on skin, not only for comfort, but to chase away the demon lurking beneath his features. The murderous ability that was Arahabaki. To most, it was For the Tainted Sorrow and Corruption. But he knew better. Ignoring it in day to day life was mostly possible, but when he chanted those eleven words to beckon it from the recesses of his body it became impossible to forget the destruction he caused. The lives he’d taken.

 

He was distracted momentarily as Dazai reached for his collar, tugging his jacket off. He helped to the best of his limited ability, lifting his arms as far as they would go on their own. Dazai unclipped his tie and collar, setting them down beside him. He didn’t know why he unbuttoned his shirt so carefully—it was ruined, after all. The thought left him as a white cotton t-shirt brushed over his skin as it was pulled down over his body.

 

Before he realized what was happening, Dazai was stepping away from him and his eyes flew open. He reached out on impulse, but quickly drew his hand back, pressing it against his breastbone. Dazai quirked a brow. “Do you feel sick?”

 

He cleared his throat. “No.”

 

“Okay. That’s a good sign then.”

 

Chuuya pressed his lips into a thin line, nodding. Dazai pulled the blankets back, allowing Chuuya to slip underneath. Then he leaned down and pecked his cheek. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Gunna dump this out and then I need to have a shower.”

 

Behind him, Akutagawa cleared his throat. “Dazai-san?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Would you mind if I showered first? I’m drenched in blood. It took this long just to get my shirt off.”

 

Dazai chuckled, looking the boy up and down. Even though he’d removed his blood-soaked clothes, his pale chest was still covered in splotches of red. “Yeah, go ahead. I’m timing you though.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

When Dazai’s weight caused the mattress to dip, Chuuya rolled back onto his side wordlessly, his back to Dazai. He tucked the duvet more securely, wrapping it around himself and clinging to it like a security blanket. Maybe, if he held it tight enough, it would fight the shadows from his brain and keep the intrusive thoughts out like a shield.

 

Dazai, oblivious to his partner’s mental state, watched Atsushi with a smirk as the boy stuffed his soiled clothes into a plastic bag. “Don’t like your tiger clothes, Atsushi-kun?”

 

Atsushi shot him a look. “They even smell like tiger.”

 

Dazai snorted. “What’s the problem? Think of it as a cologne.”

 

“That’s disgusting, Dazai.”

 

“It’s not that bad. It’s your natural musk.”

 

“Please, stop.”

 

“Nah, I don’t feel like it. I do feel bad for Kyouka though, having to share a dorm with that.”

 

Atsushi rolled his eyes. “One, she’s never complained. I do know what a shower is. And two, she’s normally over at Kenji’s or out with Yosano anyway.”

 

“She must like their scents better.”

 

“It’s not pheromones!”

 

“Shh, Atsushi. Chibi’s sleeping.”

 

Atsushi shook his head with narrowed eyes as Akutagawa emerged from the bathroom, a cloud of steam trailing into the room behind him. “It’s all yours, Dazai-san.” He leaned across Atsushi on the floor to retrieve his bag, holding the towel around his waist as he searched for pyjamas.

 

“What did you do? Light the shower on fire? It feels like the sun in here!”

 

Akutagawa snickered while he pulled on his pants, which he was positive Dazai could hear, even with the door closed. With the thundering of the water from the bathroom, he and Atsushi changed in peace. He towel-dried and combed his hair while Atsushi took a wet-wipe from his bag and washed his face and arms down and changed into pyjamas. Then he laid back on the bed and pulled out his phone to scroll through aimlessly, snickering at the startled yelps coming from the other side of the wall, interspersed with a string of colourful curses. Atsushi side-eyed him, glanced to the bathroom door, and then climbed up on the bed beside him. He picked up the novel he’d read in the car from the nightstand and set his bookmark down beside him, eyes scanning the lines of text.

 

Moments later, Dazai emerged from the shower, glaring at Akutagawa. The black-haired boy laughed at his shivering, which earned him a pillow in the face. “It was a fucking sauna in there, and then, all of the sudden, it was an iceberg!”

 

“Shh,” Atsushi mocked. “Chibi’s sleeping.”

 

He sneered at him, then turned his back and rifled through his suitcase. Akutagawa continued to laugh as Dazai pulled on pyjamas over his fresh bandages. Atsushi glanced across at him with an amused smile. He’d never really heard him laugh before, but he decided that he loved the sound.

 

Dazai climbed into the bed beside Chuuya, who laid almost too still, and picked up his phone from the nightstand. He figured it would be a while until his adrenaline wore off and he could sleep and so he flipped through his apps, checking his email and opening new messages. Upon seeing a missed text from Kunikida he opened the conversation, smiling before he replied. He’d congratulated Dazai on a job well done, he and Chuuya. He thanked him, returning the compliment on the terms of Kunikida’s directions and level-head, making sure to poke some fun at him at the same time. When he looked up, Akutagawa was doing the same as him, shaking his head and mumbling something about Gin. Atsushi had fallen asleep facing Dazai, the novel hanging off the side of the bed. Noticing this, Akutagawa leaned over and pulled it from his hand, put the bookmark back in, and set it back down on the nightstand. Dazai grinned, knowing all too well what was happening between the two of them.

 

He scrolled through his phone for a few more minutes, trying to figure out where on Earth they were going to eat breakfast in the morning before they left. As he read over a menu for the restaurant next door, a message came up on his phone from Ranpo. He squinted at it, chuckling silently to himself as he reread it to make sure he’d read it right. Two minutes later he received a message from Yosano, telling him to ignore Ranpo, who’d gotten a little drunk in celebration and decided to go on a deep dive on google about weird food facts. He barely held a laugh in that time, shaking his head.

 

 A rustling caused him to look up and a genuine smile spread across his face. Atsushi had rolled over in his sleep and laid his head on Akutagawa’s chest, sighing contently and nuzzling his face against him. The dark-haired boy watched him cautiously for a moment before he dropped his arm from behind his head and wrapped it around Atsushi’s side. A smile played on his lips, but his expression turned to a glare when he noticed Dazai winking at him.

 

Beside Dazai, Chuuya remained conscious, his brain whirling. His silence was not due to sleep, but due to the thundering avalanche and guilt triggered by the night’s events. Although part of him wished it were due to sleep, the other part was relieved. Sometimes the nightmares were too much for him, especially after using Corruption.

 

He stared at the wall, images of that day’s, and many other days’, fights where he used the full capacity of his ability. It scared him, what he became when he used Corruption. It terrified him to even contemplate having to use it. Of course, he knew sometimes there was no other option, but he hated it. Despised how evil it made him feel, how a nauseous guilt seeped through his veins upon regaining consciousness, how he turned into a monster beyond comprehension, so unlike himself and his wishes that he was unrecognizable. Like a monster wore his skin, when deep down he knew it was all him. They called Dazai the demon prodigy, but he too was the devil and had a special cell reserved in hell. He knew he was dangerous. He knew the consequences of his actions, and how he still chose that path over and over again like an addict giving in to cravings. When the time called for it, it nearly burst out of him in a blind rage, out of desperation, or simply because the opportunity was offered. And he couldn’t control it. He knew what it meant to remove his gloves…

 

Chuuya stared at his bare hands, clenching and unclenching them. How could they cause so much carnage? How could something so simple be so dangerous?

 

Easy. Because his existence was dangerous.

 

Tonight, again, he’d almost lost control. Tonight, again, he could have died. Could have killed innocent people. And that’s why he shook uncontrollably, chilled to the bone despite being under the duvet and picking up the heat radiating off of Dazai’s body beside him.

 

Dazai. His partner in more ways than one. Though his danger was simple, his relationship with Dazai was complex, layers on layers, emotions intermingled with the circumstances they’d been flung into at fifteen years old. He was the only one who could save Chuuya from himself. The only one he could really trust with his own life and the lives of others at his hand. The lone person to see his true vulnerability and understand him for who he really was, not just the projection he showed his boss, his colleagues, and his subordinates. Dazai was safe. As long as he was around, he could unleash the god of destruction and he’d be there to patch up his mangled body and warped sense of truth about his situation. He could stop the pain that coursed through his brain and stop the monster inside from taking back over without his permission. He could hold him until the pain left him alone and Arahabaki laid dormant once more.

 

Of course, at first it had only been because of No Longer Human. But as time went on and they began to divulge in each other, they became closer and closer. By the time they were seventeen, Chuuya would cling to him after missions where he used Corruption and Dazai would smooth his hair and reassure him, his presence alone calming enough to ground him in reality. But sometimes it went on too long and he became too far gone. Those nights were worse. And it wouldn’t be hard for the one thing he needed more than anything to be ripped away. It would be easy for them to mess up. For Dazai not to reach him in time, or for him to be captured, or injured, or… Or for him to die, leaving Chuuya behind to crawl through the chaotic, mangled mess that was his own existence without the person he needed the most. It had hurt enough the first time and he didn’t know if he could do it again if someone killed him. Or God forbid, Chuuya himself was the one to do it, completely unaware of the maniac he’d become as the light left Dazai’s eyes.

 

Tears leaked from his own, and soon enough, he was sobbing.

 

The sound of the first sob caused both Akutagawa and Dazai to flinch, locking eyes. Akutagawa checked on Atsushi, worry etched into the features of his face, but he relaxed upon the realization that the boy in his arms was okay.

 

Dazai bit his lip, rolling over and scooting closer to Chuuya. He realized with a start how hard he shook, his breath hitching with each sob that tore from his throat and his eyes widened. He’d normally tell him what he needed. Would normally ask him to hold him and null his ability. But he’d said nothing and asked for nothing, and Dazai was utterly lost at what triggered this sudden outburst of emotion from his boyfriend so long after the fact.

 

Dazai wrapped one arm around his waist and pulled his back to his own chest. “Chuuya, hey… what’s wrong?”

 

The red-head sobbed again, his entire body jolting. “Don’t make me do it again. Please.”

 

Dazai furrowed his brows, asking even though he was almost positive he knew the answer. “Don’t make you do what again?”

 

“Corruption,” he choked, and the pieces fully clicked into place.

 

“Chuuya… Come here, baby.” He let Dazai roll him over and immediately buried his face in his chest. “Shh… you’re okay. You’re okay…”

 

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

 

“You don’t have to anymore, okay? We’ll never make you use it again. We’ll find another way to fight.”

 

“You can’t promise that! There might be no choice!”

 

Dazai smoothed his hair in an attempt to calm him down. “I’ll always be here when you do. I’ll always be here to stop it. I’ll be here after for as long as you need me. You know that babe. I know you do.”

 

Chuuya gasped repeatedly.

 

“Breathe, baby.”

 

“It almost took over completely… I could’ve hurt someone else…”

 

“But you didn’t hurt someone else. Everyone’s okay, Chibi. Nothing happened.”

 

“But you never know! I never know! It’s capable of too much!”

 

Dazai rubbed lines up and down his back with his other hand, holding him tightly. “I know you’re scared of it…”

 

“I’m a monster, Dazai…”

 

Dazai pressed a kiss to the top of Chuuya’s head. “You’re not a monster.”

 

“But this-this th-thing. Inside me. It turns me into one. And I can’t stop, stop it…”

 

“Shh… Chuuya, it’s alright. You’re okay. You’re not a monster.”

 

“Dazai—”

 

“I promise you, you’re not a monster.”

 

“B-but… but…”

 

“You’re using this ability for good, Chuuya.”

 

“I’m a fucking Maf-Mafia exec! I’m part of an organization that kills people. You can’t tell me that isn’t fitting for someone like me.”

 

“Chuuya. The Agency kills people, too. When we have to.”

 

“That’s different.”

 

Dazai shook his head, Chuuya’s hair tickling his chin. “Do you like killing people? Because as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always loved a good fight. But you never wanted to kill.”

 

“Of course not!”

 

“You’re not some cold-blooded murderer, Chuuya. Despite your ability. You are not it and it is not you.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“Because I know you. And you’ve got a good heart.” He paused, smoothing Chuuya’s hair again, then pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I promise, Chibi. You’re not a monster. And you didn’t hurt anybody else. You’re gunna be just fine.”

 

He sniffed, his shakes subsiding to mere trembles. “I am?”

 

“You are.” He pulled back to look him in the face, using his thumbs to swipe the tears away. “You’ll be perfectly fine. Anyone that knows you knows you’re not ruthless. And I know you better than anyone.”

 

Chuuya smiled at him through his tears. “You do, don’t you?”

 

Dazai pressed a kiss to his lips. “I do.”

 

He leaned back down, inhaling the scent of Dazai’s soap and fresh laundry as he laid against his chest. “I’m sorry for freaking out.”

 

“Don’t be. This is what I’m here for. I know using corruption is hard on you already but adding these feelings on top makes it even worse. Just talk to me next time.”

 

“You’re being abnormally soft,” he tried to joke, but his voice broke.

 

“I’m not. Not for the circumstances.”

 

“I know…”

 

“The others aren’t listening. Atsushi’s asleep anyway. It’s alright to still be vulnerable.”

 

“Listen to your own advice sometimes, eh?”

 

“Maybe I will,” Dazai chuckled, giving him a squeeze. “I love you, Chuuya. I really do mean that.”

 

Chuuya’s mumbling was muffled by Dazai’s chest, but the brunet was positive of what he heard. “I love you, too, Osamu… With my whole heart.” They laid in silence for a moment, two sets of light snoring in the background. Chuuya let his eyes fall shut and relaxed his grip on Dazai’s shirt, letting the fabric fall from where he’d clutched it in his fists. “Please, don’t leave me to deal with Corruption on my own.”

 

“I won’t. I promise.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Go to sleep, baby,” he whispered, fingers running through fire-red hair.

 

“You’ll stay here with me?”

 

Dazai bit back the urge to make a sarcastic comment, knowing that although he’d pitched one right down the middle, now was not the time. “I’ll be right here. Always.”

 

“Always?”

 

“I will never leave you. Never again.”

 

Chuuya nodded against his chest and slowly began to drift off to sleep. Dazai clutched him to his body, mind whirling, questioning if there was any way to help his boyfriend’s conscience—preserve his peace of mind. Was there something they could do to help him afterwards? Or to help him have some partial control? Was that even possible? He could ask Yosano to look into it, or ask Ango to look into records, or the ones that Chuuya himself had found when he was sixteen… but there was no guarantee of anything.

 

 He wanted desperately for Chuuya not to be scared of himself… of his own ability. As far as they knew, Dazai was the only thing that could pull Chuuya out of his corrupted state… and Chuuya himself couldn’t control it at all. He understood how terrifying that must be for him. Either way, Dazai was determined to help him find another way. Because feeling him sob against him, the trembles and the choking gasps for air were painful even for him. And if it hurt him, he couldn’t begin to imagine how much pain Chuuya was truly in, even on a daily basis. Just knowing that Arahabaki lurked within him was enough to leave him wary of himself. And self-loathing was hard to stop once it started.

 

Swallowing hard, Dazai closed his eyes and prayed that he too would get some sleep, another soft ‘I love you’ leaving his lips.

Notes:

Hello again! I hope that you enjoyed this one-shot! If you're back, reading this after it has been edited, I'd love to know which version you prefer and what you think of the re-write! If you're reading this for the first time, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Feedback is always welcome and I love to hear from you guys! Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 2: Akutagawa's Breakdown (Akutagawa/Atsushi)

Summary:

While discussing their ives with each other under Dazai's orders, traumatic memories get drudged up for Akutagawa that he never was able to deal with. Atsushi, worried and shocked out of his mind, tries to help him calm down.

Atsushi never would have thought he’d be sitting at his kitchen table, having a (mostly) civil conversation with Akutagawa. But, he assumed now that they were partners, it would become more common. He didn’t mind it, really. The other boy wasn’t as bad as he’d originally thought. In all truthfulness, the boy’s sense of humour was similar to his own, and he knew that they had quite a lot in common with each other. The more time they spent together, the more he enjoyed it—although, he’d probably never say that out loud. Not when the other boy obviously didn’t like him very much. Or so he thought.

 

Dazai had asked the two of them to get to know each other more. Make some new attack plans and defense plans. Just learn to get along. Of course, everyone knew they could when they had to… but Dazai wanted them to get closer. And that… Atsushi didn’t mind so much.

 

He sat back down at the table, handing the other boy a cup of tea. He only nodded his thanks, staring at the blank pieces of paper in the centre of the table. Atsushi sipped the warm liquid, feeling it slide down his throat as he thought about how to best start this conversation. He cleared his throat.  “So I’m assuming you know what Dazai-san has asked of us.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“He wants us to be…closer. To understand each other and… stuff.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So… tell me about yourself.”

 

Akutagawa gave him a look, then snorted. “Tell me about yourself… really? That’s the best you could come up with?”

 

Atsushi rolled his eyes. “Fine then. You ask me something.”

 

He shook his head in annoyance. “How did the Agency find you in the first place?”

 

“Well, I actually ‘saved’ Dazai from drowning.”

 

“Typical.”

 

“Yeah. Him and Kunikida found out that I was starving, so they took me to get some food. I asked them some questions about their current case, which was hunting a tiger. Turns out that tiger was me. After that, they took me into the agency.”

 

Akutagawa raised a brow. “You didn’t know you had an ability?”

 

“No. The headmaster of my orphanage kept it a secret from me. I didn’t use to be able to remember what happened when I turned into a tiger at all, so I had no idea until I was with Dazai that night.”

 

“Huh… Didn’t you have to do an entrance exam?”

 

Atsushi cringed. “Heh, yeah.”

 

He looked at him expectantly. “What did you have to do?”

 

“Oh,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Dazai and Kunikida set it up so I thought Junichirou was a mad bomber holding Naomi hostage. I had to distract him and then when I thought Kunikida had taken care of the rest, he got away and activated the bomb. I had 30 seconds to find something to cover t.”

 

“Interesting enough. What did you use?”

 

“Myself.”

 

“You… Are you fucking kidding me, Jinko?”

 

Atsushi chuckled. “No, I’m dead serious. Needless to say I was confused when I didn’t die.”

 

Akutagawa put his face in his hands. “How did I get partnered with you… you’re taking after Dazai.”

 

“I am not!”

 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

 

Atsushi huffed. “Fine. Then you have to tell me how you came to join the mafia.”

 

Akutagawa’s eyes widened slightly, but he quickly resumed his stoic mask. “They picked me up from the slums with Gin.”

 

“You were an orphan too, right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So… they gave you a place to live and food and a job, so you accepted?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Is that always what you wanted? To be in the Port Mafia?”

 

Grey eyes bored into Atsushi’s, something glinting there that he couldn’t quite recognize. “Does it matter?”

 

“I was just asking.”

 

“No. It wasn’t originally my intention. But who was I to pass up a better home or treatment than I was already being given?”

 

Atsushi thought about that for a moment, sipping his tea. “The Port mafia was better?”

 

“Don’t act so surprised! You know what it’s like to be an orphan! Fighting for the Agency has been better for you has it not?”

 

“Well, of course, but that’s because I was tortured and beaten as a child…

 

“I know what that’s like.”

 

“You—”

 

“I lived on the streets. Trying to take care of Gin. The shit they did… the stuff I…” He paused, staring into his tea, his hands slightly shaking the cup.

 

“What did they do to you, Akutagawa?”

 

“Don’t make me tell you… I don’t know if I can.”

 

That was the last thing he was expecting. “That’s okay. I know Dazai-san wanted us to be closer, but if you can’t talk about it right now, I understand.”

 

His grey eyes clenched shut. “I can’t.”

 

“I heard you.” Atsushi felt a pang in his chest. What was happening? What was he dredging up for the other boy?

 

“I can’t.” His voice was strained, eyes still closed.

 

“That’s okay,” he said hurriedly. Atsushi wracked his brain, trying to think of a prideful point for Akutagawa. Surely, his work would be one, right? “How about… what kind of missions have the mafia sent you on, besides the ones I know about?”

 

He sucked in a breath. “You don’t want to know.”

 

“Huh? Why?”

 

“Because I don’t even want to.”

 

“I don’t understand… I thought you liked your job. You never seem to have a problem with what you had to do or hesitate to do it. Why—”

 

“That’s all I’ve been trained to do! Kill, kill, kill! Never anything else. Never save that person. Never bring them back safe and alive. Kill them. Torture them. And I’m supposed to be proud of it… and what’s worse is that I’ve become… I’ve become… Fuck. No. No no no…” Atsushi’s eyes widened as he watched the other boy press his hands to his ears. “Oh my God…” He sucked in another breath, his eyes falling open, but staring at nothing. They only focused on the table.

 

“Akutagawa?” Nothing, he only continued to stare at nothing, his eyes flitting back and forth rapidly over the surface of the table, completely irresponsive. Atsushi rose from his seat, concern seeping into his voice as he watched the boy’s trembling hands. “Akutagawa?” The Mafioso flinched, though Atsushi hadn’t moved. He flinched again, more violently, a strangled sound coming from his throat. Atsushi gently placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Hey…”

 

Akutagawa was up and out of his chair, staggering backwards with a gasp before Atsushi could even process what had happened. He continued to gasp for air, but they quickly turned into coughs. His hand flew to his mouth, other hand scrabbling at his chest, pulling at the material as if it was constricting his airways. He yanked at his collar, panic in his eyes.

 

Atsushi watched in shock, rooted to the spot. “Are you okay? Do you need—”

 

“I’m fine!” He wasn’t fine, judging by the way his legs gave out under him as he collapsed to his hands and knees.

 

“Akutagawa.” The boy’s eyes were hyper focused on the floor beneath him, back in his own head, clearly reliving some sort of trauma judging by the heaving of his chest, the pallor that had taken over his entire body. “Akutagawa!” The other boy stayed like that, muttering incoherently, hands over his ears and shaking his head at himself. But Atsushi didn’t move. He lowered his voice. “Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real.”

 

The dark-haired boy whimpered, a sound which Atsushi never thought he’d hear from him. “I…”

 

“It’s not real…”

 

He whimpered again, cut off by a cough. “They…”

 

“They what? What did they do to you?” His voice was soft, as if trying not to startle an animal.

 

His eyes flicked up to Atsushi, as if having forgotten he was there. Eyes back in focus, he took in his surroundings, and then his head shot up, as if just understanding what was happening. “It’s nothing! Oh God.”

 

Atsushi took a step closer and the boy flinched, much to his surprise. What does he think I’m going to do to him when he’s like this? “You weren’t aware of what was happening, Akutagawa. And you’re scared and clearly not okay. That’s not nothing.”

 

“No! What don’t you get,” he spluttered through his coughs? “I’m fine! It was noth-nothing!”

 

“Aku—”

 

“Get it off,” he shouted in panic, the sleeves of his jacket caught on his shoulders. He couldn’t get it off. His eyes were wild. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!”

 

“You can’t what?” Atsushi asked, pulling the boy’s jacket off of his arms and setting it on the table.

 

“I can’t!” His breathing was somewhere between a gasp and a heave, coughing interspersed there, too. It took over again, another fit. One minute. Two minutes of frustration, of coughing, of pain, of disorienting fear and guilt. And then he was crying, and he couldn’t stop. The sobs tore from his throat as the frustration and pain washed over him completely. “Why? Why now? Why here…”

 

Atsushi dropped to the floor and pulled Akutagawa wordlessly into his arms.

 

Akutagawa shoved at him weakly. “I’m f-fine! I’m strong, strong enough.”

 

“I know,” said Atsushi softly, tightening his hold on the other boy. “I know you’re strong. But you’re not okay right now.”

 

“I d-don’t understand!”

 

“Breathe, Ryuu…” The other boy turned his head, sobbing into Atsushi’s neck. “Breathe…” He rubbed gentle circles into the dark-haired boy’s back.

 

“I… I… I…”

 

“Shh…” Atsuhsi pulled him impossibly closer to his chest, feeling the tremors violently shaking both of their bodies with their force. “I’m right here… I’ve got you… let it out. Let it all out…” He knew the boy had been holding back years-worth of pain constantly, and in a short span of time it had all come tumbling out. Truthfully, Atsushi was worried, and had no idea what to do for his distressed partner. He’d barely seen him have any emotion other than anger, and here he was, cradling him to his chest as he completely broke. He was at a loss.

 

As the sobs worsened, Atsushi began to rock their embrace ever so slightly. “It’s okay… it’s okay… you’re safe here with me… you’re safe…”

 

“Atsushi.”

 

He swore his heart broke at the sound of Akutagawa sobbing his name. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m sorry this has happened to you… You don’t have to hide your pain anymore… not anymore…”

 

“I can’t! I can’t do it!”

 

“You can’t do what? I’m not asking anything of you.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Atsushi straightened in order to rest his head on Akutagawa’s. He blinked in shock. “What are you sorry for?”

 

“T-this.”

 

“Shh… it’s okay… I’m your partner, Ryuu. I’m here for you.”

 

Akutagawa nodded against him and Atsushi continued to hold him tightly as hos sobs slowly turned to sniffles, the shaking subsided, and the heavy breathing was exchanged for slow, even breaths. Atsushi looked down at the sleeping boy in his arms and smiled sadly. Then he rose slowly, hooking his arms under Akutagawa’s back and knees, and carried him to the couch. There he set him down, head resting in Atsushi’s lap, as the younger boy laid a blanket over the older. Akutagawa turned onto his side, pressing closer to Atsushi, who simply stroked his hair as he scrolled aimlessly through his phone.

 

Within half an hour, the dorm to the dorm opened and shut as Kyouka emerged into the room. She took in the sight of the two boys, the younger of whom was blushing. She grinned, walking closer to Atsushi, then gave him a half-hug.

 

“I guess it’s going good then?” Kyouka whispered.

 

Atsushi frowned, shaking his head. “Not so much… it’s been a… bad day for him.”

 

“Hmm?” She leaned over Atsushi to look at the other’s face, and he grin slipped away upon noticing the tear tracks. “What happened to him?”

 

Atsushi didn’t look at her as he answered, only continued to smooth the boy’s hair as he shuddered in his sleep. “I’m not exactly sure. I think some kind of trauma took over. Flashbacks, maybe? He just… broke down.”

 

“Sounds like PTSD. I’m not surprised. Some of the stuff they had him do. Or, from what I’ve heard of what happened to him and Gin in the slums.”

 

“What should I do, Kyouka? I’ve never seen him show emotion before.”

 

“Most people haven’t. Clearly he trusts you.”

 

“I dunno if that’s it. I don’t think he really had much of a choice, he was too in his own head. He was only talking because Dazai asked us to.”

 

She shook her head, a small smiling ghosting her lips. “Or maybe he actually did want to tell you. Maybe that’s why he didn’t resist. Maybe that’s why he told you until the point where this happened. How did you deal with it? How’d it come up?”We were talking about us both bing orphans and he seemed shaky so I asked him what happened. He started saying ‘I can’t’ over and over before he got pulled into his own head. Took me a few minutes to get him out. He kept flinching away.”

 

“Hmm… sounds like he wanted to tell you, but something was stopping hi. Flinching, I’m not surprised.”

 

“Does he really think I’m going to hurt him, Kyouka?”

 

“I don’t think so. He might not have been 100% aware. What then?”

 

Atsushi sighed. “He started having a coughing fit. Before I knew it he was just sobbing in the middle of the floor.”

 

“What did you do?”

 

“I hugged him. He tried to push me away but I held on tighter. He tld me he was strong enough. I told him I know, but he’s not okay right now. Then he just… let go. He didn’t seem to understand why I was hugging him, or something…”

 

Kyouka smiled. “I guess my knowledge of the Mafia has it’s perks for you. He’s definitely traumatized. All of us are. But my guess would be that he doesn’t think he deserves the comfort, or that he thinks he’ll be seen as weak if he shows any emotions. Maybe both. Dazai used to train him really hard. Ever since, he’s fixated on being strong.”

 

“Yeah, but, being strong doesn’t mean being emotionless.”

 

“A lot of us deal with things that way… you’ll have to get it through his head that you’re here for him. If you want to be, of course.”

 

“Yes! He’s my partner. Of course I do.”

 

She smiled, standing from the chair she was in. “Is that it?”

 

Atsushi watched her smile turn to a smirk as she waked away, entering the bedroom. For such a young girl, she certainly knew a lot.

 

Not long after Kyouka left the roo did Akutagawa begin to stir. His eyes fluttered open, looking up into Atsushi’s with an unfocused appearance. He furrowed his brows, eyes glancing from Atsushi to the couch to the ceiling, completely disoriented. Then, in a single moment, awareness shown in his eyes and he began to stutter.

 

Atsushi simply stroked his cheek with the pad of his thumb. “It’s okay, Ryuu… you’re safe with me…”

 

Akutagawa turned his grey eyes back to Atsushi, his voice raspy and quiet when he spoke. “Do you think I’m weak?”

 

Atsushi shook his head, stroking the older’s cheek again. “No. I think you’ve been strong for way too long.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“We all have emotions. Every single person. And that includes you. You can’t bottle them up forever.”

 

“But I can’t show them…”

 

“Yes, you can. It’s okay to not always be okay. You have been through a lot. There’s no doubt you probably have PTSD, and you know what? That’s okay. You don’t always have to pretend that you’re okay all the time. It only makes it worse.”

 

“There’s too much to process… it all hurts…”

 

Atsushi smoothed his hair. “I understand. We’ve all got something… you know mine. All you can tell me yours, when and if you trust me enough to. I’ll be here to listen when you’re ready.”

 

“How did you know how to help me through that?”

 

“Truthfully… I didn’t. I was scared and worried and had no idea what to do. Did it work?”

 

Akutagawa nodded, sitting up beside Atsushi. “Thank you…”

 

“Of course.”

 

Akutagawa stared at his lap, picking at his nails. “I never thought anyone would be able to see me as anything other than weak and evil. No matter how hard I tried to do better or make up for what I’ve done in the past. I can’t get away from it… you can’t… lose a shadow…”

 

Atsushi watched as the other boy became quiet and still. Noticed the heavier rise and fall of his chest. When the shaking began Atsushi pulled Akutagawa against his side, and the other boy didn’t resist. He rubbed his arm and leant in t whisper in his ear. “You’re not there… you’re in my dorm with me. It’s Atsushi. You’re safe Ryuunosuke…” Atsushi leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the other boy’s forehead.

 

A moment later he shuddered, then turned his head to look at Atsushi. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay.” They simply stared at each other for a moment, taking in one another. “By the way… I don’t think you’re weak or evil.”

 

“How could you not?”

 

Atsushi shrugged. “Getting to know you the last few months has changed my tune. And besides, we’re partners now. We can’t go around having those opinions or hating each other.”

 

“You don’t hate me?”

 

Atsushi smiled, a light blush on his cheeks. “Ryuu, I don’t even dislike you.”

 

“You what?”

 

“I don’t have any bad feelings towards you at all. That’s why I did what I did. It wasn’t because I felt it was the right thing to do. I wanted to help you. I wanted to be there for you. I wanted you to feel okay again.”

 

Akutagawa looked like he was about to cry again. “I haven’t felt that safe, or, or, protected, or… cared about since… I can’t even remember the last time.”

 

Atsushi leaned down and captured Akutagawa’s lips in a gentle kiss. The older boy kissed back gently, staring at Atsushi in wonder when they pulled away. “You are safe with me. You are cared about. And, partners or not, I will do my best to protect you, just as you have for me in the past.”

 

The older boy open and closed his mouth several times before settling on, “Thank you.”

 

Atsushi shook his head with a breathy laugh. “Don’t thank me. It’s just what you do for someone who’s important to you. You let them know.”

 

And with that, Atsushi kissed him again.

Notes:

Hi all! So, this hasn't been edited so I'm sorry if there's some mistakes and whatnot. I just got my wisdon teeth out and I feel like shit but I spent all day sleeping so now I'm awake and writing this at almost 5 am. Yay for me. But it's not all bad I guess, considering I got this story out of it.

Let me know in the comments if you have any requests for a one-shot.

Let me know what you thought of this story.

Until next time! -Em :)

Chapter 3: Dazai's Resolve Breaks on a Case (Kunikida & Dazai)

Summary:

A certain case reminds Dazai too much of Oda and the orphans. His resolve breaks in front of Kunikida, who immediately swoops in to soothe his partner to the best of his abilities. Could be read as Kunikida/Dazai, but it's not explicit.

“Dazai, over here!” Kunikida sprinted around the corner, gun raised in front of him, the sound of his partner’s footsteps echoing behind him. “He’s in between the warehouses, in the courtyard!”

 

“Does he have those kids still?”

 

“I think so.” He slipped around another corner, checking over his shoulder as Dazai followed. “Where’s Atsushi and Tanizaki?”

 

“I sent them around the opposite way. They’re gunna take him form the back, try and free the kids.”

 

“Is that a good idea? You think they might be scared if two guys just rush the five of them?”

 

“Atsushi knows how to deal with orphans… I’m sure they’ll be fine, Kunikida.”

 

“Right.” He peered around the final corner, gun ready to fire if necessary. “We gotta make sure Atsushi and Tanizaki can get those kids safely before we shoot. Let’s go.”

 

The two stepped around the corner, holding their guns in front of them. A man stood beside an old, burned out car in the middle of the concrete courtyard, a gun pointing at a group on young children sitting next to it. “If you come any closer, I’ll shoot!”

 

“Put the gun down. No one needs to get hurt,” Kunikida reasoned.

 

“I won’t let you take me in! I haven’t hurt anyone!”

 

“Oh yeah,” said Dazai, eerily calm. “Stealing orphans for some kind of sick little game? I’d say that’s hurting someone.”

 

“Look at them! They’re fine.”

 

“Fine my ass.”

 

“Dazai.”

 

“He’s gunna kill them,” Dazai growled. “Whether he does it now or later, he’s gunna kill them.”

 

Kunikida’s eyes widened, but he turned back to the man. “Put your gun down. You don’t have to do this.”

 

“They don’t have to either. They’re choosing to.”

 

“They’re not choosing to. You have a mind-control ability.”

 

“Only works on children,” added Dazai. “Isn’t that right?”

 

“How… how did you know that?”

 

Kunikida narrowed his eyes. “They aren’t roped to the car or restrained in any way. Haven’t been this entire time. Yet they made no noise, no signs of discomfort or fear.”

 

“You have them brainwashed to do whatever it is you want them to do,” Dazai said lowly.

 

The man smirked. “Now now… you have no proof of what those things may be.”

 

“You sick fuck.”

 

 “We’ll find proof,” stated Kunikida. “We’ve got the best detective in the city. He will find proof. I guarantee it.”

 

The man rolled his eyes, oblivious to the two figures who’s appeared behind him. Tanizaki gave Kunikida a thumbs up, and the two of them disappeared.

 

“How do you figure tha—MPHH!”

 

“Got him.” Atsushi sat on top of the man’s back, twirling his gun on his finger. “That wasn’t as bad as  thought it would be.”

 

“No, it wasn’t,” said Tanizaki, reappearing beside Atsushi.

 

The man grunted and growled below them as Kunikida and Dazai headed towards them, handcuffs ready. Dazai removed his ability and the kids snapped out of their trances, staring around them. While Atsushi knelt to talk to the, Kunikida called the cops to pick him up, and Tanizaki called the head of the orphanage, Dazai wandered over to the nearest wall and leant against it.

 

Orphans. Of course, it had to be orphans in danger, didn’t it? Sitting against a burned-out car, threatened by a powerfully gifted man with a grudge and a sick, twisted mind. They could’ve died… could’ve been shot dead. All of them. All 5. And he would’ve done nothing. Would’ve failed to save them, as Oda had asked of him. His dying wish. Because Oda couldn’t save his own 5… they were brutally ripped from him. And he’d thrown himself into a suicide mission, leaving Dazai to find him and watch as he died in his arms. So much blood and death were already on his hands… how many more would there be…?

 

Dazai was too lost in his thoughts to realize when he slid down the wall to sit in the gravel. Too lost to realize the man had been taken away by the police and the head of the orphanage was picking up the children. Too lost to notice Kunikida’s worried glance.

 

Kunikida didn’t have to watch Dazai long to know something was wrong. The man had sunk down the wall, and now, pulled his knees tight to his chest, staring intently at the ground a few feet in front of him. Of all the cases they’d worked…. Why did this one fuck so badly with his partner?

 

“Is Dazai-san okay?”

 

Kunikida turned his head to look at Atsushi. “I don’t think so. Can you two give us some space for a few minutes? I’m gunna go see what’s up.”

 

“If you need us to do anything,” said Tanizaki, “let us know.”

 

Kunikida nodded, heading straight for Dazai. He took him in… the intense yet… vacant… look in his eyes. He crouched next to him, laying a hand on his back and speaking softly, as if scared to startle him. “Dazai?” The other man didn’t look up. Didn’t even acknowledge his presence. “Dazai, what is it?”

 

Dazai swallowed thickly, tears welling in his eyes. Kunikida bit his lip, studying his face. The twitching of his lips, his clenched jaw, the shudders in his heavy breathing. He’d never once seen his partner’s resolve break, and if he was honest, it scared him. Then the tears finally spilled silently down Dazai’s cheeks as he stared straight ahead, not even bothering to wipe them away. Subconsciously, Kunikida wondered how long it had been since he’d shown emotion like this.

 

Kunikida let out a long breath, his hand gently rubbing his back. It was then that he realized how small Dazai really was. How young. They were both only 22 after all, and they’d seen a lot. Dazai definitely more than Kunikida. The man was tall but lithe. Scrawny at the waist, and not very big in the chest or shoulders either. He was fierce, but slight. Kunikida could practically feel his ribs as he rubbed his back.

 

Dazai buried his head between his knees, crying harder. Stealing himself, Kunikida sat beside him and pulled Dazai against his side, his arm around the man’s back so his head was leaning against him. “I’ve got you, buddy.”

 

He looked up across the courtyard, meeting the eyes of two curious boys. Atsushi raised his eyebrows and Kunikida shook his head. They both frowned.

 

Dazai shuddered and Kunikida ran his hand lightly over his side reassuringly. He wasn’t quite sure how to soothe Dazai when he was this distraught, but he tried his best. “It’s okay, Dazai…”

 

Dazai choked at that and Kunikida frowned. “Was it the kids?” He nodded. “I didn’t know you had such a soft-spot for kids, Dazai.” The brunet shook his head. “For orphans, specifically?” Dazai shook his head again. “Then what is it, buddy? What’s causing all this?”

 

“Oda.”

 

Kunikida scrunched his brows. He knew he’d heard that name before. Then his eyes widened. That must be the grave he’s always visiting. His friend that died when he was in the Port Mafia… “What about him?”

 

Dazai shook his head again, the sobs coming quicker. “I-I can’t.”

 

“Dazai… I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong…”

 

“N-no…”

 

“Osamu.” Dazai’s head snapped up, watering eyes staring straight into Kunikida’s. “Did you make him a promise when he died?” Dazai looked away, holding back a sob. Kunikida nodded. “You made him a promise, didn’t you?”

 

Dazai’s whole body shook with his cries. “I-I failed him.”

 

“No, you didn’t.”

 

“The kids… They…. They…”

 

Kunikida pulled Dazai against him once again, smoothing his hair. “They’re safe, Dazai. The kids are safe.”  

 

“I know. It’s not t-that. Well not, not all of it…”

 

“I’m sorry, buddy. I don’t understand.”

 

“I c-can’t… not right now.”

 

“Hey… that’s okay… Look. I don’t know all of what happened with Oda, Dazai…. But I know that you aren’t failing him, okay? You’ve done so much good since you joined us. Saved so many people.” He rested his cheek against the top of Dazai’s head. “I think he’d be very proud of you, Osamu.”

 

Dazai’s breathing shuddered, but he stayed quiet. No more sobs, no talking, nothing. Just the calming of his breathing and the subsiding of his shaking. They sat just like that, Dazai resting his head on Kunikida, the taller man’s arm around him, the other smoothing his hair as he calmed down. A few long moments passed before either of them said anything, both content to share an intimate, vulnerable moment for once in their friendship.

 

“Kunikida?”

 

The man smiled. “Yeah, Dazai?”

 

“Thank you.”

Notes:

Hey all! So here's another chapter. This one isn't that great, but let me know your thoughts anyways. I promise they won't all be hurt/comfort haha. As always, leave any one-shot requests in the comments! Until next time! -Em :)

Chapter 4: Yosano & Everyone (Compilation)

Summary:

This chapter is a compilation of Yosano helping/treating a bunch of different characters.

Seeing Atsushi in pain always made Yosano feel physical pain in her chest. The boy was so young and kind-hearted. Although he’d been through hell, he still put everyone over himself and did his best to help the people around him—even when it got him into trouble. And this time, trouble resulted in a deep gash running from his right shoulder to his left him.

 

“Yosano,” Kunikida screamed, bursting into the office. “We need you in the infirmary, now!”

 

She jumped up from her desk and was already in the doorway by the time Dazai and Junichirou appeared, hauling a wailing Atsushi into the office. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ranpo cover Kyouka and Kenji’s eyes, and Namoi screamed as she entered the room, hearing all of the commotion.

 

“Get him on the bed,” she ordered, rushing to pull gloves onto her hands. “What happened?”

 

A voice she didn’t recognize answered, and she turned to see Akutagawa, standing in the doorway beside Chuuya, relaying the accident. “It was a demon power, similar to Kyouka’s. Very powerful. He tried to take out her partner, but the demon caught us by surprise. I couldn’t get to him in time and he got slashed with the blade. I’m sorry.”

 

She simply blinked at him, before turning her back and rushing to Atsushi’s side. The boy was writhing on the bed, his sobs undoubtedly causing him even more pain as crimson seeped from the wound. She stroked his hair, thinking about how exactly to go about this. “It’s okay, Atsushi-kun. You’re gunna be fine. You’ll be okay.”

 

He shook his head, tears streaming down his temples as he gulped for air, wincing at every movement. “How long?”

 

“You have to wait a few more minutes until I can use my ability…”

 

“How long,” he asked again, choking on both blood and tears.

 

“Not long…”

 

“Please,” he begged, eyes clenched shut, sweat flooding down his forehead. “Please just do it!”

 

“I’m sorry, Atsushi…”

 

Dazai and Kunikida came up beside her, pained expressions on their faces. Dazai reached out to touch Atsushi, and Yosano smacked his hand away, glaring at him. “Don’t touch him!”

 

“Yos—”

 

“You might stop the tiger healing him or help—What did I say, Kunikida? Don’t touch him!”

 

“I’m not gunna do anything!”

 

“Out! Both of you!”

 

“Yosano—”

 

“If you don’t leave, at least stay out of my way,” she growled. Both men’s eyes widened, and they backed away. She turned to Akutagawa. “And you! Did you let this happen on purpose?”

 

“Wha—no!” His jacket flared out behind him and Dazai grabbed his arm. “Of course I didn’t!”

 

She turned to Chuuya. “And you?”

 

He put his hands up. “Hey! Leave me out of this!”

 

She narrowed her eyes at the group of then, the turned on her heel and took Atsushi’s shaking hands in hers. He was growing cold, his pulse weak. “It’s okay, Atsushi,” she whispered, golden butterflies escaping her body and landing along the gash on his body, knitting it back together. “I’ll fix this.”

 

*

 

 

“Alright, Kyouka,” Yosano called out into the office. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

 

The young girl hopped down from her chair and padded across the office, passing Tanizaki on his way out. She stared up at Yosano, her blue eyes giving no insights into how she was feeling.

 

“Can you hop up on the bed here for me?”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“Alright, let’s see… you got some nice cuts on your chin… did you fall?”

 

“I was thrown.”

 

Yosano opened her mouth to answer, but quickly shut it, an expression of half-concern and half-puzzlement showing on her face. “Okay. What about this one on your arm?”

 

“Grazed by a gunshot.”

 

Yosano pursed her lips, pointing to a hunk of flesh missing from her left shoulder. “And this one?”

 

“Shrapnel from an explosion.”

 

“I see,” she hummed, unnerved by the lack of emotion in Kyouka’s voice. “Can I clean you up?”

 

“Go ahead.”

 

Yosano headed to the sink, wet a cloth and gathered her supplies, then returned to Kyouka. She pressed the wet cloth to the cuts on the girl’s chin, holding her head steady with her other hand. Kyouka’s eyes stayed trained on her face the entire time.

 

Quickly, she switched to wetting a separate cloth with an antiseptic. “This is going to sting.”

 

Kyouka’s gaze didn’t move. “That’s okay. I’ll stay still.”

 

Yosano dropped her hand to her side, smiling sadly at Kyouka. “You sure are a tough cookie, aren’t you?”

 

“I’m a what?”

 

She let out a breathy laugh. “Nevermind. It’s okay for you to wince or tell me if something hurts, okay?”

 

“You’re not going to punish me?”

 

“No, of course not! Why would I punish you for showing pain?”

 

Kyouka dropped her gaze, studying the instruments on the tray beside the bed. “I’ve always been punished for that.”

 

Two fingers pulled her chin up to look at Yosano. “I will never punish you for that, Kyouka-chan.”

 

“Okay.”

 

She pressed the cloth to the wound on the girl’s arm, and, although she tensed, made no noise or pained expression. Yosano felt a burning behind her eyes and forced herself to take a deep breath. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Yosano sighed, dropping the cloth onto the tray and took Kyouka’s tiny hands in her own. “I know you had a hard time in the Port Mafia. I know they treated you badly. And the adults there were mean to you. But all of us here… we aren’t like that. Okay? I promise. We won’t hurt you.”

 

“Promises can be broken.”

 

She shook her head. “Not this promise. None of us want to hurt you. We want to help. We want to see you happy—especially, Atsushi. You mean a lot to him.”

 

A small smile graced the girl’s lips. “He’s like my brother… It’s nice. I haven’t had a family in a long time.”

 

“Well you know what?”

 

“What?”

 

“I’ll be your big sister now. You can come talk to me about anything. Would you like that?”

 

She was quiet for a moment, staring at the floor, before her smile spread all the way across her face. “I would like that very much, Yosano-san.”

 

She grinned, a sparkle in her eyes. “Alrighty then. Let’s finish cleaning you up then, yeah?”

 

*

 

Yosano frowned as she wrung the cloth out over the sink, the small boy’s whimpers ringing in her ears. She turned on her heel, heading back to the bed, kneeling down in front of him. Gingerly, she pressed the cloth to the gash in his leg, dabbing it repeatedly, the fabric coming away more red each time. When she finished cleaning it, she dressed it, and rinsed the cloth.

 

Repeating this action three more times on his stomach, bicep, and neck, her frown only grew. When she returned for the fourth time, it was with extra strength pain medication for the boy’s throbbing head and battered body. He definitely had a concussion.

 

“I can’t do any more for you right now, Kenji-kun. I’m sorry.”

 

“That’s okay,” he said, though his voice wavered.

 

She smiled sadly at him, taking in the extent of the damage. The day’s mission had been difficult, and by the time the final attack had come, the agency had thought it was already over. Kenji, Atsushi, and Kunikida had gotten food by that point, so Kenji couldn’t use his ability. Atsushi had done his best to protect the boy, but there were too many of them. And so, Kenji ended up with gashes decorating his body and a severe concussion. She was brought out of her thoughts by another whimper and noticed the pain on his face. The tears that were threatening to spill from his golden eyes. They did not belong on such a happy child. Her heart ached simply looking at him.

 

“Hey…” she said, stepping closer to him. “You’re gunna be okay.”

 

“It hurts,” Kenji sobbed.

 

“Your head?”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“Oh honey…” She picked him up and sat him in her lap on the bed, holding him close.

 

“Make it s-stop… please…”

 

“I’m sorry, sweetie, I can’t.”

 

He continued crying, the tears streaming down his normally happy face and onto her blouse. “It hurts really bad.”

 

She stroked his hair gently, holding him tightly. “I know, Kenji… I know…”

 

Kunikida stepped into the room them to check on them. His face immediately fell upon seeing Kenji in distress and Yosano made eye-contact with him. He raised his brows, as if asking, ‘Is he okay?’

 

She nodded, mouthing back, ‘Soon.’ Then she turned back to Kenji, continuing to stroke his hair. “Shh… you’ll feel better soon… just a few more minutes…”

 

His eyes fluttered open to look at her, and he flinched from the brightness of the lights. “It’ll stop…?”

 

“Mhmm… it won’t hurt as much.”

 

“Promise,” he asked, resting his head against her chest.

 

“I promise.”

 

*

 

Yosano didn’t expect to have to treat anyone that day… but life is full of surprises. Scrolling through her paperwork, she startled as Ranpo stood abruptly beside her, drawing the attention of most of the Agency. “Ranpo?”

 

“Oh no…”He scurried around the side of his desk and ran across the office, a hand over his mouth.

 

Eyes wide, Yosano stood and followed. She reached the single bathroom door just as it slammed, whatever Ranpo had eaten sloshing into the toilet bowl as he heaved loudly from the other side. She cringed, knocking on the door. “Ranpo, are you okay?” The sound of harsh retching filled her ears as she listened. That didn’t sound good. “Ranpo, I’m coming in.”

 

The detective was doubled-over the toilet, heaving violently, gushes of liquid being expelled from his body. He shuddered, tears squeezing from his eyes at the force of it all. Yosano knelt beside him, rubbing his back. “You’re okay… you’re alright…”

 

“I—” He could barely get words out. It was as if every time he opened his mouth, more came out. “I—”

 

With her free hand she pulled the longer pieces of his hair back from his face. “Just breathe…” His body was quaking, breathing coming in gasps between his heaves. Yosano simply rubbed his back, knowing it would be over soon enough and she could move him to the infirmary.

 

“I knew—” He turned his head from the bowl, nearly puking again from the smell alone. “That chicken… oh God…”

 

“Breathe, Ranpo… you think it was bad chicken?”

 

He nodded, breathing deeply, eyes clenched shut.

 

“Okay. Food poisoning is a real bitch.”

 

He nodded, arms clutching his stomach and cringing. He bent further at the waist, sinking against the wall, a groan escaping his throat. “Oh God… my stomach…”

 

She frowned, chewing on her lip as she flushed the vomit away. Seeing her closest friend in the agency in pain that she couldn’t really do anything about made her chest ache. Sitting against the wall beside him, she slipped her arm around his back, doing what she could to provide some comfort while the pain raged through his abdomen. “Once you can get some liquids down, I’ll give you some pain meds and some Gravol. That’s about all I can do for you.”

 

“Ngh… that’s okay…” he groaned, leaning forward and pushing in on his stomach.

 

“Don’t do that,” she said softly. “I know it hurts… let me see.” He removed his arms, tipping his head back against the wall with his eyes closed. Yosano reached out gingerly and laid her palm on his stomach. “Here?” He shook his head. She moved her hand. “Here?”

 

He nodded, cringing as another wave of pain racked his stomach. “Yeah. Definitely food poisoning cramps. They’re vicious.”

 

He nodded as a few tears slipped from his eyes. Then they flew open. “I’m gunna be sick again.”

 

“Okay, okay…” She removed her hand and helped him back over the toilet, sighing as he retched once again. Food poisoning really was a bitch.

 

*

 

Yosano sat at her desk, playing cards with Ranpo as they waited for those on a case to return. She stared at her cards, a king, queen, and nine of clubs, then reached for the pile in front of her. She picked up an ace of diamonds, which she placed on the stack face up, staring suspiciously at her friend.

 

He grinned, snatching it from the pile and throwing down his cards. “31!”

 

“Dammit, I knew I should have knocked earlier,” she grumbled tossing her cards onto the desk. The door to the agency swung open, and Kunikida, Atsushi, Junichirou, and Kenji strolled in, followed close behind by Dazai, an unconscious man in his arms. She stood, strolling over to the pair. “Who is it? Who’s—” She cut herself off, staring down at none other than Chuuya Nakahara, his face drained of colour, gloves tucked neatly into his pants pocket. Yosano crossed her arms, looking at Dazai. “Really?”

 

“He just needs some rest and some pain meds.”

 

“What happened to him?”

 

“He used Corruption.”

 

“Again?”

 

Dazai nodded, pushing past her into the infirmary and setting him on one of the beds. “Now, if you won’t get him meds, I will.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Go get him some meds. I’ll check him over for injuries.” Dazai left wordlessly and she stepped up to Chuuya, staring down at the sleeping man with curiosity. She’d never seen his full form before, but from what she’d been told, it completely drained him, and he wasn’t in control while using it. Anything could have happened to him out there.

 

Yosano started by cleaning him up with a wet cloth, wiping away the blood and dried sweat from his skin. She hit a few tender spots on his arms, then spotted a black bruise forming around an odd lump on the front of his left hip. Furrowing her brows, she set the cloth down and prodded around the area as gently as she could.

 

Chuuya winced, his eyes fluttering, but remaining closed. “Dazai…?”

 

“No, it’s Yosano. Dazai went to get you some pain meds.”

 

His eyes flew open and he tried to sit up. “I need Daz—”

 

“Hey, relax,” she said, gently pushing him back onto the bed. “You banged up your hip pretty good.”

 

His eyes were wide, staring past her around the unfamiliar room. “He needs to keep me in check. He—when is he coming back?”

 

“He’ll be back any second,” she said softly, pushing red strands of hair from his forehead. “You’re okay, Chuuya. You’re fine.”

 

“Yosano, why do you have so many different bottle—he’s awake.” She nodded, turning from where she was holding Chuuya’s hand to Dazai, who’s demeanor turned from disgruntled to concerned in a split-second. “How’re you feeling? You got pretty banged up.”

 

Yosano gestured to their hands with her head. Dazai only nodded, immediately taking Chuuya’s hand in his. “Is this better?”

 

Chuuya nodded, not meeting either of their gazes. “Thanks, Yosano.”

 

She nodded, though she knew he couldn’t see her. “Of course. Take care of him, Dazai.”

 

*

 

Yosano stood at the counter in the infirmary, cleaning the instruments she’d just used stitch up Kunikida’s arm. That man was always needing stitches. Always. A soft knock at the door caught her attention and she spun to face whoever it was.

 

“Hi, Junichiro. Come in. Is something wrong?”

 

“Uh…Iwasjustwonderingifyouhadsomepainpills?”

 

“What was that hun? Speak up.”

 

He cleared his throat, not meeting her eyes. “I was just wondering if you had some pain pills?”

 

She nodded, motioning him to follow her to one of the cabinets. “For what?”

 

“Just got a headache,” he admitted, following at a safe distance.

 

“That’s no fun,” she huffed. “You didn’t bring me a nice injury to heal this time, Junichiro.”

 

“N-nope.”

 

“Too bad. I was hoping to get some fun today.”

 

“Y-you were?”

 

It was then that she turned, the bottle of pain killers in her hand, and realized the look of pure fear on the boy’s face. She only blinked at him, mouth slightly open. “What’s the matter?”

 

“Y-you wanted to have some fun today…?”

 

Her face softened, realizing what was going through his head. “Do you really think I want you guys to get hurt?”

 

“Well…”

 

He flinched when she stepped towards him, but no pain was inflicted. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a firm hug. “I never, ever wish to see any of you in pain, Junichiro. The humour… it just helps me go through with it when I need to. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

 

He relaxed into her embrace, hugging back. “It’s okay… I understand now.”

 

She pulled back with a soft smile, handing him the bottle. “Here. Take two of these now, then another two in a few hours if you need to. Give them back to me before you leave, okay?”

 

He grinned. “Okay. Thanks, Yosano.”

 

She nodded and watched him leave, wondering how many of them thought the same thing.

 

*

 

 

Sighing, Yosano grabbed an IV drip from her stores and headed back towards the man in the bed. Of course, he’d managed to get knocked around so good he’d need IV pain killers. Of course, it wasn’t bad enough for her to use her ability. Because why would it be that easy?

 

She strode back to the bed, heels clicking against the tile floor of the infirmary. She set the IV drip down on the tray beside the bed, glancing up at its occupant. “How’re you feeling?”

 

Kunikida’s eyes were pleading as he stared at her, brain foggy from the pain. “Please, Yosano.”

 

She raised her brows, moving to the side of the bed. “What do you need?”

 

“Pain.”

 

“What?”

 

He clenched his eyes shut. “Something for the pain. Please.”

 

Her face fell and she nodded, picking up the needle and the IV port. “I’m going to give you pain meds through IV, okay?” He nodded, but barely. “Can I see your hand, please?”

 

Weakly, he lifted his hand. She flicked it, searching for the best vain. Then she nodded to herself, picking up the needle. A sniff reached her ears and she glanced up just as she was about to insert the port. The man was crying. She’d never seen him cry before. He must be in a lot of pain…

 

Determined to help, she inserted the needle and IV port, then immediately hooked it up to the IV drip. “Okay, okay,” she said, sitting beside him on the bed. “It’s in.”

 

He sniffed again, tears rolling down his temples. “Thank you.”

 

Yosano smoothed his hair, pulling it off of his forehead. “It’s okay, Kunikida… Just give it a minute…”

 

Soon enough, the man’s face began to relax as the IV kicked in. She continued to smooth his hair until the tears stopped and his breathing became even as he fell asleep.

 

*

 

 

The door to the Agency banged open, startling Yosano, Ranpo, Kyouka, and Kenji. Dazai stepped through first, looking back down the hall at the rest of the members who were sure to follow, before turning to the people in the office. “Yosano we need you. And you’re not gunna like it.”

 

“Why wouldn’t I…”

 

Atsushi stepped through the door, following Tanizaki and Kunikida, a bloody and unconscious Akutagawa in his arms.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

 

“He was my partner on this mission, Yosano! And I let him get hurt! Please help him.” She took in the worry etched into every line on Atsushi’s face, the blood caked over Akutagawa’s chest, and the pained, laboured look on his face as he breathed. “Please. At least let me clean him up, o-or something—”

 

“Come with me.” Yosano rolled her eyes as Atsushi hurried after her, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Lay him here. Stay put. I’ll be right back.” When she returned, her arms were full of cleaning supplies, bandages, gauze, needles, pain medications… anything she could possibly need. “Sit down. Watch. You might need to know this in case it happens again. Nothing looks too severe… mainly flesh wounds from what I can tell…”

 

“Do you want me to help?”

 

“No. Just watch. Hand me supplies if I need them.”

 

Yosano set the supplies down, then turned to Akutagawa. She wrestled the torn, blood-coated coat off of him, handing it to Atsushi, then pulled the now-red shirt over his head, gently prying it away from his wounds. She worked in silence, washing the blood away, then stitching and dressing the wounds. They weren’t too severe, as she had expected, but enough to cause him pain and to fall unconscious.

 

After she finished, she turned to Atsushi. “Did you catch most of that?”

 

“I think so—” He was cut off by a whooping cough, the boy in the bed pushing himself into a sitting position, spluttering and wincing in pain. “Akutagawa?”

 

“J-jinko? Where—am—I?”

 

Yosano stepped towards him, resting a hand on his back as he continued to cough, eyebrows furrowed. “Easy now… I had to stitch you up quite a bit. You’re at the agency infirmary.”

 

“How did I get here?”

 

“Atsushi brought you to me.” He nodded, not making eye contact with her. “That’s a wicked cough. Are you sick?”

 

“No. I have pleurisy.”

 

“What’s that?” Atsushi asked, peering around Yosano.

 

“The pleura—the tissue around my lungs—are inflamed. It causes severe chest pain and coughing for me.”

 

“Oh… Is there anything I can do to help when you have a coughing fit… or…?”

 

The corner of Yosano’s lips quirked up in amusement. The dynamic between the two boys was quickly changing, every time they worked together. She turned her back on them, carrying away the bloody cloths. “I’ll leave you two to your discussion. I hope you feel better, Akutagawa.”

 

*

 

“Dr. Yosano?”

 

She spun in her chair, coming face to face with Kyouka. She took in the girl’s downcast eyes and fidgeting hands. “Yeah?”

 

“Can I speak to you for a moment? Alone?”

 

Brows raising ever so slightly, she stood from her chair. “Of course, come with me.” She led Kyouka to the infirmary, curious eyes watching them pass through the office. Yosano sat in a chair in front of a crowded desk, motioning for the young girl to sit in the chair across from her. “What did you want to talk to me about, Kyouka-chan?”

 

She averted her eyes, haze fixed on the floor underneath her swinging feet. “I think something’s wrong with me.”

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“I’m bleeding… down there.”

 

“This has never happened before?”

 

Kyouka shook her head, chancing a glance up at the doctor. To her surprise, the woman was smiling. Not sadistically as she had seen on other occasions, just a simple grin. “Why are you smiling?”

 

Yosano let out a breathy laugh. “Kyouka, do you know what a period is?”

 

“No.”

 

She nodded. “You’ve been under a lot of stress the last few years, am I right?”

 

“Yes… but why would that make me bleed? Am I sick?”

 

“No, honey, you’re not sick. All girls get them. I think you’ve just got yours late because of the immense amount of stress you’ve been under.”

 

“It’s… normal…?”

 

Yosano nodded again, pulling her chair closer to Kyouka. “Absolutely. You’re not sick or hurt. This actually means you’re healthy.”

 

“Why does it happen?”

 

“I assume you know how babies are born?”

 

“Yes,” she said, pulling a face. “And I don’t want to see anyone trying because that was scarring.”

 

Yosano’s lips formed an O, before she pressed them together, nodding at the floor. “I’m not going to ask.”

 

“I don’t think you want to know.”

 

“You’re probably right,” she chuckled. “Anyway. If there’s no baby in your uterus, the egg gets released along with all the blood that would have housed the baby. And so, it comes out for a few days.”

 

“Just once?”

 

Yosano chuckled. “I wish. It will happen for a few days every month, and sometimes it hurts, and you feel kinda gross.”

 

“That’s why my stomach hurts?”

 

“That’s why your stomach hurts. When did you first notice it?”

 

“Only a few minutes before I came to talk to you.”

 

Nodding, Yosano opened a desk drawer, rifled around inside a box, and pulled out a small square. Kyouka eyed it as it was handed to her, brows furrowed as she turned it over in her small hands. “This is a pad. It goes in your underwear to catch the blood.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I will give you some more before you leave today, but I can take you to the store tonight or tomorrow to buy some things for yourself and you can ask me some more questions, if you’d like?”

 

Kyouka smiled, nodding at Yosano. “I’d love that.”

 

 

*

 

 

Yosano had stitched Dazai up quite a few times after missions, had seen what was under the bandages wrapped around his chest, but never had she been so terrified to see him. She’d been called during the night, Atsushi’s panicked voice startling her from her grogginess. Only after she’d calmed him down did she hear what she needed to know. Dazai had tried to kill himself again, and Atsushi had found him bleeding out on his bathroom floor.

 

She flew out the door of her own dorm, a needle and surgical thread, along with gauze, bandages, and a few other items thrown in a small duffle bag over her shoulder. Her feet flew over the concrete, arriving at the last dorm in five seconds flat, shouldering the door open. Kyouka peeked her head out of Dazai’s room, motioning for her to come in.

 

“Where is he?”

 

“Atsushi lifted him onto the bed.”

 

“Where’s Atsushi?”

 

“Mopping up the blood.”

 

Yosano nodded, pursing her lips as she entered the room. What she saw almost made her cry. Dazai lay unconscious on the bed, bandages missing from his arms, wrists torn open, the ragged flesh angry and oozing blood. She bit her lip, setting the bag down on the bed as Atsushi came out of the bathroom, glancing up at her with red-rimmed eyes.

 

“Out. Both of you.”

 

“O-okay.”

 

She knew it was rude, but truthfully, she didn’t want them to see this. Or to see the tears falling down her own face as she mopped to blood from the man’s arms. Everyone had gotten so used to Dazai’s talking about suicide that no one really imagined that one day he’d be serious. One day, he’d succeed. She held back a sob as she attempted to steady her hand, holding his wrist like a vice as she stitched his skin back together. Soon they were both stitched up, thick bandages covering the fresh cuts among many old ones. Then she sat on the edge of the bed, stroking his hair as she let the tears fall freely down her face.

 

Not long later, Dazai stirred. Yosano removed her hand as he stretched and sat up, rubbing his eyes. His brows knitted together as he stared down at the bandages on his arms, eyes watering. “I’m alive…”

 

“Atsushi found you and called me.”

 

Dazai froze, not meeting her eyes. “Yosano?”

 

“Mhmm.” He swallowed thickly, a shaky breath following it, fighting the urge to cry. “Dazai.” He still didn’t look at her, but his shoulders were shaking. She tucked two fingers under his chin and titled his head up to look at her. Tears streamed silently down his face as he stared into her eyes, too many questions flying through his head. She leaned forward and pulled his head down onto her shoulder. He turned and buried his head in her neck, letting go of the tension he was holding.

 

She simply held him, closing her eyes and thanking God that Atsushi had found him in time.

 

“W-why?”

 

She shook her head, then pressed a kiss to his hair. “We love you, Dazai.”

Notes:

So... I've never written this style of one-shot before, but I actually enjoyed it. I think I will do some more like this if its recieved well, so let me know what you thought of this chapter for sure! And also, just let me know your thoughts on it in general, lol.

I'm open to one-shot or compilation requests, just leave a comment below.

Until next time, guys! -Emma :)

Chapter 5: More than Meets the Eye (Kunikida & Dazai Compilation)

Summary:

A compilation of moments shared between Kunikida and Dazai as partners and friends at the Agency.

Dazai and Kunikida had worked together for years—they knew each other like the back of their hands. Dazai knew when he had pushed Kunikida too far, how he preferred his coffee black, and how the length of his hair would forever irk his parents, yet he did it anyway. Kunikida knew that Dazai’s tab at the café consisted of almost exclusively coffee because he barely slept, that it was dangerous to bring his family into conversation, and that his bandages were a non-negotiable part of his attire.

 

Though they annoyed each other to no end, they had immense respect for each other, and genuinely cared about the other’s well-being. They’d never admit it to other members of the Agency, but they looked out for each other. Kunikida did worry whenever Dazai was late to work, scared that maybe he’d finally succeeded at killing himself. Dazai watched Kunikida carefully after a rough case, knowing the man was like a ticking-time bomb with the stress he carried on his shoulders day after day. They both were.

 

Every day, they paid attention. They took care of each other. Even if it was in the smallest ways possible.

 

*

 

Working cases together had become routine for the two men. They’d locate an abandoned warehouse, mine, burned-out apartment building… you name it, they’ve been there. And of course, physical altercations were a common occurrence.

 

Kunikida fired a shot, hitting his target in the leg. He collapsed to the ground and Kunikida kicked his gun away, jumping on his back and pinning his arms until he could get cuffs on him. “Dazai!”

 

A ringing laugh came from the other end of the large hall, followed by the sounds of skin on skin combat. “Almost got ‘im!”

 

Kunikida trained his gun on Dazai’s opponent, following the pair as Dazai kicked him into a wall. But the man had gotten a grip on his bandages, yanking the end until they began unravelling. Dazai punched him square in the jaw, but the man fought back, his foot connecting with Dazai’s stomach, and then he straddled his waist, hands clenched around his neck. “Dazai!”

 

Dazai’s eyes were livid, hands scrabbling at his throat, desperately kicking to get his foot under the man’s torso. He was able to lift him up, and as he did, Kunikida shoved him off with his foot, pinned the man’s arms behind his back, and cuffed him as well.

 

Kunikida checked over his shoulder, then looked back again a second time. “Dazai?”

 

“Just a minute…” The man was crouched beside the railing, hiding his arm and neck from view. Rustling reached his ears, followed by, “Fuck…”

 

Kunikida reached into his pocket and pulled out two safety pins, handing them to Dazai as he looked away. “Here.”

 

Silence. And then, the pins were gone. Kunikida kept his gaze averted, focusing instead on the man knocked out beside him. Then Dazai cleared his throat. “Where’d you pull these from?”

 

“I always carry some with me.”

 

“Is it one of your ideals?”

 

“No, Dazai. They’re for you. Just in case this happened.” Silence again. Kunikida turned to look at him and couldn’t help but smile at Dazai’s open mouth and furrowed brows. “Come on. Let’s get the cops in here.”

 

*

 

Dazai, Atsushi, Kunikida, and Kenji had taken it upon themselves to track down a terrorist organization, a few members of whom had a part in a child trafficking ring. Ranpo had directed them to their base, a connection to the sewer system and an unused piece of the subway leading them to it.

 

Halfway through the darkened tunnel Kunikida stopped, six or seven other flashlight beams cutting through the darkness. He squinted into the black ahead, holding an arm out to stop Kenji beside him. “Hang on. There’s someone coming.”

 

Sure enough, as they got closer, a group of children came into view. They all wore grey rags, dirty hair hanging in their eyes as they continued shuffling forwards. Kunikida lowered the beam of his flashlight, feeling a pit in his stomach.

 

The girl’s eyes bored into his as she pulled the pin, the explosion nearly knocking him unconscious. He wavered on his feet, vision blurry, screaming at the bloodstained shoe left on the ground mere feet away.

 

Bile rose in his throat. Something was very wrong here.

 

“Atsushi… do you remember…?”

 

“You don’t think…”

 

Kunikida only nodded, scrutinizing the children for any sign of grenades around their necks. But there was nothing. They weren’t even armed.

 

Kunikida took a few steps forward, then knelt down ten feet from where the kids had stopped. He spoke softly. “What are you kids doing down here?”

 

The small girl in the middle was the one who spoke. “We’re not supposed to talk to strangers.”

 

Kunikida frowned. “Kiddo, you’re down here by yourselves. You could get hurt.”

 

“Master said we wouldn’t get hurt if we were good.”

 

His eyes-widened, and he looked back over his shoulder at the other three. “And what did you have to do to be good, sweetie?”

 

She looked down. “We had to come and stand here. To stop the bad guys.”

 

“The bad guys? Who are the bad guys?”

 

Her striking eyes pierced his once more and he was nearly thrown for a loop. They could have been the same girl for all he knew. “You.”

 

“We aren’t the bad guys. Listen… what he’s—”

 

“It’s too late.”

 

Kunikida’s stomach dropped. “What do you mean it’s too late?”

 

The girl’s eyes watered as she stared at him, lifting her shirt. Underneath, an explosive vest was strapped to her small body, a countdown already under five seconds.

 

“NO!” Kunikida lurched forward but was yanked back by a harsh hand. They rolled across the ground as the explosion blew the children apart, and he was restrained against someone’s chest. “Let me go! LET ME GO!”

 

But it was no use. The other man had a grip on him like a vice, a hand on the back of his head keeping it pressed firmly against his chest.

 

Atsushi rose to his knees, glancing down at Kenji beneath him, the boy’s eyes watering as he stared at the spot where the girl had just stood in horror. Atsushi turned the other way, finding Dazai’s back to him, shielding Kunikida from view.

 

Dazai heaved for breath, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Kunikida gave up struggling, openly sobbing against him. After checking over his shoulder that Atsushi and Kenji were okay, he returned his attention to his partner, distraught and horrified, his body jolting with the force of his cries. He continued to shield him from view, not wanting the younger boys to see Kunikida in this state. Not until he had regained his composure.

 

Dazai rubbed the man’s back a few times, staring at the scorch marks on the floor. “There’s nothing you could have done, Kunikida-kun. Those poor kids were sent to their deaths. You couldn’t have saved them.”

 

A minute or so later, Kunikida pulled away from Dazai, swiping at his face with his head down. He sniffed, nodding. “You’re right. He’s escaping as we speak.”

 

Dazai looked at him, sitting back on his haunches. “Then let’s go get the bastard.”

 

The blond man nodded, standing tall, looking to Atsushi and Kenji as if nothing had happened. “Come on. Let’s keep going.”

 

*

 

The anniversary of Oda’s death was never a good day for Dazai. From the minute he woke up until the minute he fell asleep that night, if he managed to, the man was constantly on his mind. Kunikida would sit at his desk, watching his partner stare into space, not even bothering to annoy him in any way.

 

Dazai never talked about Oda. He never even said his name. But Kunikida knew. He’d seen the name on the grave Dazai frequented. He’d found out who he was. The date of his death. At the time, it hadn’t made sense. Why would Dazai know the Port Mafia member who wouldn’t kill? And what happened to make him so distraught by the man’s death?

 

This year, now that he knew about Dazai’s past in the Mafia, it made sense. And thanks to those records, piece by piece, he was able to fit things together. Little by little, Dazai seemed a little less mysterious. He may not know what had happened to him as a child, or what exactly laid underneath his bandages, but he did know that Oda’s death had been tragic. And just after, Dazai had left the mafia, not to be seen again for 2 years.

 

Whatever had happened between the two men, it had changed Dazai. It led him to the light. To growth. To the Agency. To Kunikida. To Atsushi. To Kyouka. Although he often complained about Dazai, he’d grown to care for him more than he’d ever admit. And he was grateful to Oda, whatever had happened, for everything.

 

Dazai woke that morning, head throbbing and body aching, no doubt due to the absurd amount of alcohol he’d consumed the previous night. He swung his legs over the side of his bed, holding his head in his hands until the room stopped spinning, and then stood, heading to the kitchen. His feet dragged as he came into sight of the door, where he froze, eyes trained on the sheet of paper that had been slid underneath.

 

He eyed the paper suspiciously before heading over to it, wincing at the pain in his temples when he bent over to pick it up. He blinked at the neat scrawl until it came into focus, his chest tightening at every word.

 

Dazai,

 

Go back to sleep. You have the day off.

 

I know I don’t know much about Oda, but I know he was incredibly important to you. Enough for you to come to the light and become my partner. To save Atsushi. To help Kyouka. To save the people of Yokohama. Enough for you to stay alive when you don’t want to.

 

I’m going to visit his grave today, too. I need to thank him.

 

I’m sorry for the pain you’re in, Osamu. You may not ever talk about him, but if you want to, you’ve got my undivided attention.

 

Take care of yourself today,

 

Kunikida

 

Dazai blinked the moisture from his eyes, staring at the paper but no longer seeing it. Then he sat in the armchair closest to him and focused on his breathing, ignoring the trembling of his hands. He wasn’t ready to talk yet. But when he was… Kunikida would be the first person to know.

 

*

 

Another thing that Dazai knew about Kunikida was his fear of blood. Not so much small amounts of blood from minor injuries, nor even his own blood. It didn’t really phase him, and when it did, he had learned to keep it in check. Dazai had only seen him lose his cool from it once, but that was enough for him to know that if it ever happened again, he’d have to act fast.

 

Unfortunately, on a specific mission, it couldn’t be avoided. Gunshots cause bloodshed. And being behind the receiver of the bullet as it exits the skull…

 

Dazai didn’t even take another look at the man as he crumbled to the ground. All he could register was the sheer panic on his partner’s face, and the instilled knowledge that he needed to get the other man out of there—fast. Stuffing his gun in his coat, Dazai walked straight to Kunikida, who was covered head to mid-chest in fresh blood. His chest heaved, eyes blown wide as he stared at Dazai—a silent plea.

 

“I’m taking you outside,” he said, his voice soft but stern. Kunikida didn’t acknowledge he’d even heard him but let Dazai’s hand on his back guide him outside. With his other hand, he flipped open his phone, called the police that were to come to the scene, then immediately stuffed it back in his coat.

 

When they were outside, hidden from street view by a large dumpster, he stopped and turned to his partner. “Kunikida-kun.” The man’s eyes darted up, boring into his. He reached out and grabbed his shoulders firmly. “Breathe.”

 

“The… the blood. It’s all over me.”

 

“I know.”

 

“There’s so much,” he croaked, hands trembling as he stared at the splotches that had landed on them when he held his gun. His voice wavered as he spoke between gasps for air. “So much—so—blood. S-so mu—much.”

 

Dazai slid his hands down until they were on the sides of his arms instead, not caring that the liquid was now on him as well. “Look at me.” Kunikida was staring at the slippery liquid covering him. His stained clothes. Touching his neck and face and then staring at his hand in horror. If Dazai didn’t calm him down soon, he was going to hyperventilate. Or pass out. Or puke. He wasn’t entirely sure which. “Doppo.”

 

The blond froze, not used to Dazai using his given name. He turned his eyes up to look at him. “G-get it off of me. Dazai, please. Get it off.”

 

“Okay,” said Dazai, shrugging off his coat. “Okay, Kunikida.”

 

“Get it off of me!”

 

“I will, I promise. But you have to breathe, okay? Deep breathes. You can do it.” Kunikida nodded, struggling to slow his breathing. “Close your eyes. I’m gunna take our vest off, okay?” The man nodded again and Dazai undid both his tie and vest, slipping them from his body. He folded the and set them on the ground beside him but frowned when he looked back at his partner. His shirt was covered in blood as well. “I have to take your shirt off, too, if you don’t want any on you. You can wear my vest.” Kunikida nodded again, eyes still closed, hands up to make it easier for the other man. He fiddled with the buttons, some of them slippery on his fingers, and pulled the shirt off as well. Then he removed his own vest and held it out to Kunikida. “You can open your eyes now. Put this on.”

 

Kunikida slipped it on, then looked back to Dazai, who was holding out his coat. “Thank you…”

 

“There should be a cloth in one of the pockets. Hand it to me.” When the cloth was pressed into his hand, Dazai stepped forward and took Kunikida’s face in his hands. “Stay still.” He wiped what he could off of the man’s face, reminding him to breathe as he did so, and not to look as his face began to pale again. He wiped the glasses he’d removed from the man’s face earlier on and tried to pull what he could out of blond hair. Some of it had dried, but he managed to remove most of it.

 

Dazai dropped the cloth on top of Kunikida’s clothes, then gathered them in his arms. “It’s over. It’s all gone, Kunikida.”

 

Kunikida took a shaky breath, opening his eyes, and taking his glasses from Dazai’s outstretched hand. “Thank you, Dazai. I owe you one.”

 

Dazai shook his head. “No, you don’t. Let’s go.”

 

*

 

Sirens wailed on the other side of the city, and Kunikida couldn’t help but silently urge them to come faster. He was sitting on the pavement at the back of an apartment building, Dazai lying in his lap, riddled with bullet holes. With no one else on the job, and Yosano unable to heal Dazai unless he was essentially dead, there was nothing to do other than pray he’d be okay.

 

“Kuni—kida,” Dazai spluttered.

 

“Don’t talk, Dazai,” he urged, staring down at the other’s ghostly face. In fact, the only colour on his face came from the blood seeping down from a wound by his temple.

 

“Kuni—”

 

“For God’s sake, Dazai, please just shut up for once in your life.”

 

“Can’t do that,” he joked, a dribble of blood seeping from his mouth.

 

“Why not?”

 

“It would scare you more.”

 

Kunikida huffed. “I’m not scared. You’ll be fine.”

 

“If the ambulance gets here in time.”

 

“It’s not an if.”

 

“It’s always an if, Kunikida-kun,” Dazai rasped, his eyelids drooping.

 

“Don’t say that,” said Kunikida, brushing Dazai’s bangs out of his eyes.

 

Dazai grinned half-heartedly, showing the blood in his mouth. “Why not?”

 

“I won’t lose you. I can’t and I won’t.”

 

“Aw… You care about me.”

 

“Of course I do, you idiot.” Dazai smiled, but it quickly slipped as he winced, a gurgling noise escaping his throat. “Dazai?”

 

“’M fine.”

 

Kunikida watched as Dazai’s eyelids drooped and he raised his hand to the side of his face. “No, no, hey, Look at me, Dazai.”

 

“Hmm?” He strained to look at Kunikida, eyes glassy.

 

“The ambulance is almost here. You have to stay awake.”

 

“But—”

 

“Please, Dazai. Try and stay awake.”

 

“M’kay,” came the ghost of his voice, barely audible over the approaching ambulance.

 

“They’re here,” he said, smoothing Dazai’s hair. “You’ll be fine. You’re gunna be okay.”

 

*

 

Kunikida spun around, his fist connecting with the criminal before him. The man’s head was forced back, but a swift kick to the abdomen sent Kunikida stumbling backwards. With his gun already knocked away, and Dazai fighting the guy’s partner behind him, he wasn’t quite sure what to do. He couldn’t move much to the left without falling over the railing to the floor below, and the man’s reflexes were quick.

 

He blocked another kick, seizing his leg and using it as leverage to take his other foot out from under him. The man fell to the floor, and Kunikida stepped forward, accidentally intercepting a blow from Dazai’s opponent, which sent him flying into the far wall.

 

When he looked up, Dazai had the man pinned against the wall, but the man he’d been fighting before was reaching for both of their lost guns. “Dazai, duck!” Kunikida pulled out his notebook and scribbled in it with record speed. “Ability: Doppo Poet! Grenade!” A grenade appeared in his hand and he pulled the pin, lobbing it in the criminal’s direction.

 

As the smoke subsided, Kunikida stepped forwards, examining the area. He coughed, trying to clear his lungs, when Dazai’s frantic yell came from behind him. “Kunikida!”

 

The blond had barely turned to check over his shoulder when the other criminal barreled into him, forcing him over the railing. At the last second, he was able to get a hold of the man’s waist, flipping him over the railing with him as they fell to the concrete below. His legs took the majority of the impact, the lower halves snapping at the pressure from such an awkward angle, quickly followed by his head. Screams pierced the air, but Kunikida was in too severe pain to comprehend that they were coming from him.

 

“Kunikida!” Footsteps flew down the stairs towards him, and then a gunshot rang out, announcing the death of the second criminal. “Kunikida-kun!” Dazai dropped to the ground beside him, his hands hovering over his partner’s broken body as if scared he’d break at the slightest touch. His hair was matted with blood from the impact, his shin bone clearly snapped, along with a few others at least. Dazai was at a loss, taking in the tears flowing down the other man’s temples, mingling with his blood, harsh sobs escaping through gritted teeth. He had to get him back to the agency… but how? He couldn’t carry him over his shoulder with his legs dangling. He couldn’t piggyback him… even having one arm under his knees would be incredibly painful, depending on where his legs were broken.

 

Gingerly, Dazai laid a hand on the man’s thigh. “Does it hurt here?” Kunikida shook his head, clenching his eyes shut at the movement. “How about your knees?”

 

“N-no,” he choked out.

 

“Can you sit up?” Kunikida only stared at him, eyes glassy. “We’re gunna try and sit up.” He slid an arm under the man’s back, helping him push himself into a sitting position.

 

His face instantly drained of colour and he swayed slightly. “I’m gunna be sick.” Dazai watched as his stomach visibly contracted once, and he hurriedly angled him away from both of their legs just as he heaved again, spilling the contents of his stomach onto the ground beside him.

 

 A few moments later, once Dazai was sure there was nothing left in the man’s stomach and he was leaning his head against Dazai’s shoulder, he spoke up. “I’m gunna have to carry you back to the agency. I don’t know how bad it is, but Yosano can fix you up. I’m sorry… This is gunna hurt.” Dazai slid one arm under the man’s back and another under his knees, hauling him into his arms as he stood.

 

Kunikida screamed in pain, both his head and his legs protesting the movement. He blanched again, and for a moment, Dazai thought he might get covered in puke. Every step he took jostled the man in his arms, who’s harsh yelps began to turn into whimpers as he buried his head in Dazai’s chest to avoid the bouncing. “I’m sorry, Kunikida. We’ll be back soon.”

 

“How long?”

 

Dazai frowned, looking down at him. “You don’t remember where you are, do you?”

 

“No.”

 

Dazai tried to bring his arms closer to his body to minimize the jostling. “Do you know what day it is?”

 

“No.”

 

“Do you remember what happened?”

 

“I was pushed.”

 

“Mhmm. Do you know who you are?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And do you remember who I am?”

 

“Couldn’t forget you, Dazai.”

 

The brunet smiled. “Good. We’re only around the corner. You’ll be good as new before you know it.”

 

To his surprise, Kunikida was smiling when he looked down, though he still seemed out of it. “Better than you?”

 

Dazai laughed, then abruptly cut himself off so he wouldn’t hurt his partner. “You wish.”

 

*

 

It hadn’t been long since Kunikida had found out about Dazai’s previous life in the Port mafia. Since he found out about the murders, the people he tortured, the crimes he’d committed. And even though it had been a shock, things made a lot more sense now. It made sense why Dazai was so closed off, or why he got this look in his eye, like he’d seen and done things that he’d rather not talk about. Both the murderous glint and the guilt-ridden empty stare.

 

The thoughts going through the man’s mind every single day had to be torturous. Especially if his bandages and obsession with suicide had anything to do with it. And Oda. Whatever had happened while Dazai had been in the Port Mafia… it scarred him. Deeply.

 

On a case that day, that glint had returned. The gifted they’d hunted down had been after children. He’d tortured, killed, and used his ability to hold them down as he took advantage of them. And Dazai? Dazai had fired three bullets straight through the man’s chest, his own heaving, his jaw set so tight Kunikida was sure it should’ve snapped. He was also sure that Dazai would’ve kept shooting the man if he hadn’t stopped him—taken hold of his gun and pulled it from his hand.

 

Dazai stared at the man for a moment longer, then turned on his heel and walked back toward the opening of the alley. He didn’t leave, though. Just stood a few feet away, his back to Kunikida, head bowed.

 

“I know you see me differently now.”

 

Though it shouldn’t have, it caught Kunikida off guard. “What do you mean?”

 

“Since you found out about my past. Now you see him.”

 

“Him?”

 

“The man I used to be. Before I came here and met all of you. Came to the light.”

 

Kunikida closed the space between them, so that his hand came to rest on the other man’s shoulder. “Dazai, the only man I see is you.”

 

Dazai looked at him over his shoulder, and the pain harboured in his eyes nearly knocked Kunikida off his feet. “But there’s still dark inside me, Kunikida. I’ll always be stuck there.”

 

“Dazai.”

 

He turned to face him, the stoic mask he usually wore dropped completely. “What? You saw me just now… firing into a dead body. I know you see that part of me.”

 

“Dazai—”

 

“Don’t. Lie. To. Me.” He dropped his gaze. “Please.”

 

“Dazai, I still see the man I met when you first walked through the Agency door. The one who took an orphan from the street and decided to give him a second, proper chance at happiness. The one who talked Kyouka through her trauma from the Port Mafia, even though it must have been incredibly hard for you. The one who saves people, and although you act aloof and like you don’t care, genuinely cares about all of us. What you’ve been through could have turned you ruthless with no going back. You have the ability—I’ve seen it. But you’ve chosen to be better than that.”

 

“After everything I did…”

 

“I don’t care, Dazai. Your past does not define you. This is the path you’ve chosen. You’ve chosen to help people and save people, Dazai. You’ve turned your life around. You chose to join the agency. To be my partner. And as annoying as you can be, I couldn’t ask for someone better.”

 

“Kunikida—”

 

“Look at me, Dazai.” Kunikida waited for Dazai’s brown eyes to meet his. He could no longer name the emotion held there, it being so abnormal on the man’s normally impassive face. “I mean it.”

 

And then Dazai did what Kunikida least expected. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his neck in a wordless hug. But Kunikida understood, as he encircled Dazai’s waist, just how much that meant to him.

 

*

 

On a normal day, Kunikida would sit at his desk across from Dazai, exchanging banter as he wrote in his notebook. On a normal day, Dazai would toss paper balls at Kunikida to annoy him as he did his paperwork. On a normal day, both of them would end up against the wall, one quite nearly strangling the other to death out of sheer annoyance. But that day was anything but normal.

 

Most people wouldn’t have noticed. But Dazai wasn’t most people. He was the man’s partner, after all. They saw more of each other than they did of almost any other person on the planet. And as much as Dazai hated to admit it, he’d grown to know the other man’s habits, likes, dislikes, and tells better than anyone. Did he find it annoying that he knew exactly what the man was doing at 6:45 am every morning and how he organized his meticulous notes? Yes. But did it come in handy when something was most definitely off? Absolutely.

 

That particular day, Dazai found himself studying Kunikida, wondering what was causing the worry lines on his forehead. Why he hadn’t said a single word since he came in that morning. Why he had simply picked up Dazai’s paper ball and thrown it in the trash instead of giving him the usual perturbed glare and choice words. And above all, why he seemed so damn upset.  

 

When Dazai returned from his lunch break, the man was still seated at his desk, head in his hands, glasses discarded in front of him. He had been the first one back on purpose for once, Kunikida’s favourite tea in his hand. He strolled over the him and sat at the vacant desk beside him, setting the tea down beside the glasses, which he picked up and opened. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Dazai rolled his eyes. “Regardless of the fact that’s a straight up lie, even if I were to humour you and go back to work, I would still be the only one who’s noticed any difference in how your acting and was concerned enough to check on you. So, I ask again. What’s wrong?”

 

Sighing, Kunikida raised his head, taking his glasses from Dazai’s outstretched hand. He sipped his tea, then turned to his partner, the stress clear on his face. “Have you looked at the new case yet?” Dazai only raised his brows. “Of course not. Here. Take a look.”

 

Dazai took the file from his hand, scanning it over, a frown spreading across his face. “There’s gunna be a lot of casualties from this.”

 

Kunikida rubbed his temples. “Exactly. And… honestly, Dazai… I don’t know if I can take it. Any more people getting hurt or killed, I mean. Not on my watch or under my direction or in front of me…”

 

“It’s what you signed up for… people are going to get hurt when you’re dealing with gifted criminals.”

 

“But this many? What is it going to take to shut this down? How many people are we going to lose?”

 

“I don’t know, Kunikida… none of us can.”

 

“That’s the problem. We shrug it off. But what if it’s someone close to us. What if it’s Atsushi? Or, or Kenji? Or even Chuuya? How would you feel about it then?”

 

“There’d be hell to pay.” Kunikida stared at him and Dazai’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

 

“Exactly. But we never know, going into these missions, what’s going to happen. And I… we all have seen too many people get hurt. Even normal cases can be dangerous enough… but then you add in the early fights with the Port Mafia before we joined forces… and the Guild, and suddenly people are dying and getting hurt left, right, and center. And there’s nothing I can do about it.” He paused, his eyes closing for a brief moment before he looked back at Dazai, defeated. “I don’t know if I can do this. Take over for the President. Direct missions…”

 

“You’re doing just fine, Kunikida.”

 

“Am I really, though?”

 

“You are. You’re more capable than you think you are. Have some faith in yourself, Kunikida-kun.”

 

“You really believe that?”

 

Dazai smiled. “I really do. You’ll be just fine. And we’ll get through this together, just like we always do.”

 

The corners of the other man’s lips quirked up as he looked at Dazai. “You’re annoying when you’re right, you know? that”

 

“I thought I was just annoying when I was wrong? Or all the time?”

 

“That too.”

 

*

 

A knock on his door startled Kunikida from sleep, sitting straight-up in bed, floundering for his glasses. With them firmly on his face, he pushed the blankets aside, stumbling out of his room and to the door. He turned the knob, pulling the door open, and taking in the figure on the other side. “Dazai, what the he—what’s wrong?”

 

Dazai stood there in his pajamas, trembling and blotchy faced. It only made it worse when he spoke, his hoarse voice wavering. “Can I talk to you?”

 

Thoroughly shocked, he stepped aside, unable to keep the concern off his face. “Of course! Did something happen? Are you okay?”

 

“No.”

 

“No to which question?” Kunikida asked, furrowing his brows as he ushered Dazai to the couch and sat down beside him.

 

“Both.”

 

“What’s going on? It’s 3am.”

 

“I know what time it is.”

 

Kunikida took a deep breath, watching Dazai as he stared at the floor. “Talk to me, Dazai.”

 

“Do you think I’m a monster?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Do you think I’m a monster?”

 

“N-no, I heard you the first time, I just… why would I think that? Dazai,” he reached out and laid a hand on the other man’s arm. “What’s brought this on?”

 

“Am I failing Atsushi? Like I failed Akutagawa?”

 

“I’m not following Dazai, I’m sorry… I don’t understand.”

 

“Forget it,” said Dazai, standing. “It’s nothing.”

 

Kunikida caught his wrist, pulling him back down beside him. “Dazai. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

 

“I had a nightmare. About Oda.”

 

“I… I thought you were friends?”

 

“We were… that’s why… I…”

 

“What did he say to you?”

 

Finally, Dazai looked at him. “He told me I was a monster. That I failed… I couldn’t do the one thing he asked of me.”

 

“And what was that?”

 

“To be a better man.”

 

Kunikida paused, studying Dazai. “Is that what you wanted to talk about? About Oda?” Dazai nodded. “About what happened?” Dazai nodded again and Kunikida looked at the clock, wondering how long Dazai had already been up. “Go ahead. I’m here to listen, just like I told you before.”

 

Dazai took a deep breath before beginning. And he told Kunikida everything.  About going to the bar with Oda and Ango. About Oda not wanting to kill after his past. About his dream of being an author. About the orphans and how they were killed. About Mimic. About his dying wish. About how he’d died in Dazai’s arms… Everything.

 

When he was done, Dazai’s eyes brimmed with tears as he stared at his hands, playing with the fresh bandages there. With a jolt, Kunikida wondered what was under those bandages… and if there was anything fresh. He followed the bandaged arms up to his partner’s face, then took Dazai in his arms. The brunet turned his face into Kunikida, breathing deeply, fighting he lump in his throat.

 

Kunikida let out a long breath, staring at the wall across the room. “You are not a monster. And you haven’t failed Atsushi.”

 

“I feel… I… I don’t know, Kunikida…”

 

“That’s okay… we’ll figure it out. I promise.”

 

Dazai took a shaky breath. “You’re sure I haven’t failed…?”

 

“Positive. You’re doing everything you can. You’re trying… and that’s all that really matters.”

 

Dazai nodded against him. “I really miss him… It hurts…”

 

“I’m sorry, Dazai…” Kunikida closed his eyes as he tightened his hold on his partner. “I’m so sorry.”

 

*

 

To the untrained eye, Dazai and Kunikida might seem like the most unlikely duo there is. They fight, and bicker, and get on every last one of the other’s nerves. But when it comes down to it, they really care about each other.

 

Kunikida couldn’t imagine a life without Dazai’s antics and humour.

 

Dazai couldn’t imagine a life without the partner that took him in when he needed somewhere to go the most.

 

Kunikida didn’t want to think about what would happen if one day, Dazai succeeded at killing himself.

 

Dazai didn’t want to think about what would happen if Kunikida got killed in combat.

 

Kunikida would never admit it, but he genuinely enjoyed Dazai’s presence, even if his actions said otherwise.

 

Dazai would never admit it, but Kunikida was one of the very limited reasons he stayed alive.

 

Bickering aside, when it all came down to it, Dazai and Kunikida would do anything for the other. Late nights with a distraught Dazai. Kunikida clinging to his body after a child was killed. Helping each other through injuries and bad days… it was all part of their partnership. Their friendship.

 

And they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Notes:

Hey all! So I've decided to add another compilation chapter. I really enjoy this style, so I will continue to write them. I will also be posting some normal one-shot style fics here as well as some smut in the future. As always, let me know your thoughts on this one!

Requests are welcome in the comments!

Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 6: We Love You, Dazai (One-shot Request)

Summary:

A one-shot request for @angstyteen !

The agency gets thrown into Dazai's flashbacks by another ability user, and they have to watch as his walls crash and burn. When they eventually make it out, Dazai is broken. Good thing they are all there to comfort him.

 

The agency bustled with activity, each member doing their part to prepare for the day’s mission. All of the members were required to participate, needing both offensive and defensive tactics to take down the gifted they were after. She was exceptionally powerful, and what was worse, she had a grudge against the agency for killing her brother—another gifted. Of course, the man they’d killed had been dangerous—a murderer. And now she was back for revenge, using her psychological imaging gift to her advantage.

 

“Alright,” bellowed Kunikida. “Are we all ready?” A round of yesses echoed around the office. “Everybody in the van.”

 

“That won’t be necessary.”

 

Heads whipped in the direction of the door, gasps flooding the office as their eyes took in the dark-haired woman in the doorway. Her piercing blue eyes glinted, a sadistic smirk spreading across her face as she took them in.

 

“So, it’s you,” drawled Yosano, lifting her blade over her shoulder. “Didn’t even bother to wait for us to come to you. Very impatient.”

 

The woman’s smirk only widened. “No sense in waiting. Might as well do what I came here for.”

 

“And what would that be?” Kunikida voiced, stepping away from his desk, gun pointed at her. “What is it that you want from us?”

 

“I think you know exactly what I want, Doppo Kunikida. It was you, after all, who was on the case that got my brother killed.”

 

Kunikida flinched. “What do you mean?”

 

“That man you killed last month… the remote ability user… do you remember him?”

 

Realization dawned in his eyes. “Yes. He nearly killed hundreds of innocent people, not to mention my partner and his apprentice.” Kunikida glanced over his shoulder at Dazai, who was standing in the middle of the room, and at Atsushi, on the other side of the desk.

 

She followed his gaze. “Those two, huh? You’re also responsible.”

 

Atsushi’s eyes widened, but Dazai cut him off before he could speak. “Your brother needed to be held responsible for the bomb he set to kill hundreds of people in the port.”

 

She laughed, a long, hollow sound. “If by ‘held responsible’ you mean killed, then yes. I suppose.”

 

“He wasn’t supposed to get killed,” Kunikida took over, face stony. “It was out of our hands at that point.”

 

“Bullshit,” she spat, raising her own automatic.

 

“Now, I’ll ask again. What is it you want?”

 

“I want revenge. I want to hold all of you responsible for what you’ve done.”

 

“And how exactly are you going to do that?” Dazai asked, sounding almost bored.

 

She quirked her head, raising her eyebrows. “I’ve done my research. I know what you’ve done. All of you. And once that gets exposed… you’re over.”

 

“Good luck with than, hun,” Yosano chuckled. “There’s eight of us against you and your gun. And I can take care of any injuries you try and give us.”

 

“Oh, I know you can take care of physical injuries, Dr. Yosano.”

 

She raised her brows. “So how do you plan to go about this then? As far as I know, you’re a non-combatant.”

 

“You’ve all done your research as well, I see,” she chuckled. “There may only be one of me, but my ability allows me to control you all.”

 

“Psychological imaging,” muttered Kunikida. “Now it makes sense…”

 

She laughed again. “So, you know what you’re in for then. Perfect. Then let’s begin. I have chosen the perfect person for the job.”

 

“Oh yeah,” asked Dazai, eyes narrowed. “And who’s past are you going to throw us into?”

 

She grinned; the sharp curve of her lips eerily sweet. “I think you’re aware that you’re the one with the most interesting past to show the rest, Osamu Dazai.”

 

With that, the room went completely black, all of the agency members dropping to the floor where they stood, completely unprepared for what was to come next.

 

*

 

Atsushi stumbled into the long grass of someone’s backyard, the blue sky above him doing nothing to help the unease building in his stomach. He whipped around, staring at the other as they appeared behind him. Kunikida’s narrowed eyes stared around, unable to understand what was happening. Yosano staggered forwards, her heels sinking in the grass, pulling Kyouka and Kenji towards her to protect them from whatever was about to happen. Tanizaki and Ranpo stood slightly to the side of Atsushi, the bright green of Ranpo’s eyes showing genuine concern. Then Dazai was in the middle of the group, staring wide-eyed at the wooden fence on the other side of the yard.

 

Kunikida stepped towards Dazai, laying a hand on his arm. “Dazai, what’s going on? Where are we?”

 

Dazai only stared straight ahead, eyes fixed on a spot not ten feet away. Kunikida glanced there and then back at Dazai, startling when the cry of a child filled the yard. Everyone’s gazes followed, taking in the figure of the young child before them.

 

He had to be only six or seven, unruly brown hair bouncing as he ran around the corner of the house. A snarling dog rounded the corner after him, snapping at his heels as he ran towards the gate. When the boy got to the gate he turned around, big brown eyes staring at the dog in terror. It was then, taking in the young boy in front of them, that they agency collectively realized that the child was Dazai.

 

Atsushi found himself unable to look away as the dog inched forwards, growling at young Dazai, foaming at the mouth. The young boy backed himself against the wood, eyes welling with tears. “Good doggy…” The dog snarled again, then barked at him. “Mommy!” And again. “Daddy!” He was crying now, tears flowing down his face as the dog neared him. “Mommy! Daddy!” The dog jumped at him, taking his arm in its mouth and throwing Dazai to the ground like a ragdoll. It went for his face, clawing and gnashing at his small form. Dazai screamed, shrilly and full of pain for his parents.

 

A moment later, the back door slid open, revealing a tall, balding man. He took hold of the dog’s collar and threw it in a doghouse, slamming the door shut. Then he knelt down, scowling as Dazai sat there bleeding and bawling. “Shut up, Osamu,” he demanded, slapping his son across the face. “Do you want to go in there with the dog again?”

 

The scene disappeared, spinning out of focus until the close up view of a dark wooden door replaced it. The group stared at Dazai, who still stood in the middle of them, eyes focused straight ahead. Atsushi glanced at Kunikida, who returned his concerned expression.

 

Past Dazai reappeared, probably about ten-years-old at this point. He peered through a crack in the door, a sharp intake of breath giving him away.

 

“Are you snooping again, Osamu?”

 

Dazai gulped, pushing the door open and stepping into the room. The scene before him made the agency gasp, many of them looking to their Dazai in shock. His fists were clenched by his sides, the thick swallow showing the repression of his emotions as he watched his younger self approach his father. Before him lay a tall, brown-haired lady, sprawled in a puddle of her own blood. A crimson covered knife lay on the floor a few feet away, directly between his father and her. Young Dazai stared his father directly in the eyes. “What happened to Mommy?”

 

His dad’s face did not change. No sadness or grief present at all. Instead, he was stone cold as he answered his son. “She didn’t want to be your Mommy anymore.” Young Dazai’s eyes widened, but he said nothing. “Do you have a problem with that?”

 

“No.”

 

“Are you going to tell anybody what you saw?”

 

“No.”

 

“Good boy.”

 

Young Dazai spun on his heel and left the room, closing the door behind him. There he sunk down the wall to the floor, his small body shaking with his cries.

 

The scene spun again, and the hallway disappeared. This time they landed in a kitchen, pots and pans hanging from a rack on the ceiling, a few bubbling and spitting on the stovetop.

 

Atsushi didn’t tear his gaze away from the scene, but he did hear Yosano’s quiet voice a few feet away asking Dazai if he was okay. He didn’t answer.

 

Young Dazai appeared in the kitchen, pushing something around in the pan in front of him. About 13 at this point, he had grown significantly taller, but still remained very slender. In the background a door slammed, and Dazai flinched, freezing in place. His eyes flit to the hall and then he began hurriedly stirring the contents of the pan as his father burst into the room, slamming his bag down on the table. He glared at his son. “I didn’t tell you you could eat that.”

 

“You never do,” Dazai mumbled, not looking up at his father.

 

Then a pan smacked him in the temple, and he stumbled away from the stove, holding his head as he stared up at the other man. He fumed, his right eye twitching. “Do you want to say that again? How dare you disrespect me?”

 

“I haven’t eaten in two days,” Dazai replied, spitting blood out onto the floor.

 

“And now you’ll have to wait another two, you little shit!” He grabbed Dazai by the collar and spun him around, shoving him against the counter as he leaned down to speak to him. “You do what I tell you to, and that’s it. If I tell you not to eat for two days, you don’t eat for two days. If I tell you to spend the night with the dog, you damn well do it. Do you understand me?” Dazai stared at his father, fear in his eyes. The man grabbed a fistful of his son’s hair and pressed his cheek onto the burner. Dazai screamed and his father applied more pressure. “I said do you understand me?”

 

“Yes,” Dazai screeched. “Yes!”

His father released him, then backed off. “Get cleaned up for dinner. We’re having guests. And no. You won’t be eating.” With that he left, leaving a dizzy and bloody Dazai slumped against the counter.

 

The kitchen disappeared, turning to pitch black for a moment. The whole of the agency turned to look at Dazai, who’s hands now clutched the front of his coat.

 

“That bastard,” Atsushi growled. “How… that’s…”

 

“Atsushi.” It was Kunikida, who shook his head ever so slightly. “Don’t.”

 

Atsushi opened his mouth to speak, but the scene changed again, this time a brilliant white. The inside of a bathroom. It stayed silent, and then all they could hear was a guttural cry. The same 13-year-old Dazai from moments before appeared in front of them, sitting on his bathroom floor, ripping a razor across his left wrist.

 

“Dazai,” gasped Tanizaki and Yosano at the same time. Atsushi glanced over, and Yosano had her hands over both Kyouka and Kenji’s eyes. Dazai himself hadn’t turned his gaze away from his younger self. However, he was shaking his head, as if disgusted with what he was seeing. Of all the things they’d see so far… this was what he was disgusted at?

 

The scene continued for only a moment, simply young Dazai crying as he sliced up his wrist.

 

It changed again, spinning until the kitchen came back into view. This Dazai seemed maybe a year older, and this time resembled their Dazai more with the bandages wrapped around his arms. Atsushi’s chest ached.

 

Young Dazai stood in the center of the room, looking down upon a man on the floor. His father. Bloody and bruised, he lay unconscious at his son’s feet, a siren wailing not far away. Dazai swept from the room, the sliding glass door shutting behind him as he left.

 

The scene faded to black, instantly coming back up on a rainy Yokohama street. Young Dazai strolled down it with his hands stuffed in his pockets, ignoring every person who passed him by. He came to an alley, which was dimly lit and poorly sheltered from the drizzle, but he turned down it anyway. He settled himself between two crates at the end of the alley, pulled his knees to his chest and stared back down the alley.

 

Present day Dazai took a sharp breath, his hands flying to his throat.

 

“What?” Kunikida rasped. “What is it?”

 

“No…”

 

“Dazai—”

 

“She needs to stop, she needs to—”

 

The sound of a blade being pulled filled their ears and everyone turned back to young Dazai. He sat in the same position, except staring at the sky, a blade pressed to his throat by his own hand.

 

“No… Dazai…” Kunikida whispered, him and Atsushi both looking at their friend. He stood with his hands covering the bandages at his throat, his chest rising and falling faster now.

 

A few tears fell from young Dazai’s eyes as he pressed the blade harder against his skin and began dragging it across his throat. A moment later, the blade dropped to the ground, dripping blood. The light began to leave Dazai’s eyes. Atsushi could hear someone crying—Kyouka. Could hear Ranpo beside him breathing heavier. Could feel the lump in his own throat. That’s why he wore bandages around his neck…

 

At the other side of the alley, someone gasped, a package of groceries dropping to the ground and splitting open. A dark-haired man ran to Dazai and checked his pulse, fingers coming away bloody. The man searched his face frantically, then hoisted Dazai into his arms. His face didn’t become recognizable until he turned around. Mori.

 

After this image faded, the next ones came in a quick succession of short snippets. Dazai in the Mafia infirmary, where Mori sat in the chair next to him, asking him if he’d tried to get himself killed on a mission on purpose. Dazai standing in the room with Mori as the previous Mafia boss was killed. Mori promising to help Dazai kill himself if he helped him. Chuuya kicking the gun out of Dazai’s hand when he continued to shoot a dead man. Dazai watching as Mori tortured the information from someone, scalpel tracing shapes into their flesh. Mori’s voice asking Dazai to take over. Dazai, eyes void of any emotion, sticking the man in the neck with said scalpel once he was no longer useful.

 

Dazai scooping Chuuya up over his shoulder, the damage from corruption taking over as the man hacked blood down Dazai’s back. It was clear on Dazai’s face that he’d almost been too late. It was also clear that it hadn’t been the first time from the way he apologized. Then Dazai was in the bathroom again, tearing his own skin open once more, the razor slicing across wrists already laced with hundreds of other scars of the same nature.

 

Dazai back in the mafia complex, twirling a knife in his hand as he stared at a man chained to the wall. The man screamed in agony as Dazai sliced him up, demanding information. The more he screamed, the darker Dazai’s eyes grew. One man, two men, three men… more and more came through the door, ending up chained to the wall. More and more Dazai managed to get their information. And each time his eyes became duller. More empty.

 

Atsushi looked to his Dazai, who’s eyes were wide and frantic. His hands trembled from where they clutched his hair. How were they gunna get out of here? They had to get Dazai out! But how…

 

The bathroom came back into view, more blood in sight. But this time, it didn’t seem to be Dazai’s. The younger Dazai was doubled over the toilet, heaving loudly and shaking like a leaf. Blood covered his face and hands, some matted in his hair. A gun and a knife both lay discarded on the floor a few feet away, his coat lying aimlessly in the doorway. He heaved again, scrubbing at his hands, breathing faster each time the blood didn’t come off. Then the door banged open behind him, revealing a very flustered and concerned Chuuya calling out his name.

 

Present day Dazai shook his head. “No no. No no no. No.”

 

The scene changed again. Dazai and Akutagawa, presumably training. Dazai screamed at him—degraded him. Akutagawa glared back, blood dribbling from his mouth. Then a gunshot rang out and the younger man collapsed with a pained gasp. Another shot. Rashomon’s shield saved him that time. Dazai smiled.

 

Dazai’s wrists were bloody again.

 

Then a man Atsushi didn’t recognize appeared, smiling at Dazai. Present day Dazai gasped, all eyes on him as his eyes welled with tears. “Oda.”

 

Kunikida looked to Atsushi, his eyes pained. Nobody knew what to do. Dazai’s walls were crashing. The ones he built up so steadily and carefully. He was going to break if they didn’t get him out, and even if they did…

 

“Not this, please!” Dazai screamed. “Don’t make me watch this! Not again!”

 

Atsushi set his jaw, shaking his head. Such a cruel ability. Such a cruel way to use it.

 

The scene shifted, and a younger Dazai was running towards a van on fire. His expression shifted from alarm to concern as he looked past it. The man named Oda was on his hands and knees on the ground screaming his throat raw, tears leaking from his eyes onto the pavement below. The group watched as Dazai called after him. Watched as he reached for him, his fist closing around nothing. As Oda disappeared and a darkened room appeared before them.

 

“No!” Dazai screamed. “Please, not this! Don’t make me watch it again!”

 

Oda collapsed to the ground, gun still in his hand. “ODASAKU!” Dazai ran into the room, dropping to his knees and holding Oda in his lap as he bled out.

 

Atsushi swear he felt his heart break as he looked back and forth between the scene and the real Dazai, who’s face held utter despair, his chest heaving, hands gripping his hair tight enough to pull it out. The man had died in his arms…

 

The room spun, and they ended up back in Dazai’s bathroom. Blood. So much blood. Guttural, heart-wrenching sobs and screaming. The mirror smashed against Dazai’s fist, splintering. The shards only acted as another razor. More blood. More bandages. He fled the bathroom, shoving his belongings into a duffle bag, his eyes so pained and scared that it felt suffocating. The lights went out as Dazai slammed the door, the key still sitting on the kitchen counter.

 

Atsushi turned to Dazai who had stumbled away from Yosano when she’d reached out, his breathing coming faster and faster.

 

More images flashed in front of them. Dazai rushing from the agency office, sliding down the stall door of the bathroom and tearing his wrists open. Dazai finding the picture of himself, Oda, and Ango at the bar. Dazai turning his back on Kunikida, steadying his breathing before leaving the room. Atsushi fishing Dazai from the river. One suicide attempt. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.  Dazai sitting in his bed at night, completely inconsolable as he muttered to himself about failing Oda. About failing Atsushi. About not fitting in at the agency and being completely lost. Dazai, in his dorm bathroom, blood dripping from his wrists as he threw up, traumatized from the events of the mission.

 

“Stop it! STOP IT!”

 

And the scene went black.

 

*

 

Atsushi came to with a groan, rubbing his head as he sat up on the agency floor, his view of everyone else blocked by his desk. All he could see was the woman who’d been controlling them sprawled on the floor, Fukazawa standing behind her, a gun smoking in his hand.

 

The events of the past moments, whether an hour or only a few minutes, came rushing back to him and he jumped up, the room swaying slightly. He blinked it away, rushing around the side of his desk to see the rest of the agency standing in a huddle off to the side of the room, staring down at the floor where Dazai had been standing before this had all started. But he was no longer standing.

 

Dazai sat on the floor, hands clutching the back of his head, his breathing harsh as he hyperventilated. The all took him in, looking at each other hopelessly. All except for Kunikida.

 

“Dazai…”

 

That was all it took for the man to completely break. His walls crumbled the rest of the way and he broke down in loud, heart wrenching sobs. Kunikida let out a long breath, then went to Dazai and sat on the floor slightly to the side of him instead of directly in front. Then he pulled his partner to him, so that Dazai was leaning on him with his head on his shoulder, his arms around the other man in a tight embrace. Dazai turned his head into Kunikida’s neck, completely letting go and losing it.

 

“You’re not there anymore,” Kunikida whispered to him. “You’re safe now. You’re safe. I’ve got you, Dazai. It’s okay…”

 

Gathering his thoughts, Atsushi broke from the group as well. He went to Dazai and knelt beside him. He laid his hand on Dazai’s shaking back and began to rub it gently, hoping to soothe him. Calm him down. Dazai flinched and Atsushi slowed down his movements even more. “It’s only me, Dazai,” he whispered. “It’s Atsushi. I’m right here.”

 

Dazai gasped for air several times between sobs. “You gotta breathe, Dazai. Breathe…”

 

The sobs resumed, the man’s body shaking so hard that he was shaking Kunikida as well. “Shh…shh… It’s okay, Dazai. It’s alright. I’m right here.”

 

“We love you, Dazai,” said Atsushi softly. “We love you. And we’re going to help you through this.”

 

“He’s right,” said Yosano, kneeling directly in front of where Dazai had his face buried. Yosano reached out and brushed his band out of the way. “We love you. All of us.” Dazai shuddered and Yosano frowned, pain on every inch of her face. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Dazai… I’m so sorry… I want you to know that we are here for you, okay? All of us. You don’t have to hide your pain away… Please don’t hide your pain anymore…”

 

Dazai gasped for air again, and Kunikida leant his head against his partner’s, tightening his arms around the other man in an attempt to make him feel more secure. “Breathe, Dazai… you’re gunna be okay…”

 

Dazai’s arms squeezed Kunikida even tighter, and the other man closed his eyes, a tear of his own falling down his face. “I’m right here, Osamu. I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m not leaving, okay? It’s okay… It’s okay…”

 

Kenji wandered over and sat beside Yosano, patting Dazai’s head. “We’re here for you, Dazai. And I still think you’re a good person.”

 

Dazai cried even harder, shaking his head against Kunikida, who lifted a hand to the back of his head, fingers gently combing through brown hair. “You’re not a bad person. I don’t think badly of you, either. You have grown so much, Dazai.”

 

“You saved me and Kyouka,” Atsushi added, still rubbing Dazai’s back. “I don’t care about what happened before, Dazai. About the bad things you did, I mean. What I do care about it what happened to you, and how much pain you’re in. That’s what matters to me.”

 

Kyouka came and sat beside Atsushi, close enough that she could talk to Dazai. “You talked me through my trauma when I did my entrance exam. You understand me, Dazai-san. You didn’t think I was a bad person and I don’t think you are one either. Being in the Mafia from a young age when so many things have happened to you… you do what you have to.”

 

Ranpo came over as well, sitting on Atsushi’s other side, resting a hand on Dazai’s lower back. “You’re going to be okay, Dazai-kun. You’ll be okay.”

 

Junichirou sat on the other side of Kunikida, with a hand on the blond’s back for comfort, where tears were streaming out from under his glasses. Though he was comforting Kunikida, he spoke to Dazai directly. “We care about you, Dazai. Even though you don’t think you deserve it, you do. You really do.”

 

“We love you, Osamu,” Kunikida choked. “I am so sorry I didn’t take you seriously with the suicide attempts… I should have known how much pain you were in…”

 

“Please don’t cut anymore, darling,” Yosano added, brushing hair off of his face again. Then she gently laid a hand on one of his bandaged wrists. “You don’t deserve that pain, hon. I promise you that.”

 

“If I believed you to be a bad person, Dazai,” said Fukazawa, sitting in a chair nearby. “I would not have hired you. You are not all dark. You only have a dark past.”

 

Dazai sniffed as he looked up at Yosano in front of him, face blotchy and puffy, mouth open as he choked for air. Yosano reached out and cupped one side of his face, wiping away his tears with the pad of her thumb. “I love you. Did you know that?”

 

Dazai took a shuddering breath as he stared at her.

 

“I love you, too, Dazai,” Atsushi added.

 

“Me too,” whispered Kyouka, squeezing one of his hands

 

“I love you, too,” said Kunikida, his voice broken. “Osamu. Please come to us when you want to hurt yourself… or… or worse. Please. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night, okay? You can come to me.”

 

“Us too,” added Atsushi. “Kyouka and I will leave our door unlocked for you.”

 

“I’ll do my best to cheer you up,” Kenji promised.

 

“You can have my sweets,” Ranpo added. “We can try and solve a mystery. Or watch TV. Make something to eat. Anything to distract you when you’re in a bad place. Please don’t hurt yourself, Dazai-kun.”

 

“If you need to get out of the dorms, we can always go for a drive,” offered Tanizaki. “Drives in the middle of the night are the best. Just come knock on my door.”

 

Dazai looked back to Yosano in front of him, speechless. She cupped his face in her hands, gently swiping stray tears from his cheeks. “You know something?” He raised his brows slightly. “Your friend Oda would be so proud of you, Osamu.” Dazai opened his mouth the protest, but she shook her head at him. “No, Dazai, he would be. I know he would be. And we are, too. All of us are proud of how far you’ve come. You’ve gotten through the worst of it, darling. Don’t give up now.”

 

“Please,” whispered Atsushi. “We need you here.”

 

“You belong here,” Kunikida whispered to him. “You belong here with us.”

 

Dazai turned his head to lay it on Kunikida’s shoulder, then closed his eyes. “I love you all. I mean it.”

 

“We love you, too,” Atsushi reassured him, still rubbing gentle lines up and down the man’s back.

 

“I’m sorry you had to see all of that.”

 

“Don’t be,” said Kunikida. “I… we understand now. Not all of it, obviously. And we can never understand exactly how you feel. But we know now what you’ve been through. We’ve seen how hard it was for you.”

 

“But then you had to deal with me…”

 

Kunikida smoothed his hair. “Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing, Dazai. I’d rather comfort you now and be a support to you then you self-harm and suffer on your own.”

 

“I’m still sorry,” Dazai whispered, his eyes closed.

 

“Don’t be,” said Yosano and Atsushi at the same time. Yosano smiled at the younger boy before continuing. “None of this is your fault. None of this trauma you went through was deserved.”

 

“But—”

 

“None of it.”

 

“You didn’t deserve that, Dazai.”

 

“I hurt people, Atsushi.”

 

“Like Kyouka said, in the Mafia, you did what you had to do. But you’ve turned yourself around. You kept your promise to Oda. And that’s all that matters.”

 

Dazai let out a long breath, not opening his eyes. “Thank you. Thank all of you.”

 

“We just want you to be okay again, Dazai,” Kunikida said. “That’s what matters the most right now. You. No matter what you think, you matter. And I will say it over and over again until you believe me.”

 

Dazai nodded against his shoulder, his speech sounding more and more groggy. “You mean it?”

 

“Of course I mean it, Dazai. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

 

“But I have…”

 

“I know that now,” Kunikida replied, smoothing his hair again. “But that’s okay. No lying to me anymore, alright?”

 

“Alright.”

 

“Okay.”

 

The group sat in silence for a moment, watching as Dazai relaxed in Kunidkida’s arms and to Atsushi’s calming touch. Eventually, he started to slip into sleep, but no one really minded. Let him sleep.

 

“Love you guys…”

 

Kunikida smiled to himself, still holding his partner in his arms. “We love you too, buddy.”  

Notes:

I'm actually so proud of this so I really hope you like it @angstyteen ! Please do let me know your honest thoughts on this everyone!

I am still taking requests, so if you'd like something specific let me know!

Thanks for reading! Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 7: Ranpo's Grief (Ranpo/Yosano or Ranpo & Yosano)

Summary:

Yosano gets a call from the President telling her tha someone very close to Ranpo died. She rushes to him, finding him breaking down alone in his room. Luckily, she knows exactly how to calm him down.

Can be read as Ranpo/Yosano or Ranpo & Yosano.

“Dazai, do you ever shut up?”

 

Dazai turned his head to her, a smirk plastered on his face. “Come now, Yosano. You should know by now that I don’t.”

 

“That’s an understatement,” Kunikida grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“I mean it.” She set her hands on her hips and leant towards him. “This mission could be dangerous. I should come with you.”

 

Kunikida glanced up at her, removing his hand from his face, revealing shocked eyes. “You think it will be that dangerous?”

 

“Danger seems to follow Dazai wherever he goes,” she huffed, glancing up at the upper dorms where Kenji knocked on Kyouka and Atsushi’s door.

 

“Hey! I’m not the only one.”

 

“No, but you’re the most prone one,” Kunikida replied, staring at the other side of the parking lot. He turned back to Yosano. “What makes you think this will be so dangerous?”

She sighed. “Ranpo said to me earlier that the Port Mafia’s after these guys, too. If you get in their way, or get caught in the crossfire, you’ll get hurt.”

 

Kunikida crossed his arms. “Have you heard from Ranpo since then? I haven’t seen him since lunch.”

 

“He seemed to leave in a hurry, muttering something about a case,” Dazai added, face serious once again.

 

She shook her head, racking her brain for what he’d said to her last. She came up empty. “He didn’t say anything to me about a case that I can remember.”

 

“And even if he did have a case,” Kunikida muttered, “he would’ve announced it.”

 

“All I remember was him getting a phone call right before lunch, but nothing seemed to come from it.”

 

Dazai eyed her, then glanced to the dorm building. “Do you think he came back here?”

 

“I don’t see why he would,” she replied, glancing to Ranpo’s dorm.

 

“This is very unlike him,” Kunikida hummed. “Do you think everything’s alright, Yosano?”

 

“I—”

 

Yosano was cut off by her ringtone, blaring from the bottom of her purse. She furrowed her brows as she fished for it. Something doesn’t seem right…

 

“Hello?”

 

“Yosano,” crackled the voice on the other end. “Are you still at the Agency?”

 

“President?” Kunikida and Dazai both eyed her warily. “No, I just got back to the dorms with Dazai and Kunikida. Why? Is there a problem?”

 

“Where’s Ranpo? Have you seen him?”

 

“No. I haven’t seen him since lunch. No one has.”

 

“I feared you’d say that.”

 

Her heart was in her throat, anxiety welling in her chest. “What happened? What’s going on?”

 

Fukazawa sighed on the other end of the line. “Do you remember Ranpo’s best friend from before he came to Yokohama? Did he ever tell you about him?”

 

Of course he had. Ranpo was her best friend—had been since she’d first joined the agency. He was closer with her than anyone else in his life, that is, except for his best friend from the country. He’d told her countless stories about this friend. How he had stayed with him through thick and thin. Through his childhood misfortunes and all his trauma, the man never left his side. Even when Ranpo had moved to Yokohama, his friend still knew he was struggling with his trauma and made an effort to come see him when he could. They talked all the time. He was the only one, other than Yosano and Fukazawa, who knew about Ranpo’s ongoing struggles with his past. It was obvious in some ways, like how he couldn’t sleep in the pitch black, his need for praise, and his child-like regression in times of stress. In other ways, however, it was less apparent. Hiding his face behind longer hair. His fear of crowds, silence, and enclosed spaces. The way he clung to those he trusted, needing their attention and affection, especially on his bad days.

 

Yosano cleared her throat, mind racing through all the possibilities. “Yes. Of course I remember.”

 

“He received rather bad news this afternoon.”

 

She glanced up briefly at Dazai and Kunikida, who seemed to be trying to listen to what the President was saying. “What happened, President? Is Ranpo okay?”

 

“His friend, as I was told around lunch, was struck by a truck and hospitalized. He was in critical condition.”

 

“Was?”

 

“Ranpo left early and tried to figure out how to take the train to the hospital where he was taken. He got lost halfway there, and somehow managed to make it back to familiar surroundings. I didn’t hear from him again, so I assumed he’d come back to the agency.”

 

“But he didn’t come back. Is he still out there?”

 

“I don’t believe so. He would have called someone by now.”

 

Yosano rubbed her temple with her free hand. “Okay… so then what happened? What happened to his friend? And where’s Ranpo?”

 

“I received a call from the man’s parents. I became closer with him as well when I retrieved Ranpo from the town, and over time have kept in touch with him. He died in the hospital not long ago. I called you right away.”

 

“Does he know?”

 

“He should now. Yes.”

 

“Thank you, President.”

 

“Take care of him, Yosano.”

 

She flipped her phone shut, tossing it back in her bag. Then she turned on her heel, starting to jog away from her coworkers.

 

“Hey!” Kunikida called after her. “Where are you going? We need to discuss the case!”

 

“The case can wait,” she called over her shoulder, trying not to trip over the stairs. Ranpo was more important. She flew across the concrete to the end of the row of doors and pushed the door open, not even bothering to knock. Dropping her bag inside the door, she hurried through his dorm, pausing when she got to the door of his bedroom. It was open slightly, allowing soft cries to reach her ears, steadily growing harder the longer she stood there. She pushed the door open, taking in the sight in front of her.

 

Ranpo sat at the top of the bed, knees pulled tightly to his chest, his head buried in between. His body jolted as he began to sob, his cape and hat discarded on the floor. Yosano’s face softened as she stepped into the room, slipping off her shoes. “Oh, Ranpo…”

 

She walked over to Ranpo’s bed, sitting on the opposite side, then slipped her arm around him. Yosano tugged him gently towards her, laying back and pulling him half-way on top of her so she could hold him close. He laid his head between her chest and shoulder, his hiccoughing sobs even louder from the proximity.

 

Yosano encircled his slim waist tightly, her fingers grazing the bare skin under the hem of his shirt, tracing small circles. “I’m so sorry, Ranpo… I’m so sorry…”

 

“He, he, he’s g-gone,” Ranpo spluttered. “Gone.”

 

“I know… I know, sweetie…”

 

“I couldn’t get, get to him! I got lost!”

 

“It’s okay… You tried…”

 

“I-I was scared, and sad, and and lost and I didn’t know what to do Akiko,” he sobbed, clutching her shirt in his fists.

 

“It’s okay… You’re back now. You got back.”

 

“I couldn’t get there,” Ranpo cried, his breathing rapid and uneven. “He-e was always there for me and I couldn’t even get there!”

 

“It’s not your fault…” Yosano soothed, feeling his chest heaving, his entire body shaking against her.

 

“I—I—I… I was all alone out there with so m-many peo-people… and they were all looking at m-me and I couldn’t b-breathe and and I just wanted to get to h-him but I couldn’t and I got b-bac he-re and I didn’t know what was what was happening and I was all alone and then the phone rang and the phone rang and he—he—he—he was g-gone and I don’t want to be alone!”

 

“Ranpo, honey, you have to breathe… breathe…” The more he tried to calm his breathing, the worse he choked on his own tears. “Slow your breathing… can you feel your chest heaving…? I can… let’s slow down, okay? Let’s slow down…”

 

“I—I—I—I—”

 

“Breathe,” she whispered in his ear. “You’re going to be okay. We’ll figure this out, okay…? You and me.”

 

“I can’t… I’m scared… I don’t know what to do! What do I do Akiko? I don’t want to be al-alone!”

 

She ran her fingers through his hair, her chest aching seeing him in so much pain. “You’re not alone, Ranpo… I’m here… I’m right here…”

 

“Akiko…”

 

“I know… I’m right here, Ranpo…” She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, black strands of hair still running through her fingers. It always worked with him to get him to calm down, for as long as she could remember. “Shh…”

 

Yosano tightened her arms around him, holding him as close to her body as she could. She knew he needed the physical comfort. Needed to know someone was there with him. Needed a gentle touch and a soft voice, because anything else would send him spiraling back through his younger years in a panic.

 

“I’m here, Ranpo… I’m right here…”

 

“Please don’t leave,” he choked.

 

“I’m not… I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

 

He took a few shuddering breathes. “Can you…”

 

She kissed his head again. “Can I what? What do you need me to do right now, Ranpo?”

 

His voice was so quiet that she wasn’t quite sure he’d really spoken. “Can you rub my back…?”

 

A sad smile spread across her face. “Of course I can.” She slipped her hand further under the hem of his shirt, knowing how he preferred her hands directly on his skin. To others, she knew it may sound like an odd request, but she knew what calmed him. Especially in the early days they grew close, she spent many a night curled up beside him, aimlessly drawing shapes on his skin with her fingertips or just simply pressing her palm against the small of his back, not breaking contact until she was sure he was okay. His skin was warm to the touch, and she felt him begin to relax at the gentleness of her hand. “Is this okay?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I know you’re still scared,” Yosano whispered to him.

 

He nodded against her, turning his head slightly to look at her. The green of his eyes seemed even brighter behind the tears. She brushed his bangs away, then swiped at the moisture on his exposed cheek.

 

“Tell me why you’re scared… let’s talk about it, hmm?”

 

“I… I’m different. And you know he knew that better than anyone… but he didn’t care what people said. He stood up for me. He actually cared about me… and that was so new to me… and now it’s been ripped away…”

 

“And that scares you because now things are changing again.”

 

He nodded again. “I don’t know how to deal with it… I was all alone before him… and I don’t want to be alone again, Akiko…”

 

“You’re not alone, Ranpo… you have all of us at the Agency.”

 

“But even they know I’m different… I don’t fit in where I came from and I don’t fit in here… so what am I supposed to do now? He accepted me as I was… he understood me… you understand me… and…”

 

“You’re scared something will happen to me or I’m going to leave you?”

 

He nodded once more, turning his face from her again, a choked noise coming from his throat.

 

“I’m not going to leave you, Ranpo… okay? I’m not leaving you.”

 

“Do you promise?” Ranpo mumbled.

 

“I promise, sweetie. I’m not leaving you.”

 

“Ever?”

 

“Not now. Not ever.”

 

He sniffed, moving his hands to wrap his arms around her body. She only continued to rub his back and smooth his hair, not breaking contact with him. He yawned, his body becoming less and less tense the longer she kept her hands on him. “Is it okay if I sleep?”

 

“Of course, honey.”

 

They’d spent many nights like this, too. It wasn’t unusual, nor unpleasant. Yosano would simply lay still, continuing whatever she’d been doing until his breathing evened out completely, his body completely relaxed to her hold and her touch. She’d kiss his head, temple, forehead… whatever was exposed to her and whisper to him until she was sure he was really asleep. Then, slowly but surely, she’d fall asleep, too.

 

That was exactly how Kunikida found them, when he, Dazai, and Fukazawa came to check on them. Kunikida pushed the door open, a smile immediately spreading across his face. Yosano lay on her back with Ranpo lying half on top of her, his head in the crook of her neck. Her one hand was still tangled in his hair, the other laid on the exposed skin of his back where his shirt was pulled up nearly all the way. They were both sound asleep, holding on to each other.

 

Kunikida turned to the other two men. Dazai seemed amused and somewhat surprised, but the President only smiled.

 

“Is this what you expected?” Kunikida asked, closing the door as they backed out.

 

“Precisely. I told her to take care of him. She knows exactly what to do.”

 

“She does?” Dazai asked, peering back at the closed door.

 

Fukazawa nodded. “Ranpo has confided in her a great deal. They have been close for a very long time. They have grown accustomed to the other’s needs and she knows how to handle him. Ranpo may be a handful at times, but trust me when I say that you do not know the full story.”

 

“I’m sure we don’t,” Kunikida said softly. “But it’s his story. I’m glad he’s shared it with someone.”

 

Fukazawa nodded. “He needed her and she went to him. It’s simple, really. Maybe he’ll tell you what happened to him one day.” Kunikida smiled too, looking to Dazai, who nodded. “But that day won’t be today. For now… let them sleep.”

Notes:

Hey all! Sorry this is another hurt/comfort haha. A fluffy request is coming very soon!

I love Ranpo I'm sorry. The more of his backstory I learn the more sad it makes me.

Let me know your thoughts and any requests you have below!!

Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 8: Date Night (Dazai/Atsushi Request)

Summary:

Dazai takes Atsushi out on a date, and then back to his dorm to watch a movie. A request from hell__yeah . I hope this is okay! I tried really hard but I don't write a lot of fluff so hopefully it's not too bad. Let me know haha.

“You look fine, Atsushi.”

 

Atsushi whirled on the spot, his eyes focusing on Kyouka in the doorway instead of the comb in his hand. He let out a breath. “You think so?”

 

“Yes. Stop fiddling with your hair.”

 

“I just want to look nice,” he trailed off, turning back to the mirror. He yanked at his collar, undoing and redoing the top button of his shirt over and over.

 

Kyouka came up behind him and snatched his hand. He glanced at her in the mirror, watching as she undid the top two buttons, then stepped away. “You see Dazai every day.”

 

He huffed. “Yeah, but not like this. Not on a date. And I really want this to go well.”

 

“I can’t see it not going well.”

 

“Yeah, well, I can.”

 

“How?” Kyouka asked, snatching his hand once more as he resumed playing with his hair.

 

He threw his hands up. “I don’t know! I turn half-tiger during dinner? I… I fall and knock over a server. I spill food all over myself.”

 

“Dazai would just laugh if you spilled food all over yourself and make a joke out of it. You know he wouldn’t care.”

 

“But I would.”

 

Kyouka rolled her eyes, turning to leave the room. “You’ll be fine, Atsushi.”

 

He turned back to the mirror, staring himself in the eyes and muttering to himself. “You’ll be fine. Just relax. Oh God, my hands are sweating. Just wipe it off… there you go. You’ll be fine. You won’t spill all over yourself or something… It’s just Dazai. You see him every day.” A knock on the door startled him from his thoughts and he took a deep breath as Kyouka opened the door. “It’s just Dazai.”

 

Atsushi slipped from the room and around the corner, peeking his head out until he saw Dazai standing in the open door, talking to Kyouka. He caught his eyes, feeling a blush creep up his neck as the other man smiled.

 

“There you are, Atsushi,” said Dazai, straightening his tie. “Are you ready to go?”

 

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, mentally cursing himself. “Let’s go.”

 

“Don’t keep him out too late, Dazai-san,” Kyouka teased, a small smile on her face.

 

“Don’t worry, Kyouka-chan. He’s in good hands.” Dazai put his hand on the small of Atsushi’s back to guide him to the stairs. “You look nice, Atsushi. Very handsome.”

 

“Oh! Um, thanks! You look very nice, too. N-not that you don’t usually.”

 

Dazai kept his gaze forward, but Atsushi saw the quirk of his lips. Did he find this amusing? Was he laughing at his awkwardness?

 

“So, what restaurant are we going to?”

 

Dazai hummed, his arm brushing Atsushi’s as they headed down the sidewalk. “There’s a nice pasta place downtown. I thought I’d take you there. Is that okay?”

 

Atsushi nodded, sneaking a glance up at the other man. “Sounds perfect.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Have you been there before?”

 

“Once. I really enjoyed it. That was a few years ago, though, so let’s hope nothing’s changed, shall we?”

 

“Fingers crossed,” Atsushi replied with a grin.

 

“And toes.”

 

“And toes.”

 

*

 

It didn’t take long to get to the restaurant, nor to be seated and order their food. The server was there and gone within a minute, leaving to themselves. The place was small and dimly lit, and Atsushi couldn’t help but feel as if he was in some cliché movie. Sitting in a nice restaurant across from an extremely good-looking man, the lighting hitting just right and soft music playing in the background. What more could he have asked for?

 

“What’re you thinking about there, Atsushi?”

 

“Hmm? Oh, uh… just the… food.”

 

“Are you that hungry? We could have gone right after work.”

 

“No no, it’s fine, Dazai, really,” Atsushi reassured him, tilting his head to the side with a smile. “I just forgot to eat lunch is all.”

 

“You did?”

 

“I did.” He didn’t. “I was caught up in my report.” More like caught up in his thoughts…

 

“Well next time you’re caught up in your work let me know. I’ll grab you something from the café.”

 

“I don’t need to add to your tab,” he teased.

 

He waved a hand, then took a sip of water. “I’ll pay it off eventually.”

 

“If you don’t they might come after you.”

 

“Ah, let them. I’ll fight ‘em off.”

 

“By yourself?”

 

“Of course! I am strong enough after all.”

 

Atsushi looked at the table. “I won’t debate that.”

 

“I’ll give Kenji a run for his money.”

 

Atsushi laughed, staring up at Dazai. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

 

Dazai smiled, and it reached his eyes. “Are you underestimating me, Atsushi?”

 

“Never.”

 

*

 

“Would you two like some desert today?”

 

Dazai look from the server to Atsushi, who opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Dazai only smiled, turning back to the server. “A slice of chocolate cake if you have it. Two forks.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Atsushi blinked at where the server was standing for a moment after they left, then back to Dazai. “You didn’t have to—”

 

“I know that. But I thought we could have a treat.”

 

Atsushi couldn’t help the smile that continued to adorn his face. “Dazai… this whole night has been a treat.”

 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. But it’s not over just yet.”

 

“No?”

 

Dazai simply quirked an eyebrow, his attention distracted by the cake placed between them. The server handed both of them a fork and left once more. Dazai twirled the fork in his hand. “Go ahead. Give it a try.”

 

Atsushi scooped a piece of it onto his fork, glancing up at Dazai through his bangs as he put it in his mouth. His eyes fell closed as the taste of the cake flooded his mouth. “It’s delicious.”

 

Smiling, Dazai dug in too.

 

*

 

“Thank you again for dinner.”

 

“You don’t have to keep thanking me,” Dazai chuckled, glancing over at him. “I’m just happy you enjoyed it.”

 

“Very much so! It was delicious. And I got to spend time with you,” he added, quickly averting his eyes as if he’d let on more than he should’ve.

 

“Like I said before, it’s not over just yet. Unless you want it to be of course.”

 

“No, no, I’m having a good time. What did you have planned?”

 

Dazai slipped his hand into Atsushi’s, intertwining their fingers as he spoke. “I was thinking we could head back to my dorm… watch a movie together? What do you think?”

 

Atsushi felt his heart speed up. Every molecule in his body tingled at this man’s touch. His heart raced at the thought of Dazai wanting to spend even more time with him. “Yeah,” he said, so softly he wasn’t sure if Dazai would hear him. “Yeah. That sounds great.”

 

“Perfect. Anything you want to watch?”

 

“Um…” Atsushi racked his brain for a movie he hadn’t seen. What would be good for a date? Was there a classic he hadn’t seen? Should they watch a romcom? Would Dazai even want to watch that? Or maybe a comedy?  “Is there anything you had in mind?”

 

Dazai grinned. “Yeah. I think I’ve got something you’d enjoy.”

 

*

 

Dazai unlocked the door, waving his arm for Atsushi to go inside. He wandered through the dorm in the dark and turned on the lamp beside the couch before sitting down. Atsushi stood by the door, his hands clasped in front of him, the blush on his face barely showing in the dimness.

 

Dazai patted the seat beside him, his brown eyes sparkling in the lamplight. “C’mere.”

 

Atsushi glanced around nervously, staring at his feet as he approached Dazai and sat on the edge of the cushion beside him. “So, what’s this movie you want to watch?”

 

Dazai smiled as he clicked through his Netflix, biting his lip as he did so. “It’s called Love, Simon. Have you heard of it?”

 

“No…” Atsushi said after a moment. “What’s it about?”

 

Dazai glanced at him before resuming his search. “It’s about this teenager named Simon who gets outed to his entire school. Then he gets a message from a guy in the closet named Bleu, and they start to talk and well… you’ll find out.”

 

“You’ve seen it already? I didn’t think this would be your type of movie.”

 

“Heh,” Dazai chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

 

Atsushi beamed, fiddling his hands in his lap. “Well, I’d love to learn more about you.”

 

“That will come in time.”

 

“You think?”

 

“As long as you want to go out again.”

 

Atsushi was grateful for the dim of the room once more as heat rose up his neck and face. “Are you asking me on another date?”

 

“You don’t have to be Ranpo to figure that one out,” Dazai teased, pointing at him. “But yes. I’m asking you on another date.”

 

Atsushi swore his cheeks were going to start hurting from how much he had smiled that night. “Then I accept. But I’m paying this time.”

 

“Deal. Oh, here it is.” Dazai leaned back on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “Are you ready?”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

Dazai clicked play, then set the remote down. Atsushi settled further onto the couch cushion and leaned back, too aware of how close he was to Dazai. He’d already held his hand… why was he so scared?

 

Atsushi turned to the screen as the movie started, but he found that he couldn’t concentrate much on what was happening. He kept glancing at Dazai out of the corner of his eye, watching him watch the movie. Man, he was beautiful. The way his hair framed his face, the curve of his lips when he smiled, the line of his jaw… Unconsciously, Atsushi scooted closer to him, their knees and shoulders touching. He froze, eyes widening at the screen as he waited to be pushed away. Except he wasn’t.

 

Dazai lifted his arm up and around Atsushi, pulling him to his side. Atsushi held his breath, but when Dazai didn’t move again, relaxed into his touch. This was nice… he could get used to this.

 

He glanced up. Simon was chatting with his best friend. Finally, able to concentrate, he zoned in to their conversation. After a few minutes, he adjusted his position, laying his head on Dazai’s shoulder. Dazai only wrapped his arm around Atsushi tighter, pulling his head off to the front of his shoulder instead, where it would be more comfortable for his head. Atsushi smiled to himself, swinging his legs up off of the floor to be on top of Dazai’s.

 

The older man glanced down at him, brushed his bangs away, and smiled. “Are you comfy?”

 

“Yeah. I’m not hurting you, am I?”

 

“Of course not! But that position can’t be convenient for watching the screen.”

 

“Maybe not,” Atsushi admitted, hesitant to raise his head from Dazai.

 

He sat up, moving Atsushi out of the way so he could grab the remote and pause the movie. “Here, how about this?” Dazai slipped sideways and stretched out on the couch, his head propped up by the arm and a few pillows. One leg was bent up, the other’s foot resting on the floor. He looked up at Atsushi. “Come lay here,” he said, patting his chest.

 

Atsushi felt his mouth open without speaking. A blush rose on his face once more, a squeak coming from his throat. “A-are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or anything.”

 

“Will it make you uncomfortable, Atsushi?” He shook his head fervently, hoping he hadn’t given him the wrong idea. “Good. So, you’ll come lay down with me?”

 

Staring up at Dazai through his lashes, Atsushi maneuvered his way into Dazai’s embrace. He was essentially laying on him, their legs intertwined, his head resting on Dazai’s chest, face turned towards the screen. It was more comfortable.

 

“Better?” Dazai asked, picking up the remote.

 

“Yeah. I like this better.”

 

Dazai wrapped his arms around the boy’s back. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

 

Atsushi buried his face in the fabric of Dazai’s shirt, praying the man couldn’t see how red his face had become.

 

Dazai un-paused the movie, both of them now able to watch it comfortably. They both became lost in the story, not realizing their actions as they happened. Dazai slipped his fingers into Atsushi’s hair, combing through it while the boy watched the screen, breathing deeply, enjoying the touch and nuzzling his head closer to Dazai. Atsushi reveled in the feeling of Dazai’s arms around him, holding him close to his body. His whole body tingled in the most pleasant way imaginable.

 

When Atsushi let out a contented noise at Dazai’s hand in his hair, he stopped watching the movie. He only watched the gorgeous boy in his arms, shy and excited and nervous just for him. He’d stuttered and stammered and blushed all night long, like he thought he was gunna mess up and make Dazai not want him. But Dazai had wanted him long enough. He saw him at work every day, smiling and laughing with Kyouka and Kenji, biting his lip as he concentrated on his work, training with Kunikida… Dazai wasn’t sure there was anything he could do to make him not want him. He was set on Atsushi, and the fact that Atsushi had been blushing like a mad fool all night for him made him light-headed. No, not for him. Because of him.

 

He’d wanted this for so long, and now he finally had it. Was it too much to think that maybe Atsushi had wanted it too? Then Atsushi grabbed his one hand that had fallen to the ground and began doodling on it absentmindedly with his thumb as he watched the movie. Dazai swore his heart skipped a beat.

 

As the movie came to a close and the credits rolled, Atsushi looked up at Dazai. “I really liked that movie,’ he said, almost sleepily. “It was really good.”

 

Dazai’s face held a soft smile as he gazed down into Atsushi’s eyes. “I’m glad you liked it.”

 

“The end was really good. Cheesy first kiss, but still good.”

 

“Cheesy isn’t always so bad, is it?” Dazai asked, pulling his arms back up and around the boy to rest on his back.

 

Atsushi shook his head, letting his eyes fall closed. “No. Sometimes it’s nice.”

 

Dazai ran his index finger along Atsushi’s nose, as if he was tracing it, then let his finger drop down to the boy’s lips. They were soft, and Dazai felt the sudden urge to kiss him. “You seem really relaxed.”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“That’s good. Do I make a good pillow?”

 

Atsushi chuckled as he answered again. “Mhmm.”

 

Dazai chuckled lowly, and Atsushi felt the vibrations through his chest as he listened to his heartbeat. “You should go back to your dorm before Kyouka comes busting my door down.”

 

Atsushi only smiled as he lifted his head and sat up. “She can be frightening.”

 

“That she can.”

 

“Kind of like Yosano.”

 

“No. Yosano is an… entirely different breed of scary.”

 

Atsushi laughed, turning to Dazai as he stood to walk him to the door. “But they’re both really nice people.”

 

“They are.”

 

Dazai slipped on his shoes as Atsushi went to open the door, and the boy turned back to him quizzically. “You don’t have to walk me back, Dazai. I only live a few doors down.”

 

“Would you be offended if I walked you back anyways?”

 

“N-no,” he stammered, fiddling with his keys. “That would be nice, actually.”

 

Dazai pulled open the door. “After you.”

 

Atsushi nodded at him, ducking under his arm and out into the cool air. He shivered, crossing his arms, and Dazai slipped one arm around his side as they walked towards Atsushi and Kyouka’s dorm.

 

Atsushi stuck his key in the lock and twisted in, then turned back to Dazai, who stood behind him, hands clasped together. Atsushi beamed at him. “Thanks for an amazing night.”

 

Dazai nodded, smiling. “Hopefully the next one will be even better.”

 

The two stared at each other, Atsushi’s gaze flitting from Dazai’s eyes to his lips. Dazai felt his heart jump into his throat at that, but stayed calm, nonetheless. He stepped forward, cupped Atsushi’s face, and pressed their lips together. Atsushi kissed back softly, his eyes fluttering shut and enjoying the pressure of Dazai’s lips on his. When the older man pulled back Atsushi stared at him. Dazai said nothing.

 

“See?” Atsushi whispered, barely audible. “Sometimes cheesy can be nice.”

 

Dazai only nodded, unable to help the grin spreading across his face and the slight redness on his cheeks. “Goodnight, Atsushi.”

 

“Goodnight, Osamu.” And with that Atsushi pushed the door open, smiled back at Dazai as he shut it again, and leaned against the back of the door. He knew Dazai could hear Kyouka as she came screaming into the room. Could hear him gushing to her about their date, even though the words would be indiscernible. Knew that Dazai was no doubt smirking to himself as he went back to his dorm. But that only made it better.

 

It had been a good night.

 

Notes:

Hey all! So, as I said in the summary I don't write fluff very often. I had a hard time coming up with stuff other than Atsushi constantly blushing. I mean, I know that I'm like that and I always blush in that kind of situations but I've gotta ork on that haha. Keep the requests coming, and any genre type is welcome. I like to challenge myself and try out different things. Let me know your thoughts and requests are open in the comments. Thanks to @hell__yeah for the patience! Also, any requests in the next few days will take a bit linger to do because I'm spending the next few days up at my friends cottage and wont be back until Canada Day (July 1) in the evening, so then I can get back to writing.
Until next time, guys! -Emma :)

Chapter 9: SKK hurt/comfort Request (Chuuya/Dazai)

Summary:

This one-shot is a request from Shimiro! I hope that you enjoy this. I swear I edited this but it's late so there still may be some typos and such, so please forgive me.

“Alright,” Kunikida huffed, pulling his notebook from his pocket. “We know that the girl, the informant, is somewhere in this neighbourhood. It would be best for us to spit up to try and find her. Atsushi, you go with Chuuya. Dazai and I will check from here to the west side. You two go east. Call us if you get any information.”

 

“Will do,” Atsushi replied, nodding.

 

Chuuya only rolled his eyes. “At least I don’t have to spend more time with Dazai.”

 

Dazai faked offense. “Chuuya! I’m wounded!”

 

Chuuya shook his head and turned to Atsushi. “C’mon, kid. Let’s get going.”

 

With a raised brow, Kunikida turned to Dazai. “Will you ever stop getting on his nerves?”

 

“Nah. That would be no fun.”

 

Kunikida ran a hand down his face, then began walking away. Dazai jogged to catch up, falling into step beside his partner. Kunikida flipped through his notebook, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Tall girl. Short dark brown hair. Glasses.”

 

“Do we have a picture of her?”

 

“Yes.” Kunikida switched his notebook for his phone and pulled up the picture. The girl was probably in her late teens. The same age as Atsushi and Junichiro, probably. Tall and thin. In the photo she was smiling, her arm slung around another girl with black hair and bright blue eyes.

 

“That’s the victim, right? The other young girl?”

 

“Yes. They were best friends. From what Ranpo figured out, the girl we’re looking for went into hiding. She was threatened, too.”

 

Dazai glanced around at the small houses that lined the back-street. “So she decided to stay at home?”

 

“No. She lives downtown, but, from what we gathered, she has a friend who lived here who’s on vacation right now. She’s lying low somewhere here. The door would be busted open… Or a window would be broken… that’s what we’re looking for.”

 

“Like that one?”

 

“Huh?”

 

Dazai pointed to a house on their right, where the doorknob had been busted off. “Someone broke in.”

 

Kunikida slid his phone back into his pocket and pushed his glasses up. “Let’s go.”

 

The two strode up to the house and knocked on the door. The door creaked open under Dazai’s knuckles, the hallway bare except for a single pair of shoes. “Hello?” Dazai called out, stepping into the house. “Hello?”

 

They waited a moment before shutting the door behind them, slipping their guns from their belts and holding them out in front of them. Kunikida nodded at Dazai, who took the lead, creeping through the small house.

 

“Do you smell that?” Kunikida whispered, scrunching up his nose.

 

Dazai nodded, not looking back at him. “Yeah… smells like blood.”

 

“That’s bad… that’s really bad. Do you think he got to her?”

 

“I—” A rushing filled Dazai’s ears and he paused, furrowing his brows. “Do you hear that?” His eyes widened and he bolted to the door straight in front of them, banging on it with his fist. “Are you in there? Are you okay?”

 

“Dazai,” Kunikida cried, yanking his shoulder to spin him around. “What are you doing?”

 

“That’s the bath! Don’t you hear it! The bath. Blood…”

 

Realization dawned on his partner’s face as Dazai rattled the doorknob repeatedly. “Move.” A gunshot rang through the air and the door swung open, drawing a gasp from both men.

 

Red-tinged water pooled around the tub, dribbling into a drain in the middle of the floor. And in the tub itself sat the young girl, fully clothed, her head lolled to the side, eyes closed as if she was sleeping. Dazai’s eyes went straight to his own bandaged arms and his neck as he took in the sight in front of him. Her arms had been torn open, crimson leaking from them, coating the surrounding flesh that was laced with thin lines. Her white t-shirt was stained with it too, seeping from a gruesome gash in her neck. The blade lay haphazardly on the floor beside the tub, where it had fallen from her limp hand.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Kunikida’s voice jolted him from his thoughts. He startled, ripping his hands away from his throat and staring open mouthed at his partner. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

Kunikida only eyed him. “Just… never-mind.” He huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Our informant is dead. We’ll need a new lead. Let’s head to the living room—I need to make a few calls.”

 

*

 

“Hello?”

 

“Atsushi, I have news.”

 

“That’s great! I’ll put you on speaker.”

 

The line crackled, and then Kunikida’s voice could be heard by both Atsushi and Chuuya, who stood in an alley on the other side of the neighbourhood. “The informant we were looking for is dead. We’re back to square one.”

 

“Dead?” Atsushi echoed, glancing up at Chuuya. “What happened?”

 

“She killed herself. Dazai found her in the tub.”

 

“Dazai found her in the tub?” Chuuya interected. “In the tub and dead? Suicide?”

 

“Yes. She’d slit her neck and wrists.”

 

A look crossed Chuuya’s face that Atsushi couldn’t quite place. Concern, maybe? “And where is he now?”

 

“In the bathroom talking to a cop. Her body’s just been taken away.”

 

“Why couldn’t he have called us, and you dealt with the suicide victim?” Chuuya’s voice had an edge to it. Impatience? No… something else.

 

“Why? Dazai is perfectly capable of—”

 

“Have you ever wondered what’s under his bandages?” Chuuya bellowed, snatching the phone from Atsushi’s open palm. “Or actually taken his own suicide attempts seriously?”

 

“I—”

 

“Don’t you think that maybe this could really affect him?”

 

“I—”

 

“Keep an eye on him, Kunikida. I mean it.”

 

“I will.”

 

Tentatively, Atsushi reached out and took the phone back from Chuuya. “What do you want us to do now, Kuikida-san?”

 

“You two can—hang on a minute—” Muffled speaking crackled over the line, both Kunikida’s and what sounded like a young girl. A moment later, Kunikida spoke directly to them once more. “You two take a break. Dazai and I might have a lead. Stay put for a few minutes.”

 

“Got it,” said Atsushi, glancing at Chuuya warily. “We’ll wait here. Good luck.”

 

*

 

The police filed out of the house as Dazai sat on the couch next to Kunikida, eyeing the young girl sat across from them in a chair. His knee bounced as he watched Kunikida speak, fiddling with his thumbs in his lap. The girl had tear-tracks down her face, a tissue crumpled in her fist.

With some effort, Dazai managed to tear his thoughts away from the image eating at his insides and listen to the conversation.

 

“You were on your way back from work, you said?” Kunikida clarified.

 

The girl nodded, swiping at one eye. “Yes. When I was on my way out, I saw that she’d called me multiple times. Said she’d needed me. I knew she’d been struggling the last few days, and she had some pre-existing mental health issues… so I came as fast as I could… but I was too slow. I’m so sorry…”

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” said Kunikida gently, handing her another tissue. “You’d been talking to her over the last few days?”

 

“Yeah. She’d called me a few times and told me everything that had happened. How she was there when our friend died and was too late to save her. She saw the man, and he saw her. Threatened her. Said she’d be next… Our friend… she was still alive—but barely. She died in her arms, bleeding out. There was nothing she could have done, and I told her that, but the guilt ate away at her. I assume that when I didn’t pick up the phone, she… she…”

 

“That’s okay. You don’t have to continue.”

 

The girl nodded again, crying into her hands.

 

Kunikida glanced sideways at Dazai, who stared at the floor. Kunikida glanced around the room. Down the hallway to the open bathroom door. To the young girl, sobbing in the chair over the death of her friends. To Dazai, who sat next to him. Dazai, who normally showed no emotion, but today it was different. It didn’t feel right. Chuuya’s words echoed in his mind. Keep an eye on him.

 

Dazai’s hands trembled in his lap, one knee bouncing faster than should be possible. His eyes unfocused as they seemingly stared at the ground beneath his feet.

 

Kunikida turned to the girl. “if you’ll excuse us, we have to go now. But if you need anything, or find more information, give me a call.” He handed her a card, then stood, tugging Dazai with him. The other man startled, yanking his arm from his grip, eyes wide. He stumbled back, mouth open wide, his lips becoming the same ghostly colour as the rest of his exposed skin. Kunikida raised his brows, racking his brain for something to say. “We’re just going outside, Dazai. Let’s go.”

 

“Right.” He assumed a more normal posture, but Kunikida still saw the tension he held as he followed him out the door. They strode back towards Atsushi and Chuuya’s side of the neighbourhood, Kunikida constantly glancing to his partner. “What are you doing?”

 

Dazai didn’t even look at him as he ripped off his jacket and balanced it over his arm. “It’s too hot.”

 

Kunikida only nodded. It wasn’t even that warm. Overcast with a cool breeze. “Are you feeling alright?”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

 

“You just seem… off.”

 

“Me?” Dazai laughed harshly. “Off?”

 

Kunikida stopped as his breathing hitched. “Dazai, are you really okay?”

 

Dazai stared at his face, searching the concerned expression, the worry in his eyes. “I’m fine.”

 

Kunikida stayed silent, watching the rise and fall of Dazai’s chest steadily increase. The other man turned on his heel and kept walking. Kunikida jumped, almost jogging to keep up with his brisk pace. “Where are you headed so quickly?” No response, he only sped up. Kunikida clamped down on his shoulder to stop him, and Dazai shoved him off, whipping around to face him, chest heaving. “Dazai…”

 

“I… I need to stop… I…”

 

“Dazai, what’s happening?”

 

“You’re all… you’re all white and fuzzy and I see black spots everywhere…”

 

Kunikida gestured to the small alley off to their left. “Okay. Okay… let’s go in here and take a break, okay?”

 

Dazai barely made it three steps before his knees gave out and he it the brick wall, sliding down in to the ground, staring a few feet in front of his with wide, terrified eyes. Kunikida dropped to his knees in front of him and cupped the side of his face. Dazai jerked away, curling in on himself. Kunikida stared at Dazai’s shaking back, listening to his ragged breathing for a moment, at a loss for what to do before he remembered Chuuya’s remarks from earlier that day.

 

He pulled out his phone and dialed Atsushi’s number.

 

*

 

“Hello, Kunikida-san! Get any more information?”

 

“Atsushi-kun this is urgent. Something’s wrong with Dazai and I need you and Chuuya here now!”

 

Atsushi’s eyes widened as he turned to the red-head sitting a few feet away, tapping his fingers on the pavement. “Chuuya-san! Something’s wrong with Dazai!”

 

Chuuya’s head shot up. “What is it? What happened?”

 

“I…” Atsushi turned back to the phone. “What happened?”

 

“Give the phone to Chuuya.”

 

Atsushi locked eyes with the man, then tossed him the phone. He caught it with ease and lifted it to his ear. “What’s happening, Kunikida?”

 

“I think he’s having a panic attack… I don’t know! I’ve never seen him like this!”

“I told you to keep an eye on him,” Chuuya growled. “Did he say anything?”

 

“He said everything looks white and there’s black dots everywhere? And he’s too hot… He’s white as a ghost and shaking and not breathing right and I don’t know what to do with him. He doesn’t want me near him.”

 

“You should have called me earlier!”

 

“I’m sorry… really, I am. I kept asking if he was okay—”

 

“And you thought he’d just say—nevermind. I’m on my way.” Chuuya ended the call and tossed the phone back to Atsushi. “Find out where they are on the GPS. We have to hurry.”

 

Atsushi hurried after Chuuya as he broke into a run back the way they’d come, struggling not to drop the phone as he did so. “Has this happened before?”

 

Chuuya glanced back at him over his shoulder. “Yes. Quite often actually, back when we were partners.”

 

“You knew this would happen.”

“I had a feeling. I know Dazai better than anyone. And I seem to be the only one who can get through to him when he has an attack.”

 

“That’s what it is then?”

 

“Yes. Based off of what Kunikida said. All pretty typical for Dazai. I can see it coming a mile away, but obviously he can’t. He’s never seen it happen before.”

 

“I don’t think any of us have even seen Dazai emotional at all, Chuuya-san,” Atsushi admitted.

 

“Well, you’re about to,” Chuuya shouted as they rounded a corner. “And don’t get in my way.”

 

Corner after corner the pair skidded around, Atsushi barely able to keep up with Chuuya as he flew down the streets, his feet barely even hitting the pavement—if they were at all. Atsushi glanced down at the screen in his hand, then back up at a street sign. “They’re in that alley to the right!”

 

Chuuya screamed across the deserted road, Atsushi hot on his tail, stuffing his phone back in his pocket. They arrived in the mouth of the alley at the same time. Chuuya didn’t even stop when he saw the pair, Kunikida kneeling in front of Dazai, who was curled in on himself, hyperventilating and shaking like a leaf. Chuuya didn’t stop running until he was right in front of the man and dropped to his knees, shoving Kunikida out of the way with one arm.

 

Kunikida tumbled backwards, then pushed himself into a sitting position, watching as Chuuya inched closer to Dazai’s side.

 

“Osamu. Can you hear me?” A brief moment of nothing, and then the slightest nod. “It’s Chuuya. I’m here now… I’m sorry it took me so long.”

 

Dazai shuddered and the hurt on Chuuya’s face betrayed all the negative things he’d ever said about him. Chuuya reached out and laid a hand on the brunet’s back, letting in just sit there for a moment. He tensed, but Chuuya didn’t move. “It’s only me… I’m not going to hurt you… I know you know that…”

 

The muscles relaxed slightly, and Chuuya began to rub his back. “Good… you’re safe… and you’re going to be just fine… it’s scary right now but this will pass soon… it will be over soon… you’re not going to die… you’re not gunna be sick… we’re gunna breathe and you’ll be okay… okay?”

 

Dazai nodded again as Chuuya continued to rub his back. “Can you try to breathe with me?”

 

“I c-can’t.”

 

Chuuya quirked his head, eyeing him. “Yes you can. You can. I promise you can breathe.”

 

Dazai shook his head vigorously, then lifted it up to stare straight into Chuuya’s eyes. His own were wide and terrified, his bangs plastered to his pasty white forehead. “I can’t. I can’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Dazai looked down, both hands coming up to grasp at his throat. His fingers tugged at the bandages there, his lips twitching and eyes welling with tears. “The… the the the…”

“She slit her throat, right?” Dazai nodded, not looking at him. Chuuya lifted his hands to gently pry Dazai’s from his throat, careful not to snag his bandages. “Your throat is fine, Dazai. Your—I know what you’re thinking. I know. But you didn’t. You’re right here with me. You’re safe.”

 

Dazai’s gaze shifted down to his bandaged arms, which began to shake harder the more he stared at them. Chuuya grapsed his forearms, his thumbs lightly brushing over the bandages on the inside. “You’re not there. You’re here with me. You survived… and you deserved to.”

 

Dazai shook his head, a few tears spilling down his cheeks. “No,” he choked, still staring at his arms. “I couldn’t save him… I…”

 

“You did everything you could… you did your best…”

 

“But I survived!” Dazai cried, his voice full of anguish.

 

Chuuya nodded. “You did. Just as you should have.”

 

“But he didn’t. And—and that girl didn’t and she couldn’t save her friend and she had to just watch and then she k-killed herself just like I should have but I didn’t! I can’t even die right, Chuuya!”

 

Chuuya’s mouth fell open slightly. “That’s not… don’t say that Osamu…” He gathered Dazai in his arms and pulled him tight to his chest, wrapping his arms around his curled up figure. Dazai shook his head against Chuuya’s chest, his shaking jolting both of them. “Don’t say that… it wasn’t your fault…”

 

“Please, make it stop,” Dazai gasped out between heaves for air.

 

Chuuya rubbed his back with one hand, the other threading in his hair. “We’re gunna make it stop, okay?” Chuuya turned his head to look at Kunikida. “How long has this been going on?”

Kunikida checked his watch, biting his lip. “About 20 minutes.”

 

Chuuya nodded, then turned back to the man in his arms. “We’re gunna make it stop. It’s going to stop soon, alright? It’s not gunna get any worse… this is it. This is it…”

 

Dazai shuddered. “It is?”

 

Chuuya pulled him impossibly closer, running a hand through brown hair. “It is. Remember what I always tell you?”

 

“And what’s that?” Dazai breathed.

 

“That they don’t last forever. They get bad, but then they peak, and they get better. Yours have typicaly peaked after 20-ish minutes. Did you know that?”

 

“No…”

 

“Well, now you know,” he whispered. “Now you know. It will keep getting better, and you’re gunna be okay. But you have to focus on your breathing now, okay? Can you do that?”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“Good. Let’s do it together. Can you feel my breathing? The movement of my chest?”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“Okay. Follow me… deep breathes, yeah? In… Out… In… Out…”

 

Dazai’s breathing shuddered as he struggled to regain complete control. “I… I missed that one… it’s too slow and I’m too fast…”

 

“That’s okay,” said Chuuya in his ear. “Just keep trying… in… out… in… out…”

 

Dazai took a few moments to follow the rise and fall of Chuuya’s chest, listening to the calming thumping of his heartbeat. Dazai leaned into the embrace more, letting go of the tension he held, allowing his full weight to fall on Chuuya. The red-head accepted him without complaint, smiling to himself as Dazai continued to calm, his shaking dwindling to tremors.

 

Kunikida cleared his throat from where he still sat a few feet away. “Is he… Dazai are you okay, now?”

 

Dazai didn’t answer, only continued to focus on his breathing. Chuuya looked up at the blond, who’s face held both guilt and fear. “Give him some more time. He’s past the peak now, but the attack isn’t over. Let him relax and just breathe.”

 

Kunikida nodded, glancing up as Atsushi sat down beside him on the concrete. The blond cleared his throat. “You handled that really well.”

 

Chuuya smiled down at Dazai, at the hands on his back and in his curls. “I’ve had practice.”

 

“Don’t tell them that,” Dazai mumbled, his voice muffled by Chuuya’s shirt.

 

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed by. You’ve done the same for me.”

 

“And me,” Atsushi added.

 

Chuuya grinned at him, then looked back to Dazai. “You don’t have to hide it.”

 

Dazai closed his eyes. “I guess so. It’s just kinda embarrassing when it happens like this.”

 

“You can’t control it,” Chuuya reminded him. “Now relax. Keep focusing on your breathing.”

 

Dazai simply nodded, leaning his head on Chuuya’s chest and doing as he said. The group sat in silence for a few minutes, Atsushi going through his email, Kunikida scribbling something in his notebook, and Chuuya watching as Dazai calmed down. He continued to play with his hair, sometimes curling it around his finger and then watching it bounce back when he let go. Dazai didn’t complain. After all, he was used to Chuuya doing things like this when he had an attack. Paying with his hair. Rubbing his back. Telling him he was safe or just talking about nothing in particular.

 

“Hey, Dazai,” Chuuya said softly. “Do you remember that case we had where I kept falling on my ass all the time? Like, every few minutes I’d just eat concrete? If I remember it correctly, you found it very funny.” Dazai nodded. “Or the time where Mori forced me to watch Elise and when you came by later that day I was covered in sharpie and had memorized the names of all the crayons?”

 

“Do you still remember them?” Atsushi snickered.

 

“Pease don’t ask me that.”

 

Atsushi chuckled as he went back to his email, and Chuuya went back to Dazai. “I ended up babysitting Elise a lot over the last few years. She likes it when I colour with her or read her fairy ales. She’s rather fond of Snow White and Cinderella. I’m not a big fan, but she enjoys them so I read them over and over and over again. It seems to make her happy. But then again, she also seems happy when I come back from a mission and she purposefully gets on my nerves, so I guess there’s that, too.” Chuuya watched the smile spread silently on Dazai’s face, showing that he was listening. “Did you know that Akutagawa is a sucker for animals? Like, you put a cat or a squirrel or a rabit or anything anywhere near him and he can’t fight the grin off his face. It’s pretty funny to watch him struggle with it. I wonder if Atsushi-kun’s tiger form would have the same effect…”

 

“Hey!”

 

“I’m just saying.”

 

“That would be interesting to find out…” Kunikida mumbled.

 

“Did you just write that down?” Atsushi bellowed, reaching out to snatch the book away from him.

 

Kunikida was too quick, and moved it out of the way. “So what if I did?”

 

“So what if you—Kunikida-san!”

 

Chuuya snickered, turning back to Dazai. “Did I tell you that Gin beat Tachihara’s ass last week and left him in one of the store-rooms for hours? He really pissed her off, I guess. No one found him until the night guards came in. He was pissed but Hirotsu even found it funny, so I guess she won that round. Oh, and then Kajii tried to help Tachihara prank her but it backfired and they both ended up tied-up together in Mori’s closet. His face was priceless.”

 

“Chuuya-san?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I think he’s asleep.”

 

Chuuya leaned around Daza’s side and watched his face. His breathing was even, eyes lightly shut and no tension left in his body. He was out. Chuuya smiled, straightening and looking back at Atsushi. “So he is. We should get him back to the Agency.”

 

Kunikida raised a brow. “You want to wake him?”

 

“Who said anything about waking him?” Chuuya asked, lifting Dazai into his arms as he stood up. Chuuya was short, but strong. Although, it did look funny to have the bigger man in his arms when he had such a small frame. “I’ll carry him back to the car. It’s not that far.”

 

Kunikida and Atsushi looked to from Dazai and Chuuya, to each other, and then back to the pair. Kunikida nodded. “Alright. Let’s go then.”

 

Chuuya took a few strides to catch up with Kunikida and Atsushi. “Stupid ‘No Longer Human.’”

 

Atsushi laughed, glancing back at them over his shoulder. “I think he’d be offended to hear you say that.”

 

Chuuya shrugged. “Oh well. He’s not awake to defend himself right now, though, is he?”

 

“No, I suppose not.” Atsushi continued walking, pretu sure that he and Kunikida were thinking the same thing. Thank God for Chuuya.

 

Behind them, Chuuya was thinking something entirely different.

 

I’ve got you, Dazai. I’ve always got you.

Notes:

Thanks for reading! Let me know your thoughts and requests below! Hopefully this lived up to your expectations Shimiro! I know Kunikida was in it a lot, too, so hopefully you don't mind! :) Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 10: RanPoe Smut (Ranpo/Poe)

Summary:

Poe spent the day with Ranpo working a case. All day Ranpo made snarky comments that riled him up. But on the way home, his desire overflowed, one thing leading to another... and ending up in Ranpo's bedroom. ;)

RanPoe Smut:

 

“So it was the deputy that did it after all?” Poe asked, glancing sideways at Ranpo beside him.

 

“Of course, it was. Do you doubt me Poe-kun?”

 

Ranpo smirked at him and Poe felt his face flush, the heat rising up his neck and into his cheeks. “I’d never doubt you. Your intelligence is superior.”

 

“Right, once again,” Ranpo sang, looking at him over his glasses. “And now that the Sherriff has been informed, our work here is done.”

 

“But I didn’t do anything.”

 

“You didn’t need to,” said Ranpo, sidestepping Poe to head back the way they had come. “Now, I need you to take me home.”

 

Poe blinked at him. What had he just said? Take him home?

 

“You do know the way back to my dorm, don’t you?”

 

Right. Of course, that’s what he meant. Certainly nothing else. “Of course. Come with me.”

 

“Where else was I going to go?”

 

Poe chuckled, hoping Ranpo didn’t notice the way his eyes raked his body. His slim figure, the unruly black hair peeking out from under his hat, those striking green eyes that he rarely got the chance to see properly… He gulped, turning his eyes away from the sly grin on the man’s face. “It’s always a pleasure to watch you work.”

 

“Well that’s not really surprising is it?”

 

“No… I suppose not.”

 

“Have you whipped up any more novels yet? I’d love a new case to solve,” Ranpo hummed, side-eyeing him.

 

Poe took a sharp breath. Man, that look got him every time. And his eyes. Gorgeous. “Not yet. I’m working on one though.”

 

“Well you should hurry up then. Don’t want to keep me waiting, do you?”

 

“Depends on how long you can hold out.”

 

Ranpo chuckled, leaning his head back. “Longer than you, I’m sure.”

 

Dammit. He’d been saying shit like that all day. “What makes you say that?”

 

Ranpo smirked again, barely turning his head to look at him. “I can’t reveal my secrets, Poe-kun. You know that.”

 

“Not even to me?”

 

“Especially not to you,” Ranpo said, lowering his voice. “But I’m sure that it’s you who’d like to know most of all.”

 

Poe swallowed hard. Did he know? Was he teasing him? “You think so?”

 

Ranpo’s ringing laughter brought a smile to his face. “Do I think so? I know so.”

 

Poe glanced around him at the fairly empty street they were walking down. At the alleys perforating the string of storefronts. The limited foot traffic and Ranpo’s snarky grin. It drove him crazy. “And what is it that you think you know?”

 

“What you want, obviously.”

 

“Yeah? And what would that be exactly?”

 

“Come on, Poe,” Ranpo teased, stopping in the mouth of the alley. “I think we both know what it is that you want.”

 

Poe didn’t even think. He pushed Ranpo against the wall and smashed their lips together, one hand on the side of Ranpo’s face and the other on his waist. Ranpo moaned into the kiss, grabbing Poe’s hips and pulling him against him, kissing him harder.

 

Poe kissed him again and again, barely coming up enough to breathe before diving back in to recapture Ranpo’s lips. He threaded a hand into the back of Ranpo’s hair, to which Ranpo let out another moan, sucking on Poe’s bottom lip. Ranpo slipped his hands under the back of Poe’s shirt, trailing his fingertips up the hot skin of his back. Poe slid his tongue over Ranpo’s bottom lip and when the man opened his mouth, he let it find Ranpo’s, the two dancing around each other and exploring each other’s mouths.

 

Poe’s hand slid down from Ranpo’s waist to his ass and gave it a squeeze. The breathy moan that escaped the man drove Poe crazy, and he pushed himself closer to Ranpo, no space left between their bodies and Ranpo pressed as flat against the wall as was possible. Ranpo rolled his hips, begging for some friction and Poe was happy to oblige, grinding his growing erection against him.

 

Then Poe leaned down and hoisted Ranpo up, the shorter man wrapping his legs around Poe’s waist as his back slid up the wall. He moaned into Poe’s mouth, one hand fisting his hair and the other slung around his neck. Poe leaned down and sucked at the sensitive skin between the other man’s neck and his jaw, to which he used his hand in Poe’s hair to pull him closer and continue. Poe trailed kisses down his neck to his collar, where he wrestled with the man’s tie and the top buttons of his shirt.

 

Ranpo shoved his hand off, dilated pupils staring him down as he spoke in a low voice. “Take me home.”

 

“You want me to take you home,” Poe growled in his ear, sucking at the skin under his ear. “And then what?”

 

Ranpo leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closed. “You know what.”

 

“Say it.”

 

“What?”

 

“Say it. Tell me what you want. I need to know you want the same thing.”

 

Ranpo gasped when Poe bit down gently on the skin, sure to leave a mark. “I want you, Poe. Just like you want me.”

 

“For so long,” he hummed, kissing along his jaw to his lips and pressing them together once more. “Let’s go. It’s not far.”

 

Both men stole glances at each other the whole way back to Ranpo’s dorm, lip bites from Ranpo driving Poe crazy. Although, just the thought of getting to kiss him again was enough to do that. To kiss him. To pin him to the bed and fuck him while Ranpo writhed underneath him in pure pleasure was enough to make his head spin in the best way possible.

 

Ranpo’s mind wandered the whole way back, following Poe’s lead as he was sure he would again very soon, but this time in the bedroom. His tongue flicked out over his lips at the thought of Poe trailing those addicting kisses down his chest and stomach and then spreading him open before pounding his ass. The weight of him on top of him and the growl in his voice that he’d never heard before… the thought made his arousal all the more apparent.

 

Their anticipation grew as they approached the door, Ranpo fumbling his keys trying to open the door. He slid off his shoes inside the door as Poe did the same, shutting it behind them. Then Ranpo stood back to his full height, and just as he looked up at Poe, he had the other man’s lips on his, his hands on his face. He pushed Ranpo back and they stumbled through the doorway into the bedroom, Ranpo flailing for the light switch. Poe shoved Ranpo down onto the bed, then climbed on top of him, straddling his waist as he continued attacking his lips.

 

Poe trailed away from his lips, instead kissing along his jaw and down towards his neck. Poe sucked at the skin between his jaw and neck again and a breathy moan escaped the man. “Yes,” he breathed.

 

“Yeah?” Poe smirked as he continued to suck and kiss a trail down Ranpo’s neck to his collar once more. Without removing his lips he undid Ranpo’s tie and tossed it aside. Ranpo pushed him back enough to sit up, slid off his vest and undid the buttons on his shirt while Poe removed his own. Poe’s eyes slid over Ranpo’s body, his slim waist and his chest. He slid his arms around Ranpo’s waist as he lowered them back to the bed, kissing his chest, then moved his mouth over to one nipple. He took it in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, drawing a sharp breath from Ranpo that turned into a moan as he kept at it. “You like that?”

 

Ranpo pressed Poe’s head closer to his chest. “Yesss.”

 

Poe smirked against his skin, sucking it into his mouth and giving it a nip. Ranpo arched his back, their groins pressing together causing them both to groan. Poe switched to take the other nipple into his mouth and repeat the action, much to Ranpo’s pleasure. Soon he continued to trail down Ranpo’s body, relishing in the feel of his skin and the small noises escaping his throat at his touch. He kissed Ranpo’s inner thighs through his pants, then looked up at him from between his bangs. Ranpo’s eyes were wide open, his chest heaving. Poe bit his lip. “Can I?”

 

Ranpo nodded, then helped Poe pull his pants and underwear off. When his erection was free of restraint Poe flicked his tongue over his lips, lowering himself between Ranpo’s legs. He kept his eyes locked on Ranpo’s as he licked up his shaft to the tip and took it in his mouth. Ranpo’s head fell back with a moan, his eyes falling shut. Poe bobbed on his dick, then took his deeper, almost until the back of his throat. Ranpo’s cock twitched at that, and Poe slid deeper, gagging and pulling off. He slid down and took one of his balls in his mouth this time, fondling the other with one hand, and teasing the tight ring of muscles around his ass with one finger on the other.

 

A moment later he glanced up at Ranpo. “Do you have any lube? And a condom?”

 

Ranpo turned onto his side and pulled open the drawer of his nightstand. He rifled through it blindly, then handed Poe a bottle and a condom.

 

Poe grinned. “Perfect. You’re okay with this?”

 

“I’m more than okay with this,” Ranpo breathed as he watched Poe slick up one finger.

 

“Okay.” He settled between the man’s legs once more and pulled him closer by his thighs, burying his face in his ass. He let the flat of his tongue slide across the ring of muscle before flicking at it with the tip of his tongue, Ranpo sighing in contentment. A moment later he pressed the lubed finger against it, looked up and waited for the nod, and then pushed the finger into him a bit at a time. Ranpo clenched around him, letting out a squeak of pain. Poe simply massaged his hip with his free hand as he began to pump his finger inside Ranpo. “That’s it… you’re doing so good…”

 

Ranpo’s eyes widened at that, his muscles relaxing a bit more around Poe’s finger. He pumped into him a few more times, then withdrew it, earning a whine from Ranpo. Poe grinned. “Did it feel good?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good. You’re gunna have more in a second. It’s going to hurt again, okay?” Ranpo nodded as Poe added a second lubed up finger, sliding it in beside the first to stretch him even further. He glanced up at Ranpo, who clenched his jaw. Poe rubbed his hip again. “So good for me, Ranpo… you think you can do one more?” Ranpo nodded as Poe scissored his fingers, holding back a gasp. “Do you want me to stop?” He shook his head. “Okay… one more…” Poe added lube to a third finger and slid it in with the other two. This time Ranpo couldn’t help but tighten around him, a pained sound escaping his throat. Poe kissed the inside of his thigh. “You’re alright, just give it a second…” He held still until Ranpo began to relax around him before he began pumping his fingers again. “So good, Ranpo. You’re doing so well…”

 

Ranpo moaned again, pushing himself down onto Poe’s fingers. The taller man chuckled to himself, pondering just how fast the tables had turned. “Are you ready to take my cock?”

 

“Please, Poe.”

 

“Please what?” Ranpo gazed up at him as he slid the condom over his erection and gave it a few pumps before adding some lube. “Tell me what you want Ranpo. I don’t have a mind like yours.”

 

Ranpo practically moaned out his request. “Fuck me, Poe. Please. Fuck me.”

 

“You really want me, huh?” Poe said, hovering over the other man. “I spread your ass nice and wide so you could take my cock, didn’t I? Is that what you want, Ranpo? You want my cock in your ass?”

 

He nodded, chest heaving in anticipation. “Yes.”

 

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” With that, he pushed the head of his cock into Ranpo, both men moaning in pleasure. He sank all the way into Ranpo, the other man’s head falling back with his eyes closed, black hair a sprawling mess over the white sheets. “Fuck… You’re so tight…”

 

“Yes. Yes yes yes.”

 

Poe pulled out almost all the way, then pushed back in gently, not wanting to hurt Ranpo.

 

“More.”

 

A smile graced Poe’s face as he thrust into him again, and then again, speeding up each time. Ranpo didn’t hold back his moans, the loud announcement of his pleasure filling Poe’s ears and going straight to his groin. It was so hot to listen to the sounds coming out of Ranpo… he thought he might get addicted to it. Now that he’d heard it once, he’d want to hear it 1000 times. And to be the one behind those sounds…

 

Poe let out a groan, a particularly hard thrust causing Ranpo to curse and moan at the same time. He lowered himself over Ranpo, their skin hot and flushed with their arousal. Poe pressed their lips together, a passionate and lustful kiss. Ranpo fisted Poe’s hair, the nails on his other hand trailing down Poe’s back. He wrapped his leg’s around Poe’s waist, trying to pull him in and keep in time with his thrusts.

 

“Deeper!”

 

“Fuck Ranpo, you’re so good. So good for me.”

 

“NGH, Poe! More, please, more!”

 

Poe sped up, adjusting the angle to hit deeper. Finally, Ranpo called out, his eyes flying open, the striking emerald green staring straight into his as he hit his prostate.

 

“F-fuck… fuck… that felt… so good…”

 

“Yeah?” Poe smirked. “Want me to do it again?” Ranpo nodded and Poe angled himself again to hit the same spot. Ranpo yelped again as Poe’s dick hit his prostate. “You feel so good, Ranpo…”

 

His moans becoming impossibly louder—there was no doubt that Ranpo would be brutally teased at work tomorrow. But neither of them cared. All Ranpo wanted, was practically ready to beg for, was for Poe to fuck him senseless. And Poe was losing himself in the way Ranpo moved beneath him, legs pulling him in, desperate for his cock. His thrust faster, each time hitting Ranpo’s prostate.

 

Poe leaned down and took one of Ranpo’s nipples back in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it repeatedly. Ranpo arched his back again, calling out Poe’s name as his hand snaked up and wrapped around his throbbing dick. He stroked himself in time with Poe’s thrusts, writhing beneath his weight. Poe brought his other hand up to squeeze at his other nipple, smoothing it with his thumb and then squeezing it, rolling it between his thumb and index finger. Ranpo moaned his name obscenely, causing Poe to let out a groan of his own as he kept his pace.

 

Poe sped up his thrusts just slightly, then bit down on the one nipple before sucking on it relentlessly. Ranpo practically screamed, his back arching and his hand pumping his cock for all it was worth. “P-Poe! I’m gunna c-cum…”

 

“Cum for me, Ranpo…” Poe purred, before moaning in his ear.

 

That and one last hit to his prostate was all he needed before Ranpo came with a shudder, spilling into his hand and onto his stomach while moaning Poe’s name. Poe kept thrusting, the heat coiled in his stomach ready to overflow, but he kept it down as he fucked Ranpo through his orgasm. Once he was done, he pressed a kiss to his lips, and the green eyes that stared up at him tipped him over the edge.

 

Poe collapsed on top of Ranpo, both men breathing heavily, slick with sweat, but insanely happy. Poe pulled out gently and removed the condom as Ranpo wiped the cum from his body, tossing everything in the trash.

 

Ranpo laid back on his pillow, eyes fluttering shut. “Poe-kun?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“That was really good.”

 

Poe smiled softly as he slid up the bed to the other pillow that rested beside Ranpo and laid his head on it. Ranpo slid over to him, draped one arm over his stomach and laid his head on his chest. Poe let out a content sigh and he wrapped Ranpo up in his arms and pressed a soft kiss to his hair. They’d have to talk tomorrow. But for now… he’d let him sleep.

Notes:

Hey guys! So... I haven't written much smut so I hope this was okay. I had this idea for a while but was too shy to write it haha.

Let me know your thoughts and/or requests in the comments. Stuff like this is welcome, too!

Until next time! -Em :)

Chapter 11: Siblings (Ryuunosuke and Gin Akutagawa Compilation)

Summary:

A compilation of interactions between the Akutagawa siblings.
Warning: includes self-harm and mentions of rape.

 

To most people, Ryuunosuke Akutagawa is a cold-blooded killer. Distant and aloof to everyone, and seemingly not a care in the world.

 

To most people, Gin Akutagawa is a mystery. A masked assassin, trained in the art of a swift kill, never speaking to anyone.

 

What most people don’t realize, nor understand, is their relationship with each other. That Ryuunosuke is simply Ryuu to Gin, her protective older brother. The only one who knows how she actually loves dressing up on her days off, who knows she loves cats more than food, and who knows she takes a bubble bath every night before she sleeps.  And Gin to him is his lovely younger sister, one of the only people whose loss could break his heart. One of the only people who knows who he really is—why he acts the way he does.

 

In a life of killing and injury, they are able to go home to each other in the evenings. To a safe place where they have each other—no matter the circumstances.

 

*

 

Gin strode through the hallways of the Mafia base, black cloth swirling around the corners as she swept around them. She nodded at Chuuya as he passed, and again at Kajii, both of the men on their way out for the night, tightening their jackets to face the brisk night air. She herself wore bloodstained clothes, her knife which she’d hastily wiped before sheathing tucked against her side. She knew she probably looked like a wreck, what with her hair falling out and the dirt covering her face and clothes. She paid her reflection no mind as she caught a glimpse of it in the darkened door-window of a doctor’s office. It didn’t matter at the moment—she had more pressing matters to attend to.

 

She slowed finally, approaching a door which was left ajar, a dim light coming from underneath. She slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind her, and padded over to the chair beside the hospital bed. She sat down, concern taking over her face, and took the pale hand of her sleeping brother.

 

His eyes fluttered and focused on her. “Gin?”

 

“I heard you got really hurt… what happened?”

 

“My ability wasn’t strong enough to fend off an entire enemy troop.”

 

“Why did you go alone, Ryuu,” Gin sighed, stroking her thumb over the back of his hand.

 

He closed his eyes, letting out a long breath. “Orders are orders.”

 

“Mori ordered you to go alone?”

 

“His estimate of their numbers was wrong.”

 

Her eyes glinted as she took in the state of his body, anger welling in her chest. He had multiple gunshot wounds, as well as bandaged broken ribs and a gash from his mid-scalp almost to his right temple. “Still! He shouldn’t have sent you in alone!”

 

“Relax,” he said, grey eyes gazing up at her. His voice was soft, almost comforting. “I’m okay.”

 

Her face softened. “But you almost weren’t. You could’ve died… and this isn’t the first time…”

 

“It’s our job, Gin. It’s in our job description that we’ll be in dangerous situations.”

 

She squeezed his hand. “It doesn’t make it any easier to see you like this.”

 

“I suppose not.”

 

They sat in silence for a moment, Ryuu staring at the ceiling, Gin at her brother’s bloodied bandages. “How bad were the gunshots?”

 

He didn’t look at her. “They could have been worse. One just below and off to the side of my stomach… I’m lucky it didn’t go deeper. Another in my left shoulder.” He nodded at it, then winced, clenching his eyes shut and taking a deep breath. “A third one in my right thigh.”

 

“Do you need some pain meds?”

 

He raised his right arm, an IV showing when the blanket fell off. “I’ve already got some. It might be wearing off though.” He turned to look at her, then immediately shut his eyes again. “Definitely wearing off.”

 

Gin brushed his bangs away from the side of his face that wasn’t bandaged. “Hang in there for a moment.” She reached across him, picked up the thin black cylinder and pushed the red button.

 

A voice crackled on the speaker next to his bed. “How can I help you?”

 

“We need some more pain meds in here,” Gin voiced, glaring at Ryuu as he tried to interject.

 

“I’ll be right there.”

 

“Don’t. You’re getting more pain meds.” He rolled his eyes, once again cringing. “Just sit still okay? The nurse will be here in a second.” She brushed the hair off of his forehead, standing next to his bed.

 

A stocky nurse bustled into the room, brown hair bouncing on her shoulders as she set her clipboard down at the end of his bed. “Sorry, I was in the next room with a cranky patient. Some of the lower ranks aren’t used to getting injured.”

 

Gin opened her mouth to speak, but immediately shut it, changing what she was going to say. “It’s no problem. My brother needs more pain meds. His have worn off.”

 

“Your brother, huh?”

 

“Yes.”

 

The nurse smirked. “Well I hope he’s not as stubborn with you as he is with us.”

 

Gin glanced over at him. “Were you giving them trouble?” He was silent. “What? No eyeroll?”

 

“You told me not to move.”

 

“Wow,” the Nurse laughed, adding the new bag of pain meds to the IV drip. “We might need you in here more often.”

 

Gin smiled slightly, shaking her head at the situation. “Thank you.”

 

“No problem, hun. You should get some sleep.”

 

“I will.”

 

The nurse left the room, closing the door behind her. Ryuu coughed, his face scrunched up. “You’re leaving already?”

 

“No.”

 

He glanced up at her. “Then how are you going to sleep?”

 

“Right here, stupid.”

 

“Huh?”

 

She pulled her chair closer and snatched the other pillow from beside him, resting it in front of her on his bed. “I’m going to sleep right here.”

 

“Gin-Chan, that’s going to kill your back.”

 

“Then so be it.”

 

He shook his head, a warm smile on his face. “You’re unbelievable.”

 

She kissed his forehead before bending to rest her head on the pillow. “So are you, Ryuu.”

 

*

 

Ryuu startled from sleep, sitting bolt upright in bed, Rashoumon floating beside his head. He narrowed his eyes at the darkened room, heart beating out of his chest. He swore he’d—

 

There it was.

 

A scream pierced the midnight air, shrill to his unadjusted ears. Sighing, Ryuu swung his legs over the side of his bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor beneath. He hissed at the temperature, gliding from the room and down the hallway. He paused outside the other bedroom door, listening intently. Of course, it was as he expected. Harsh breathing, calling out… nightmares were common in this apartment.

 

Ryuu pushed the door open, squinting through the darkness. He approached the bed where Gin lay curled in on herself, mumbling in her sleep. He clambered up beside her on the empty side of the bed, leaning over her. “Gin,” he whispered, laying a hand on her arm. “Wake up.” She cried out again, thrashing. He caught her arm before it hit him in the face with a sigh. “Gin.” He shook her shoulder.

 

She gave a strangled cry, rolled over and pulled her knife from under her pillow in one fluid motion. Her steely eyes quickly showed recognition, dropping the knife to the mattress and hanging her head. “Ryuu.”

 

“It was just a dream, Gin. You’re alright.”

 

She nodded, taking deep breathes. “Yeah. Not a very pleasant one.”

 

“I figured as much. What happened?”

 

She laid back down on her back, staring up at the ceiling. “We were back in the slums. When they all died.”

 

He lifted a hand, brushing her hair away from her face. “We aren’t there now.”

 

She closed her eyes. “I know.”

 

“We’re much better off here. Even if it’s not what you’d rather be doing.”

 

Her voice was so soft that at first, he wasn’t sure she’d spoken at all. “How do you find it so easy? Killing?”

 

“I don’t know. With my ability… I think it’s instilled in me. And with Dazai’s training and watching everyone around us die… it’s the way to prove myself and to survive.”

 

“Just like that?”

 

“I guess.” He paused, still stroking her hair. “It’s not people I know, so it makes it easier.”

 

Gin shrugged. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”

 

“Everyone else thinks you are.”

 

She let out a long breath. “I know. I guess it’s best they think that.”

 

“Probably.”

 

She stayed quiet for a few minutes, her heart slowing back to its normal pace. Then her eyes fluttered open, taking in the shadowy figure of her brother, who was staring across the room intently. “What are you thinking about?”

 

He chuckled lowly. “How this came to be our lives.”

 

“That’s a complicated answer, Ryuu.”

 

“I know…” He looked back at her, then brushed a few eyelashes off of her cheek with his thumb. “Go back to sleep. You’re safe here.”

 

Gin let her eyes fall shut, comforted by the sound of Ryuu adjusting himself to sit against her headboard. Then his hand fell to her forehead once again, trailing over her hair in the same way he did when they were kids. Soon she forgot all about the people she’d lost, the nightmare, and the mess that had become their lives. Instead, she was lulled into a peaceful sleep by the repetitive hand in her hair and the low voice of her brother, singing a lullaby taught to him by their mother.

 

*

 

“GIN!”

 

Grey eyes widened in the kitchen, standing over a cutting board and a half-chopped carrot. She placed the knife on the counter, wiped her hands on the towel resting there, then headed down the hallway to Ryuu’s room. She peeked in the doorway, pushing the door open a little to see in. He stood in front of his closet, blood-stained shirt on the floor, staring at empty hangers.

 

She stepped into the room. “Yes?”

 

He turned to face her, crossing his arms across his pale torso. “Where are all of my casual clothes?”

 

She bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to smile. “I don’t know. Why would I know?”

 

He gave her a look, cocking his head to the side. “Are you sure about that? Should I go check your laundry basket?”

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

 

“Because I’m going to find my clothes in there?”

 

“No!” She crossed her arms, too, mimicking him. “Because I have girl things in my room!”

 

“Stop stealing my clothes for work!”

 

“Well I can’t wear most of mine!”

 

He sighed aggressively, turning back to his closet. “You’ve left me nothing to wear when I’m not working. All of my shirts and pants that aren’t formal or plain t-shirts you’ve stolen.”

 

“I have not.”

 

“You have too!’

 

She set her jaw. “You have no proof of that.”

 

“Is that so?” He stepped towards her. “Let me find some then.”

 

“N—what do you think you’re doing?”  She blocked the door with her arms, staring up at him.

 

“Let me by.”

 

She shook her head. “Nope.”

 

“Let me by, Gin.”

 

“Not happening.”

 

“I—this is ridiculous.” He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, her pounding on his back all the while.

 

“Put me down!”

 

“Okay.”

 

She fell onto the bed with an oof, while he rooted through her laundry basket. “Ryuu!”

 

“I knew it…”

 

“You know nothing,” she pouted, turning her head away from him.

 

“Yeah? Then what’s this?”

 

She glanced at what he was holding out of the corner of her eye. A grey polo. She slumped with a huff.

 

“That’s what I thought. Oh look, another one.”

 

“What am I supposed to wear to work then?”

 

“How about your clothes?”

 

“A lot of people at work don’t know I’m a girl, Ryuu.”

 

He squinted at her. “What?”

 

“They think I’m a boy. And if they knew I was a girl I might not get the same respect.”

 

He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it, his face softening. “Then I guess we need to get you some new clothes then, don’t we?”

 

She smiled at him. “I guess so.”

 

*

 

Gin bumped the apartment door shut with her hip on her way in, a paper bag clutched in her arms. “I’m home! We finished the job early, so I went and bought some of those fig tarts you like on my way back.” She set the package down slipping off her gloves and her mask, folding them and setting them beside the bag. “Ryuu?” She glanced behind her at the door where his shoes sat, neatly lined up against the wall, his coat hung above them. Squinting at them, she turned back to the empty kitchen and living room, finding them both empty. Gin shrugged off her coat, slung it over the back of a chair, and moved further into the apartment. It was odd for him not to respond when she came home. “Ryuunosuke?”

 

Still no response. She bit her lip, hurrying down the hallway towards their rooms. She passed her own, the door wide open as she had left it that morning. The bathroom door was shut on the right side of the hallway, and she continued on to the next room. She stopped abruptly, backtracking, her mouth slightly open. Had she heard, that right? A muffled sob? She knocked on the door. “Ryuu? Are you okay?”

 

A sniff came from the other side of the door, followed by what she could only describe as an attempt to steady his voice before another sob broke through. Her eyes widened. “I’m coming in.”

 

He made no attempt to stop her as she swung the door open, audibly gasping at the sight in front of her. Her shock didn’t last long however, as she dropped to her knees, barely registering the sound of the razor clattering to the floor. She pulled her brother close, not caring that her pants were being soaked with his blood. “Ryuunosuke.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed.

 

She shook her head against his, wrapping her arms tighter around him. “Why? Why are you doing this to yourself?”

 

“I… I can’t…”

 

“You can’t what, Ryuu? What happened?”

 

“I c-can’t explain it, I’m, I’m sorry…”

 

She clutched at his back, the white fabric between her fingers. Her eyes searched the back wall frantically, trying to explain the situation to herself. “That’s okay… it’s okay…” He jolted against her a few times, shoulders shaking as he tried to settle his cries. She placed her hand on the small of his back and rubbed gentle circles against it. “It’s okay… I just… I wish I knew how to help you…”

 

A few minutes later she pulled back to look at him, placing her hands on his shoulders. His watery eyes glanced up at her, begging her not to make him explain. Gin tilted her head as she looked at him, the amount of concern in her gaze causing him to squirm and look away.

 

Gin trailed her hands down to his arms, holding them just below the elbow, turning them so she could see the insides. Thin red lines littered his wrists and inner forearms, blood dribbling down his arms, into his palms, and onto the floor below. She gazed down to the puddle she knelt in. For an assassin, she never thought the sight of someone’s blood would make her stomach turn that much.

 

When she looked back up, Ryuu was watching her face intently. She took a shaky breath. “I didn’t realize you were in so much pain.”

 

“It isn’t your job to.”

 

“I thought I could always tell when you were upset or when something was wrong…”

 

“You can. And you’re the only one that can. You always know when something’s wrong and you just come and hug me…And you’re the only one who knows my real emotions…”

 

“Then why didn’t you tell me,” she whispered, pain dripping from her voice. “Why did you hide this from me?”

 

“I’m not your responsibility, Gin,” he said calmly, pulling his bloodied arms out of her grip. “I didn’t need you to worry about something else that you don’t need to.”

 

“You’re cutting yourself, Ryuu! That is something I need to worry about!”

 

He shook his head, dropping his gaze. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

 

She tucked two fingers under his chin, forcing him to look at her. “I am always going to worry about you. That’s what you do when you love someone who is in this line of work. And you’re hurting yourself. You’re in pain…”

 

“No more so than anyone else.”

 

She sighed, letting her eyes fall shut momentarily. Then she stood, pulling him up with her. “Sit on the counter.”

 

“Wha—”

 

“This conversation isn’t done yet, and I’m cleaning you up.”

 

He said nothing. Ryuu hopped up on the counter, staring down at the mess he’d made on the floor.

 

Gin returned a moment later, a few cloths and bandages in her hand. She immediately went to the sink, wet a cloth, and wrung out the excess water. She began to speak as she took one of his arms and wiped the blood away, doing her best not to hurt him. “Other people are in pain, yes. But it’s not the same pain. And it doesn’t make yours any less valid. We’ve both been through a lot… and the last few years have been especially hard on you.”

 

“You don’t think I’m being stupid?”

 

She paused, looking up at him. “No. Of course not.”

 

He watched as she rinsed the cloth again, the red turning clear and running down the drain. “Really?”

 

Gin pressed the cloth to his other arm. “Really. It doesn’t mean I want to see you hurting yourself, because I don’t. But I can understand.” She continued to clean his arm, snagging a few jagged cuts, causing him to hiss. “Sorry.”

 

Gin began wrapping bandages around his arms, a gauze pad pressed flush to the worst of the slices. “Do you want to talk about what triggered it?”

 

“Not particularly.”

 

She nodded, fastening the one arm’s bandages in place and beginning on the other. “You know I’m here for you, Ryuu. You know you can come talk to me about anything.”

 

“You have your own burdens, Gin,” he said, voice tired and raspy. “You don’t need to add me to the list.”

 

She blinked up at him. “Do you really think you’re a burden on me?”

 

He chuckled, but it was devoid of any humour. “I’m pretty much a burden on anyone I come into contact with. That’s why I’m not really close to anyone.”

 

She let out a long breath as she fastened the second arm, looking up at him. “You are not a burden.”

 

“Whatever you say.”

 

She held back her annoyance, knowing that his attempt at indifference held real insecurity. Instead, she rinsed another cloth and brought it up to wipe the tear tracks from his face. “How long has this been going on?”

 

“A few months.”

 

She sighed. “And I had no idea.”

 

“I did it when I knew you wouldn’t be home for a while.”

 

“And today I got home early…”

 

“Yeah.”

 

She brought her hand to the other side of his face. “It’s good that you’re letting out your emotions, Ryuu… talking to me sometimes and crying when you need to… but not this.”

 

He let out a long breath. “I know.”

 

“We can work on it.”

 

“We?”

 

She nodded, setting the cloth down. “Yes, we. I’ll check in with you and keep an eye out. You actively try to stop. I want you to tell me when you think about or want to hurt yourself.”

 

“What if you’re not here?”

 

“Try to hold out and tell me when I get home. You’re so strong. I know you can do it.”

 

He nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

 

“Okay.” She gathered the soiled cloths in her arms and took a step back from him. “While I mop up the floor, go change your clothes. You got blood all over them.”

 

“I can clean it, Gin, it’s fine.”

 

Gin shook her head. “Uh uh. I’ll clean it. You change. Then we’ll go watch a movie and share those fig tarts I bought.”

 

A small smile spread across his face. “Thanks, Gin.”

 

“Of course. What are little sisters for?” He hopped down from the counter and headed for his room when Gin called to him. “Ryuunosuke?”

 

He turned back to her. “Hmm?”

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you, too, Gin.”

 

*

 

Gin scrunched her nose up when the smell of burning rice met it. A beeping reached her ears shortly after, the smoke alarm in the hallway making its presence known. Rolling her eyes, she swung her feet off of her bed and padded into the hallway. A thin layer of smoke rolled across the ceiling from the kitchen and she squinted, walking towards it.

 

“Fuck! Fuck! Shit!”

 

“Ryuu, what the fuck are you doing?” Gin yelled, taking in the smoking microwave, boiled over pots, and the charred bowl in her brother’s hands.

 

“Cooking dinner!”

 

“I don’t think that’s cooking, I think that’s called ruining!” She snatched a tea towel from beside him, then headed to the smoke alarm, waving the towel at it to disperse the smoke. “What were you even making?”

 

He managed to get out an answer through his coughing. “Rice and vegetables.”

 

“Then why the fuck were you using the microwave?!”

 

“For the rice!”

 

The alarm stopped beeping and she headed back to the kitchen, where he was waving a towel at the microwave. She gave him an incredulous look. “Are you telling me that burnt lump is a bowl of minute rice?”

 

“Well, it was minute rice. Now it’s minute… crisp.”

 

Gin brought her hand to her forehead. “How did you even manage that?”

 

“I forgot the water….”

 

She peeked up at him through her fingers. “You forgot the water? You absolute moron!”

 

“I’m exhausted, okay!”

 

Shaking her head, she crossed to the stove and dumped the boiled over pots out in the sink. Sure enough, the carrots and potatoes in them were lumped together at the bottom from the time it took them to deal with the rice. Gin sighed loudly, passing him, and grabbing his hand as she did so. “Come on, you idiot.”

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“To get takeout.”

 

*

 

It wasn’t often that the two siblings got to spend a night off without having to do much prep for the next day. But the odd time, they did get lucky. Those nights were a blessing.

 

Gin sat curled up in the corner of the couch, her legs pulled up to her chest, the remote poking out over the top to change the channels. Ryuu laid on the couch beside her, his head propped up on the opposite arm, scrolling through his phone. The lamp on the side-table was the only light in the room not coming from a screen, casting a warm glow over them and the bowl of chips sitting on the coffee table.

 

Gin turned to him. “What do you want to watch?’

 

He glanced up at her over his phone. “I dunno. You pick something.”

 

“I’ve been flicking through channels for twenty minutes. Pick something.”

 

“A cooking show.”

 

“Then you better at least watch.”

 

He raised his head, scowling. “What is that supposed to mean?”

 

“Two words. Minute. Rice.”

 

“That was one time!”

 

“And I’m sure there’ll be more!’

 

“Gin!”

 

“Am I wrong?”

 

He glared at her, then went back to his phone. “Shut up.”

 

She snorted, settling on a cooking show. “Fine, I’ll watch it. Then I can fix it when you mess up.”

 

“I’ve been cooking for the two of us for years.”

 

“That doesn’t mean anything. Higuchi’s been after you for years and yet, you’re still single.”

 

He huffed out a laugh, glancing up over his phone. “That’s because I don’t like her that way.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

 

“Fine. Then what about you and Tachihara? How come you haven’t gotten together yet?”

 

“Tachihara?” She let out a high-pitched laugh, glancing back at the TV. “Why would I get with him?”

 

“Well, he does finally know you’re a girl, does he not?”

 

“Well, yeah…”

 

He gave her a look. “From what I’ve heard, there’s some… tension… between you two.”

 

“Ryuu!” Gin smacked him with a pillow and sent his phone flying to the ground. “I could say the same thing about you and Atsushi!”

 

He gasped dramatically. “You wouldn’t dare say I like that Jinko!”

 

“But you doooooo.”

 

“No I don’t.”

 

“Yes you do.”

 

He threw the pillow back at her, trying to distract her from the blush rising up his neck and into his cheeks. “I do not.”

 

“You do too! Don’t deny it! I see all!”

 

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

 

She laughed, kneeling in front of him, holding the pillow over her head. “Exactly what it sounds like.”

 

He sneered at her. “Fine. Then you have to admit you like Tachihara.”

 

“Nice try, but I—OOMPF!”

 

He stuck his foot out and kicked her thigh, sending her head into the space between his side and the back of the couch. He took the pillow and cuffed the back of her head with it. “Say it!”

 

“Neber!”

 

“Say it!”

 

“Bo!”

 

“Gin, so help me!”

 

“You can’t be helped,” she said, flashing him a smile as she rose from the couch cushion.

 

He shook his head at her cheeky grin. “Just ask him out if he’s too much of a wuss to ask you first.”

 

Gin rolled her eyes. “Then you have to ask Atsushi out on a date.”

 

“He’ll never agree.”

 

She grinned. “I think he will.”

 

He smiled slightly, staring down at his lap, the blush still evident on his face. “I hope you’re right.”

 

*

 

Gin opened the apartment door, precariously balancing two bags of groceries in her arms as she fumbled with the keys. She set them down on the kitchen counter, she turned to go back to the door, doing a double take as she did so. Ryuu sat on the couch, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she had even entered the apartment. He was home early and hadn’t even bothered to take off his shoes or coat.

 

Slipping off her boots, she furrowed her brows and removed her gloves and mask. When she turned back to him, he still hadn’t moved, his hands holding his head up as he stared at the ground below. Something was wrong. As Gin moved closer, she could see his back moving with his breaths, quick and shallow.

 

As she approached, Rashoumon rose up beside him, watching her, ready to strike. She ignored it, sitting down beside him on the couch, a gentle hand resting in the middle of his back. “Ryuunosuke.”

 

He looked up at her, wide eyes watery and tormented. “Gin?”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

He opened his mouth, but his jaw quivered, a sob escaping instead of words. He shook his head, hanging it low.

 

Gin wrapped an arm around him, pulling him tight to her side, and then pulled him closer with her other arm. “Come here…” Another sob tore from his throat as he buried his face in her neck. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Rashoumon rise up and nuzzle his head. “What happened, Ryuu? Was it something at work?” He nodded against her, choking on his sobs. “Let it out… it’s okay…” She rubbed his back gently, the other hand holding him tight against her torso.

 

“I—They—He,” Ryuu choked out.

 

“He who?”

 

“A—A—"

 

“Atsushi? Did something happen to Atsushi?” He nodded fervently. She frowned. “What happened to him?”

 

“They—they—”

 

“Did someone hurt him?” Another nod. She pursed her lips, not sure if she was ready to hear the answer to her next question. “Is he alive?”

 

“I don’t know,” Ryuu sobbed. “I don’t know where they took him!”

 

“What do you mean where they took him?”

 

“They—they hurt him and and they took him, and I couldn’t do anything I don’t know anything!” He broke completely, his chest wracking with each sob, his whole body shaking and jolting.

 

Gin felt his tears hot against her skin, slipping down her neck and over her collarbone. She closed her eyes, hugging him tighter than she thought possible. “It’s okay… I’m sure he’ll be okay… he’ll be just fine…”

 

“I did nothing! How—how—useless am I? I couldn’t save, save him!”

 

“You’re not useless, Ryuu… You’re not useless… I’m sure you did all that you could…”

 

“I just laid there!” His voice broke. “I-I laid there and I let them hurt him and take him away from me!” The more he tried to speak through his cries, the faster he spoke, and the more hysterical he became. “He—he’s my partner, Gin! He’s more, m-more than my partner! And I don’t even know where to look, not the first clue! And and when I asked Mori he said he’d tell me when they have a lea-lead but that could be days or weeks and the Agency probably is already after him and there’s nothing I can do! He’ll—he’ll—he’ll—”

 

“Breathe…” She rubbed his back faster a few times, drawing his attention.

 

He took a deep, shuddering breath, having to gasp a few times for air. “He’ll wake up alone. And then the Agency will get to him and he’ll think I just let it happen or no one will find him for weeks!”

 

“No… he’s not going to think you let it happen… I’m sure he saw that they hurt you.”

 

“He only saw the first blow… and then he got knocked out…”

 

“He’ll be okay… he won’t think you let it happen… you two have gotten closer… he trusts you, Ryuu…”

 

“Not anymore…”

 

“You can’t blame yourself,” Gin insisted. “They hurt you both. You weren’t able to move.”

 

“That was their ability… One of them. I couldn’t move…”

 

“Then how can you blame yourself, hmm?”

 

“I don’t know… I don’t know. I just know that he’s out there. Hurt and scared and I don’t know where he is or how to get to him.”

 

“Either the Agency will find him, or you will. But he’ll be okay.”

 

“How can you be so sure in times like this?”

 

She smiled slightly, watching Rashoumon bury itself in the top of his hair. “I learned from you.”

 

He relaxed in her arms, much of the tension leaving his body. “You’re sure he’ll be okay?”

 

“I know he will.”

 

Ryuu nodded against her, not moving.

 

“Did Mori send you home early?”

 

“No. Chuuya did.”

 

She nodded. “That sounds like him.”

 

“Doesn’t it?”

 

They both chuckled, still hugging on the couch, the groceries Gin brought home forgotten for long while after that. But it was okay. Ryuu was more important.

 

*

 

“RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA!”

 

His eyes widened at the anger in Gin’s voice, stopping halfway back to his room after having a shower. “Yes?”

 

Her shrill voice beckoned him from the other room. “GET YOUR SKINNY ASS IN HERE!”

 

Offense crossed his face as he turned on his heel, holding the towel around his waist. “Skinny ass? Really?” He padded into the kitchen, water droplets leaving a trail behind him. “What? I’m getting the floor all wet.”

 

She held up a cylindrical bottle. “What are these?”

 

“My pills.”

 

“Uh huh. And why is the bottle completely full?”

 

He shifted his weight to his other foot, hoping his stony face wouldn’t give anything away. “Because I get more than one bottle at a time? I just haven’t got to that one yet.”

 

She slammed it down on the counter. “Bullshit!”

 

“What?”

 

“I said bullshit!”

 

“You can’t call bullshit! I have an extra bottle of pills!”

 

“Then how many bottles are you behind on? Because this bottle is from six months ago.”

 

He gulped, dropping his gaze. “I was ahead.”

 

“Don’t you lie to me, Ryuu! Why aren’t you taking your meds?”

 

“I told you. I am.”

 

“Do I need to go rooting through your room to prove you’re lying to me or are you just going to tell me?”

 

He huffed, watching as she glared at him with her hands on her hips. “Fine. Fine. I haven’t been taking them.”

 

“Why not?”

 

He gave her an incredulous look. “Do you really have to ask? You’re a smart girl, Gin-Chan, I’m sure you know.”

 

“Don’t be a smart-ass.”

 

“I mean it. I’m sure you can guess.”

 

“In other words, it’s the same as always and you don’t want me to make you admit it.”

 

“Essentially, yes.”

 

Silently, she crossed the room to him, then placed her hands on his shoulders. Then she shook him. Hard. “YOU ARE NOT WEAK!”

 

“STOP SHAKING ME!”

 

“FINE!”

 

“Thank you.”

 

She turned back to the counter, grabbed the pill bottle, and pressed it into the palm of his hand, curling his fingers around it. “Take your fucking meds. I mean it.” He tilted his head, as if asking if she was serious. “You have Pleurisy. You have medication for a reason. And taking care of your body doesn’t make you weak, Ryuu. You need to understand that. The fact that you can do all of the things you do even with a disadvantage makes you even stronger.”

 

“Then why doesn’t it feel like it?”

 

“Because you have 0 self-esteem. 0. Take your damn meds.”

 

“Fine. I presume you’ll be checking.”

 

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

 

He rolled his eyes, turning to head back down the hallway.

 

“Hurry up. You’re going to be late.”

 

*

Ryuu stood at the counter, chopping carrots, when Gin walked through the door. “Hi, Gin-Chan.”

 

“Hi.”

 

“How was your day off?”

 

“Fine.”

 

He glanced back at her over his shoulder, only catching her retreating back. “Gin?”

 

“Leave me alone.”

 

He narrowed his eyes, setting the knife down on the counter and wiping his hands on his pants. This was very odd. Gin usually enjoyed her days off. Going to the market, dressing up, meeting with one of her friends at a café downtown… she almost always came home happy. The door closed as he turned into the hallway and he hurried to it. He knocked. “Gin?”

 

“I said leave me alone,” came her muffled reply.

 

“No. Something is clearly bothering you.”

 

“It’s nothing.”

 

He rolled his eyes at the door. “Can I come in?”

 

“Are you going to come in anyway?”

 

“No.”

 

“Fine. Come in.”

 

He nodded, turning the knob and slipping into the room. Gin lay on her bed, her back to him, knees pulled up to her chest. Ryuu sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the back of her head. “What’s bothering you?”

 

“Just these stupid… boys. Men.”

 

He raised a (non-existent) brow. “Gin-Chan, you’re an assassin. You could easily take on any boys that are bothering you.”

 

“I know. It’s not that…”

 

“Then what is it?”

 

“It’s just…” She rolled over to face him. “When I’m out on my days off, it’s different. And normally I love it because no one knows who I am. But, because it’s more obvious I’m a girl, I get treated differently. This guy at the market was trying to explain to me how to make rice. I know how to make rice! And my friend was telling me how she gets paid different because she’s a woman, and how at school, because she’s in high school, the girls get treated so much worse than the boys. And the dress codes are ridiculous! And then, on my way home on the train, this group of older guys was with me. They were all catcalling me and being really crude… and one of them tried to grope me.”

 

“They what now?”

 

“They groped me.”

 

“What did they look like? I’ll kill them!”

 

She reached out and patted his hand. “It’s not worth it.”

 

“To hell it’s not! They touched you!”

 

“It happens to normal girls all the time. But it just made me realize how shitty it is to be a girl sometimes. I mean… I’m 17. I shouldn’t be seen as an object to middle-aged men. Or be seen as stupid and lesser or whatever just because I’m a girl!”

 

“You’re absolutely right. You’re probably smarter and stronger and faster than most men in Yokohama. And, clearly, you’re better than them.”

 

“When I’m at work, in my Mafia clothes, that doesn’t happen. Maybe it’s because they can’t see my face. Or because I hardly talk. But if you don’t know me, apparently, you don’t know I’m a girl. My opponents are scared of me. But those men on the train saw a young girl in a dress…”

 

“Those sick bastards…”

 

She nodded. “It’s so dumb.”

 

“It is.”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to hunt them down? Because I will. No one touches my little sister and gets away with it.”

 

“Put Rashoumon away, Ryuu. I don’t need either of you,” she glanced between his face and Rahsoumon, who perched on his shoulder, “to do anything.”

 

“Okay. If you’re sure… are you okay?”

 

She nodded. “It wasn’t that serious. I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”

 

He clenched his jaw. “You better not have to or there’ll be hell to pay!”

 

The corner of her lip quirked up. “Thanks.”

 

He nodded. “Well, if you’re okay, I’ll leave you to your own devices. I’m going to finish dinner.”

 

“I think I’ll come help. Don’t need another rice fiasco, now do we?”

 

“When are you going to let that go?”

 

She chuckled, sliding off the bed, a cheeky grin on her face. “Never.”

 

*

 

Gin shot straight up in bed, her knife in her hand, ready to wield. She listened for a moment, hair falling in her face, grey eyes narrowed and watching the darkness around her. All was still, but not quiet. Another scream pierced the air, and she recognized it immediately. Ryuu.

 

She slipped out of bed and hurried over the cold floor, flinging her door open. She cursed as she caught it from slamming against the wall with her toe, hopping the rest of the way down the hall. She pressed her ear to the door, cringing at her throbbing toe, and listened for sounds of movement from the inside. He continued to cry out, and it sounded like he was thrashing around.

 

When she opened the door and stepped inside, she pursed her lips, finding out she had been right. There wasn’t much light in the room, but even her unadjusted eyes could see the outline of her brother trying to escape invisible hands, calling out in pain and fear. With a frown she headed to the nightstand, flicking on the lamp there and clambering onto the bed beside him. Gin shook him gently, causing his eyes to fly open and for him to sit up abruptly, nearly bashing their foreheads together.

 

With a gentle hand on his chest she pushed him down, forcing her face to be as soft as she could make it. “It’s just me,” she whispered. “You were having a nightmare.”

 

He simply stared at her, taking deep breathes. “Was I screaming again?”

 

“Yeah. Are you okay?”

 

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

 

“What was it this time?”

 

“Same as always.”

 

Gin nodded, sliding down to lay beside him. “You’re not there and he’s not here. You’re safe and you’re not hurt. You won’t get hurt here. It was just a bad dream.”

 

He nodded, staring at the ceiling. “I know.”

 

“I know you know. Doesn’t make it any less realistic or scary though, does it?”

 

“No.”

 

“Go back to sleep, Ryuu. I’m right here.”

 

“Leave the lamp on, please.”

 

“I am. I know.”

 

He let his eyes flutter closed, but every few minutes they’d fly open again, his breath hitching.

 

Gin grabbed his hand, running her thumb over his knuckles. “You’re okay. I’m still right here.”

 

“Every time I start to doze off…”

 

She let out a long breath. Those were the worst. “Hang on a second.” She reached down beside her on the nightstand, retrieving the TV remote. They were lucky the Port Mafia’s apartments were so nice. There was always a way to distract yourself. Gin flicked on the TV and clicked through a few channels until one suited her fancy. “There. Now there’s background noise and you have me right here.”

 

“Another cooking show? Really?”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Go back to sleep, Ryuu.” She held up their linked hands. “I’m right here. Close your eyes.”

 

“Okay…” He did as he was told, letting them fall shut and focusing on the murmur of the TV. On Gin’s thumb stroking his knuckles as comfort he wouldn’t ask for. “Thank you, Gin.”

 

*

 

Ryuu sat on the couch for much of the afternoon that Saturday, grateful for some time to himself while Gin was out with her best friend. He’d never met this girl, but he knew she and Gin had become close before Gin had stopped going to school after it stopped being mandatory. It was the only girl friend that Gin had. And the only one that was her age.

 

He scrolled through his phone absentmindedly, the TV chattering away in the background on some show that he didn’t particularly care about. When the apartment door opened, he glanced up quickly and then back down to his phone. “Hi, Gin.” Then he heard a sniff, and he looked back up. “Gin!”

 

Ryuu jumped up, anger and concern glinting in his eyes as he took in her ripped dress and tangled hair. “Gin, what happened to you?”

 

She looked up at him form the doorway with watery eyes, her hair falling in her face. Wordlessly, he opened his arms and she walked straight into them, sobbing against his chest. He smoothed her hair repeatedly. “Shh… shh… I’ve got you… I’ve got you…” Ryuu shoved down his anger, focusing on consoling his distraught sister. “It’s okay… who did this to you?”

 

Between her sobs she managed to choke out an answer. “I was at a café with my friend. And we got separated. And I went to find her. Thought she’d be in the bathroom. Back door was open. I went outside. These. These. These men. These men were out—out there. And they had her. And I didn’t have my—my blade. And they were trying to—trying to—they touched her! And then they they they saw me. And there was too many of them. And they got me. And they said nasty things and and and they ripped my dress when they tried to—they tried to—and I couldn’t get them off me—and she was screaming. I could hear her. But I couldn’t help her.”

 

“Okay, okay… you’re okay now, Gin. You’re safe. You’re safe here with me.”

 

“One of them—he—he—he—he had his hand over my mouth and his arm on my throat and I couldn’t breathe and he got his friend to try and go down there and I kept trying to kick him so he sat on me and he was touching me and and he wouldn’t stop and I couldn’t get them off not all of them they were too big and they kept telling me I’d like it but I didn’t like it Ryuu I didn’t like it I didn’t it hurt and I hurt from where they touched me and held me down and and and—”

 

She broke down in more sobs, her fists clutching his shirt. He rubbed her back, one hand on the back of her head, playing with her hair. “I’ve got you now… I’ve got you… I’m here now… I’m right here… they can’t touch you here… I promise… you’re safe, Gin…”

 

She sobbed her throat raw. When she tried to speak again a few moments later, the tears still trailing down her face, her voice came out hoarse. “I guess someone called the police… When the sirens came by, they all fled. And I couldn’t be seen… so I ran. All the way back here. And I just left her there… all by herself. I don’t think she even knew I was out there with her. But it shouldn’t have happened… I should’ve helped her…”

 

“Don’t you blame this on yourself, Gin. Don’t do that.”

 

“I should have fought them off…”

 

“There were a few huge guys against one of you. You didn’t have your blade.”

 

She shook her head against his chest. “It hurts.”

 

“Do you need to go to the hospital to get… looked at?”

 

She sniffed. “I don’t think so… he never got it in… just his… fingers. He only got it in my mouth…”

 

“Those bastards!”

 

Her shoulders shook, along with the rest of her body. “I feel… used…”

 

“Gin, I am so sorry…”

 

“You couldn’t have done anything… It was me that should have.”

 

“No. Look at me, Gin.” She looked up at him, her face red and blotchy, her eyes bloodshot and swollen. “None of this is your fault. None of it, okay? Not a single thing. It isn’t your fault that those men tried to rape you. That is… horrifying and disgusting and and… despicable and I want to kill them. I will find them and kill them. It is not your fault.”

 

Her lips quivered as she listened to him.

 

“You’re a 17-year-old girl. You’re still a minor. You’re small. You’re mighty but if these guys are huge and heavy… you didn’t have a chance. And you’re not invincible. No one in the Mafia is, even if we’d like to think we are.”

 

She nodded, a few more tears falling down her face. She sniffed. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

 

He drew her back to his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to run you a bath. It may help things stop hurting. Is that okay?”

 

“That would be nice, actually…”

 

“Okay. And after you can tell me what they looked like, whatever you can remember. And I’ll go after them.”

 

She nodded. “Deal.”

 

*

 

Gin laid sprawled on the couch one night after work. Ryuu had gone for a shower and she had a bowl of chips all to herself while she watched a crappy sitcom. In the background she heard the water of the shower shut off, and a moment later the door opened while another one closed. She ignored it, popping another chip in her mouth, shaking her head at the stupidity unfolding on the screen.

 

A couple minutes later she was distracted form the show by Ryuu, who stood a few feet away. She glanced up at him, then sat up completely. He stood in his pajamas, trembling, clutching his arms. “Come sit.” She patted the spot beside her. He crossed to the couch and sat next to her. “What’s wrong?”

 

From the proximity, she could see how bad he was shaking. Could hear the struggle in his breaths. The tears in his voice as he spoke. “I want to cut myself again.”

 

She let out a breath, turning to him. “But you didn’t?”

 

He shook his head. “No. But I almost did…”

 

She reached out gingerly and took his arms in her hands, turning them over so she could see his wrists. They looked the same as the last time she saw them. “That’s progress then, right?”

 

“I suppose.”

 

“Thank you for coming to me. Can I ask what made you want to hurt yourself?”

 

He dropped his gaze. “The Agency found Atsushi.”

 

“Well that’s a good thing then, isn’t it?”

 

He nodded, but still didn’t look at her. “I got a call from Chuuya. They found him, but he’s in a coma. They don’t know if he will wake up.”

 

“And you think it’s your fault?”

 

“How is it not my fault?”

 

“Because there was nothing you could have done. The movement stopping ability got you. What happened to Atsushi wasn’t your fault, Ryuu.”

 

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “I want to go see him.”

 

“Then go see him.”

 

“But it’s the middle of the night and the Agency probably won’t let me in.”

 

“Ryuu, you’re Atsushi’s partner… in more ways than one. I’m sure they will. There’s got to be someone there with him that would let you in.”

 

He nodded at the ground. “Dr. Yosano is there. And as far as I know, Dazai-san and Kunikida-san are there with Kyouka-Chan.”

 

“So what’s stopping you?”

 

“They probably think it’s my fault, too.”

 

She was silent for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what she was going to say next. “If Chuuya-san knows about this, that means he talked to Dazai-san. Chuuya would have told Dazai what happened. I’m sure they know it’s not your fault, if they even did in the first place, which they probably didn’t.”

 

“I guess you’re right.”

 

“I am right. Now. Do you want to go see Atsushi?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good. Then let’s go. Don’t bother changing. I’ll drive.”

 

“I… okay. Let’s go.”

 

*

 

Gin and Ryuunosuke might not be your average siblings if you see them at work… surely, a mafioso and an assassin is not what you’d expect. But underneath it all, the cold and distant exteriors and the many masks, they’re just like any other brother and sister. Protective of each other. Caring about each other. Teasing each other to no end…

 

The two of them might not have had a normal childhood or teen years, but at least they got to spend them together. They have each other, always. Through thick and thin, they always know that their home is a safe place. And that they can count on each other.

Notes:

Hey all! I love the Akutagawa siblings to no end! I'm honestly thinking about writing a part 2 for these two, lol.

I promise the requests are coming! I promise! Also, if you leave a request, keep an eye out for my reply, because it is likely hat I will ask you to clarify something or if you have any preferences, etc.

Anyways, I have a Chemistry exam tomorrow, and this class is killing me so that's always fun. Putting a real damper on my writing time, that's for sure.

As always, leave and feedback, comments, thoughts, and requests below!

Until next time guys! -Em :)

Chapter 12: Dark Era!Dazai and Akutagawa Whump (One-shot Request)

Summary:

A request for Sleepawaysora . This is undedited so please forgive any typos and stuff. Sorry this took so long.

16-year-old Dazai is a mentor to 14-yar-old Akutagawa, who recently failed his first mission. Of course, Dazai had higher hopes for him. For his punishment? Well, it was something that would motive the young boy for years to come.

At 16-years-old, Osamu Dazai was already a hardened, Mafia executive. An execution machine, shadowed by darkness, and willing to do whatever it took to get done what he needed to. He was not above manipulation or torture, as he’d shown may times before. Nor was he phased by doling out the punishments he himself had received before, physical or verbal, or brutal training for those he deemed worthy of his time and effort. Although, there were days that he doubted those he had given that title in his head. And most often, that thought was given to his newest subordinate.

 

Dazai stood on one side of the Mafia’s training room, shrouded in darkness, only one of the light’s on in the middle of the room. It gave it a more condescending and empty feel, and for today, he preferred it that way. His new subordinate, despite their heavy training, had failed his last mission. Not only had he been injured, but the man he was to bring back to the facility had escaped, his whereabouts unknown.

 

Dazai shook his head, his arms crossed over his chest. How could he have been so careless? So stupid? Clearly he wasn’t training him hard enough.

 

He checked the clock. 11:00 am. Their training was supposed to start now. Dazai tapped his foot impatiently. The nurse at the infirmary said he would be released in time, so what was the hold up?

 

Footsteps echoed in the hallway and Dazai’s eyes shot up to watch the shadow of a young boy approach the door. When he appeared in the doorway, his face was cast in shadow. He walked in, a slight limp disrupting his gait, approaching Dazai and setting his bag down on the bench. “Good morning, Dazai-san.”

 

Ryuunosuke Akutagawa, at only 14-years-old, had been taken into the Port Mafia by none other than Dazai. Himself and his sister, Gin, had been taken in and protected. Ryuunosuke, due to his ability, had been appointed as Dazai’s apprentice. Though the situation in general was better for him, Dazai’s training was turning out to be a challenge.

 

Many days he’d run him into the ground, working him until he collapsed or threw up from the exertion. Dazai didn’t seem phased at all, much to Ryuunosuke’s shock. He often left the training room battered and bruised, heading home only to be patched up by Gin and forced to rest. But rest wasn’t what he wanted. What he wanted was to prove himself. To prove that Dazai choosing him was the right decision. And so, he asked for a mission. A mission that ended up with him in the infirmary with broken ribs, a gunshot wound in his shoulder, and a torn tendon in his ankle. A mission that he failed, letting the culprit get away and disappear. A mission that left him in mental agony, even Gin unable to talk himself out of the depression he was digging himself into. Had Dazai made a mistake in choosing him?

 

Ryuunosuke tensed as the silence continued, his mentor not saying a single word. He glanced up at the older boy out of the corner of his eye, his bangs protecting him from being noticed. Dazai leaned against the wall, ankles crossed, coat draped over his shoulders, a cold expression etched onto his face. Unwavering. Ryuunosuke set his face to the least bothered expression he could, then turned to face Dazai. “I’m ready to start.”

 

“Stand in the centre.”

 

He nodded, turning and heading to the middle of their makeshift arena. He hadn’t taken two steps before a foot connected with the middle of his spine, sending him tumbling to the ground. His teeth clashed against the concrete and he clenched his eyes shut, blood dribbling from sliced gums and a chipped tooth.

 

“The enemy would’ve done the same thing. Don’t turn your back.”

 

He gazed at Dazai out of the corner of his eye while he crouched on the ground. He pulled his hand back from his mouth, covered in red.

 

Dazai strode towards him. “Get up.”

 

He rose to his feet, turning to Dazai. He spat blood on the floor, then wiped his mouth.

 

“Are you ready?”

 

“Of—”

 

A fist connected with his stomach, drawing a loud groan from him as he doubled over. A black tendril flew from his coat, wrapping around Dazai’s wrist. It immediately disappeared, a flash of white radiating from Dazai’s arm. In his surprise, he’d forgotten he couldn’t grab Dazai that way. Stupid No Longer Human.

 

“You lied.”

 

He raised his gaze to his mentor. “I apologize.”

 

“Apologies mean nothing. Be better.”

 

“I will.”

 

“Let’s see it then.”

 

Ryuunosuke bent his knees, assuming the position he’d been taught. He leaned forward slightly, raising his fists. Dazai swung at him and he ducked out of the way, sweeping a leg out to catch Dazai. Dazai caught his leg and shoved him to the ground, quickly pinning him to the ground. Ryuunosuke blocked his face with his arm, but Dazai still managed to hook his jaw , sending his head crashing back against the ground. He managed to get a foot under Dazai’s stomach, then two, and pushed him off. It didn’t given him much time, but he was able to stand back up and brace for another blow.

 

Dazai retreated to the bench and pulled a staff from underneath it. It wasn’t unusual. That way, he could use his ability to fight. “You have to be ready for anything, Akutagawa!”

 

“I’m trying.”

 

“You’re not trying hard enough!”

 

Ryuunosuke flinched, but tried to cover it up. Why did Dazai think he wasn’t trying his best? He’s injured and in pain, but still doing all that he can? Is that not good enough?

 

Dazai stabbed the staff his way and he jumped back, a black tendril flying forward to knock it away. Dazai twirled it in his hand, then sliced it through the air, knocking him to the ground when it struck the side of his neck. “It’s gotta be better,” Dazai growled.

 

Apparently not.

 

Ryuunosuke got to his feet, resuming his stance. Dazai made to strike him and he blocked him with Rashoumon, wrenching the staff from his grip. But Dazai wasn’t finished. He caught him off guard, hitting his solar plexus, causing him to double up. He sent Rashoumon his way, wielding the staff, but Dazai simply jumped over it. Ryuunosuke swung back again, the staff hitting Dazai square in the back, shoving him towards him. Dazai shook his head as he came towards him, taking him down with his fingers wrapped around his neck. That had been a mistake. One of the first things Dazai taught him. Never hit an enemy towards you.

 

Ryuunosuke struggled for air, his chest burning more than it already did. He attempted to pry Dazai’s fingers away, when the staff clocked Dazai in the side of the head. He gasped for air as Dazai rolled off him, a coughing fit quickly taking over. He sat up, clutching at his chest, not sure if the blood was from his lungs or from the wounds in his mouth.

 

Dazai swung his leg out at him, satisfied by the crunch he got from the boy’s nose. Ryuunosuke cried out, hands flying to his face. He spluttered, choking on the blood pouring from his nose and into his throat. It was definitely broken.

 

He lashed out, swinging at Dazai with his fist, but Dazai caught it lazily. He flipped him over his shoulder, glancing at the scrawny boy on the ground, covered in his own blood. Pathetic. “Get up.”

 

“Hang on a minute.”

 

“I said get up, Akutagawa. I’m not done with you!”

 

“I—can’t—breathe—”

 

“Nobody cares! Do you think the enemy will care that you need a break in the middle of the fight. Get up and face me. Are you a coward?”

 

“No!” He struggled to a standing position, a cough bursting past his lips. And another.

 

Dazai came at him with the staff, faking a jab at once side. When Ryuunosuke dodged, he hit him elsewhere, then turned and hit him again. Rashoumon came for the staff, wrapping around it, but Dazai simply touched it to regain control. It came again, while Ryuunosuke attempted to kick him, both missing their targets. Instead, Dazai whirled around, the staff hitting him square in the chest. He stumbled back just in time for it to get him in the face.

 

He cried out, using Rashoumon to block the next attack. And the next. But Ryuunosuke was hurt. He struggled to breathe, to even move. And thus, Rashoumon’s power wasn’t at its peak. Dazai was eventually able to slice past it with the staff, jabbing at Ryunosuke, who barely escaped it. He jabbed it again, this time earning a solid hit, and then whirled around him, confusing Rashoumon, and striking him across the back.

 

Ryuunosuke fell to his hands and knees, spluttering and coughing. The coughs wracked his chest, and then his whole body. Dazai hit him again. He cried out, blood splattering across the floor in front of him. The coughing overtook him, unable to focus on anything other than trying to breathe. But Dazai? He didn’t care. He was here to teach him a lesson. And so he kicked his ass, sending him face first into the floor.

 

He attempted to push himself up from the floor. “Dazai, stop.”

 

Dazai kicked him again.

 

He landed on his side. “Stop.”

 

Again.

 

“Please! Please stop! Please!”

 

Dazai crouched in front of where the boy was now sitting, hunched over, looking up at him with agony clouding his eyes. Good. He slapped him across the face. “Stop whining. You will get no pity.”

 

“I—”

 

“What did you think you were doing?” Dazai screamed, his voice reverberating through the room. He stood to his full height, towering over the small boy before him.

 

“I—”

 

“Shut up! Why can you not keep up with your training? If you can’t even do something that simple, how are you ever going to succeed?” He glared down at Ryuunosuke, who only stared at him. “This was not what I imagined when I made you my apprentice. Not even close.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Ryuunosuke said, choking back tears. He gave another cough, more blood hitting the floor. His nose still seeped blood, and his chest and back were likely to be scarred from the staff strikes.

 

“Apologies don’t fix incompetence.” And with that, Dazai turned his back and left the room, shaking his head. The only sound was that of the staff clattering to the floor.

 

Ryuunosuke stared after him, mouth slightly open, panting for breath. His words rang through his head like a broken record. The dim corridor beyond the doorway became blurry, a hot wetness running down his cheeks. Ryunnosuke broke down in tears, burying his hed between his knees as he drew them to his chest. He winced in pain, not sure exactly where it came from. Everything hurt and ached and throbbed… He wasn’t sure there was a place Dazai hadn’t hit him.

 

He sobbed alone in the empty training room, the single light on in the room shining down on him like a spotlight of despair. He’d sink deeper into his depression, digging himself a hole he wouldn’t be able to get out of without help. Not that he’d ever accept someone’s help again. Never again would he make that mistake.

 

Trust hurts you. People hurt you. Promises hurt you. And so do expectations. And he hadn’t been able to live up to Dazai’s. He didn’t know if he ever would, but he had to try. If he didn’t try, then everything was a waste. Him being saved was a waste. His ability was a waste.

 

Sobs wracked his frail body, his chest aching with the force of them. With he force of each breath, each cry… seemingly with each thought. It couldn’t bear the weight—the pressure—of his ambition. Of his determination to be better. To be accepted. To prove that he deserved to be alive. To prove Dazai right. The one man that had taken the time to help him. And if he couldn’t do that… then, well… Then I really am a waste of space.

 

Rashoumon rose up beside him from the underside of his coat, tilting its dragon head at its distraught master. Tentatively, it nuzzled his head. When the boy didn’t flinch away, it did it again, and then began nuzzling his hair.

 

Ryuunosuke only cried harder.

Notes:

Hey all! Writing this was actually a challenge for me, but I enjoyed it. It was out of my comfort zone, but that's good. But anyways, sorry to Sleepawaysora that this took so long, but that's why aha. I hope that it was okay.

Lt me know your thoughts, feedback, and requests in the comments. Also, if you are making a request, tell me the pairing you're looking for (friends, siblings, relationship, etc). The subgenre, like hurt/comfort, smut, fluff, etc. If you have any preferences or any idea for the situation. Keep a eye for my reply to your comment to clarify or ask questions. I'll typically respond within a day, but I might reply more than once, so keep an eye out. I am not writing them in order, mainly cuz I can't keep track. But they will all get done! Promise!

Anyways, thanks for reading! Until next time! -Em :)

Chapter 13: Florist!Atsushi and Mafia!Akutagawa (An SSKK AU Request)

Summary:

Written for AoKo4real . Hi! I hope that you like this fic! I'm sorry this took so long but I promise I worked super hard on it for days! See end notes for more aha.

He swept through the crowd, a black-shrouded individual among colourful civilians. They looked back at him as he passed, perhaps sensing the dangerous charge radiating from him. He paid them no mind, keeping his head up and shoulders back, steely eyes staring straight ahead at the end of the bock.

 

For Akutagawa, this behaviour wasn’t anything new. It had become routine. He was in the dark and they in the light, and thus, he pressed through them like a penetrating force. After all, for many, that streak of darkness can drown you. Be the difference between life and death.

 

He passed shop after shop, not even bothering to glance up at their signs. The cobbles passed beneath his feet, each stride bringing him closer to his destination. The crowd dwindled the further up the street he ventured, chatter tapering off as he left the cafes with workers on their lunch breaks behind. Finally, when he was the only one left for a good stretch of pavement, he turned and pushed open the door to a small shop.

 

Ignoring the arrangements in the windows he strode to the counter, removing his sunglasses and tucking them in his jacket pocket. A bell sat on the counter, as it always did, and he tapped on it with his finger, the airy sound ringing through the store. Immediately, footsteps sounded from the back, followed by some shuffling.

 

A moment later a young man emerged from the back, wiping his hands on a towel, flashing Akutagawa a wide smile. “Hi there! How can I help you?”

 

Akutagawa opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He’d been taken aback by the man. He was attractive despite his choppy bangs, tall and slim, with striking heterochromatic eyes. Purple and gold. He was drawn to them. Akutagawa coughed. “I’d like to order an arrangement of flowers.”

 

The man nodded, pulling a book from a shelf under the counter and placing in front of Akutagawa. “We have lots of arrangements to choose from, or you can special order something. Is there a specific flower you’re looking for?”

 

Akutagawa blinked at him, distracted by the fluttering of his eyelashes as he glanced over the pages. He swallowed thickly. “Fire and ice roses.”

 

The man glanced up. “Is this for someone special, by chance?”

 

He found himself staring into those intriguing eyes. “My little sister.”

 

“Oh, what’s the occasion?”

 

“Tomorrow is her birthday. 17.”

 

“She must be very important to you for you to spend so much. These roses are beautiful… but so pricey.”

 

“I’m aware of the price. It’s a tradition of mine. She deserves something nice once in a while.”

 

“Is that so…? Well then I’ll be sure to make it look extra beautiful for her.” The man trailed off, scribbling down the name of the flowers on an order form. “When do you want to pick them up?”

 

“Wil they be ready at noon?”

 

“I can make them ready by then, yes. Strict work schedule?”

 

Akutagawa averted his gaze. “You could say that.”

 

The man chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “What do you do?”

 

“I, uh…” He looked back up at the innocence on his face. His friendly smile and kind eyes. “It’s kind of… classified.”

 

“Classified, huh,” he said, scribbling down noon and circling it. “I do like a good mystery.”

 

“Do you now?”

 

“Who doesn’t? Keeps you occupied with things other than your own life, you know?”

 

Akutagawa nodded. “I guess so, yes.”

 

The man smiled. “So… if I you can’t tell me your job, can I at least get your name?”

 

“Akutagawa.”

 

He wrote that down, too. “And your first name?”

 

“Ryuunosuke.”

 

“Ryuunosuke,” he hummed. He gave him a once over. “That’s a nice name. It suits you.”

 

Akutagawa felt his heart skip a beat, eyes widening slightly. “T-thanks. What’s yours?”

 

He smiled. “Atsushi.”

 

Akutagawa nodded. “Well it was nice to meet you, Atsushi. I’ll be back tomorrow to pick up the flowers.”

 

“I’ll be waiting.”

 

Akutagawa turned to head out of the shop, holding up a hand to wave as he pushed the door open. “See you tomorrow, then.”

 

“See you, Ryuunsouke.”

 

*

 

Akutagawa spent much of that night with Atsushi on his mind. The young man had been friendly and kind… much unlike the way Akutagawa carried himself. Atsushi was everything he wasn’t. Happy, bright, charismatic… light. Colourful. Yet the way he had looked at him… The sparkle in his eyes…

 

Akutagawa had seen it. Had felt it. That look wasn’t meant to be given to someone like him. Someone dark. Someone who could cut him down if he was let into the dazzling brightness of this man’s life. He had potential for a proper life… Not a life with someone like him. In the Mafia. It was wrong.

 

So then why did he keep imagining him in his mind’s eye. Why did he get a funny feeling in his stomach when he thought about seeing him again tomorrow? Surely, it would be nothing. He’d simply pay for the flowers and leave, right? Right?

 

He had to. Because he knew the man could be interested. And if he didn’t just go in and then leave… he’d do something stupid. He’d ask him out or ask for his number, and then all was over for him. If they got involved, if things even got that far… Atsushi wouldn’t stand a chance. The dark had a habit of finding him and everyone around him.

 

He couldn’t do that. Could he?

 

*

 

The next morning came after hours of tossing and turning. Too hot. Too cold. Snoring from the next room. Thinking about Atsushi. Thinking about work. Thinking about his past.

 

Thinking about Atsushi.

 

With a groan he swung his legs over the side of the bed and placed his feet on the cool floor.

Lazily, he stretched, then headed to the closet. He slid his shirt over his arms, then buttoned it, his fingers fumbling to get them through the holes in his groggy state. When he was done, he headed to the kitchen, pulling out a mixing bowl and a multitude of ingredients. Pancakes it was.

 

An egg on the floor and a bit of spilled milk later, he was flipping a second pancake in the frying pan. Footsteps padded over the floor, followed by the scrape of a chair.

 

A yawn came from behind him, and when he turned around to tip the pancake onto the plate, his younger sister was rubbing her eyes. With a smile he crossed to the table and placed the plate down in front of her with a fork and a bottle of syrup. She glanced up at him with a small smile, her voice light and as sweet as the syrup. “Pancakes?”

 

“What else?” He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Happy birthday, Gin.”

 

“Thanks, Ryuu.”

 

“Eat up, you don’t want to be late.”

 

“Not if I don’t want Hirotsu to kill me.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “What are you guys up to today? I don’t remember assigning you anything.”

 

She didn’t look up as she spoke. “Mori asked a favour of us. Small job in the west end of the city. Some smugglers trying to take our new ammunitions shipment.”

 

He huffed, flipping another pancake. “Again? This is the second time this month.”

 

She shrugged, shoving another piece of pancake in her mouth. “I dunno. But we’ll take care of them. What are you up to today? Got a job with Higuchi?”

 

He rolled his eyes. “I wish. Anything is better than the mountain of paperwork I have to do.”

 

“Eh you’ll get it done.”

 

“Doesn’t make it any less of a nuisance.”

 

She chuckled at that.

 

*

 

By 11:55 am, Akutagawa was walking up the same street as the previous day. He passed the same stores and cafes, possibly the same people as the day before. On their lunch breaks from their normal jobs, completely oblivious to the operations around them. Of the darkness surrounding them constantly. Perhaps it was better that way.

 

He turned into the archway over the shop and pulled open the door, watching his feet as they carried him to the counter. He stopped and glanced up, his eyes scanning the wall of flowers behind the counter. Tentatively he reached out and tapped on the bell.

 

“I’ll be right with you!”

 

Akutagawa smiled to himself. Atsushi’s happy voice had carried through the air, adding to the brightness of the space. The sun lit up the room around him, beams of light filtering through the windows. The shop had always been nice, but now, its atmosphere seemed more upbeat and welcoming.

 

But maybe he was biased.

 

Atsushi appeared around the corner, a large arrangement in his arms. He grinned up at Akutagawa as he set it down on the counter. “I thought it would be you, Ryuunosuke. So, what do you think? Good enough for your sister?”

 

Akutagawa took it in, all of it. The charming white ceramic holding the arrangement, the dozen fire and ice roses which were just beginning to bloom, surrounded and complimented by an assortment of baby’s breath, red statice flowers, and lilies of the valley. He leaned down and inhaled, the fragrance sweet and fresh. He closed his eyes with a smile, before straightening to look at Atsushi. “She’ll love it. It looks stunning.”

 

Atsushi’s smile widened, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, the flowers aren’t the only thing in here that’s stunning.”

 

Akutagawa felt heat rising up his neck. “You give them a run for their money yourself.”

 

“You think so?”

 

He nodded, fiddling with a leaf on one of the lilies. “I do.”

 

Atsushi smiled, turning the debit machine towards him. “I’ll remember that. Will you be back in the future to buy some flowers for someone else? A co-worker or someone special, perhaps?”

 

He tapped his card, then slipped it back into his wallet. “Is that your way of asking if you’ll see me again?”

 

Atsushi dropped his gaze. “Perhaps. Would that be so bad?”

 

“No… it wouldn’t be,” he admitted, mentally cursing himself for the blush on his cheeks. “I might be.”

 

Atsushi’s eyes raised to meet his. “Well, hopefully I’ll see you soon, then.”

 

Akutagawa hoisted the arrangement into his arms. “See you soon, Atsushi.”

 

*

 

Akutagawa cursed himself the rest of the day, wishing to bang his head off of a table. Although he tried, Higuchi had stuck her hand underneath before his forehead hit the desk, giving him a bewildered look. He’d played it off as nothing and continued with his work.

 

He’d given Atsushi hope. Hope that he’d see him again. But he couldn’t do that. The light and the dark couldn’t mix. Yet somehow, no matter how hard he tried not to think of him, the man routinely ended up back on his mind a few moments later. His dazzling smile and his stupid, choppy bangs. And even though he knew it wasn’t a good idea, he kept thinking of ways he could end up back at that shop.

 

Higuchi had to snap him back to attention more than once, side-eyeing him for most of the afternoon. The roses in front of him didn’t make it any easier to focus either, that’s for sure. Eventually, she gave up, allowing him to simply daydream, or get lost in his strategizing or whatever it was he was so wrapped up in. She slid the papers from his desk and finished them herself.

 

*

 

Akutagawa slipped in the doorway of their apartment later that afternoon, peeking around to see if Gin was nearby. Once he was sure she wasn’t he set the flowers down on the kitchen island and pulled out two small packages from his coat pocket. A smile on his face, he called for his sister.

 

She slid down the hall in her sock feet a moment later, her bangs blowing back behind her. “Yeah?”

 

He chuckled at her. An experienced killer, and yet she still seemed so much like a child in his eyes. “If you keep doing that you’ll fall.”

 

“Nah. I’m fine.”

 

“Whatever you say. I have your gifts here.” He stepped away from the island, revealing the roses.

 

A look of awe crossed her face, her mouth open in a smile. She crossed the room to them, hands hovering over the arrangement as if by a single touch it would break. “It’s beautiful… Wow…”

 

“I know,” he said quietly, watching her caress the flowers gently with the tips of her fingers. “I thought the same thing.”

 

“The arrangements are usually good, but this is amazing…” She turned to him, fingers still on a rose petal. “Did you go to the same shop?”

 

He nodded. “I did. But they had a new florist working. His name’s Atsushi.”

 

“Well, Atsushi did a wonderful job.”

 

He nodded thoughtfully. “When I told him who they were for, he said he’d have to make them look extra good.”

 

She eyed him, a smirk spreading over her lips. “He was flirting with you wasn’t he?”

 

“Wha—no!”

 

“He so was.”

 

“Gin—”

 

“Awww. Was he cute?”

 

He crossed his arms with a roll of his eyes. “Yes.”

 

“And he was flirting with you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Aw, Ryuu! That’s so cute.”

“I’m not cute,” he huffed.

 

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay. Whatever. He thought you were.”

 

He felt the blush rising again. “He did not.” She gave him a look and he crumbled. “Okay fine, he thought I was cute.”

 

“I knew it. Did you get his number?”

 

“No.”

 

She opened her mouth in a ‘no way’ gesture. “Why not?”

 

“Because he seemed so happy and friendly and kind…”

 

“Even more reason to!”

 

“He’s in the light, Gin. I can’t do that to him.”

 

She pursed her lips. “Okay, but you could use some more of that in your life!”

 

“But it won’t be me getting light, it will be him getting dark.”

 

She shook her head with an annoyed sigh. “You’re unbelievable.”

 

“I am not. You asked why I didn’t get his number—what?”

 

She was grinning at him, a small piece of paper dangling from her fingers. “Well, you didn’t need to worry about asking him. His number’s right here.”

 

“WHAT?”

 

“Dear Ryuunosuke’s sister, happy 17^th birthday. I hope you like these flowers—I worked extra hard on them for you. If not, blame your brother—he picked the roses ;).”

 

“I don’t see how—”

 

“Uhuhuh, I’m not done! There’s a sticky note attached to it. Would you mind giving this to your brother? I’d love to get to know him more. -Atsushi, your friendly neighbourhood florist  And then there’s his number.”

 

“There is not.”

 

“Ryuu I just read you the note!”

 

“I—”

 

“Read it for yourself!”

 

He snatched the paper from her and read it over. She hadn’t been lying. His jaw dropped as he stared at it and Gin began to laugh. “What do I do?”

 

“You text him, dumbass.”

 

“Shut up, that’s not what I meant.”

 

She laughed even harder, nearly falling off of the stool she’d sat down on.

 

He shook his head, shoving the paper in his pocket. “Today isn’t about me. Open your other two gifts.”

 

Rolling her eyes, she took one of the small packages from beside the roses and tore off the paper. “Mmm, I love these!”

 

“I know,” he chuckled.

 

“Such a good candyyyy.” Then she took the other package and tore off the paper, revealing a black rectangular box. She slipped the lid off and immediately smiled. “Aw, Ryuu, thank you!” Gin slipped a silver chain over her wrist and tightened it, the little charm dangling over her wrist. “I’ve had my eye on this forever.”

 

He nodded. “I know. I just had to get it for you.”

 

She stood and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

 

He hugged her back. “Of course. Now, what do you want for dinner? My treat.”

 

“How about that pasta place downtown?”

 

“Sounds good to me, let’s go.”

 

*

 

All night, Akutagawa type and retyped a message to Atsushi, never quite finding the right one. With an annoyed huff, he eventually gave in, resorting to watching stupid YouTube videos until his mind shut up and let him sleep. He didn’t drift off until the early morning, his phone slipping from his hand and onto the floor.

 

The next morning dragged by in a mangled mess of meetings with Mori and the Black Lizard, and by lunch, Akutagawa was in desperate need of a coffee. He meandered down the streets of Yokohama near the HQ, hands stuffed in his pockets to avoid the winter cold. As he went to push open the door, he stopped short, glancing further down the street. There sat the florist shop, only a block away. A smile quirking the corner of his lips, he headed inside the cafe.

 

Fifteen minutes later the bell rang in the florist shop.

 

“I’ll be right with you!”

 

Akutagawa sipped his coffee, already feeling more awake and jittery. Surely, it was just the coffee.

 

Atsushi rounded the corner, his eye’s meeting Akutagawa’s and fumbled the stack of boxes he was carrying. They tumbled to the ground and Akutagawa’s eyes widened. “I—I’m sorry if I startled you, Atsushi.”

 

The other man stood, rubbing the bac of his neck with a sheepish smile. “No, no, it’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting to see you, Ryuunosuke.”

 

“Are you disappointed?”

 

“Not at all.” He grinned, restacking the boxes behind the counter. “What brings you by the shop today? Did you sister not like the flowers?”

 

Akutagawa nearly snorted when he remembered the note. “No, she loved them. You did a great job, really.”

 

“Thanks! So then, why are you here?”

 

He held out the cup in his hand. “I thought I’d bring you something hit to drink. It’s quite bitter out today.”

 

“Oh,” he took the cup with a nod. “Thank you. That’s very thoughtful.”

 

“I didn’t know if you liked coffee, but I figured hot chocolate was a safe bet.”

 

Atsushi smiled and closed his eyes as the hot drink ran down his throat. “Hmm you guessed right. I love hot chocolate.”

 

Akutagawa couldn’t help the smile that was beginning to hurt his cheeks. “Well, I, uh… I better get back to work.”

 

“Right, this mysterious job of yours.”

 

He chuckled. “Yes. Very mysterious. Paperwork tends to be that way.”

 

Atsushi laughed, then took another sip. “Well, I appreciate the drink. I’d bring you one, but I don’t know where to find you of course.”

 

He shrugged. “Then I guess I’ll have to keep bringing them to you.”

 

“Or we could go to the café together…”

 

Akutagawa smiled, then checked his watch. “I’d love to, Atsushi. But I really do have to get back to work. Can we figure this out, um…”

 

“Text me tonight. Whenever you’re free we can go.”

 

Akutagawa looked at the ground, blushing hard. “Okay. I’ll text you tonight for sure. See you soon, Atsushi.”

 

“Bye, Ryuunosuke.”

 

*

 

“Gin!”

 

A disgruntled sigh came from the other room. “What??”

 

“I need your help!!”

 

“With what??”

 

“How do I dress for a date??”

 

“Hold the phone I’m coming!! Don’t! Touch! Anything!”

 

Gin skidded into the room, once again in her sock feet. Though this time, she smacked into his dressed. She straightened, rubbing hr arm. He smirked. “See, I told you.”

 

“Shut up. You’re going on a date with Atsushi?”

 

“No, Gin. Some other beautiful guy decided I as worth his time.” She blanked. “Yes, it’s Atsushi!”

 

“You’re not funny. Try not to joke with him.”

 

“Gin that’s not helping.”

 

“Fine, fine. Let me in your closet.” She pushed passed him and shook her head at the pile of shirts on the floor that he’d torn off hangers. She picked them up one by one, pursing her lips as she compared them to each other. Then she pulled a few hangers out and studied them, pausing to look at him as she did so. She handed him a red knitted sweater without looking at him, followed by his more casual black coat he didn’t wear to work, and a pair of dark grey jeans. “Here. Try this.”

 

“You think this will look okay?”

 

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure.”

 

“Okay, okay,” he raised his hands in surrender. “Thank you.”

 

“Now get dressed and comb your hair. Maybe put on some cologne.” She walked passed him, then wrinkled er nose. “Definitely put on some cologne. You’re all sweaty.”

 

“I’m nervous!”

 

“I can see that.”

 

He shut the door in her face, narrowing his eyes at the closed door.

 

*

 

Akutagawa strolled down the same street once again, heart thumping so fast he could feel it pulsing in his neck. He took deep breathes, the fluttery feeling in his stomach causing him to question if he even had room for anything to eat or drink. How stupid would he look if he was the only one not eating?

 

He worried his lip between his teeth unconsciously, glancing around him nervously, and repeatedly down at his watch. Was he too early? Should he wait for a few minutes and loiter around in a shop? Or would being just on time be rude? He clenched his jaw, taking a deep breath through his nose. Stop. You’re being ridiculous.

 

As he approached the café, Akutagawa slowed his pace, scanning the area for any sign of his date. Seeing none, he crossed the street and stood against the wall outside. They’d agreed to wait there for the other the avoid confusion and having to search the inside of the normally crowded café. Leaning his shoulders back against the brick, he observed the passersby. An older man hobbling down the street, a woman and her young daughter, who clutched a bag of candy, and young woman, probably just older than himself, carrying textbooks in her arms and a large backpack over her shoulders. They were all oblivious to him and his inner world, the darkness that lurked mere feet away, just as he was to their worlds. Perhaps one of them was like him? A dark past or skeletons that they kept locked away in a closet. He supposed he’d never know. But it made him think… was Atsushi as happy and lively as he thought?

 

“Ryuunosuke.”

 

He whipped his head around, startled. “Oh, hi, Atsushi. How long have you been standing there?”

 

“Thirty seconds, maybe. Deep in thought, were you?”

 

He tilted his head slightly. “I guess so. Ready to go inside?”

 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

 

The two of them strode up to the counter together and ordered, a pastry and a hot chocolate for Atsushi, and just a tea for Akutagawa. He reached into his pocket to pay, but Atsushi pushed his hand down. “No no, this one’s on me. You bought me a drink the other day.”

 

“Really, it’s no problem.”

 

Atsushi gave him a pleading look. “Come now, let me buy you something.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Soon after, they were sitting across from each other at a table for two in the back corner of the café. They sat in silence for a few moments, Atsushi picking at his pastry, and Akutagawa sipping on his tea, slightly burning his tongue.

 

“What were you thinking about? Earlier, when you were waiting outside?”

 

Akutagawa furrowed his brows, thinking back. His brain had become too busy with overanalyzing every single movement he made. Then, he looked up at Atsushi, curiosity in his gaze. “Just all the people passing me on the street. Everyone has this complex mind and consciousness and a world we know nothing about.”  

 

Atsushi nodded thoughtfully. “But they’re not that different from us. Not rally.”

 

 “I know they’re different than me.”

 

“How so?”

 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Shit… now what? “There’s light and dark in the world. And they’re light.”

 

“And you’re not?”

 

“No.”

 

Atsushi furrowed his brows, taking him in. “Why do you say that?”

 

“I’ve got a dark past. I had a rough childhood and it didn’t get much better through my teen years. And now with my job… I can’t consider myself light.”

 

“No one is all dark, Ryuunosuke. Just like no one is all light.”

 

“You don’t seem like you could be anything but light,” Akutagawa admitted, dropping his gaze.

 

Atsushi chuckled, sipping his hot chocolate. “That’s where you’re wrong. I lived at an orphanage until just earlier this year. A few months ago they kicked me out and I ended up on the streets. It was a really dark time for me, especially at the orphanage. But somehow or other I got on my feet and got a job and somewhere to stay. I made a few friends, and then I met you.”

 

“You’re an orphan?”

 

“Yeah. Why?”

 

“So was I.”

 

Atsushi huffed out a laugh. “Guess we wouldn’t have to worry about in-laws, huh?”

 

Akutagawa almost snorted tea out his nose. “N-no. I guess not.”

 

Atsushi chuckled as Akutagawa regained his composure, smiling at the man’s near misfortune caused by his joke. “See what I mean, though? All those people aren’t light. And you can’t be all dark. I mean, you’re here with me. You’ve been nothing but friendly. You clearly have a good relationship with your sister. I mean, you bought her some really nice flowers, too.”

 

He bit his lip. “I guess so…”

 

“You said it was a tradition, right?” He nodded. “How did that start?”

 

“When Gin and I were kids, we lived in a really run-down orphanage. We had nothing but the rags we were given that were passed off as clothes. I used to pick flowers for her for her birthday every year so at least she’d get something. And now that we have somewhere to live and have some money…”

 

“You buy her nice flowers…”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“That’s so sweet… see? That’s the light. Right there.”

 

Akutagawa smiled down at his tea, stirring it absentmindedly. “You see the best in people, don’t you?”

 

“Most people, yes. I mean, I don’t think I could ever find something good about my orphanage headmaster, but he is the exception to the rule.”

 

“So then, no matter what someone’s job was, you would look for the light?”

 

“If you look for the dark, you’ll drown in it.”

 

Akutagawa froze, the liquid in his cup still swirling around the still spoon. He wouldn’t drown Atsushi in darkness… He was drowning himself…

 

“So…” Atsushi continued, unphased. “When will I finally find out this mystery job that gives you so much paperwork? Much me more boring than a florist.”

 

“It’s not usually so boring. Actually, I’m hardly in an office at all. I usually do… field work.”

 

“Field work, huh. Where?”

 

“All over Yokohama.”

 

“What are you, like a police officer?”

 

Akutagawa chuckled in spite of himself. “No. Besides, wouldn’t you see me in a uniform?”

 

Atsushi shrugged. “Undercover cop?”

 

“No. Besides, that’s not necessarily ‘dark.’”

 

“I can’t think of a profession that is.”

 

Akutagawa chuckled. “Let’s keep it that way.”

 

“Will I ever find out?”

 

“In time, yes…” he digressed, sighing. “That is, if you choose to stay.”

 

“I don’t see any reason to leave.”

 

Akutagawa inwardly sighed. You will… “People get hurt in my line of work. And sometimes it’s because of me.”

 

“Do they die?”

 

He deadpanned. “Sometimes, yes.”

 

“Are they innocent people?”

 

“No.”

 

Atsushi watched him, searching his impassive face and tensed shoulders for any sort of hint. He found nothing. “Criminals?”

 

“Usually.”

 

He furrowed his brows. “Is that why you say you’re dark? Because people get hurt and die?”

 

“Mainly. I’ve hurt people. People have died because of me.”

 

“Do you get joy out of it though?”

 

“It’s just my job.”

 

“Why is it your job though? Why are these things being done?”

 

Akutagawa sighed. “99% of what we do is to protect the people of Yokohama. Our city, the businesses, including the one I work for, and everyone who lives and works here. All of it.”

 

Atsushi sat back and looked at him, eyes narrowed. “How did you come across this job?”

 

Akutagawa trailed a hand over his face. “They rescued me and Gin from the slums when everyone around us was killed. They took us in, gave us a place to stay, and a job. I couldn’t refuse.”

 

Atsushi nodded, his features softening. “At that point, what else are you supposed to do?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Why are you telling me this? You could have just refused or left.”

 

He looked Atsushi in the eyes. “I thought that maybe, just maybe, you’d understand. And you said that you look for the light. If I do have light in me… you’d be the one to see it.”

 

“That’s a lot of trust to put into some florist guy you just met.”

 

“I’ve spent too long not trusting anyone.”

 

A sad smile ghosted Atsushi’s lips as he leaned towards him. “Well I’m glad it was me you decided on. And yes, I do see the light on you. I think you need to find it as well.”

 

*

 

Akutagawa and Atsushi spent every lunch for the next few weeks, perhaps a month, in that same café, drinking tea and hot chocolate. Atsushi told him all about how he came to be a florist, and a talented one at that. Akutagawa told him stories about Gin and the very few ‘work friends’ that he had, including Higuchi and Chuuya. Atsushi took a liking to them both, saying that he’d very much like to meet them some day.

 

The more they talked, the more Akutagawa felt that maybe Atsushi was right. Maybe he could find some light in himself, too. Maybe he could save himself from drowning in his own colourless world.

 

They texted at night, and often Gin would smother her head with her pillow, trying to block out the incoherent mumbling and laughter from the next room. She was happy for her brother, of course, but God, did he have to talk to him until 2 am??

 

She couldn’t complain much. Over the next while he lightened up. He laughed more. He smiled more. She hadn’t seen him smile that much since before they were sent to the orphanage. Atsushi was good for him, just as she knew he would be.

 

One day at lunch, Akutagawa sat at the table he and Atsushi had claimed during that time at the café. The other man was chuckling, tearing a piece off of his pastry and taking it between is teeth. Akutagawa cleared his throat. “I don’t have time to go back to the shop with you to place an order, but I need to order a bouquet of flowers.”

 

Atsushi glanced up at him. “Oh yeah? For who?”

 

“A co-worker just announced she’s pregnant”

 

Atsushi nodded, picking off another piece of pastry. “Aw that’s lovely. What would you like? I’ll just note it on my phone.”

 

Akutagawa paused, chewing his bottom lip. “A half-dozen white roses. And some colourful statice flowers, and… anything else you think looks good. I trust you.”

 

Atsushi nodded, fingers flying over the keyboard. “Is it okay if I bring them here tomorrow? You can just e-transfer the money.”

 

He nodded. “Yeah that’s fine.”

 

Atsushi set down his phone. “So, you really did like the arrangement for Gin. You weren’t just hitting on me.”

 

“Well, it would be a little rude to go to someone else now, wouldn’t it,” he joked. Atsushi swatted his arm.

 

*

 

Akutagawa sat in the same spot the next day, his tea and a pastry untouched in front of him on the table. He bounced his leg as he waited, willing himself not to keep checking the door for Atsushi. He’d get there soon enough, his order ready and waiting for him.

 

Moments later a shadow approached the table, quickly followed by Atsushi. The bouquet was cradled in his arms as he sat down, grinning at Akutagawa. “Hey, Ryuunosuke. I, uh… hold on.” He set the flowers down, then reached into the large pocket of his coat.

 

Akutagawa reached out and grasped the small bundle of pastries. “Thank you, Atsushi. You didn’t have to get me anything.”

 

“Well, it’s no chocolates,” he chuckled. “But I know you like figs, so when I saw them at the bakery, I couldn’t pass them up.”

 

He smiled, setting them down in front of him. “That’s very thoughtful.”

 

Atsushi grinned. “It was nothing.” Then he picked up the flowers once more, and handed them across the table to Akutagawa. “Here are the flowers for your co-worker. I hope she likes them.”

 

“They’re not for my co-worker.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“They’re for you.”

 

Atsushi blanked, his eyes widening. Then he looked down at the bouquet. The white flowers, complimented by the colourful assortment interspersed within them. The light. The colour. He glanced back up at Akutagawa with a watery smile. “Why do I feel like this is symbolic, you sap.”

 

Akutagawa smiled, unable to help himself when he looked into those beautiful eyes. “I thought I was all dark and hopeless and that I didn’t deserve someone like you. But right away, when we first met here, you told me there was light in me. And it gave me hope. You said I needed to find the light. My world was dark and colourless and black-and-white… but in just a few weeks you turned that around. And you want to know something?”

 

“What…?”

 

“I did find the light.”

 

“You did?”

 

“I did. It’s you, Atsushi.”

 

Atsushi stared into his eyes, searching them for something. Lies, maybe? Insincerity? Clearly, he found none, because what he said next made Akutagawa’s heart jump into his throat. “Can I kiss you?”

 

All he could manage was a single nod.

 

Atsushi stood from his chair and leaned across the tiny table, his hands cupping the other man’s face as he pressed their lips together. It was short and sweet, and not nearly enough. Akutagawa wanted more, wanted to taste the chocolate on his lips, feel his gentle hands on his skin. The feeling, the smell, the taste… it could be addicting. And he was fine with that.

 

When they pulled away, Atsushi leaned his forehead against Akutagawa’s, a breathy laugh escaping his lips. “When I first met you, I knew… There was something about you that intrigued me and pulled me in… I’d never felt it before…”

 

“Whatever it was,” Akutagawa breathed, his voice barely audible. “I’m so glad it did.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“Atsushi?”

 

“Yes, Ryuunosuke?”

 

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

 

Atsushi pressed another chaste kiss to his lips. “Of course.”

 

*

 

Akutagawa did eventually tell Atsushi about his job. Initially surprised, the young man didn’t know what to say. He guessed he shouldn’t have been too shocked, but what are you supposed to say when someone admits to being in the Mafia? Despite that, he didn’t leave. He still insisted on the light in Akutagawa. That no matter how much dark there was in his life, especially due to his job, that the sliver of light would keep him afloat.

 

Atsushi did eventually meet Gin. The two hit it off, playing pranks on Akutagawa and skidding around in their sock feet. He also met Higuchi and Chuuya, both of whom he grew quite fond of. Though he was brought into the world of the dark, Atsushi never changed. Akutagawa could see his sliver of darkness at times, when he had a hard day or talked about his past, but it never seemed to take over him. Even at his worst. And Akutagawa was eternally grateful for that.

 

He swept through Akutagawa’s life, a colourful individual, surrounded by individuals shrouded in shadow. They watched as he passed, perhaps sensing the positivity they desperately craved. He paid them no mind, keeping a firm hold on his boyfriend’s hand, tugging him through the worst moments.

 

For Atsushi, this behaviour wasn’t anything new. It had become routine. He was in the light and they were in the dark, and thus, he pressed through them like a penetrating force. For many, that streak of light can save you. Be the difference between life and death.

 

After all, you only drown in the dark if you go looking for it.

Notes:

Hi everyone! So, I know this isn't my best fic, but I really tried. I've never written an AU before so I hope I did okay lol. I hope I did the request justice. Please let me know your thoughts, comments, requests in the comments! Until next time guys! -Em :)

Chapter 14: Tragedy (Kenji & Junichiro Request)

Summary:

This is a request for my little sister. She told me to break Kenji, so I'm sorry in advance. However, I did enjoy exploring Kenji and Junichiro's friendship. Enjoy :)

Junichiro sat at his desk that morning, not expecting for anything to go amiss. There were no active cases planned, only paperwork and the usual office shenanigans. And for most of the day, that’s exactly what he got—office shenanigans.

 

Dazai sat across from Kunikida, tossing eraser shavings onto the man’s keyboard. Kunikida blew them away without even looking up, causing Dazai to peel off bigger chunks to toss. When he ran out of eraser bits, he looted through his desk drawer, but found nothing. With a smirk, he glanced over at Atsushi, who only sighed, letting Dazai into his desk drawer. With an assortment of paperclips and post-it notes, he went to creating chains and doodles to piss off his co-worker. Atsushi gave him an apologetic glance.

 

Yosano took off to the infirmary early in the day to clean the medical instruments, restock the cabinets, and generally clean and organize the space. A lot of clanging rang through the office and Ranpo had gone to investigate. Laughing and shouting followed shortly after, and Ranpo stumbled out of the infirmary, belly-laughing at being kicked out. He promptly returned to his desk to stuff more candy in his mouth.

 

Beside Junichiro, Kenji chatted with Kyouka across from him. Jun didn’t paid much attention, but he was fairly sure the two were joking about cows. Of all things. Though they both worked on their paperwork, as did he, the two kids found a way to enjoy the paperwork, as they usually did. Making a game out of it or joking over the contents of whatever they were doing, telling each other stories—always something. Kenji fiddled with the plant on his desk and told them both about how best to take care of plants. He told them interesting stories from when he was on the farm and they wound up in stitches. Such a nice kid, always so happy and trying to make others happy, too.

 

When he came to the agency, Junichiro was ecstatic to have a friend. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his co-workers, but he often felt like the odd one out. Ranpo and Yosano had been friends forever, and Ranpo and Kunikida were close with the president. Dazai and Kunikida were partners and they all had a good relationship with both Ranpo and Yosano. But Kenji… the kid hadn’t been around long, but man, had he grown on him. Yeah, Atsushi was his age and his best friend, but Kenji had a special place in his heart. He was essentially his younger brother and a best friend in one. If anything happened to him, there’d be hell to pay.

 

As far as he could tell, Kenji felt the same way. He’d left his parents and younger brothers when he moved here, and the Agency had taken him in as their own. Kunikida had taken him in almost as a son of sorts, and Yosano acted as a mother. Where Dazai and Ranpo fit in, he wasn’t sure, but himself, Atsushi, and Kyouka were definitely like siblings to the kid. Before they got there though, Junichiro was all he had, and although he’d never admit to how homesick he’d truly been those first few months, he knew. He knew, and he did his best to make him feel better. Showing him how money worked and the transit in the city, going for drives and watching movies. Sure, they hadn’t known each other long. And no, they weren’t blood. But they were as good as. Which was why, when the day turned the happy child on his head, Junichiro had such a strong reaction.

 

Jun sat at his desk, typing away on his laptop. Another case report—what else? On his left, Kenji answered emails to the agency, quiet now that Kyouka had left to help Yosano. He typed surprisingly fast for someone so new to technology.

 

Footsteps pattered up behind the two of them, and someone tapped the blond boy on the shoulder. He glanced up and Junichiro listened to the brief exchange. “What’s this?”

 

A young girl’s voice responded—Haruno. The crinkle of paper indicated she’d handed him something. “I’m not sure, honestly. It was addressed to you; from your home village I think.”

 

“Oh,” he said, and Jun could practically hear the smile in his voice. “Thanks!”

 

“Of course,” she said, then turned and left the room.

 

Jun kept his eyes on the screen in front of him, determined to get the report done before the end of the day considering it was just after lunch. Sighing inwardly, he typed another few lines before the rattling of paper caught his attention. Jun furrowed his brows, lifting his eyes from the screen to the wall across from him. He turned his head, eyebrows shooting up. The paper in Kenji’s hands shook, hence the rattling, and promptly floated to the desk below.

 

Something twisted in Jun’s stomach. He cleared his throat. “What’s wrong?”

 

Kenji’s head whipped around to look at him and a clearly forced smile appeared on his face. “Nothing. All good here!”

 

“Okay,” said Jun suspiciously, turning back to his laptop.

 

The typing continued, perforated by brief moments of contemplation over the best way to word his sentences. Across the room, a popping sound echoed, causing him to look up. Of course, Ranpo was into more snacks. He rolled his eyes, turning back to his laptop, when the boy beside him caught his attention. Kenji’s hands shook in his lap, his eyes staring absently.

 

“Are you okay?” Jun whispered, keeping his voice down.

 

Kenji didn’t respond. Didn’t make a single movement that suggested he’d even heard him. Jun watched him carefully, brow creased in concern. A shudder shook his small body and he scrunched up his face, swallowing thickly.

 

Jun leaned closer. “Kenji-kun?”

 

His voice came out choked. “I don’t feel well.”

 

“Are you gunna throw-up?”

 

“I don’t know,” he gasped. A sharp intake of breath, followed by another, more frantic one, then another. “I—I…”

 

Jun eyed the letter on the desk as he reached under his own and pulled out a trashcan, setting it between them on the ground. Whatever was in it, it set him off. It caused this. He bit his lip, debating picking it up to read it.

 

Kenji gasped for air again, his chest moving too quickly to actually be getting any. “What’s—what’s happening to me?” Golden eyes snapped up to his own, terror flashing in them. That was new, something he’d never thought he’d see in the boy’s eyes. “What’s going… going on?”

 

Junichiro scooted his chair closer to the boy, leaning towards him. “Is it okay if I touch you, Kenji? Is that okay?” Frantically, Kenji nodded, eyes wide, the innocence and fear tearing a gash in his heart. Jun reached out tentatively and placed his hands on Kenji’s upper arms, applying a gentle pressure. “Listen to me, Kenji… are you listening?” Another nod. “We have to wait it out, okay?” Those golden eyes widened ever further, the sound of a strangled breath reaching Jun’s ears. “I’ll be here the whole time.”

 

Kenji searched his eyes, his torso moving with the force of his breathes. “Why… what’s wrong with me?”

 

Jun rubbed his arms to bring his attention back and provide some sort of comfort. “Nothing’s wrong with you, Kenji-kun.”

 

“Then… then why am I so dizzy?” Kenji closed his eyes, fighting the bile rising in his throat. “Why… It’s so tight and heavy…” His hands flew to his chest, pulling at the fabric resting on top of it.

 

Jun rubbed his arms again. “It’s okay, Kenji… just breathe…”

 

“I can’t.” He opened his eyes, and Jun startled at the tears welling in them. A few spilled over his lashes and down his cheeks, his shoulders shaking with a silent sob. “Why can’t I breathe? What’s happening I don’t understand!”

 

“Kenji—”

 

An audible sob escaped his lips and he bent at the waist, pulling at his hair as he leaned over the bin. “What’s going on I don’t understand I don’t get it!”

 

Jun leaned down, trying to look at his face. “Hey… you’re gunna be okay—”

 

“I can’t breathe,” came his strained voice, barely audible as he choked on his tears. “I can’t… I don’t… help me… please…” His tears came faster, volume rising steadily. The boy clearly wasn’t sure if he was going to be sick or not, or how to get his breathing under control, and Jun stared, at a loss.

 

He took Kenji’s hands in his own, holding them on his knees. He looked back towards the infirmary over his shoulder. “Yosano-sensei! Come quick!” He looked back to the boy in front of him, stroking his thumbs over his knuckles. “You’re gunna be okay, Kenji… breathe…” Kenji only sobbed in response.

 

In the second it had taken him to say that, the rest of the agency was on their feet and surrounding the two. Kenji tensed in response, shaking his head, his breathing becoming even more erratic. Jun kept his eyes on Kenji, thankful for Atsushi telling the rest of them to back up and give him space.

 

Yosano came barrelling out of the infirmary, searching the room, Kyouka trailing behind her. “What is it? What’s wrong Jun—Oh.” She approached the two, heels clacking across the floor. “Oh, Kenji, honey…” She knelt down next to him and laid a hand on his back, rubbing circles into it. “You’re not breathing properly, sweetie, let’s work on that, okay? Can you take a deep breath for me?”

 

He shook his head, gasping. “I-I’m scared.”

 

“I know it’s scary… but it won’t hurt you…”

 

“Make it stop,” Kenji sobbed. “Please make it stop!”

 

Jun bit down hard on his lip, squeezing the young boy’s hands. He looked up at Yosano, who held a similar expression of pain. “I’m sorry hun… I can’t…”

 

“Please.”

 

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Kenji-kun.”

 

Junichiro swiped his thumbs over Kenji’s knuckles repeatedly and the boy squeezed back, hands trembling. “It’ll be over soon, buddy… these don’t last forever… just try to breathe… deep breathes…”

 

Kenji turned his head and sobbed against Yosano, who’s hand stilled, opting to wrap her arm around him instead.

 

Kunikida stepped forward, glancing Kenji over with sad eyes. He looked to Junichiro. “What happened to set this off?”

 

Jun looked to the letter and blinked at it, then reached out and picked it up from the boy’s desk. “He read this… I don’t know what it says.”

 

Kunikida took the paper from his hand and unfolded it, eyes scanning over the writing. His mouth fell slack, eyes turning to the sobbing boy before him. “No wonder…”

 

“What is it?” Dazai asked, trying to peek at the letter.

 

Kunikida turned to him, then back to Junichiro. “Someone attacked the village he’s from… Kenji’s mom died… and his dad was sent to the closest hospital over an hour away, and he’s in a coma. The letter… it’s from one of his little brothers. They’re stuck at home with a neighbour…” He looked at Kenji, shaking his head slowly. “Poor kid…”

 

Junichiro turned to Kenji, his heart broken for him. “Kenji… I’m so, so sorry…”

 

Kyouka came into view then, rushing around them all to Kenji’s other side and wrapping her arms around the boy’s waist. She gave him a peck on the cheek, resting her head against his.

 

Kunikida stepped forward, kneeling beside Jun. “Kenji-kun… if there’s anything we can do for you, please tell us, when you’re ready… we’ll do whatever we can to help.”

 

Atsushi cleared his throat, then spoke up as well. “We’re all here for you. All of us.”

 

Yosano pulled Kenji closer to her, wrapping her one arm tighter around his side. She pressed a fierce kiss to his hair, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. Jun couldn’t help but notice how motherly she looked.

 

Kenji slumped against Yosano, utterly worn out, tears still slipping from beneath his closed eyes now and then. Junichiro glanced up at her and she met his eyes with a tired sadness. She glanced at the young boy leaning on her, then back at Jun.

 

“I’ll take him to the infirmary,” he announced, standing. “Let him rest.” He released Kenji’s hands and stepped towards them, scooping him up in his arms. The Agency watched as he headed for the infirmary, Kenji bouncing against his chest, but not stirring. He was too exhausted.

 

He laid Kenji on one of the beds and took in his small form with a frown. The poor kid…

 

Just as he turned to leave, a small hand latched onto his wrist. He spun around to see Kenji staring up at him. “Can you stay? I don’t want to be alone right now, Jun… I mean, you can still finish your work or anything you need to do, but…”

 

Junichiro smiled sadly, patting his hand. “Of course, I’ll stay. Just let me grab my laptop and I’ll be right back. Okay?”

 

Kenji nodded. “Thank you.”

 

“Of course.” Jun turned on his heel and left the room, heading straight for his desk. The Agency stared at him collectively, watching as he snatched his laptop from where he’d left it running.

 

Kunikida stood at he front of the group, one hand clutching his other arm. “He ask you to stay?”

 

Jun nodded. “Yeah. He said he doesn’t want to be alone right now.”

 

The man nodded. “If there’s anything…”

 

“I know. I’ll let you know.” When the man nodded, Jun headed back to Kenji’s bed. When he returned, Kenji had curled up on his right side, his back to the door.

 

He set his laptop on the bed, then cambered up and sat with his back pressed against the wall. Flipping up the screen, he scrolled through the document he had open, trying to find where he’d left off. He glanced at Kenji, his small body still trembling. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Kenji’s voice came out quiet and small, so unlike him it was frightening. “I don’t know what to say… my Mom is gone…”

 

Jun reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Whatever you want.”

 

“I’m basically an orphan now,” he said after a moment. “And I have four younger brothers back home…”

 

“Four younger brothers?”

 

“Mhmm… and now they’re all alone and scared and I’m so far away…” He sniffed, and Jun looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Saw his back shaking again, heard the thickness of his voice. “I need to get back there, Jun…”

 

“I know… we’ll get you there… I’ll drive or Kunikida-san will… but we’ll get you there, Kenji, I swear.”

 

“Jun…”

 

He let out a long breath, closing his eyes briefly, gathering his strength. Seeing him in pain caused his chest to ache. “Roll over, Kenji…”

 

The young boy rolled over, tears streaming down over his puffy face. He looked up at Junichiro, pure agony staring him in the face and shattering his heart.

 

He lifted an arm, allowing Kenji access to his side and chest. “C’mere.”

 

Kenji curled up against him, resting his head on Jun’s chest and letting go. Jun wrapped his arm around the small boy snugly, holding him tight and he broke down.

 

“It hurts.”

 

“I know, Kenji… let it out…”

 

The young boy sobbed in his arms, his distress coming out in the steady flow of tears, harsh-cries and gasps for air. He clutched at Jun’s shirt. “I dunno what to do now! What do I do?”

 

“I don’t know, buddy, I’m sorry…”

 

“She’s gone,” he choked. “Both of them!”

 

“Your dad isn’t gone, Kenji-kun.”

 

“He might not wake up.”

 

Shocked by his pessimism, Jun clutched him tighter. “He might, though. And we’re going to take you there.”

 

“It hurts, Junichiro…”

 

Jun rubbed his back, resting his cheek on top of his head. “Let all the pain out, Kenji… I’ve got you…”

 

His cries died down over the next while, slowly relaxing into Junichiro’s embrace. Jun simply sat with him in silence, rubbing his back and whispering to him once in a while. Eventually, he fell asleep and Jun got back to work with his free hand. No way was he moving Kenji, nor would he stop comforting him.

 

Yosano stepped around the curtain, peeking over at them. She smiled at the pair, taking in the sight of Kenji asleep against his friend. She coughed lightly, announcing her presence, which caused Jun to look up. “Everything okay?”

 

Jun nodded, whispering back. “Yeah. He fell asleep a little while ago.”

 

“Need anything?”

 

He started to shake his head but stopped himself. “Actually, can you get Kunikida?”

 

“Of course. He’s on the phone, but I’ll send him in when he’s done.”

 

A while later Kunikida peeked his head around the curtain. Jun waved him in and nodded to the end of the bed. “We need to get Kenji to the hospital. And to his brothers.”

 

Kunikida nodded thoughtfully. “I was just thinking the same thing. I was on the phone with the hospital. It’s a few hours away, so we should leave now.”

 

Jun glanced over at Kenji sleeping peacefully in his arms, then nodded. “That’s probably best.” He jostled the blond with his arm gently, causing Kenji to stir. “Wake up, Kenji…”

 

Golden eyes fluttered open blinking up at Jun. “Hmm?”

 

“Hey, kid.”

 

Kenji slid his head up Jun’s chest so he could turn to see Kunikida. “Hi, Kunikida-san.”

 

The man cringed at his hoarse voice. He slid closer to Kenji and rested a hand on his knee. “How about we go to the hospital and see your brothers?”

 

“You’ll really take me?”

 

Kunikida blinked at him. “Of course, we will.”

 

Kenji stared at him momentarily before he launched himself into the man’s arms. Kunikida returned the embrace with a sad smile, looking at Jun. He closed his eyes for a second before releasing him.

 

Kenji looked over at Jun. “When do we leave?”

 

Jun smiled. “Right now.”

Notes:

Hey all! So, I'm so sorry for hurting the baby of the group haha it seriously hurts me to hurt him. I'm thinking of writing a part 2 for this, if you guys want one. I'd be more than willing to write one! Anyways, leave your thoughts, comments, and requests below! - Em :)

Chapter 15: Poe's Social Anxiety (Ranpo/Poe Request)

Summary:

Ranpo wanders off during a social event, leaving Poe on his own in a large group of people. By the time Ranpo realizes Poe's disress, it's almost too late.

A request from xxCelxx . I hope you like it!

Chatter filled the small house, the jovial atmosphere spreading like wildfire. Clinking glasses and laughter danced from room to room, carrying with them snippets of conversation and congratulations on a job well done.

 

After a successful joint mission between multiple organizations, Fukuzawa had insisted that the members of the Armed Detective Agency, the Port Mafia, and the remaining members of the Guild whom were involved would attend a celebration at his house. They’d gathered in the two-storey house, flitting between rooms to talk to different people, cheering, laughing, and talking amongst themselves. The relationship between the organizations had drastically improved over the past months, what with the Hunting Dogs and everything else in and around that time.

 

Food passed around the rooms and sat out on coffee tables in different rooms, each individual taking a mixture of junk food, appetizers, and sweets. Yosano stood by the bar in the kitchen, a glass of wine in her hand, chatting with Kouyou and Fitzgerald. Kunikida sat on a barstool beside Ango, deep in discussion with Hirotsu in the armchair nearby, a cigarette dangling from his fingertips. Kyouka, Kenji, and Elise sprawled on the floor by a round coffee table in another room, handfuls of chips and flavoured sodas somehow not stopping them from talking. Mori and Fukuzawa watched them from the couch nearby, teasing each other about the past weeks events.

 

Higuchi, Kajii, Tachihara, and Dazai claimed the stairs, different forms of drinks in their hands, laughing and joking with each other. Nearby, Chuuya stood in the doorway with his third glass of wine, engrossed in a battle of wits with Ranpo, while Gin refereed and Louisa stood in silence, a shy smile on her face.

 

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, everyone except for one person—Poe. He sat squished between Junichiro and Akutagawa on the couch, who were having a conversation with the occupants of the seat across the table, Atsushi and Lucy. How he’d managed to get stuck in the middle of that group, he couldn’t remember with the foggy state of his brain. The colours and voices around him registered, but barely. It was too loud, too crowded, too much.

 

He’d started the night out with his boyfriend, Ranpo, by his side. He remembered that much. But as the night progressed and more people showed up, his social nature took over and he was distracted by the various snacks and drinks. Now Ranpo stood somewhere else in the house, out of his sight, and completely unaware of the state he was in.

 

Ranpo knew Poe got anxious in social settings—he had warned him. But Ranpo had never seen it happen, he’d never been around to witness it. His ignorance led him astray, taunting Chuuya to no end and making sure Gin knew who’s side she should be on. Meanwhile his boyfriend sat, as tense as a board, trembling, in the middle of a discussion, which he had no idea what it was about.

 

Poe’s head struggled against itself, attempting to push past the hazy fog settling in to protect him from the overstimulation. A whirlwind of emotions, a landslide of what-ifs. What if they’re talking to me? What if I can’t speak? What if they ask what’s wrong? What if they notice I’m panicking?

 

On and on he continued, hands shaking in his lap with each new unanswered question. Lungs aching for air, he tried to steady his breathing, finding it laboured and constricted. He stared at the floor, wild eyes searching the carpet for the answers he’d never find. When will this end? Have they noticed? Where’s Ranpo? Why did he leave? Where is he? Will he come back? Where’s Ranpo?

 

They weren’t telepathic, but as Chuuya finally gave in to Ranpo, the dark-haired man glanced at his boyfriend over his shoulder. He sat across the room from him, and at first glance, seemed perfectly normal. Ranpo squinted at the floor, then looked back again. Junichiro shifted in his set, allowing him a better glance at Poe. His eyes widened as he took in his boyfriend, his fearful eyes barely visible in the slight part of his hair. It took mere seconds for him to deduce what happened—the fact that Poe was going to have a bad anxiety attack if he didn’t get to him fast.

 

Ranpo turned back to Chuuya, Gin, and Louisa, a mix between a smirk and a smile on his face. He set his plate down on the ledge next to them. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be back for a rematch later.”

 

Chuuya rolled his eyes with a grunt, but Ranpo had already turned his back. He crossed the room in a few strides, stopping beside Junichiro, who sat closest to him. He grinned at him and Atsushi, then leaned down to Poe, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder to not startle him. Poe’s eyes flew up to meet his and he stared at him for a few seconds, unable to register the sight before him. Ranpo’s chest squeezed when he felt Poe shaking under his hand. “Can I talk to you, Poe? Alone?”

 

The other man nodded, practically jumping up from the couch. Ranpo took his hand and led him from the room. Poe stumbled after him, his shaky limbs and fuzzy head making it more difficult. Ranpo squeezed his hand, a temporary comfort until he could get him out of the crowd. He led him through the group on the stairs, Poe clutching the winding banister for balance. His sock feet slid across the hardwood and onto tiles, barely registering Ranpo closing the door behind them. Warm hands guided him to the right and then he was sitting on the closed toilet lid, staring and trembling and praying for it to stop.

 

Ranpo stood in front of him, watching the man bow his head and rest it in his hands, struggling to breathe. He frowned. Ranpo stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around Poe. “Breathe, Poe,” he whispered, resting his head on top of the man’s curls. “It’s just the two of us… breathe…”

 

Poe drug in a long breath, shuddering as he did so.

 

“I’m sorry I left you alone so long, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

 

Poe nodded against him, one hand clutching at Ranpo’s shirt and pulling him closer.

 

Ranpo stepped closer and held on tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Focus on your breathing, I’m right here…” Shakes jolted Poe’s body in his embrace, the man’s shoulders jutting into his collarbone as he held him close. “I love you… I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you…”

 

Poe nodded again, and Ranpo couldn’t be sure if he’d heard him properly or not. Poe had told him his brain went fuzzy and things didn’t entirely make sense when this happened. He leaned his head close to his ear, pressed a kiss to his temple, and then spoke again. “Can you hear me?”

 

Another nod.

 

“Do you know where you are?”

 

Another.

 

“Is your head yelling at you, like you said it does?”

 

He nodded again.

 

“Can I help it go away?”

 

Poe shook his head.

 

“Will it help if I’m here while it does?”

 

He nodded.

 

“Okay. Well I’m not leaving, okay? I’m going to stay right here.” Ranpo sat on the edge of the bathtub, brushing hair out of his face. He watched Poe with wide-open eyes, taking in his figure, arms covering his head, his back curved from the position he sat in. Ranpo reached out and touched Poe’s left arm. He tensed and Ranpo didn’t move. “Will it help to ground you if I keep in contact with you?” Poe nodded again. Ranpo slid his hand up the man’s arm until he reached his hand, then intertwined their fingers and pulled his hand down to rest on Ranpo’s knee. “In case you’re wondering, I don’t think anyone else even noticed your anxiety. I remember you told me you worry about that. And you know what, even if they did, none of them would think any different of you.  I mean, Lucy has known you for quite a long time. I’m sure she would have understood. Atsushi is a very anxious person, and obviously it’s not the same as what you go through in social situations like this, but he would be able to empathize with how you felt somewhat. Junichiro, too. I don’t know about Akutagawa, but honestly, I don’t think anyone does. Maybe not even him.”

 

Ranpo chuckled, taking Poe’s hand with both of his. He smoothed his knuckles with his thumb, a gentle reassurance. “Maybe tonight we can cuddle up and watch a movie. That new one you were looking forward to came out on Netflix today, I think. Maybe we could watch that. Or, we could explore one of your novels that you’ve written for us for fun. And then when we’re done, we can go to sleep. And tomorrow’s Saturday, so that means we can sleep in. Gives me an excuse to cuddle you more and make sure you’re okay. Not that I wouldn’t cuddle you more just because, because you know I would.”

 

Under the bangs that hid Poe’s face from view, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

 

“There’s a smile,” Ranpo grinned. “I love your smile. Did you know that? You probably did, I’m sure I tell you all the time. I ramble a lot, but you knew that. But I know you don’t mind and you probably secretly love it because, let’s face it, I’m adorable and you can’t resist me. I can’t resist you either, though, so it’s okay. You’re just so… amazing. You’re shy and quiet and I love that about you, but you can also be loud and determined and so, so, driven. You keep me on my toes with your novels. Gotta make sure I’m not losing my touch, right?”

 

Ranpo chuckled to himself again, still stroking Poe’s knuckles with his thumbs. His shaking subsiding, he figured his talking was helping to distract his busy mind. “Speaking of novels, I read one the other day with the worst ending. Even I could’ve written a better ending than that! It was garbage, you would’ve had the biggest cringe on your face, I just know it. Either that or you would’ve laughed at it for a good ten minutes. I just opted to throw the book out the window. No use for that trash. You know what, I think you would’ve laughed and cringed at the same time. Yeah… that sounds right. Probably shake your head at it. Dammit, I shouldn’t have dropped it on that lady’s head—oh yeah! It fell on a young lady’s head, but she was fine. Maybe she’ll like the bad ending. Some people must for it to be a semi-popular book.”

 

Ranpo’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he took it out as he continued to ramble about nothing in particular. A text from Yosano lit up his screen. ‘Everything okay?’

 

He typed back with one hand, having to backspace a few times as he typed what he was saying to Poe instead of what he wanted to say to her. ‘Yeah. Poe just needed some space for a few minutes.’

 

He set his phone down on the ledge beside him and returned his attention to Poe, who seemed to be calming down more and more. “Anyways, I think we should try it. Who knows? It might be fun. I mean… maybe not. But we’ll just have to find out for ourselves. Oh! That reminds me. Yosano wants to know if you’d like to meet us for lunch later this week. We both have to work long hours this week, but it would be nice for you to join us on our lunch break. I know you’ve got your own stuff going on, but maybe check your schedule. Not a big deal though, I’ll see you at home anyways.”

 

His screen lit up again. ‘Understandable. Hope he’s feeling better ’

 

Ranpo smiled at it as the message disappeared. He turned back to Poe, attentive emerald eyes watching him carefully. “Are you feeling a bit better?”

 

Poe nodded, looking up at him slightly.

 

“Does it help when I just talk to you, even if it’s about nothing?”

 

Another nod.

 

Ranpo flashed a grin at him. “That’s good to know. Are you up to go back downstairs in a minute? I promise I’ll stay with you.”

 

Poe nodded again, raising his head.

 

Ranpo pushed his bangs out of the way to look into his eyes. “You don’t have to say yes if you don’t mean it. We can leave if you aren’t up to it. Are you sure you’re okay to go back down?”

 

 He nodded.

 

“Okay. I’ll stay with you the whole time. Oh, and Poe?”

 

 He leaned in a pressed a soft kiss to the man’s lips.

 

“I love you.”

 

 

Notes:

Okay, so I know this is definitely not my best one so feel free to request another one aha. I do have another Ranpoe hurt/comfort coming soon, but it's the other way around. Anyways, feel free to comment and leave your thoughts or requests below. Also... I'm looking for some feedback on the previous one-shot with Kenji. Was it okay? Should I write a part 2? I kinda want to but not if no one wants it lol. Let me know.
Until next time! -Em :)

Chapter 16: You're Starving Yourself! (Kenji and Chuuya)

Summary:

Chuuya finds out that Kenji hasn't eaten in four days so that he can continue to work on an ongoing case.

A request written for PolarChibi! Thank you for all your support on this story, I really appreiate all your comments and they make my day. I hope this lives up to your expectations, and feel free to leave another request.

More requests coming!

It wasn’t often that the Agency and the Port Mafia had to work together, but when they did, it was a big operation. The entirety of the Agency, as well as the strongest Mafia workers would join forces, travelling around Japan to put a stop to whatever threat loomed over the heads of the country’s citizens. It proved to be dangerous work, fights popping up when least expected.

 

Long nights and early mornings plagued them. The Tokyo hotel they stayed in didn’t see much of them the first few days, and they’d be there for a week. At least. They slept four to a room, smushed together in small beds, taking advantage of the limited sleep they got.

 

This intruding organization strived to eradicate Japanese citizens and take over the whole city. The gifted in the organization took whatever measures necessary to ensure their win, causing injuries and exhaustion. ADA and Port Mafia alike returned at night exhausted, collapsing on the lobby benches before they left again, or sometimes made it to their rooms, only to be roused an hour or two later.

 

The fourth day consisted of everyone out on separate missions. Dazai, Kunikida, and Ranpo set out to find a particularly secluded hideout. Junichiro, Kyouka and Yosano had headed out to a scene at the other end of the city where civilians had been hurt to investigate. The Black Lizard, as well as Higuchi entered a street fight with two of the gifted. Atsushi and Akutagawa engaged in battle on the other side of the city as well. Kenji crossed the city multiple times, sent on a wild goose chase for information. And Chuuya… he’d been stationed in the very centre of it all, watching over the area and helping out where he could, gathering information on the organization.

 

Around 7pm on the fourth night, Chuuya dragged himself into the hotel lobby. Slumping onto one of the couches near the elevators, he turned his head to the side, catching sight of another person. A small blond boy lay curled up on the couch across from him, eyes closed, his face scrunched up in discomfort.

 

Chuuya raised a brow, straightening his posture. What was this kid’s name again? The one with the insane strength… “You alright there, kid?”

 

He opened one eye and squinted at the red-head. “Yeah.”

 

“What’s your name again?”

 

“Kenji.”

 

Chuuya nodded. “Right. I guess it would take a lot to injure you, what, with your ability.”

 

Kenji simply smiled. “Where were you stationed today?”

 

The man sighed, his hat slipping forward as he inclined his head. “Right smack dab in the middle of the city. Ranpo said he knew there was a hideout there or a base, so I was scouting it and gathering information.”

 

“Did you find anything?”

 

“Definitely suspicious activity, but nothing concrete. They’re like gophers! One second they’re there, and then the next they’ve scurried back into their little hidey holes. It’s infuriating.”

 

“We’ll find them eventually, don’t worry. We’ve got a good force here.”

 

“That we do, kid. That we do. So, where were you today?”

 

Kenji grinned at him slightly as he turned onto his side. “I think the better question is where wasn’t I today.”

 

Chuuya cringed. “Yikes, who was giving you information.”

 

“Everyone. First Kunikida, then Junichiro, then Hirotsu-san from the Black Lizard, and then Ranpo. I was everywhere.”

 

“That sounds exhausting.”

 

“It is when you don’t sleep.”

 

Perplexed, Chuuya creased his brows. “Why don’t you sleep.”

 

“My ability makes it difficult sometimes.”

 

“Right…”

 

“When do you think everyone else will get back to give us more instructions?”

 

Chuuya checked his watch, humming at it. “Some of them should be back soon. But the Black Lizard, Higuchi Atsushi, and Akutagawa will probably take longer. They’re in battle.”

 

“I’m sure they’ll take them out in no time!”

 

“I hope so. But knowing ability users, fights get brutal. There’s going to be more injuries.”

 

Kenji shook his head. “I don’t think so. We just had some yesterday, so maybe we’ll get lucky today.”

 

“Yeah,” said Chuuya, taking in the blond before him. “Maybe. How was Atsushi this morning after Yosano healed him?”

 

“Oh he’s doing fine! He wasn’t in pain or anything, he just had to be careful with his stitches. That being said… Akutagawa was all over him.”

 

“He was giving him a hard time?”

 

“Oh no! He was trying to make sure he was okay.”

 

“He had his own injuries, though.”

 

Kenji nodded with a chuckle. “It’s funny isn’t it? They’ve really grown on each other.”

 

Chuuya shook his head, blowing air out his nose. “You’re new to the Agency, right?”

 

He nodded, a smile spreading on his face. “Yeah! I’ve only been here for a few months.”

 

“Who recruited you?”

 

“The President. He came to my hometown and brought me to Yokohama. It was quite the culture shock for me.”

 

“Why do you say that? Where are you from?”

 

Kenji pushed himself into a sitting position, cringing slightly but quickly putting a smile back on his face. Chuuya watched with concern, but Kenji’s voice drew him away from his thoughts. “I’m from a village called Ihatov. No one’s heard of it, probably because we didn’t have electricity or money.”

 

“You had… what?”

 

“We bartered for everything. It’s why I don’t really understand money…”

 

Chuuya’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. “Has anybody taught you?”

 

“Bits here and there when it mattered for cases. But no, not really. I’m sure I’ll figure it out, though!”

 

“Well, geez, kid. I’ll teach ya.”

 

“Really? You don’t have to,” Kenji said, scratching the back of his neck with squinted eyes. “I’m sure I can find someone who’s not too busy to teach me after this case is done. Besides, you’re an executive, aren’t you?”

 

“Yeah… why does that matter?”

 

“Because you’re an executive and I’m a 14-year-old detective. You have much bigger things to worry about than I do.”

Chuuya narrowed his eyes in disbelief. “I’ll tell you what. If we get some time during this case, I’ll teach ya.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Alright. How’d you know I’m an executive?”

 

“Oh!” Kenji grinned. “Dazai-san! He’s told us about you.”

 

“Dazai talks about me?”

 

Kenji took in the man’s flushed face with confusion. “Please don’t be mad. It’s nothing bad.”

 

“R-really?”

 

“Yeah! Told us about your ability and that you’re really strong and we shouldn’t mess with you.”

 

“That’s it?”

 

“There was more but I don’t remember a lot of it.”

 

Chuuya blinked at him. “I think you’re pulling my leg.”

 

Offense showed on Kenji’s face as he lowered his brows, pursing his lips. “Why would I do that? You should always be honest.”

 

Taken aback, Chuuya nearly flinched. “You can’t always be honest, though. Sometimes you have to fib or lie for the good of the case or the people around you.”

 

Kenji shook his head adamantly. “No, you don’t. I’ve never had to.”

 

Chuuya bit the inside of his cheek. This kid sure was odd, but then again, who wasn’t? Everyone had their thing. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head at the ground before looking back up at the young boy. “You’re a nice kid.”

 

Kenji quirked his head. “You think so?”

 

“Yeah. I do. It’s not often I get to just sit and talk to someone, let alone the agency without being attacked.”

 

Puzzled, Kenji continued to stare at him with his head tilted. “I don’t see any reason to attack you. You haven’t done anything.”

 

Chuuya blinked at the show of innocence. “I guess.” He looked down and checked his watch, startled by the loud growl coming from the stomach of the boy across from him. Without looking up, he asked, “You hungry, kid? Want to get some food? I could use some, too.”

 

“I can’t eat.”

 

Chuuya paused, staring at the ticking of the second hand. He raised his head, taking in the small boy. How skinny he was, especially for his height. He tried to keep the concern out of his voice when he spoke, but it seeped through anyway. “Why can’t you eat, Kenji? You do normally eat, don’t you?”

 

The boy didn’t look at him. “Yeah, I do. Just not a lot, depending on the day.” His stomach growled again, and he clutched it with his arms, clenching his jaw and squinting his eyes.

 

Chuuya’s eyes widened. “When’s the last time you ate?”

 

“Four days ago.”

 

“Four days ago?” Chuuya hissed. He stood abruptly, taking hold of Kenji’s arm and pulling him to his feet. “Okay, we’re getting you something to eat right now.”

 

Kenji shook his head, swaying on his feet. “I’m lightheaded….”

 

He took in the glassy look that took over the boy’s eyes and grabbed his arms to steady him. “Okay, alright, sit down. It’s because you haven’t eaten in so long, your body needs food. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

 

Kenji deadpanned. “I can’t eat during a mission.”

 

“What? Why not?”

 

“My ability only works on an empty stomach. As soon as I eat I fall asleep and can’t use it at all.”

 

“Okay, but you’re starving yourself, Kenji. You can’t do that.”

 

He shrugged. “I have to. It’s my job.”

 

Chuuya cringed as he watched Kenji. “You okay? You look like you’re gunna be sick.”

 

Kenji waved a dismissive hand. “It will pass.”

 

“You have to eat.”

 

“I told you,” he said, looking up at the man. “I can’t.”

 

“Why? You can’t just not eat.”

 

“I have to. I can’t let my guard down and hang the Agency out to dry. That’s not fair. You’ve seen how many people are fighting. What if they need me? What if a fight pops up like they have been? I need to be able to use my ability!” Kenji searched his eyes, pleading for him to understand.

 

“You can’t fight like this, though, Kenji-kun. You’re only hurting yourself.”

 

“That’s okay. I just need to be able to help everyone else.”

 

Chuuya shook his head in disbelief. “You’re not even worried about yourself at all.”

 

“No, why should I be? Yosano-sensei can heal me if I get hurt.”

 

“She can’t fix the nutrients you’re missing.”

 

“Better me not eat than everyone else maybe getting hurt.”

 

Chuuya dragged a hand over his face. “Yosano could heal them, too. You have to take care of yourself first.”

 

“I don’t know how to do that. I’ve always looked after my siblings first and then the other agency members.”

 

“Okay…” Chuuya thought on the spot, chewing his lip. “Well, your first step would be to eat. Come on, I’ll take you to get something. Okay?”

 

“Are you sure…?”

 

“I’m positive,” he said, a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You said it makes you tired, right? You sleep after you eat so you haven’t slept much either.”

 

Kenji shook his head. “No, I haven’t.”

 

Chuuya sighed. “Alright. Eat. Then you can sleep in the car and I’ll bring you up to your room.”

 

“But—”

 

“If anyone gives you trouble, I’ll deal with them. Got it?”

 

Kenji nodded. “Got it.”

 

“Good,” said Chuuya, a smile spreading on his face and reaching a hand out to Kenji. He took it, and Chuuya pulled him to his feet, keeping a steady arm around his waist so he wouldn’t fall over. “Let’s get going.”

Notes:

Hey all! I hope this was okay!! I'm so glad I was introduced to this friendship, it's so cute! Idk if I portrayed their characters right, but I tried lol. Also, I love them both with my whole heart uwu
Until next time! -Em :)

Chapter 17: We Love You (Kunikida & Dazai, self-harm request)

Summary:

Kunikida finds Dazai self-harming while the rest of the Agency is out for lunch.

A request written for Arcanechaotic . I hope you like this fic and it lives up to your hopes haha.

Rain pelted the office windows, the grey haze of storm clouds flying past outside in a blur of thunder and lightning. Lights off on the inside, the space felt dim and lifeless, papers forgotten on desks and closed laptops not baring their secrets within. A thousand shades of grey took over, casting ever moving shadows along the walls and tile floor.

 

The office door made no sound as it swung forward, a hand trading one doorknob for the other and closing it just as quickly. Dull, almost silent, footsteps pattered across the floor. Past the infirmary door, past the President’s locked office, the kitchenette, and the single-stall bathroom. They approached a desk on the left side of the room, the hand pulled the drawer open and rifled around the inside, pulling out several objects and putting them back again. A deep growl rumbled in the man’s throat, shoving the drawer shut and searching the top of his desk.

 

His co-workers desks, empty as they had gone out for lunch, gave him no clues. Deft fingers swept through files and stacks of paper, through the drawer of the desk across from his own, wondering if it was a mere prank. The drawer only held a mix of pencil’s that didn’t belong to him, a few paperclips, and a roll of bandages. Figures. Of course his exacto-knife disappeared right when he needed it to open a package in the café.  

 

He rubbed the back of his head, tightening the blond ponytail his fingers trailed over on their way down. Hazel eyes scanned the room a final time, squinting through the dim, cursing himself for not turning the lights on when he came in. He shook his head in frustration, rolling his eyes. Did someone take it?

 

The man headed back towards the door, passing the same places he had on the way in. However, this time, a strange sound caught his attention. Outside the bathroom door he paused, drawing his brows together. He swore he’d heard a whisper of pain from behind the door. But how could he…? Everyone was out to lunch… He pressed his ear to the door and held his breath to listen more careful. A hiss reached his ears, followed by a metallic scent when he took a breath. It filled his nose and he scrunched it up, eyes searching the floor as if it would give him the answer he was searching for.

 

His eyes shot up as a voice rang out from the inside, a choked curse. Dazai.

 

Pulling a notebook from his pocket he scrawled on it messily and tore out the page. “Doppo Poet,” he whispered. “Lock pick.”

 

It materialized in seconds and he stuck it in the lock jiggling it until he heard a click. The door swung in as he stood, the fluorescent light harsh on his eyes as it spilled into the office. His horror-struck face was visible in the streaked mirror above the sink where Dazai stood hunched over, the bandages on his arms unraveled, streaks of red running into his palms and pooling in the basin. A gasp slipped past his lips without permission, the lock pick clattering to the ground.

 

Tormented eyes met his in the mirror. “Kunikida?”

 

The man continued to stare at him. At the dullness mingled with pain in his brown eyes. At the bags underneath. The fatigue in the way he held his body, his shoulders slumped and defeated. Kunikida clenched his teeth, his heart plummeting as he realized how much pain Dazai was really in. The naps in the office, the dark jokes, the suicide attempts… None of it was the joke he played if off as, he realized, watching the blood trickle off the side of his left wrist and drip onto the white tiles below. He was serious about dying and no one had paid any attention. How could they call themselves his friends?

 

“Leave.” His voice held an air of sternness, but the waver in his tone told the other man everything he needed to know.

 

Kunikida said nothing, only stepped towards him, praying he wouldn’t pull away. A gentle hand rested on the middle of Dazai’s back, the other reaching around him to pluck the crimson coated exacto-knife he’d been looking for from slick fingers. “Not when you’re like this.”

 

Dazai wouldn’t meet his eyes in the mirror. He stared at his wrists, at his white-knuckles and fingers curled around the porcelain. Kunikida turned to stare at Dazai’s face, the trembling of his bottom lip, the way he couldn’t swallow his emotions. The tears that welled in his eyes. “I’m fine, Kunikida.”

 

“You’re so stubborn,” he replied, though there was no conviction there. His tone remained soft as he watched Dazai fight for control. “You’re not fine.”

 

Dazai shrugged, his shoulders tense, arms clutched close to his sides as his hands remained on the sink. “I am. You should just leave me be.”

 

“Dazai, you’re cutting yourself. You’re bleeding all over your arms, you’re trembling, and about to cry. Don’t tell me you’re fine.”

 

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious…”

 

“Dazai.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve realized how much pain you were in. Instead I was… an absolute moron, and thought you were joking. I… I should have known.”

 

Dazai turned his head away, releasing a shuddering breath. “You never put two and two together… I thought you might.”

 

“The bandages, the suicide attempts, everything about your past… no. You’re right. I didn’t, but I should have. And I’m sorry for not being there when you needed someone.”

 

Dazai bit his lip before speaking with a voice thick with tears. “I wouldn’t have told you. There’s no need.”

 

Kunikida rubbed his back, pushing down his own emotions to be there for his friend. “But I never even asked. I didn’t even consider… That’s pretty shitty of me as both your partner and your friend.”

 

“I… I hide it as best I can,” Dazai said, his voice trembling, barely containing himself. “So no one has to deal with me and everything inside.”

 

Kunikida let out a long breath before moving his hand up onto the brunet’s shoulder. He gave it a squeeze. “Can I clean you up?”

 

Dazai finally turned to look at him, and the look of confusion etched into his features nearly broke the other man. He nodded ever so slightly.

 

He still trusted him… Kunikida swallowed thickly. “Okay. Hop up on the counter and I’ll be right back.” He turned on his heel and left the room, heading straight for Dazai’s desk where he’d seen the roll of bandages just moments before. His feet flew from the desk back across the office to the infirmary, stealing a couple of gauze pads and wash cloths. Within seconds he stepped back into the room, closing the door behind him lest anyone return from lunch early.

 

Dazai sat with his head down, none of his usual cockiness or joking nature present. Another mask? He didn’t look up as Kunikida approached him. He set the materials on the counter next to the bloody knife.

 

“Where’d you find my bandages?” The hoarse, quiet voice that came from Dazai scared Kunikida.

 

“Your desk drawer. Found them earlier when I was looking for, uh… it’s not important.” He held a cloth under the faucet and turned on the water, ringing it out once it was soaked. Gingerly, he pressed the cloth to Dazai’s right wrist, the red-tinged water running down his arm, a ghost of its predecessor. The brunet made no noise, not even flinching when the cloth snagged one of the angry, jagged cuts lacing his arm. Kunikida worried he secretly relished in it, believing it was his punishment. A pang hit him square in the chest and he cringed.

 

It took a few rinses, but the blood came off of his right arm. Kunikida returned the cloth to the sink, rinsing and wringing it out again, pressing it to the obviously deeper cuts on his left wrist created by his dominant hand. The cloth came away crimson, causing the blond’s stomach to turn. Dazai’s blood was all over both of their arms and hands. The floor. The counter. The sink. The blade. Everywhere. All self-inflicted. He set his jaw, reaching for the gauze pads.

 

He held them in place and secured them, then wrapped Dazai’s right arm up all the way from his lower palm to his elbow, just as he’d seen on the man every time he’d seen him since they’d met. To think these laid underneath…

 

“Am I doing this right?”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“Am I hurting you?”

 

“No.”

 

Kunikida nodded, changing to his other arm. A drop of water landed on the back of Kunikida’s hand as he fastened the bandage below his elbow and he glanced up, biting his lip as he saw the silent tears running down Dazai’s face. Relief, pain, or embarrassment he wasn’t sure. He just wanted it to stop.

 

Kunikida let out a long breath as he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Dazai’s shoulders. The other man lifted his arms to wrap around Kunikida, his head resting on his shoulder. His tears continued to fall, creating dark patches on the tan vest. Kunikida couldn’t care less, one hand coming up to the back of Dazai’s head and leaning in to speak in his ear.

 

“I am here for you, Osamu. I won’t pretend to know why you’re doing this or what’s going on, but whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m here to listen.”

 

Dazai said nothing, only cried a little harder. His soundless sobs shook his body and Kunikida held on to him, a thousand questions that would have to wait to be voiced whirling in his head.

 

“No matter what you think, you don’t deserve this pain. Please stop hurting yourself. I know it’s hard to stop but I know you can do it. Please try.”

 

Dazai desperately tried to suck in some air, four or five inhales in quick succession with little coming out. Kunikida rubbed his back again until his breathing slowed. Then he pulled back, his eyes trained on Dazai’s blotchy face. The brunet lifted a hand and wiped some of the wetness from his face with the heels of his hands. Kunikida rinsed a cloth, then held it out to Dazai.

 

The man took it, wiping away the tear-tracks on his face. He sniffed, then set it in his lap, looking up at Kunikida with a tentative glance. The blond man took his arms carefully and examined the bandages. “I know now. And I won’t say anything to anyone. That’s a promise.” Dazai nodded. “I’ll check in with you, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I won’t press. But know that I’m here if you need me. Anytime.”

 

“You think I actually will,” Dazai said. Not a question. More of a tentative statement.

 

Kunikida smiled sadly. “I hope so. It’s time I actually got to know my partner, don’t you think?”

 

Dazai chuckled softly. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

 

“That’s okay. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

 

Dazai nodded, eyes flitting from the ground back to meet Kunikida’s. “Thanks.”

 

“Of course.” He paused, blinking at the floor. “Oh, and Dazai?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“We love you.”

Notes:

Hey all! I hope you enjoyed this fic, despite the fact that it was about self-harm. Let me know your thoughts.

More requests on the way, as well as some stuff I've thought up to write just because.

As for requesting, I'll write pretty much anything. Hurt/comfort, smut, fluff, angst, whump, you name it I'll probably write it. Let me know the characters/relationship/friendship, the idea you have, and any preferences for how it plays out. I'll do my best!

Until next time guys! -Emma :)

Chapter 18: Tragedy Part 2 (Junichiro and Kenji)

Summary:

Part 2...

Junichiro, Kenji, Kunikida, and Yosano head up to Kenji's home village to see his brothers. They plan to stay a few days and go to see his Dad. The truth about what happened to his mom and dad are revealed and they get to spend some time with his family.

THERE WILL BE A PART 3! I just couldn't fit it all in one part because before I knew it I was over 3000 words and was like wait shit.

There's a lot of dialogue in this and it's kind of like in the middle of the two main parts but a lot of it was necessary so please forgive me for shitty dialogue and such I really tried my best :/

 

“Everyone got everything?” Kunikida called to Junichiro and Kenji as they jogged down the stairs towards Kunikida’s idling car.

 

Jun nodded. “I think so! Got enough clothes for a few days. Right Kenji?”

 

“Yep!”

 

“Great.” Kunikida watched through the rear window as the two boys tucked their bags in with the other two already there. “Get in, we’ve got quite a bit of driving to do.”

 

Junichiro climbed in the left backseat beside Kenji, fumbling his seatbelt. “How far is it exactly?”

 

Kunikida turned to Yosano in the passenger seat. “How long does it say on the GPS?”

 

She squinted at it. “Is this accurate? Looks like the middle of bf nowhere to me. Literally nothing around it.”

 

“That’s the directions from the President, right?”

 

“Yeah, but it just doesn’t make sense. Kenji, exactly how far removed were you from the rest of, well, everything?”

 

Kenji blinked at her. “I dunno really. The only time I ever left was to come to Yokohama.”

 

She nodded, pursing her lips. “Well, it says it’s just over three hours to the village so we should get going. It will be dark otherwise.”

 

Kunikida nodded, shifting the car into reverse to back out of the parking space. “Alright, let me know when I need to get off the highway.”

 

“Will do.”

 

The Yokohama landscape flew by in a blur of concrete and glass. Cafes, the shopping district, and high rises blended seamlessly into Junichiro’s consciousness as he let his thoughts take over, not even realizing as the view out the window evened out as they got on the highway.  He had a hard time processing the events of the previous hour or so, replaying them in his mind as if the answers would suddenly be revealed.

 

He glanced over at Kenji beside him. The young boy’s head lolled to the side, blond hair falling in closed eyes, soft, almost inaudible snores the only sound he made. Jun smiled sadly, interrupted by the buzz of his phone in his pocket.

 

Atsushi: Man u should have taken me w u

Atsushi: lord help me

 

Jun pulled a face, chuckling under his breath as he typed back. What’s happening?

 

Atsushi: Dazai.

 

He snorted. What’s he up to now?

 

Atsushi: its not just him

Atsushi: w/o Yosano-sensei Ranpo has decided to join him

 

Junichiro nodded, lips pursed. Of fucking course he has. What r they doing? He set his phone down in his lap, glancing back out the window.

 

“Is Kenji asleep?”

 

Jun looked up, meeting Yosano’s eyes. He nodded. “Yeah, he’s been out for a few minutes at least.”

 

She glanced to Kunikida, then back to him. “I’m glad you were there when he got that letter, Junichiro.”

 

“Me too,” he admitted. “He had no idea what was happening.”

 

“That was a good thing,” voiced Kunikida. “I wish it had stayed that way.”

 

Yosano sighed. “Well it’s too late now, but you handled it as well as you could, Jun.”

 

“I had no idea what I was doing. I’ve only seen someone have a panic attack once, and it was Atsushi.”

 

“Either way,” she said, a small smile on her face. “You were there when he needed you. That’s all that matters. Keep it that way. The next few days will be hard for him.”

 

“Of course. I don’t plan on doing anything less. Do we know the state his dad is in?”

 

Kunikida let out a long breath. “I talked to the hospital after a good hour of calling the closest ones. He’s in a coma from traumatic brain injury, on life support. And it doesn’t look good for him.”

 

Yosano sucked in a breath. “This poor kid…”

 

Jun nodded. “He’s so young, but old enough to remember everything.”

 

“Think I could heal him, Kunikida?”

 

The man shook his head. “Not if he’s brain dead.”

 

“Is he?”

 

“We won’t know until we get there tomorrow.”

 

Jun looked at his hands in his lap, cracking his knuckles as a distraction. “His brothers are even younger than he is…”

 

He saw Kunikida nod in the mirror, his face stony. “Yes, they are. And Kenji will most likely try to take care of them because that’s just who he is.”

 

“Probably,” Yosano agreed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “How many brothers does he have?”

 

“Four.”

 

She glanced over her shoulder at him in shock. “Four younger brothers? I didn’t even know he had one until today.”

 

He shrugged. “I knew he had brothers, but I didn’t know there were four until today either.”

 

She let out a long breath. “This is going to be a long few days.”

 

Junichiro nodded silently, glancing back at Kenji. He slept peacefully, no signs of his prior distress. A buzz distracted him and he picked up his phone.

 

Atsushi: They’re little maniacs I swear! Dazai is trying to mummify Ranpo and Kyouka is only making it worse. Way worse. What the hell am I supposed to do with this? I can’t finish my work and Kunikida is going to kill me.

 

Jun huffed some air out his nose, glancing at Kunikida in the mirror before typing back. I think he’s a bit preoccupied. You’re probably safe. Can u send me a pic of that tho?

 

Atsushi: why

 

B/c it might come in handy to cheer Kenji up u know he loves all the office antics

 

Atsushi: Okay I can do that

Atsushi: how is he?

 

Junichiro bit his lip, fingers hovering over the keys. He seems okay rn. He’s asleep.

 

Atsushi: well let me know if there’s anything I can do for him

 

Of course.

 

Junichiro slept for the rest of the ride, stark whites and steady beeping following him down endless halls under fluorescent lights.

 

 

*

 

Blotches in shades of green swam in Junichiro’s vision when his eyes fluttered open a few hours later. The bumping of the car along the winding dirt road roused him from his unsettling dreams, leaving him to blink away the blurriness until the blotches became a forest. He pushed himself up in his seat with a yawn, glancing around the car. Kunikida and Yosano chatted away in the front about what sounded like medical garble to him. On his right, Kenji slept peacefully, his doze uninterrupted by the jostling. Perhaps he was used to it.

 

Outside his window, kilometres of farmland stretched into the distance, corn, wheat, cattle, and horses flying past in a blur of colours and sounds. Jun grinned. He’d never seen a cow in real life before.

 

For another twenty minutes Junichiro attempted to make sense of the conversation up front, but gave up and resigned himself to gazing out the windows. Every so often they passed a wooden sign that pointed in the direction of a town or a specific farm. A fuel station or a hardware shop. But they never passed one that could really pass as a store. Just a few small shacks with rundown tractors out front.

 

As Jun leant his head against the window, ignoring his head thumping against the glass with every jump of the car, a sign in the distance caught his attention. He kept his eyes trained on it as it approached, attempting to read the symbols from much too far away. He squinted at it until it came within a reasonable view, then straightened. Ihatov. That was the name of the village Kenji was from.

 

A break in the tree line gave way to the miniscule village of Ihatov. Four or five buildings clustered together on either side of the road, none of them houses. A one-room school house, two beat-up shops, and what looked to be some sort of community hall. The fifth building sat alone, its windows boarded up—abandoned. They continued past them all, continuing into the ‘residential’ area of the village.

 

Yosano directed Kunikida in the front, clarifying the amount of kilometers yet to go. The rolling hills of farmland on Kenji’s side were dotted with small houses, each one different and most likely built by the family that lived there-whether this generation or one long ago, he couldn’t tell. Only a few moments later they turned right into a long gravel driveway, the small wooden house dwarfed by the length of the drive. Kunikida set the car in park and looked at Jun in the mirror. He nodded.

 

Junichiro shook Kenji gently, who’s head lolled his way, groggy eyes staring up at him. Jun smiled slightly. “You’re home, Kenji-kun.”

 

Though his eyes lit up, the boy’s face quickly became a mixture of anguish and relief. His family was here, but not his whole family. And nothing could ever fix that. He undid his seatbelt and threw the door open, shutting it firmly behind him.

 

Jun did the same, walking around to Kenji’s side of the car. The boy stood still, hands trembling, staring at the front door with fearful eyes. Jun laid a hand on his shoulder, and within seconds, Kenji had taken a deep breath and kept walking. He led them to the door, fished a key from his pocket, and pushed the door open once he heard a click. It swung inwards, sunlight flooding the small opening as they filed inside.

 

Kenji took another deep breath. “I’m home!!”

 

“KENJI!!”

 

Four young boys screamed down the hall, their oldest brother’s name echoing off the walls. All four jumped at him, clinging to his arms and waist, bludgeoning him with questions he couldn’t even begin to comprehend all at once. He remained silent, hugging the only family he had left.

 

Over Kenji’s shoulder, one of the middle brothers glanced up at Junichiro. He pointed at him, stepped back from Kenji, and asked, “Who’s that?”

 

Kenji released the remaining three boys and stepped back. “These are three of my friends and colleagues at work in Yokohama. They’ve been taking good care of me.” He smiled, glancing up at the three in turn. “This is Yosano-sensei, she’s a doctor. This is Kunikida-san, he’s our second in command. And this is my best friend, Junichiro.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Jun began, taking in the boys in front of him. The older three boys all had light brown hair and brown eyes, but the youngest—he had Kenji’s golden hair and eyes. “What are your brother’s names, Kenji?”

 

“This is my oldest brother, Eiji, who’s ten. Then there’s Hitomu, who’s 9. My second youngest brother is Mitsue, who’s 7. And this is Naoki, who’s 4. They’re all really nice, I promise!”

 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from your family, Kenji,” mused Kunikida. Kenji grinned.

 

“Kenji?”

 

He glanced down the hall, spotting a middle-aged woman. She dried her hands on a towel then jogged towards them, enveloping him in a tight hug. “Akira?”

 

“I’m so sorry, hun.”

 

Kenji simply nodded, then pulled away. “I’m glad it’s you who’s here with them while I was on my way here.”

 

She chuckled. “Well, who else would it be?”

 

“You got my letter?”

 

Kenji turned to the oldest brother, Eiji. “I did, this morning.”

 

“I wasn’t sure if you would come.”

 

Kenji’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I?”

 

Eiji cast his eyes to the ground. “Well, your job now is to save people. Why would you leave somewhere where you save people to come somewhere where you can’t save anyone?”

 

Jun watched Kenji’s face as an ache settled in the centre of his chest. Kenji pursed his lips, swallowing hard. “You four are more important, I had to come home. And besides, with Dad at the hospital I have to be the man of the house.”

 

Yosano and Kunikida eyed each other in disbelief. This kid was only 14, and he was taking on so much responsibility in such a short span of time, just after he got the shock of his life and began dealing with fresh grievance.

 

Kenji straightened to his full height. “Have you all eaten yet?” One of the middle brothers shook his head. Kenji clapped his hands together. “Okay, who wants to help me make dinner?”

 

“Me,” called out one brother, Mitsue. “I’ll race you!”

 

“You’re not gunna win,” Kenji sang, taking off after his brother.

 

Akira turned to the remaining agency members. “Come on in. And thank you so much for bringing him home.”

 

They all toed off their shoes, leaving them at the door with Kenji’s sandals. Kunikida shoved his car keys into his pocket. “It’s the least we could do.”

 

She nodded, turning to lead them into the next room. “There isn’t much room, but we will find somewhere for you to sleep. Are you opposed to sharing a bed?” The three of them shook their heads. “Perfect. Have a seat, I really should go and make dinner. Kenji shouldn’t have to make it right now.”

 

Yosano laid a hand on her shoulder. “Let him make dinner… it might help him take his mind off of everything, cooking and spending time with his brother.”

 

Akira blinked in the direction of the kitchen, hidden behind a wall. “I suppose you’re right.” She sank down onto a woven wooden chair in the corner, a hand to her forehead. “Eiji, can you and Hitomu go make up a bed for tonight?”

 

“Yep,” said one, though Jun couldn’t tell which, and the two scampered from the room.

 

Akira sighed, head in her hands. “How was Kenji when he got the letter? It should have come from me but Eiji had already mailed it somehow before I got the chance.”

 

The three glanced at each other, then at Naoki plopped on the floor in the middle of the room, before Kunikida sank down in the armchair and began speaking. “I wasn’t there when he got it, but from what we could tell he had a panic attack.”

 

She raised her head, brows lowered. “Really? That’s… not what I was expecting. He’s never had one before.”

 

“We figured as much,” Yosano added. “Junichiro called for me when it got bad.”

 

Akira turned to Junichiro, sitting beside Yosano on the small couch. “You were with him?”

 

Jun nodded. “I was. I stayed with him the whole time—he didn’t want me to leave. Even when he fell asleep. Poor kid cried his eyes out and I didn’t know what to do.”

 

Akira stood swiftly, then crossed the room and engulfed him in a hug. “Thank you for taking care of him. You did what you could, and you came here with him, that’s what he needs right now.”

 

Jun hugged back awkwardly from his sitting position, taking solace in the fact that whoever this lady was who had a connection to Kenji, she wasn’t mad at him for his lack of skills for calming people down or comforting them. That it was enough. Then she pulled back, turning her attention to Kunikida and Yosano. “I’m… I can’t express how grateful I am for you to be here with him during all of this. I’m obviously not his mother, but Kenji is a son to me. His mother and father were my best friends and I’ve known all the kids since they were born. They’re my family.”

 

Yosano smiled at her sadly. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

 

“Thank you. I’m just glad to be here for the boys. I live in the next house over, so it’s not too far. Came over as soon as I heard the explosion.”

 

“Explosion?”

 

She turned to Kunikida. “Yes, an explosion.” She jerked her thumb to the window nearby, making an effort to not look out the window herself. “The one barn out there… it exploded. Both of them were inside it when it happened, though his Mom got the worst of it. A plank of wood straight through her chest. She was dead in an instant. His Dad on the other hand… he got knocked around and a lot of the weight came down on his head. Knocked him unconscious. Still is.”

 

Jun bit his lip, gazing past Kunikida to the wreckage outside. Charred and splintered boards laid in a heap, spikes, nails, and other miscellaneous building and farm materials interspersed within it. Then, in the middle, a cleared path where something was dragged through the dirt, littered with bloodstains. Jun gulped. “How did you find them?”

 

“I didn’t, had to run to the next house I could find for help. I couldn’t lift the boards by myself. Got a few guys from down the road to help me clear a path and we dragged them out. The boys had been ushered back inside by then so they didn’t see, but… I don’t think I’ll sleep right again. It was just… a mangled mess…” She swiped a tear from her cheek. “One of the men ran down to the shop in town with the only telephone and called for an ambulance. The boys were in awe when it got here, all shiny and flashing lights… but they didn’t know what it meant. They didn’t realize at the time what was happening. And some of them still don’t.”

 

All four of them glanced down at Naoki, lying on the floor with a cloth doll. He spoke to it in a soft voice, telling it a story that none of them could understand. It went in circles with incomprehensible events that only such a small child could fathom. Then he grinned at it and they all frowned. Tragedy. A cruel tragedy.

 

Kunikida cleared his throat. “Kenji wants to visit his Dad in the hospital tomorrow.”

 

“So do the boys,” Akira nodded. “I have a real old car back at my house, I could use that.”

 

“You can follow us, we have directions to the hospital. It’s about an hour out.”

 

“That would be perfect. Thank you.”

 

Kunikida simply nodded, glancing down at his watch.

 

In the centre of the room, Naoki stood up, dropping his doll to the floor. He pattered over to Yosano and stood right in front of her with a big grin. “Hi!”

 

She smiled sweetly. “Hey little one.”

 

“Why do you have a butterfly in your hair?”

 

“Because it was given to me a long time ago.”

 

“Oh! Can I see it?”

 

Yosano chuckled, sliding the pin from her hair and handing it down to him. He took it in his tiny hands, staring at it with wide, golden eyes. “Be careful with it though. It’s very special to me.”

 

Naoki nodded. “It’s so pretty! But don’t worry, I won’t break it. That would be mean.”

 

Her smile widened as Naoki tried to put the pin in his own hair, the colours almost matching. Then he ran across the room to his brothers as they came back in, flaunting the pin. The two grinned, complimenting him on his butterfly, but that he should probably give it back. And he did, only a moment later, handing the golden butterfly back to Yosano, and watching as she slipped it back into her hair with ease.

 

“Thank you for letting me see your butterfly.”

 

Jun thought her cheeks would begin to hurt soon from smiling as she chuckled in response. “Of course.”

 

“Dinner is served,” Kenji announced, bursting into the room with steaming metal pans. He set them on the table, as Mitsue came out with a few more. The two went back for a second trip and then sat themselves, ready for a hearty meal.

 

“What did you make?” Akira asked, leaving her chair to sit at the table.

 

“Mitsue wanted beef sukiyaki, so that’s what we made.”

 

“We haven’t had that for a while!” Hitomu exclaimed, instantly digging into his food and stuffing it in his mouth.

 

Kenji chuckled, taking his own mouthful. “Anything new happening in town?”

 

“Chizu-san had her baby!”

 

“Did she?” Kenji asked, turning to Eiji. “When?”

 

“Only a few weeks ago.”

 

“She named her Ena,” Akira added.

 

Kenji beamed. “Aww, I bet she’s adorable. Her other little ones are!”

 

Yosano grinned across the table at the young boy, then turned to Jun, who returned the smile. He took a bite of his food, savouring the flavour as it flooded his mouth. He hadn’t known Kenji could cook, but he supposed that should have been a given with his background.

 

“What’s it like at the Agency?” Eiji asked, glancing at his brother across the table.

 

Kenji stabbed a piece of beef Naoki struggled with, then handed it back to him. “I love it in Yokohama. Never a dull day.”

 

Junichiro snorted. “You don’t think the days of paperwork are boring?”

 

“Nah. Not with Dazai-san and Ranpo-san around!”

 

He attempted to contain his laughter, thinking back to his conversation with Atsushi earlier that day. Yosano raised her brows at him but he only whispered that he’d tell her later.

 

“What do you do there?” Mitsue piped up.

 

“We do a lot of different things! It depends what our clients need.”

 

“Do you fight bad guys?”

 

“Sometimes, yes.”

 

“How do you do that?”

 

“I use my super-strength. Remember when I used to carry all of you around when we were younger?” His brothers nodded, entranced.  “Sometimes I’ll do that to a bad guy. I’ll piggyback them around until they give up and surrender. Just like that.”

 

Though he knew Kenji was kidding, Jun couldn’t help but laugh at the mental image that gave him.

 

“Do your friend all have abilities, too?” Akira asked.

 

Kenji looked to Kunikida, who blew on his steaming vegetables before answering. “Almost everyone at the agency does. Myself, Yosano, and Junichiro do, as well as most other Agency members. One of our main members and the clerks don’t though.”

 

“What’s your ability, if you don’t mind me asking?”

 

“No no, of course not.” Kunikida pulled his notebook from his pocket as well as a pen, scrawling something on one of the pages before ripping it out. “Doppo Poet: chopsticks.”

 

The young boys as well as Akira gasped as the chopsticks appeared in his hand. Eiji reached out and poked one in disbelief. “That’s so cool! What about you?”

 

Yosano’s eyes widened at the sudden attention. “Me? Well, I can’t show you mine, but it’s a healing ability called Thou Shalt Not Die. I can heal someone on the brink of death perfectly, so long as their brain is still active.” Akira’s brows shot up, giving Yosano a hopeful glance. She bit her lip, looking down. “Junichiro, how about you show them Light Snow?”

 

“Okie dokie.” In the span of a single second he vanished from his seat, earning another round of gasps. He then appeared simultaneously in three paces around the table, and then two more, causing mass confusion. They all disappeared a fast as they came, leaving Jun standing just behind Kenji with an elbow on his head like an armrest.

 

Kenji grinned up at him, laughter falling from his mouth. “Jun stop using me as an armrest.”

 

“It’s too easy! You’re bite sized.”

 

“I am not!”

 

“Fine, you’re fun sized.”

 

“That’s better.” Jun rolled his eyes, sitting back down. Kenji turned to Eiji. “How’s Miss doing?”

 

“Miss?”

 

Kenji glanced to Kunikida, holding up a finger while he finished his mouthful. “My favourite cow!”

 

“You have a favourite cow? How many cows do you have?”

 

“Too many! But yes, I do have a favourite. She’s a milk cow, though, so we don’t use her for meat. She’s so sweet! Just had some calves not too long before I joined the agency.” Kunikida nodded as Kenji turned back to Eiji.

 

“Miss has been good, but I think she misses you.”

 

“You think so?”

 

“Yeah. She seems mopey.”

 

“Maybe she’s pregnant again.”

 

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Mom…” He trailed off, a silent exchange between the two. “No one ever said she was.”

 

Kenji only nodded, turning his attention to his food.

 

They rest of the meal passed in relative silence. Kenji nearly fell asleep in his bowl by the end, which prompted Junichiro to pull his hair away from the dish and stand him up. Eiji directed them to their shared room and, after calling a quick goodnight to everyone else, let him drag himself into bed and curl up under the blankets.

 

Jun turned to leave, but Eiji caught his shoulder. “You can stay in here. There wasn’t another bed for you so you can share with Kenji if you’re okay with that.”

 

“He wouldn’t mind? Because I can sleep on the floor if he’d be more comfortable with that.”

 

“Jun.” He spun around, taking in the sight of the blond boy unraveling himself from an oversized blanket cocoon, groggy eyes staring up at him. “Come sleep. I don’t mind.”

 

Jun couldn’t help but smile at him. There were days he forgot he was 14… he was just so innocent and like a baby brother to him, despite having only 4 years between them. And that night, crawling into bed as he curled up in a second blanket (after giving Jun the other one), he noticed how young he really looked. Naoki was the spitting image of his older brother, golden hair and eyes, freckles and all. Both were adorable and innocent kids, and Jun felt the overwhelming urge to protect them surge in his chest.

 

He’d do all he could to take care of them. He was sure of it.

Notes:

Okay okay so I know this sucked but the next part will be better I promise. I worked on this for over a week which is quite a while for me to work on one of these and I didn't know how to make it better. Then again I did just have a chem final and started a new med that's kinda fucking with me so maybe that's why everything feels off lol.

Let me know your thoughts, feedback, where you think this is going, etc. Your comments always brighten my day!

Requests are always welcome! And more requests are coming I swear. I've been really busy with revisions and final assignments for my summer class so I haven't had much time to write. Got some stuff going on this week too for CPR and first aid training but other than those two days I should be able to get more requests out! Thanks for all the patience!

To the person who requested a one-shot where Dazai is the book, if you're reading this, I haven't forgotten about you! Still trying to figure out how to do that one.

Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 19: You Do(n't) Deserve This, Akutagawa (Dazai and Aku Whump, Aku and Atsu H/C Request)

Summary:

A request written for @sleepawaysora . I'm sorry if I spelled your user wrong haha. So... Idk if there is enough Dazai and Aku in here like I started writing and it just... happened. But this is unedited so if there's a problem or something I can def go back and change it! Just let me know!

Akutagawa and Dazai are training for the newly paired SSKK when Dazai's patience runs out and he snaps on Akutagawa. His methods turn brutal and leave Akutagawa a bloody mess. Atsushi finds him and provides some comfort, then takes him back to Yosano where a bit more chaos ensues.

Osamu Dazai had never been a patient man. Although he had grown much since he’d left the Port Mafia and learned to hold his temper, there were still many circumstances which called him back to his past life in the darkness. Though he preferred the light and all it had brought to his life, he could not help but to give in to the darkness when it rose within him on such occasions. On the days that his eyes flashed, a warning sign to those around him. They were few and far between, and not many members of the Agency had seen Dazai at his worst, if any of them had. There was someone, however, that had many times been the subject of his wrath.

 

Ryunnosuke Akutagawa.

 

The newly formed partnership between Akutagawa and Atsushi required work, effort, and compromise. Acceptance. Cooperation. Things that both men had originally wanted no part in, but acquiesed nonetheless. They’d decided on a training regimine, alternating between training together and training solo. They worked on combat, martial arts, working off of each other’s abilities, defence tactics, and how to shield or help the other if they’re down.

 

That week was a solo training weak, with Atsushi at the earlier session. He sparred with Dazai, blocking his every move. The Tiger’s tail acted as an extra limb, taking Dazai’s feet out from under him or wrapping itself around the weapon, in this case, what looked like a giant padded barbell. Atsushi dodged another blow, striking out with his claws, a gash tearing across the padding on the left side, barely missing the man’s hand.

 

Dazai recoiled, but grinned up at his apprentice. “Very good, Atsushi-kun. Let’s go for another few minutes until Akutagawa gets here, yeah?”

 

“Sounds good to me.”

 

The two continued their training, Dazai watching over Atsushi’s shoulder as Akutagawa entered the room, crossing the back behind Atsushi, his eyes trained on his partner’s movements. His eyes widened as he watched the weapon leave Dazai’s hands as Atsushi kicked it, jumping high up above Dazai and pinning him to the ground.

 

Dazai groaned. “You can get off me now, Atsushi.”

 

“Right. Sorry.”

 

The brunet stood and dusted himself off. “Some impressive work today, Atsushi-kun. You’re coming along well.”

 

“Thank you, Dazai-san,” Atsushi beamed.

 

Akutagawa rolled his eyes, turning back towards the bench on which he’d set his bag. Of course Atsushi was getting praise. Yes, his last move was nice, but he’d seen his new partner attempt and accomplish much bigger and more effective tactics in the past. That was nothing special.

 

“Akutagawa-kun, are you ready?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Great. You’re done for today, Atsushi.”

 

Atsushi nodded, turning and heading towards his bag sitting next to Akutagawa’s on the bench. He flashed him a smile, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Good luck.”

 

“Thanks.” He crossed the space to the centre, coming face to face with Dazai.

 

“If you’re ready we can start right away.”

 

“Fine with me.”

 

Dazai nodded. “Let’s start with some simple attacks. I’ll use these pads on my hands. Use rashmoumon to hit the moving targets, but don’t tear them. You’re only trying to knock them, not impale them.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Go.”

 

A black tendril shot from his coat, flying towards Dazai, but the main quickly side-stepped it. He chuckled. “Faster.” He shot another tendril out, quicker this time, barely missing Dazai as he ducked. Another tendril and another, yet they continued to miss. Dazai jumped, slid, and ducked as they made their way across the room, Atsushi waving as he crossed behind them and left the room. Akutagawa tried once more, a black flash in Dazai’s peripheral as he spun out of the way, then held up a hand. He turned to face the other man. “Are you even trying? Come on. Adapt. One tendril isn’t working, it’s predictable.”

 

Akutagawa nodded, eyes focused on Dazai as he lowered his hand. This time two black strands flew from his back, on the same side, one high and one lower, and Dazai barely escaped. He nodded to himself. Three. Four. Five. Dazai no longer avoided them, getting smacked to the ground by the force of two hitting hi at once.

 

He stood, glaring at Akutagawa. “I told you to hit the pads, not send me flying. And when did I tell you to hit me with both? Are you trying to hurt me?”

 

“Weren’t you the one who always told me to train like it was the real deal?”

 

“You could have killed me.”

 

Akutagawa scoffed as Dazai walked towards him. “I thought you wanted to die.”

 

His cheek stung with the force of Dazai’s palm across his face. “Do you like pain?” Akutagawa only stared at him, blinking away the dots. “Do you?” He still said nothing, but he should have known the fist to the jaw would come next. He stumbled back, holding his jaw with one hand, steely eyes glinting with both pain and fury. “Answer me.”

 

“No. I don’t.”

 

“Oh so you did hear me? So then you’ve also heard me say that I hate pain. So why would I want to go in a manner full of it then, hmm?”

 

Akutagawa clenched his jaw, attempting to hid his wince. “Fine. Let’s keep going.”

 

Dazai smirked. “Fine by me. Get over here.”

 

Akutagawa stepped forwards. “What now?”

 

“Fight me.”

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me.

 

He narrowed his eyes. “You just told me not to hurt you.”

 

“You think you could actually hurt me without touching me with your ability?”

 

Akutagawa clenched his fists. “I could! I’ve won many fights during my time in the Mafia.”

 

“Funny, that,” Dazai sniggered, stepping towards him and giving him a shove. “Before I found you, you couldn’t. Not when Mom and Dad needed you to.”

 

He swung, his fist missing its target as Dazai swung back and hit him in the side of the head with his arm. Akutagawa stumbled forwards, turning to him and shooting a tendril at him from behind, causing the man to stumble as it disappeared with his touch.

 

“You say you protected Gin,” he continued, back in fighting stance. “Yet, you can’t do that either can you? She’s a much better fighter. Very skilled.”

 

His eyes flashed again, one eye twitching. One punch, then another, and a third, only one making a weak connection. Dazai kicked him in the chest, sending him sprawling backwards, using Rashoumon to keep him upright. But that didn’t stop Dazai, who pulled a blade from his pocket.

 

“Not as easy to fight me close up if I have a weapon now, is it? But Gin would know all about that. Maybe she could teach you.” He flipped the knife, catching the handle in a closed fist and thrusting it towards his pupil, who ducked, thrusting a leg out a Dazai’s feet. As the other man attempted to move, he caught one of his knees, sending Dazai to the floor. “You little shit. I should’ve made Gin my apprentice instead of you. She more useful than you are, even without an ability.”

 

“I am useful,” Akutagawa growled, rolling Dazai over with his foot before he could stand.

 

“You’re pathetic,” Dazai sneered, rising to his feet. “Still seeking my approval. Well let me tell you something. You’re never going to get it. Give up.”

 

“I can’t.”

 

Dazai hit him square in the chest with his forearms, a wheeze coming from the other man. “Why? What don’t you understand?”

 

Akutagawa tried to sweep Dazai’s feet out again with Rashoumon, but failed. He pushed himself to his feet just in time to receive Dazai, and wrapped his arms around his waist to take him to the ground. He threw a punch to the man’s face, missed, and Dazai smashed his forehead into Akutagawa’s nose.

 

He screamed, hands immediately flying to his face, the crimson liquid seeping from his fingers and onto Dazai’s clothes. Dazai lifted a foot under the underweight male and send him flying, gaining on him just as he hit the ground, straddling his waist. “If you can’t learn to defend, I can’t have you work with Atsushi. If he’s going to be the one in combat the most you have to be to at least defend for him. If you can’t he’s going to die. Is that what you want.”

 

“I never said that,” Akutagawa choked under Dazai’s grip. “I can’t breathe—”

 

“What else is new?”

 

“I—”

 

He released his throat, opting for a blow to chest. Akutagawa struggled to grasp his arms and hold them out of the way. “You would have him die, wouldn’t you? That’s just how you are.” He grabbed a fistful of black hair, slamming his head into the concrete floor. “Atsushi was right when he said you’re like a lawnmower. Just taking down everything in your path.”

 

“I do not!” Akutagawa cried, thrashing out from under Dazai and using Rashoumon to push himself in the air. He’d hoped for an easy escape, but the sound of ripping fabric reached his ears as a cool breeze hit his torso. The tendrils holding him up faltered, sending him crashing to the ground, his coat fluttering down next to him.

 

“Yes you do,” Dazai bellowed, shoving him back down as he clutched at his arm. A foot connected with his ribs. “I have never seen a heart in you. You’re completely selfish and useless, aside from flat out killing people.”

 

He yanked Akutagawa to his feet with the arm he’d been cradling to his chest, causing him to scream and lash out with both Rashoumon and his other arm. “That’s not true!"

 

The blade was there and gone before the pain fully registered, a gash in his side just below his ribs left in its wake. “This is the second time I’ve caught you with it because you’re completely incompetent. You always have been and always will be completely useless to me and a waste of my time, no matter how successful you become or how strong you become.”

 

“Wh—argg!”

 

“Get up!”

 

“Dazai—”

 

“GET UP! Can’t you do a single thing right?”

 

Unnoticed by Akutagawa and Dazai, footsteps echoed down the hallway. Atsushi hummed to himself as he approached the doors, unphased by forgetting his water bottle in the training room for the umpteenth time. He expected this time to be the same as all the others—walk in, grab the bottle, and leave. What he didn’t expect was the pained sounds coming from his partner.

 

Atsushi narrowed his eyes, approaching the door and peering around the corner. He gasped, openly staring at his partner slumped on his knees, a flurry of kicks hitting him in the ribs, the stomach, and the groin. Taken aback by the blood on the man, he cringed, taking a closer look. Several bloodstains stuck out against the stark white of the shirt he wore, torn and hanging off of his shoulders. His usual black coat lay in a discarded heap on the ground a few feet away.

 

“It’s not that hard Akutagawa!” Dazai’s voice reverberated off the walls, the fury in his face clear as he towered over the smaller man. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

 

Atsushi stepped out into the open, catching Dazai’s attention. The glint present only a moment before which had startled him instantly disappeared. He glanced down at Akutagawa. “You’re done for this week.” Akutagawa said nothing. He didn’t even move.

 

Dazai crossed the room and approached Atsushi, waiting for him to look up. When their eyes met he put as much emphasis into his expression as he could. Disgust. Fear. Disappointment. Sadness. Anger. How could he do that to him? That’s inexcusable… Dazai held his gaze momentarily, and when Atsushi shook his head, continued on his way, turning the corner towards the exit.

 

Atsushi took a deep breath, then headed into the room. If Akutagawa heard him approaching, he said nothing, just stayed facing Atsushi’s left. The younger man crouched down beside him, one hand on his back, calling to him in a soft voice. “Ryuunosuke.”

 

“I’m fine!” Akutagawa growled, shoving Atsushi to the side with his good arm.

 

Atsushi landed on his ass, blinking at him as confusion and anger swelled in his chest. Dazai had hurt his partner and now he wouldn’t let him near him. “Dazai hurt you.”

 

“It’s nothing new.”

 

“It’s—what? Has it always been that way?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“But today was worse?”

 

He said nothing, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor.

 

“I uh… I know some first aid. Can I help you until we get you back to the Agency? That arm might be broken and you’re wheezing pretty badly.”

 

“If you must.”

 

“Hang on one second, I have a first-aid kit in bag…”

 

“Can you…” He trailed off, trying to suck in a breath, wheezing worse on the exhale.

 

“Can I what? Is there something you need?”

 

“Inhaler…”

 

“Where is it? In your bag?”

 

Akutagawa nodded, clutching his chest with his free hand. “Front… pocket…”

 

“Okay,” Atsushi said, jumping up and jogging over to the bag. He brought it over and unzipped the front pocket, retrieving a blue rescue inhaler. He shook it well and removed the cap. Akutagawa reached out a hand and grasped it weakly, allowing Atsushi to guide it to his mouth, wait for him to take as deep of a breath as he could, then release the medicine. He repeated it a second time, then took the inhaler from his hand and slipped it back in his bag.

 

He slid around in front of him. “Can I see your arm?” Akutagawa nodded and Atsushi bit his lip as he surveyed it, asking him how it felt, where it hurt, and what had happened. With more anger flooding his body he took a triangular bandage from his first-aid kit. “It might be broken, so I’m going to put it in a sling, okay? This might be uncomfortable for you.”

 

Akutagawa hissed as Atsushi slid the fabric under his arm and pulled it up over his shoulder to tie it. Though, having it in a sling felt much better than simply holding it.

 

Atsushi glanced up at him, gently grabbing his chin to check the bruising on his neck, cringing at a few of them. Especially the finger shaped bruises appearing on his neck. When he came to the man’s eyes he startled at the tears welling in them. When his eyes widened, Akutagawa turned his head. Atsushi slid back over to his side, and Akutagawa turned his head again. Atsushi gently guided his head back to look at him. “Are you okay?”

 

“I was obviously just beat up. So not exactly.”

 

“That’s not what I meant.”

 

Akutagawa remained silent for a moment before he spoke, almost a whisper. “Why does it matter?”

 

“Because your mentor, the person that I know to be very important to you just beat the shit out of you, berated you, and left you on the floor like you were nothing.”

 

Akutagawa laughed bitterly. “I am nothing! And he was right!” A tear fell down his face and he growled as he swept it away.

 

“Why are you mad about crying?”

 

“I’m not, Jinko. I’m fine. I just need to keep working. Be better and stronger. Learn to protect people so that I’ll finally be worth something.”

 

“You already are.”

 

He shrugged it off, ignoring the tears falling down his face. “Whatever.”

 

Atsushi bit his lip again, not bothering to think about the fact that he broke the skin. He wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him somehow, but Rashoumon slicing his arm off was a definite possibility, even though it had been severely weakened by the ripped clothing. “This training is supposed to help… not bring us down. What Dazai did wasn’t okay. And neither was what he said to you.”

 

“It doesn’t—” He slapped a hand to his mouth to stifle the sob that bubble up. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

Atsushi grabbed his wrist gingerly. “Don’t do that…”

 

“What do you know? Akutagawa spat.

 

“You can’t hold it in forever… you have to just let it out sometimes. It’s okay to be vulnerable. Especially with me. I’m your partner.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

Atsushi tilts his head at him with raised eyebrows. Akutagawa looks down. The younger man crossed his legs, taking the shredded coat from beside him and folding it, sitting silently beside the other man as he ignored the fact he was crying. Atsushi sets the coat down beside his partner, taking in the ripped shirt falling further down his side, exposing the slashes and prominent ribs. Atsushi sighed, cursing Dazai under his breath.

 

He tuned his attention back to Akutagawa, watching as he fought back his sobs with shuddering breathes and a clenched jaw. He reached out and paced a hand on his shoulder. “Stop fighting it, Ryuunosuke. Let it be.”

 

Whether that was the last straw or he trusted him, Atsushi couldn’t tell. All he knew was that the dam broke and Akutagawa broke down in sobs as Atsushi retracted his hand. The hand that had swiped furiously at his face dropped to his lap as he hung his head, tears falling to the floor and into his bangs. Atsushi sat with him in silence for a few moments before resting one hand on the man’s lower back. He tensed at first, then relaxed.

 

“Is this okay…? I’ll stop if you don’t want it.”

 

“It’s okay,” he choked out, shoulders heaving.

 

Pain hit Atsushi square in the chest, causing him to round his shoulders slightly. Watching his partner in such pain, both physical and emotional, was not something he’d planned on ever witnessing. But here he was, and Atsushi hated the anguish on his face. He stayed perfectly still, his hand on Akutagawa’s back until his cries quieted down to the odd sniff.

 

“Why did you stay…?”

 

It took Atsushi a minute to really register the question. “I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

 

A moment of silent passed before Atsushi spoke again. “We should get you back to the Agency. Dress your wounds and take a look at that arm. Yosano is obviously better qualified than me. Here… take my sweater for the walk back. It’s only a block but your shirt is all torn.”

 

Akutagawa nodded sliding one arm into a sleeve and the rest over his shoulder then took the water bottle from Atsushi’s outstretched hand. He took a sip, then handed it back to him, attempting to push himself to his feet. He swayed, the room moving with him, and Atsushi caught him as he stumbled. He hoisted both bags onto his one shoulder, slung Akutagawa’s good arm around his shoulders, then wrapped his arm around the man’s waist.

 

“You okay to go now? Dizzy?”

 

“Not anymore. Let’s go.”

 

Atsushi nodded, and they set off.

 

*

 

It took hem longer than anticipated, what with Akutagawa’s unsteadiness, breathing difficulties and concerned passersby asking if they needed help. Eventually they made it back, trudging up the stairs. Atsushi maneuvered the door open and let it swing inwards.

 

“Atsushi, there you a—what happened?”

 

Kunikida got cut off by Yosano. “Is he okay? What happened? I thought you were just at training?”

 

“Yosano, I need you and you only please.”

 

“Okay. Everyone else, stay out!” She opened the door and ushered the two inside, following closely behind them in case they stumbled. “What happened to you?”

 

Akutagawa coughed, wincing at the pain. “Training got a bit rough.”

 

She slipped the sweater from his shoulders, prying it away from any wounds on his exposed skin. She took in the sling with furrowed brows, as well as the cuts and bruises littering his body. “A bit? You have a broken arm, your nose might be broken, you’re covered in blood and… are those finger marks on your neck?”

 

He shrugged his good shoulder. “We were sparring.”

 

“This is more than sparring! This is… this is excessive. Who were you sparring with?” He stayed silent. “Akutagawa, who were you sparring with?”

 

“Dazai-san.”

 

She turned to glance at Atsushi sitting behind her in a chair. “Dazai did this?”” He nodded. “How… I…” She pursed her lips, glancing his body over. “Is there anything else I should know?”

 

Akutagawa remained silent still, staring at the sheets below him, body tensed.

 

Atsushi cleared his throat. “I have him his inhaler. The rescue one. It’s to help with his pleurisy I think, but Dazai kicked him in the ribs a few times so you might want to check them. Also dizziness when we stood up, and that could be from a lot of things, but he did hit his head.”

 

She nodded. “Thank, Atsushi.” He nodded and she turned to him. “I’m gunna fix you up, alright? I’ll be right back.”

 

As she left his head turned to Atsushi and he winced at the fear in his partner’s eyes. “She’s not going to hurt you. Just adjust your arm, give you some stitches, maybe bandage up your ribs and stuff like that. Painkillers.”

 

“I don’t trust doctors.”

 

Atsushi sighed. “You let me use first-aid on you, and she’s essentially doing the same thing, just better.”

 

“I don’t want her to touch me…”

 

“She’s only trying to help you. You need medical attention.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

“To a degree.”

 

Atsushi nearly snorted. “Well I’m not leaving. I’m staying put in this chair. And if something’s wrong or you need her to stop I’ll make sue she does, alright?”

 

“Fine.”

 

Atsushi nodded, settling back further in his chair as Yosano came in. She managed to stitch him up and put a proper sling on him without any issues. It was bandaging his ribs that proved difficult. Merely touching it was painful and any pressure on them made it hard for him to breathe. His eyes pleaded for Atsushi to make it stop, which he said to Yosano. Mameuvering the bandages under the sling and making them tight enough caused him pain, his face scrunched up the entire time. Yosano had Atsushi pull the bandages under the sling as gently as he could, apologizing all the while, and then handed them off to her to secure.

 

Finally she stepped back, waiting as he downed a few painkillers and set the cup of water on the tray next to him. She nodded. “Feeling a bit better?”

 

He nodded, not meeting her eyes. “Yes. Thank you.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Knock knock!”

 

Akutagawa’s eyes immediately widened as Dazai passed through the curtain. Yosano whipped around to face him and Atsushi stood from is chair, ears and tail appearing in a split second.

 

“Leave,” Yosano demanded.

 

“Easy now, I don’t see what the problem is. I just came to see how he was doing.”

 

“Get out,” Atsushi snarled, standing between him and Akutagawa. “We aren’t done here.”

 

“Relax, I’m not going to beat him up or anything. I just want to talk to him.” Yosano eyed the two, and then glanced back to Akutagawa, who seemed both amused and shocked by Atsushi’s protectiveness. Atsushi shook his head at Dazai, who pushed past him, causing Atsushi’s ears and tail to disappear. “Let me speak to him. Alone.”

 

“No.”

 

“Atsushi.” The younger man turned to his partner with raised brows. “It’s fine. Let him talk.”

 

Atsushi opened his mouth to protest, but quickly shut it and nodded. He left with Yosano, walking a few beds over and staring the other’s shadows on the curtain. She turned to him. “Do you know what happened?”

 

Atsushi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I forgot my water bottle so I went back and I found Akutagawa slumped on the ground with Dazai kicking the shit out of him and screaming. I’m not too sure what else he said to him, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good.”

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“I’ve never seen him show any emotions before really, but after I did some first aid he just started sobbing. And it wasn’t from the pain.”

 

Her mouth formed an O. “Did you hear any of what he said?”

 

“Al I heard was Dazai asking him what was wrong with him, but I’m sure there’s more. Akutagawa said something about having to learn to protect people so that he’d finally be worth something.”

 

Yosano glanced at the curtain shadows and then back to him. “So he told him he was worthless?”

 

“Sounds like it.”

 

“Think this was a one-off?”

 

“Absolutely not,” Atsushi stated. “No. I know for a fact that they used to train excessively hard when Dazai was still in the Port Mafia. So I wouldn’t be surprised if the berating was a part of it then, too. Could be why he reacted the way he did.”

 

She nodded. “Head injuries and pain can make people more emotional, too.”

 

“Ye—what’s that?”

 

They both furrowed their brows, listening intently to the raised voice from the other side of the room.

 

“I don’t care how it makes you feel, it doesn’t matter! What matters is that you’re being a pussy and everyone is going to think the same thing. You’re way overreacting. I barely touched you, most of your injuries were self-inflicted. I mean you’re the one who fell and broke your arm.”

 

Incoherent mumbling took over momentarily, followed by another outburst.

 

“Why do you even care? You’re heartless, remember? We’ve been over this! You’re a machine. You. Don’t. Care. And neither do I. Suck it up. I’ve put so much effort into training you and this is the thanks I get? Seriously?”

 

Yosano took one look at Atsushi and they both dashed towards the curtain, pushing through it. Atsushi yanked Dazai’s arm to spin him around as Yosano screamed at him to get out.

 

“What the hell was that? First you beat the shit out of him and I don’t know what you said to him but I know it was bad, and now you pull this shit? What the fuck, Dazai?”

 

Dazai looked straight into his eyes. “Something about him brings out the dark in me.”

 

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“He doesn’t deserve that, Dazai! That’s cruel!”

 

“You don’t know what he’s done to deserve it.”

 

Atsushi heard Akutagawa’s breath hitch behind him and he clenched his jaw. “Leave. Now.”

 

Dazai only nodded, turned on his heel and left. Yosano began dragging him out of the room, lecturing him, but Atsushi stopped paying attention. He turned to Akutagawa, who sat still near the headboard, staring at his lap. Without another thought he took two strides to the bed and wrapped his arms around his partner.

 

Akutagawa didn’t hug back, but he didn’t push him off either. “What are you doing?”

 

“I’m hugging you.”

 

“Why would you do that?”

 

Atsushi let out a breath. “Because I don’t want you to believe anything that Dazai has said to you. It’s not true. You’re not worthless, or weak, and no one thinks you’re overreacting. None of this was your fault and you didn’t deserve it. Not now, and not when he used to train you when you were younger either. I promise.”

 

Akutagawa went to speak, but closed his mouth again, resting his chin on Atsushi’s shoulder. Then he wraped his good arm around his partner, turned his face into his neck, and let out a long breath.

 

As he let his eyes fall shut, only one word registered in his brain.

 

Safe.

 

Notes:

Hey all!! So I hope this chapter was okay. Let me know your thoughts! I have a hard time writing Aku sometimes so I hope it worked. I love it, but it's a challenge haha.

Also, I want to give a shoutout to someone on Instagram who runs one of my fav fan pages. Go check out @deadzvai on instagram!! The page has me chortling at 3am trying not to wake up my family lol. Thank you for reading this story I really appreciate it!

As always, requests are open. I hope its okay that I'm writing my own one-shot ideas between requests sometimes, I just have so many ideas! Feel free to request H/C, whump, smut, fluff... pretty much anything. Also, if the smut chapter was bad someone pls tell me so I don't embarrass myself next time hahaha.

Got some more Kenji coming up, and also more Dazai, as well as some of my own ideas for compilations. Until next time, guys! -Emma :)

Chapter 20: Best Friends (Kenji and Kyouka Compilation)

Summary:

A compilation of moments between Kenji and Kyouka.

I love the two of them and Kenji is my comfort character so I find myself writing him a lot lately aha.

I literally worked on this for weeks bc I didn't know how to word shit and it literally gave me so much trouble for sime reason. It's still shit so please forgive me.

I hope you enjoy it at least, haha.

Kenji and Kyouka may not be your average 14 year-olds. Extreme life experiences, upbringings, and personalities tend to do that to a person. The Armed Detective Agency had no idea how it happened, but somehow, the two of them became best friends rather quickly after Kyouka joined the Agency. Much to their surprise, the two kids enjoyed spending time together both in and out of the office.

 

Although, what did they expect, really? The only two 14-year-olds like them in one office and around each other constantly? Even despite their opposite natures, they inevitably became friends. Expecting otherwise would be like expecting Atsushi and Junichiro not to become friends when they’re the same age and spend hours together every single day.

 

 As for the shenanigans they get up to… oh boy. Let me tell you.

 

*

 

“Kyouka, who’s at the door?” Atsushi bellowed from the kitchen, looking over his shoulder away from the boiling pot he stirred.

 

“It’s probably Kenji,” she said, passing through the kitchen with a bundle of candy.

 

“Kenji? Why?”

 

She turned to him with a blank face. “Because I asked him to come over.”

 

Atsushi only raised his brows. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

 

Kyouka turned her back and strode to the door, pulling it open to reveal the golden-haired boy. “Hi Kenji.”

 

“Hi Kyouka! May I come in?”

 

She nodded, stepping away from the door. “Of course.”

 

Atsushi stepped into the room then, wiping his hands on a towel. “Sorry, Kenji. I didn’t know you were coming or I would’ve made more food.”

 

He beamed. “That’s okay! I’ll fall asleep if I eat anyway.”

 

“Er… alright then. I’ll just head back to our room, Kyouka. You guys hangout in here.”

 

“Bye Atsushi!” Kenji called after him as Kyouka waved. He turned to her, the smile still lingering. “So, what do you want to do?”

 

“Uh… I don’t know. I’ve never had a friend my age before.”

 

“Me neither. Well, I had friends back home, but I guess we wouldn’t do what you’d call ‘normal 14-year-old’ things.”

 

“What kind of things did you do for fun back home?”

 

He pondered that for a moment. “Well, we used to race the cows through the fields. Or practice tying each other up and untying it.”

 

“Why?”

 

He shrugged. “I dunno. We found it entertaining.”

 

She squinted at him. “Alright then… what else?”

 

“We played a lot of hide and seek in the dark. Oh! We also rode horses sometimes, too!”

 

“I’ve never ridden a horse,” Kyouka mused, imagining it in her head. “It sounds fun.”

 

“It is fun! You should come ut some time and ride with me!”

 

Kyouka grinned, brushing some hair out if her face. “Okay!”

 

Kenji beamed at her, and she wondered subconsciously if the kid was ever not smiing. “What did you use to do for fun?”

 

“Well, when my parents were still alive we played board games and cards. Or we’d watch TV. Or… go to the park.”

 

“You had a TV?” Kenji asked, awe shining in his eyes.

 

“Mhmm. I used to watch cartoons with my dad on the weekend. Or sometimes when I couldn’t sleep my mom would bring me with her to watch a movie until I fell asleep.”

 

“Wow, I didn’t even know what a TV was until a few months ago.”

 

Kyouka chuckled. “I couldn’t imagine not having money or electricity.”

 

Kenji shrugged. “I didn’t know anything different. We used candles and oil lamps a lot, and just bartered for everything. It’s pretty simple.”

 

She nodded. “So you wouldn’t have done half of the things I have then. Like the arcade, or organized sports, or going to the movies.”

 

“Nope.” He hummed, tapping a finger against his chin. “Can we?”

 

“Can I come horse-back riding and try tying knots?”

 

“Of course! Next time we have some time off!”

 

She grinned. “Then yes. Let’s go to the arcade and play some games. It’s a short walk.”

 

“Will you show me how to play, or are you just going to beat me?”

 

“We’ll see,” she teased.

 

He stuck his tongue out at her as they rose from the couch. Kyouka crossed the dorm to the room she shared with Atsushi to let him know where they were going. As she returned, she asked, “What do normal 14-year-olds do?”

 

Kenji paused, wrinkling his nose. “I honestly don’t know. Should we ask someone? Dazai-san maybe?”

 

“No,” said Kyouka, shaking her head.  She closed the door behind them and they started down the steps. “Dazai-san didn’t have a normal childhood either. And we can’t ask Atsushi.”

 

“How about Ranpo-san?”

 

“I dunno. I think he would just give us candy or something.”

 

 Kenji laughed, jogging after her as she started crossing the street. “That’s true. But there’s nothing wrong with candy!”

 

She laughed. “How about Yosano-sensei? Or Kunikida-san?”

 

“That’s a great idea!”

 

*

 

“I feel like we should have seen this one coming from Yosano-sensei,” said Kyouka a few days later, swinging the mall doors open.

 

“Probably, but it’s different now.”

 

“How so?”

 

Kenji smiled, pulling some change out of his wallet. “We’re the ones shopping! Except…”

 

“Except what?”

 

He scratched the back of his neck. “I still have no idea how money works.”

 

She smiled, taking the change from his hand. “I’ll teach you.”

 

A while later the two of them traipsed through the mall, a few packages in their arms. Kenji, with Kyouka’s help, bought a new hat and some sweets to send to his brother back home. Kyouka found a new Kimono and bought some sweets for herself and Atsushi to share. She licked her lollipop, glancing around at the different stores.

 

“Kenji, we have to go in there!”

 

“Where?”

 

“The Pet Store! Look!”

 

“Ouuuu animals! Do you think they have cows?”

 

She turned to him, drawing her brows together. “N-no, Kenji. Most people don’t have cows as pets.”

 

“Why not? They make great company! And a great meal.”

 

Kyouka opened her mouth to speak but decided against it. Instead she grabbed his free hand and tugged him towards the propped-open door. He stumbled after her, following her inside. His golden eyes stared around wide-eyed, bringing Kyouka to a stop as he admired the brightly coloured fish in the aquarium. She found that she loved the way his face lit up at each new animal. Hamsters, cats, lizards… even an extremely talkative parrot.

 

They walked through the store, stopping to look at each new animal they came across. Near the back, while Kenji pressed his nose against the glass of terrarium, Kyouka turned to scan the back wall. Her eyes widened and she tugged on Kenji’s shirt.

 

He turned to her, taking in her fixed gaze. “What is it, Kyouka?” She raised a hand, pointing at a clear crate nestled in the back corner. “A rabbit? Do you think we could—”

 

“Don’t you dare say eat it.”

 

He looked at her warily out of the corner of his eye, then cleared his throat. “What about it?”

 

She tugged his hand and he followed her over to it. She pressed her small hands to the glass, big blue eyes focused on the white and grey speckled rabbit, it’s nose twitching at her. “It’s so beautiful…”

 

He watched as she scrunched her nose up at it, a smile spreading across his face. She may not have had much of a childhood with the Port Mafia… she may not have had much happiness, but she would now. He was sure of it.  “You should get it.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You should get it, look, it says it’s up for adoption.”

 

She turned to him, then looked back at the rabbit. “You think so?”

 

He nodded, beaming. “Why not?”

 

“What would Atsushi say?”

 

Kenji shrugged. “I don’t think he’d mind having a pet.”

 

Kyouka smiled, and it reached her eyes. “Okay. We’ll surprise him! But first I need to find a carrier…”

 

A while later the two of them swung the door open to Kyouka and Atsushi’s dorm. The sound of Atsushi humming from the kitchen reached their ears and Kyouka smirked mischievously. Kenji glanced at her, leaning down to speak to her as she set the carrier on the ground. “What are you doing?”

 

“Shh!”

 

“What?”

 

“You’ll see… just don’t say anything…” With that, she unlatched the carrier door. The rabbit sniffed the floor, then hopped out, looking up at her before scampering off towards the other side of the room. They waited in silence for a moment as the rabbit disappeared around the corner.

 

Atsushi’s humming stopped abruptly. “Argh! What the—how—where—” Kyouka began giggling into her hand, with Kenji following shortly after. A bang came from the kitchen, followed by muffled cursing. “Come here little bunny… come here… no no no, not under the… okay, here I come…”

 

The two kids began laughing louder and more thumps and frantic calls to the rabbit came from the kitchen. A moment later Atsushi emerged, the rabbit squirming in his arms. “Kyouka? Kenji?” The two were leaning against the door, practically crying from how hard they were laughing. He took in the carrier on the floor, the box holding a cage and bag of rabbit food, among other packages, in Kenji’s arms. “Is this our new pet?”

 

“Yeah,” Kyouka beamed, reaching out to take back the bunny, cradling it in her arms.

 

“How did you even get it back here? Are rabbits even allowed on the trains?”

 

She shrugged. “Nobody said anything.”

 

He gave her a look, but then smiled. “Does it have a name?”

 

“Um…”

 

She looked to Kenji, who shook his head. “No. She doesn’t have a name yet. But we were thinking…”

 

“Moonlight.”

 

Atsushi’s jaw went slack as he stared between the two kids and the bunny. “After my ability?”

 

Kenji nodded as Kyouka spoke. “In a way, yes. Your ability and my ability may not be something we wished for but we have it now, and coming to the agency changed our lives around. And you changed my life around. The light in the darkness… you know? And maybe she can be a reminder of that…”

 

Atsushi stepped forward, stroking the bunny’s soft fur. “Welcome home, Moonlight.”

 

*

 

“This sounds fun!” Kenji called from his dorm doorway, watching the other agency members setting up disk-cones on the grassy field outside their building.

 

Kyouka jogged towards him, for once not wearing her Kimono, but a tee shirt, a pair of shorts, and sneakers. Her gaze followed his, and then she turned back to him. “It is! I’ve played it a few times before, when I went to school.”

 

“Trust Kunikida-san to find something fun for us to do!”

 

She grinned at him, glancing him over. It was odd to see him in anything other than his usual attire. She’d never seen him wear shorts or a plain tee, and definitely not anything more closed off than sandals. She chuckled. “I’m glad he suggested this. It looks like we’ve got a lot of the Agency members out to play! Atsushi, Junichiro, Kunikida, Dazai, Yosano, Naomi, and Haruno are playing!”

 

“Wait… I thought you said we needed even numbers?”

 

“We do. Dazai invited Chuuya-san, too.”

 

Kenji raised his brows. “Is he going to use his ability? Because I don’t think that would be fair?”

 

“Are you,” Kyouka laughed. “Because that would be unfair.”

 

“I can’t just turn it off!”

 

Her shoulders shook with laughter. “I know, I know. Try not to send me flying though, okay?”

 

“Of course not!”

“Hey! Kenji! Kyouka! Are we playing or not?”

 

They both turned their gazes to Kunikida, waving his arms at them. Kenji laughed, cupping his hands around his mouth to call back. “Coming!”

 

They jogged over together, stopping in front of the blond man. He held a soccer ball against his hip. “Did you explain to Kenji how to play?” She shook her head. “Alright. The goal is to use only your feet to get this ball between those two cones, okay? We’ll be playing five on five. Understand?”

 

“No hands, and get the ball between those cones. Got it!”

 

“Perfect. Alright, ready to choose teams, Dazai?”

 

The brunet smirked. “You bet.”

 

“Alright. You choose first.”

 

“Easy. I’ll take Kyouka”

 

Kunikida rolled his eyes. “Chuuya.”

 

Dazai shook his head at them as they high-fived. “Atsushi.”

 

“Kenji.”

 

“Yosano.”

 

“Junichirou.”

 

“Naomi.”

 

“And that leaves me with Haruno,” Kunikida stated, dropping the ball to his foot. “We’ll take this side. So Kenji, that means you’re trying to score on the goal across the field. That way.” He nodded. “Alright, let’s get ready!”

 

Kunikida motioned for his team to follow him to their goal. They stopped in a semi-circle around him, waiting for instructions. “Right. Junichirou and I will play defence. Haruno and Chuuya, you play forward. Kenji, you’ll play mid.”

 

“What’s mid?”

 

Kunikida cringed at the ground, then looked up at Kenji. “It means that your job is a mix of trying to score on that net, and trying to keep the ball out of ours. You go up and come back. Is that okay?”

 

“Sounds fine to me!”

 

Kunikida nodded. “Have the rest of you played before?” Haruno and Junichirou both nodded, while Chuuya shook his head. Kunikida waved a hand. “You’ll be fine Chuuya. Dazai sucks at this and somehow I doubt Atsushi and Naomi are any good either.”

 

“She’s not,” Jun added, snorting.

 

Chuuya nodded, and Kenji pulled on his sleeve. “It’ll be fun! You’ll see.”

 

Chuuya grinned at him, bewildered by this odd kid every time he came into contact with him. Though he couldn’t say he disliked him—that would be hard to do.

 

Kunikida cleared his throat. “Kenji I want you to stay on Kyouka as best you can. She’s agile and quick.”

 

“She’s played before, too!”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Great. Alright, let’s get started!”

 

He placed the ball down in the middle of the field, then backed up to his position. Chuuya lined up in front of the ball, looking down at Kyouka, who held a fierce grin on her face. Beside her stood Yosano, a hand on her hip.

 

Kunikida whistled and Yosano tapped the ball forwards to Kyouka, who took off with it. She rolled it with the bottom of her foot past Chuuya, then took it up the side. Kenji’s eyes widened in shock and he trailed after her, soon catching up to him. He pushed her against the line of cones and she turned her back to him, the ball of her foot tugging on the ball as she tried to push him back. But it was no use, just as she figured. He was too strong.

 

“Kyouka!”

 

Dazai shot up the field, one hand pointing to his front foot. Kenji side-stepped to intercept the pass, but Kyouka turned the opposite way and took off down the line.

 

“Kyouka!” Kenji called after her, drawing laughter from the young girl. “That was rude! You tricked me!”

 

“That’s the point,” she giggled, crossing the ball with her left to Yosano in the middle. “I’m not supposed to let you know what I’m going to do.”

 

“Dishonesty,” he sang, jogging along side her and watching as Kunikida slide tackled Atsushi, who flipped over his back.

 

Junichiro dashed up the field with long strides, the ball racing in front of him. He cut around Naomi, calling out to Chuuya and Kenji. Kyouka man-marked Kenji, shouldering him away from his teammates. He chirped at her, and eventually laid into her with his shoulder, sending her to the ground.

 

Chuuya put the ball through the cones as Kyouka hit the ground. She glanced up at Kenji with a huff and an over-exagerated pout.  

 

“Foul!” Dazai called, jogging past them. “Ref, I call a foul! Yellow card!”

 

“What’s a yellow card?”

 

Kyouka shook her head, chuckling. “You have a lot to learn.”

 

Yosano tapped the ball backward this time from the centre, allowing Atsushi to take a run with it . He approached Kenji with short touches on the ball. As he attempted to cut past him, Kenji brought his foot forward, taking the ball off of him. Eyes wide and beaming, he sprinted up the field, nearly tripping over the ball as he did so. Junichirou called to him and Haruno cheered him on as he outran both Naomi and Atsushi.

 

Out of nowhere, his feet no longer touched the ground, and he was sent tumbling to the grass below. Yosano howled as she got back to her feet, pulling him up with her just in time to see Kyouka making a run with the ball. He raced after her, almost stepping on her heels as she took a shot. Kunikida lunged for it, his toe tapping it ever so slightly, though not enough to change its trajectory out of the range of the net. It rolled through and Kyouka jumped up with a cheer.

 

Kenji shook his head at her with a smile as she turned to him. “I thought you said you’d only played a few times.”

 

She grinned, her nose scrunched up. “A few. Meaning, like… more than a few.”

 

He only shook his head, both of them cracking up as the ball was sent back to the centre.

 

*

 

“I told you Ranpo would give us sweets,” Kyouka mused, peeling the wrapper off of a chocolate bar.

 

Kenji shrugged, chewing on a handful of gummies as the two lounged on the couch in Kenji’s dorm. “’M not complainin.’”

 

She side-eyed him with a chuckle, taking another bite of her second full-sized chocolate bar in the past five minutes.

 

“Mmm, which one’s that? It looks good.”

 

“It is good,” she hummed, handing one to him. He ripped the wrapper open, accidentally cracking the bar. He watched it drop to the table in pieces, furrowing his brows in disappointment. Kyouka covered her mouth with a hand, stifling a laugh.

 

He looked up at her with a pout. “My chocolate…”

 

She burst out laughing, eyes clenched shut, unable to wipe the smile from her face. She continued to laugh as he picked the pieces up and ate them one by one, side-eying her defensively. It only set her off again when she opened her eyes and saw him frowning at a hair on one piece, trying to blow it off.  

 

“Do you hear that?” Kenji asked, raising his voice over her laughing.

 

“Hear… hear what?”

 

“That noise? It sounds like a music box.”

 

She settled her laughter, straining to hear the noise. Immediately, she jumped up. “That’s an ice cream truck!”

 

“A what?”

 

“An ice cream truck!”

 

He blinked at her. “If you tell me it’s a truck made of ice cream, I won’t believe you.”

 

She gave him a look. “No. The ice cream is inside the truck.”

 

“Why would they do that? Won’t it melt?”

 

She huffed, pulling him off the couch.

 

“My chocolate,” he protested as it fell once again.

 

“Forget about the chocolate! We’re getting ice cream.”

 

“From a truck? Is that safe?”

 

She glanced back at him over her shoulder, then shook her head with a chuckle. “Come on, country boy.”

 

She didn’t let go of his hand until they stood on the sidewalk as the truck pulled up beside them. The man opened the window and leaned his elbows on the ledge. “Hey kids! What can I get for you today?”

 

Kenji stared at Kyouka with wide eyes. She smiled, then turned to the man above her head. “Two medium chocolate soft-serves, please!”

 

“Coming right up. 395 yen please, miss.”

 

She blanked, then turned to Kenji with her mouth open. “Do you have your wallet? I forgot money.”

 

He blinked at her, and then a smile spread across his face. “I do! Here!”

 

She pulled out the money they needed and sat it on the ledge, barely able to reach it unless she stood on her tippy toes. The man returned to the window and leaned further down to hand her an ice cream. He then returned once more with one for Kenji.

 

“Thank you!” Kenji chirped, “Have a good day!”

 

The man waved, then pulled away from the curb. Kenji waited until he turned the corner, then turned and started walking back to the dorm. Kyouka fell into step beside him, watching as he licked up the side of the cone where it had started to drip.

 

“I’ll pay you back,” she blurted, face flushing.

 

He turned his head to look at her in confusion. “What for?”

 

“You just paid for that because I forgot my money.”

 

“Oh!” He grinned, taking another lick of his ice cream. “Don’t worry about that! My treat!”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Mhhm!”

 

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

 

“Can we get more of this the next time the truck comes by?”

 

She flashed him a smile. “You like it?”

 

“It’s so good! I’ve never had this kind before!”

 

“What kind?”

 

“The truck kind!”

 

Kyouka shook her head, laughing to herself. “Right. Let’s get inside before these become puddles.”

 

*

 

Kyouka startled from sleep, sitting straight up in bed. She searched the darkness of the room with squinted eyes. When another knock hit the front door, she jumped, racking her brain for every possible scenario. She drew her knife from under her pillow as Atsushi slid the closet door open.

 

He rubbed one eye. “Is someone at the door?”

 

“Yeah… should I open it?”

 

“Yeah. I’ll go with you.”

 

The two of the slipped from the room and through the dorm towards the door. Another more frantic knock on the door rang through the small space. She shook her head and opened the door, revealing the person behind it.

 

Kenji stood on the concrete outside in bare feet and baggy pajamas, hair messy and eyes wild. He searched Kyouka’s face, taking shallow breaths.

 

“What’s wrong?” Kyouka asked, taking his hand and pulling him inside. “You’re scared.”

 

He wrapped his arms around her neck, breathing hard. “The—the agency got attacked.”

 

“What?” Atsushi nearly yelled.

 

Kenji flinched. “And I—I couldn’t use my ability and and and—”

 

“Take a breath…”

 

He tried his best, drawing in several shorter breathes before he was able to take a proper one. “Everyone got hurt be-because of me and I—I—I couldn’t do anything.”

 

Atsushi blinked. “We’re all okay, Kenji.”

 

“I had to be sure!”

 

Kyouka relaxed her shoulders, wrapping her arms a bit tighter around him. “It was just a nightmare,” she said, one hand on the back of his head. “We’re okay. We’re right here.”

 

He nodded, trying to settle his breathing. “I woke up screaming and then I was here…”

 

“We’re okay… everyone’s okay…”

 

“I’m so sorry I woke you both…”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Atsushi said, a sad smile on his face as he watched Kyouka hug him.

 

“It’s okay. You were scared.”

 

He shuddered. “I’m still scared…”

 

“Why? It was only a dream.”

 

“I know, but it felt so… real. It could happen, you know…? If I can’t use my ability… I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep now…”

 

Kyouka let out a long breath. “That’s okay. Come stay here. As long as it’s okay with Atsushi?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Okay? Stay here. Then you’ll know we’re okay.”

 

Kenji pulled back to look at her. “Thank you. Do you have something I can use as a pillow for the couch?”

 

Kyouka shook her head. “You’re not sleeping on the couch. You can share my bed.”

 

“A-are you sure?” She nodded. “Okay.”

 

Atsushi turned and headed back to bed, Kyouka and Kenji trailing after him. She sat on the mattress, pulling the blanket back and letting him slip underneath. Atsushi tossed a pillow to him from the closet and he laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. Kyouka let her eyes fall shut beside him, seemingly unaware of the thoughts racing in his head.

 

Then a hand slipped into his and he shot her a questioning look, only to find her blue eyes open and staring at him.

 

“You’re still trembling,” she whispered, and he looked away. She squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, I’m not judging you.”

 

He rolled on his side, back to her. “Okay.”

 

She smiled sadly. He was always so happy. Seeing him scared and upset made her chest ache. The fact that he thought she’d judge him for not being happy only made it worse.

 

Kyouka scooted closer to him and slipped an arm around his waist. He relaxed in her grasp and she pulled him closer to her. “There. Maybe this will help you not be scared.”

 

“Maybe…”

 

“Just so you know,” she murmured, starting to drift off again. “No one blames you for not being able to use your ability at all times. You do have to eat.”

 

“People died…”

 

“We’re okay, Kenji. We’re all okay, I promise. It’s okay.”

 

He let out a long breath, pulling the blanket closer to his chest and against her hand.

 

“Close your eyes, Kenji,” she managed to get out. “I’m right here.”

 

Slowly, he let his eyes flutter shut. Kenji relaxed further into her touch, satisfied that the people he cared about were safe, and that it wasn’t his fault.

 

*

 

The door to the office swung open, allowing three figures to slip through. First Junichirou, who was followed by Atsushi, and then a small figure dashed through the opening and around a corner. Kenji squinted at the spot where she disappeared, then to Atsushi and Jun who stood by the door, shoulders slumped.

 

He stood from his desk and made his way across the room, the pattering of his bare feet on the floor announcing his presence to the two older boys. They glanced up at him as he approached with tired eyes. “What’s wrong with Kyouka?”

 

Atsushi sighed. “Something happened on our case that we didn’t expect, and we had to fight.”

 

“Is she okay?”

 

“Not exactly,” Junichiro admitted. “There was this young girl in the area with her parents…”

 

Kenji looked at the ground. “The parents died, didn’t they?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He nodded, turned on his heel, and headed down the hall to the infirmary. Straight past Yosano, who called out to him, he snatched a folded blanket from a shelf at the back and headed back out of the room. Kenji crossed the office once again, the blanket clutched in his arms, and didn’t stop until he came to one of the closed off sections with a couch.

 

He stepped into the doorway silently, greeted to the sight of Kyouka hugging her knees on the couch, her face buried. Kenji frowned and stepped towards her, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders and sitting down next to her.

 

Kyouka peeked up at him out of the corner of one eye. She pulled the rest of the blanket around her small frame and drew her knees back up, resting her head on her knees to look at him. “They told you?”

 

He nodded. “They didn’t need to say much for me to understand.”

 

She glanced to the ground, then back to his face. The concern seemed so out of place, and yet, she found it comforting. He cared about her. “I can’t get it out of my head. And I can’t be optimistic and think I will someday… because I don’t think I will.”

 

Kenji scooted closer to her on the couch, wrapping an arm around her back. “It’s not just something you forget, Kyouka.”

 

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “That little girl… she couldn’t have been any older than I was… and she had to watch…” She stayed quiet for a moment, before glancing up at him with tears streaming down her face. “She had to watch, Kenji.”

 

He pulled her closer and she turned her head, crying into his chest. Kenji said nothing, just rested his cheek against the top of her head, closing his eyes. Normally he’d have something uplifting to say, but sometimes there just wasn’t anything. She’d watched her parents die, and now she’d just relived it through another little girl.

 

“It wasn’t your fault, you know,” he whispered, rubbing her arm. “You guys weren’t there to harm anyone. It was the enemy who decided to fight, and they got caught in the crossfire.”

 

“They were innocent,” she choked, clutching at his shirt. “And I couldn’t stop it…”

 

“It’s not your fault. Please don’t blame yourself…”

 

“I don’t want her to end up like me.”

 

He shook his head against hers, hugging her closer. “She won’t. She’ll be okay. I’ll help you find her if you want, just so you can be sure.”

 

“Okay,” she sniffed. “Thank you, Kenji.”

 

*

 

Kenji sat cross-legged on his bed, fingers flying over his keyboard to finish a report for the agency. The case he’d worked that morning hadn’t been overly exciting, causing the report to be even more tedious than normal. He blew out his cheeks, pondering how to word the next few sentences.

 

He nearly toppled off the bed when his phone went off next to him at full volume, whipping his head round to look at it. He slid his thumb across the screen and put it on speaker. “Hello?”

 

“Kenji, I need your help,” a firm voice stated.

 

“What is it, Kyouka?”

 

“Come up to my dorm please. And hurry.”

 

“Okay, I’ll be right there.”

 

He shut his laptop and slid off the bed, wracking his brain as to what she could possibly need his help with hen she lived with Atsushi. He furrowed his brows as he threw open his door and shut it behind him, jogging up the stairs to the girl’s dorm. He let himself in and glanced around, only to see Kyouka huddled in the corner of the kitchen, her eyes glued to the wall across from her, the phone still clutched in her hand.

 

“Thank you for coming so quickly.”

 

“Of course! What did you need help with?”

 

“There’s a spider.”

 

He deadpanned. “You called me up here for a spider? Why didn’t you just ask Atsushi?”

 

“He’s out with Lucy so he couldn’t kill it.”

 

“You want me to kill it?” She nodded, eyes still glued to the wall. “Why can’t I just take it outside?”

 

“It will come back.”

 

He blinked at her, then burst out laughing. “Okay, Kyouka. What do you want me to kill it with?”

 

“I don’t know I just want it gone!”

 

Trying to stop his laughter he searched the kitchen for something to hit the bug with. “Hmm…”

 

“Quickly, it’s moving!”

 

“I’m trying!” His eyes quickly landing upon a small frying pan.

 

“Kenji!”

 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” He stepped in front of her, pulled his arm back, then threw it forward at the dancing spider.

 

“Did you get it?”

 

Silence.

 

“Kenji?”

 

“Y-yeah. I got it alright.”

 

She opened her eyes, her hand immediately flying to her mouth with a gasp. Her gaze flit between Kenji, who stared with wide, fearful eyes, and the frying pan, stuck in the hole it made in the wall. “O-oh…”

 

The door swung open behind them and they both jumped, staring straight at the two figures who’d entered the room. Atsushi stepped into the light, followed closely by Lucy, both holding concerned expressions.

 

He looked from one to the other. “What happened? Are you guys okay?”

 

“What were you two up to? All we could hear was screaming and then a huge crash!” Lucy continued.

 

Atsushi furrowed his brows and squinted. “Why is there… a frying pan… in the wall…?”

 

Kenji blinked at him, his face apprehensive. “There was a spider…” From behind him, Kyouka burst into a fit of laughter. He turned to her, horrified. “I put a hole in your wall.”

 

She nodded vigorously, clutching her stomach as she leaned back against the counter. “Yeah! Y-yeah you did!”

 

Atsushi started snickering, too, watching Kenji stare at her in confusion as she cracked up. He glanced over to Lucy, and the two stated laughing together.

 

Kenji whipped around to face the, completely at a loss. “I just stuck a pan through your kitchen wall in an apartment that was given to you and you’re all laughing.”

 

“I-it’s funny!” Atsushi chortled.

 

“All for,” Kyouka started, wiping tears off her face as she continued to laugh. “All for a sp-spider!”

 

“You wanted me to kill it!” Barely standing from her laughter, Kyouka crossed to him and gave him a hug, laughing against his chest. He looked down at her, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Why do you find this so funny?”

 

“Be-because! I didn’t think, think about how you don’t know your own strength!” The more she spoke, the higher her voice rose with her howling laughter. “I didn’t think about you putting something through the wall! I should’ve… I should’ve known!”

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he closed them, beginning to laugh himself. Whooping laughter soon tore from his mouth and he and Kyouka sank to the floor.

 

Lucy wandered over, still hiccoughing. “Are you sure you got it?”

 

“How could I not have?”

 

She shrugged, pulling the pan from the wall and examining the hole. “I don’t see a carcass anywhere. You must have—”

 

She stopped midsentence, glancing down at a cross-eyed Kenji. His mouth formed an O as the spider sat on the tip of his nose. “Hello, sir. Can I help yo—ow!”

 

Atsushi fell into another fit of laughter as Lucy watched with wide eyes. Kenji grabbed his nose, whipping his head around to stare at Kyouka, the spider’s disembodied legs smeared across the sole of the shoe she held in her hand.

 

“Sorry. I had to kill it.”

 

He blinked at her, and then they both dissolved into laughter once again.

 

*

 

 

“Are you two ready?” Kunikida’s steady voice rang out across the office. He sat at his desk, a pen and paper in front of him, with Kenji and Kyouka huddled at his side.

 

Kyouka nodded, while Kenji hummed his agreement before speaking. “What are we learning first?”

 

Kunikida creased his brows. “When was the last time you two went to school?”

 

“I was eleven,” whispered Kyouka.

 

He nodded. “Alright… Kenji, how about you?”

 

“I went to school right until I came here, but I don’t think I learned the same things as kids here would.”

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“Well, we learned about farming techniques and how to avoid being headbutted by cows.”

 

Kunikida blinked at him while Kyouka deadpanned. “I didn’t learn about cows.”

 

“Did you learn any math?”

 

Kenji nodded. “A bit, yes. But nothing too advanced.”

 

“Addition, subtraction, multiplication, division… did you learn those?” Both kids nodded. “How about basic geometry. Perimeter and area?” Another nod. “Intergers?”

 

Kyouka nodded, but Kenji lowed his brows. “Intergers?”

 

“Negative and positive numbers,” Kunikida clarified.

 

“Oh! Then yes!”

 

The man nodded, running through a list of topics in his head. “How about algebra?”

 

“I think I’d just started that when I was pulled out of school,” Kyouka pondered.

 

Kenji nodded. “I started it, but I didn’t really understand. But that might be because I was pulled out of school a lot to work.”

 

Kunikida hummed, then started writing on the page in front of him. “Alright, that’s a good starting place then. I assume you’ve both learned BEDMAS?” They nodded. “Perfect. Well, in algebra we have to solve for what are called variables.”

 

“What’s a variable?” Kenji asked, head quirked at him.

 

“Have you ever seen a letter in an equation, Kenji?”

 

“Hmm.” He tapped a finger against his chin, and then his eyes lit up. “Yeah! I’ve seen an x a few times. Once there was even a Y!”

 

“That’s what we call a variable. It can stand for an unknown value, or, in other words, what we are trying to find.”

 

“So,” Kyouka began, staring at the desk. “If we wanted to know what 2+2 added up to, we would write 2+2=x?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

Kenji tiled his head. “So what do we do with it? Do we just lump it in with everything else?”

 

Kyouka side-eyed him. “No, dummy.”

 

“I’m not a dummy, that’s mean Kyouka-chan.”

 

She huffed. “Just let him explain.”

 

Kenji suck his tongue out at her, then turned back to Kunikida. The blond man chuckled, then tapped his pen on the paper. “What you would do is solve it using BEDMAS. Say your equation was x=(20x2)+4.” He scrawled it neatly on the paper, then wrote x= underneath it. “What would you do first?”

 

“You’d multiply what’s in the brackets, right?” Kenji asked.

 

“Precisely.”

 

“See, I’m not a dummy.”

 

Kyouka rolled her eyes. “Okay okay.”

 

Kunikida grinned. “So what’s 20x2?”

 

“40,” said Kyouka, eyes trained on the page as Kunikida’s pen rolled over the page effortlessly.

 

“Right. Now what?”

 

“You would add the four.”

 

“Good, Kyouka. Is it coming back to you now?”

 

She nodded, her dark hair bouncing on her shoulders. “It is. I didn’t think I’d remember.”

 

“I remember it being harder than this.”

 

She chuckled, a thin smile on her face. “You didn’t remember what a variable was.”

 

He shoved her playfully, to which she laughed. “I just didn’t remember at the time. I do now!”

 

“Okay, country boy.”

 

Kunikida couldn’t help but chuckle. “They do get much harder, but we’re not going to jump into that right away. But before I start you on a harder one, here’s something important you guys need to understand.” He looked to both of them in turn, before tapping his pen on the page. “When you  do something to one side of the reaction, you have to do it to the other. SO if you divide one side by 2, you have to divide the other side by two as well.”

 

“But how do you divide x by two?” Kyouka asked, brows furrowed.

 

“That’s a good question.” He scrawled out an equation on the page. “Take this one: 2x=10 x 4. What would you do first?”

 

“Multiply ten and four,” Kenji hummed. “Forty.”

 

“Right…” Kunikida scrawled the altered equation underneath. “So then you’re left with 2x=40. That means that 40 is equal to twice the actual value of x. So what would you do to x to get one x?”

 

“Divide it by two?”

 

“Exactly, Kyouka. But you have to divide both sides by two, because forty is equal to twice the amount of x. So what is 40 divided by two?”

 

“Twenty.”

 

“Exactly. So do you see what I mean? Dividing or multiplying one side can’t be done unless you do the same thing ot the other side, because the two must be equal to each other.”

 

“Okay, that makes more sense,” Kyouka confirmed.

 

“Kenji?”

 

“Yep!”

 

“Perfect. One more thing for today and then it’s back to work. Got it?”

 

“Got it!” They chorused together.

 

“Alright, so I’m going to write out something a bit more challenging, and I want you two to tell me how you think we would solve it.” When they nodded he put his pen back to the paper, the two kid’s eyes attentive as he wrote: 2x + 4 = 3x +5 . He glanced up at then, twirling his pen between his fingers. “Thoughts?”

 

“Would you have to group the Xs together?”

 

Kunikida nodded at Kenji. “You do. We call that collecting like terms. All variables that are the same, you have to get on the same side of the equation. So how would we do that?”

 

“Switch them sides?”

 

“Close…” he said, smiling at Kyouka. “You can’t just switch the sides. There’s something you have to do when you do that. Any guesses?’ The two shook their heads. “You have to switch the sign. So we’re gunna shwing the 3x to left and the 4 to the right, making the equation 2x -3x = 5 – 4. Still following?” They nodded. “Alright. Now how would you solve it?”

 

“Does it matter which side we start on?” Kyouka asked, quirking her head.

 

Kunikida shook his head, his ponytail landing on the front of his shoulder. “Nope. Not if it’s only addition or subtraction on both sides. Otherwise, follow BEDMAS.”

 

“Okay!”

 

“So…” Kenji thought out loud. “It would be -x = 1?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“But then x is negative…”

 

“Good observation. When that happens, we divide the whole equation by negative 1, that way x is positive.”

 

“So… x = -1?”

 

“Perfect! You got it.”

 

“Woo hoo!”

 

Kyouka glanced at the boy beside him with a smile, chuckling. She turned back to Kunikida. “Thanks for teaching us, Kunikida-san. Can we learn more tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah!” Kenji inquired, leaning forwards. “Can we?”

 

“As long as we have time, and you two get your work done, then yes.”

 

“Yay!” Kenji whooped, beaming.

 

The two kids wandered back to their desks, tugging their chairs along with them. Kunikida smiled at his desk, relishing in the joy of teaching once again.

 

*

 

Laughter and chatter bounced off of the agency walls late on a Friday night. Clinking glasses, drunken antics, whoops and cheers echoed throughout the night in celebration of winning the battle at the end of a weeks long case. The whole agency, as well as some members of the Port Mafia and Guild attended the office party, using the Agency’s budget, much to Kunikida’s dismay.

 

Ranpo, Yosano, and Poe stood to one side, plates in one hand and glasses of wine in the other, deep in debate about mystery novels and how the case was inevitably solved. Kunikida sat with Chuuya in one corner of the room, both trying to escape Dazai’s foolery, however, neither of them were successful. Atsushi, Junichirou, and Lucy had found themselves in the company of Akutagawa, and Gin, who hid behind her brother from Katai. An odd sight? Yes. But it went surprisingly well. Naomi and Haruno sat giggling in a corner, having somehow gotten their hands on some of the wine. Mori and Fukuzawa sat with Fitzgerald and Louisa, the case still on their minds, except for Louisa, who insisted on asking about Elise. The young girl herself sat on the carpet in front of the couch, on which Kenji and Kyouka sat with non-alcoholic cider and a plate of desert to share between the two of them.

 

Kenji glanced to her on his right, holding out half of an éclair. He mumbled from behind one hand. “Have you tried this? It’s so good!”

 

She giggled, shaking her head. “No, I haven’t. But I’ll get my own, thanks.”

 

“What? Are you afraid I have cooties or something?”

 

“No!”

 

“Good, because that’s very childish, you know.”

 

She rolled her eyes, snatching the other half of the éclair from him and stuffing it in her mouth. Her eyes widened and she hummed in delight. “It is good!”

 

“See! Now try this!”

 

“What is it,” she asked, gazing skeptically at his hand.

 

“Some kind of brownie, I think. Poe-san brought them for Ranpo.”

 

“You stole this from Ranpo?”

 

“Shh,” he hissed, laughing as he glanced back over his shoulder. Luckily, Poe and Ranpo’s debate echoed louder than their hushed conversation. “He had a whole bunch, Didn’t think he’d miss one pack. And besides, they were on the buffet table.”

 

Kyouka gave him a look. “Okay, fine. But it looks like a crap log.”

 

Kenji shut his eyes in disgust. “Thanks for that.”

 

“You’re welcome. Oh wait, there’s two crap logs!”

 

“Kyoukaaa!”

She snickered, tearing open the package and biting into one. She quirked her head at it. “There’s icing inside. It looks like a swirl.”

 

“Is it good?”

 

She nodded, taking another bite. “Bery.”

 

He snorted, trying it for himself. “Mmmmm. Maybe we should ask Poe to bring us some next time.”

 

“Definitely! Did you try the sushi they had in earlier?”

 

Kenji nodded. “I did. I hadn’t tried that specific kind before, but I could’ve eaten the whole platter.”

 

“I’m surprised you didn’t.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“Don’t you dare swat me,” Kyouka warned, eyeing him.

 

“What? Why not? You always swat me!”

 

“Yeah well me swatting you won’t send you across the room now will it?”

 

“So mean, Kyouka-chan,” he teased, sipping his cider.

 

“It has to be mean. You’re like the brownie roll!”

 

“Are you saying I’m poop?”

 

She deadpanned. “Yes, Kenji. You’re a piece of poop.”

 

“Aw man.”

 

She swatted him. “No! I mean you don’t have the capacity to be mean. Like, I don’t even think you can make a mean face.”

 

“Can too.”

 

“Show me.”

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

He hesitated. “Because I look stupid.”

 

“Show me.”

 

He pulled a face, and Kyouka burst out laughing, clutching at her stomach. “Stop laughing!”

 

“You look constipated!”

 

“Kyouka!”

 

“Okay, okay,” she chuckled, settling herself. “That’s good. You should show that to Dazai sometime.”

 

“no. He’ll make fun of me.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

He side-eyed her, causing her to laugh again. As they continued to chat and the night grew later, Kenji’s eyes began drooping. He spoke to her with half-lidded eyes, smiling groggily at her jokes and comments about their drunken friends and coworkers. She chuckled at him, surprised at how long he lasted before falling asleep. As his head lolled onto her shoulder she smiled, shaking her head at him fondly, and pulling him closer to not cramp his neck. Kenji readjusted his head in his sleep, wrapping an arm around her waist. Kyouka remained still, determined not to wake him. Instead, she closed her eyes, tuning into the chaos around her.

 

Dazai’s whooping laughter as he annoyed Chuuya. Atsushi’s voice carrying across the room from where he joked with Junichiro, Gin’s angelic voice adding side comments in here and there. Yosano chiding Ranpo for his unwavering confidence, to which the detective only laughed, and she could hear the smirk in his voice as he responded. Surrounded by their friends and chosen family. She couldn’t think of a better way for the two of them to spend their time.

 

An hour later, Atsushi and Junichiro broke away from the group, ready to head home. They stopped a few feet away and looked at each other, then back to the two kids on the couch. Their peaceful faces and even breathing. They slept hugging each other, Kenji’s head on her shoulder, her head on his, one arm under his back and the other grasping the one around he waist. It seemed wrong to wake them up, but they had to get them home to bed.

 

Junichiro stepped forward first, disentangling Kenji from Kyouka, and hoisting hi over his shoulder. Kenji didn’t wake, his head bonking Jun’s as the redhead positioned the boy’s arms around his neck.

 

Atsushi smiled at them then scooped Kyouka up in his arms. Her eyes fluttered, then opened, staring at him groggily. “Hmm?”

 

“It’s time for bed. Go back to sleep.”

 

“Where’s Kenji,” she hummed.

 

“He’s fine. Still asleep. Junichiro and I are bringing the two of you to bed. It’s really late.”

 

She rubbed one eye with a yawn. “Do you want me to walk?”

 

He shook his head. “It’s okay. You’re light. Go back to sleep, Kyouka.”

 

“M’kay.”

 

She nodded back off in his arms, and Atsushi turned back to his friend. The two of them headed out of the office with Kunikida holding the door, two sleepy best friends in their arms.

 

*

 

Week long cases in other cities weren’t exactly common for the Agency, however, when one popped up, a lot of members found it as a nice opportunity. They got to have “sleep-overs” with their friends, eat some good food, and see other cities. Even though it was work, and sometimes fighting was involved, it still remained a favourite among the staff.

 

Their abilities didn’t impede of their fun, and many of them enjoyed the time away. That is, except for one member whose ability made week-long cases a hassle. And one that had lasting effects on their body as a bad habit became more prevalent.

 

Kyouka padded down the carpeted halls of the hotel, a towel wrapped around her body over her swimsuit. Intending to go swimming, she’d headed down to the pool after dinner, but no one else had shown up. Atsushi and Junichiro said they would, but as she passed their shared room, she rolled her eyes at the snoring coming from the inside. She’d gone to Yosano and Ranpo’s room and knocked, but no one had answered. She’d even raised her hand to knock on Kunikida and Dazai’s door, but the strangled Dazai noises and cursing coming from Kunikida as he nearly wrung the man’s neck caused her to change her mind.

 

Instead, she headed back to the room she shared with Kenji. She swiped the card through the slot and turned the handle when the small light blinked green. She tossed her towel to the side but was immediately distracted by the sound of retching. Furrowing her brows, she studied the bathroom door, noticing that it stood ajar.

 

Kyouka stepped towards it as more retching came from the inside. Was Kenji okay? Did he just eat too much? Or is he just not feeling well?

 

She pushed the door lightly, waiting for it to swing in without a sound, then stepped into the room. She almost gasped but managed to remain quiet until she was sure of what she was seeing.

 

The blond boy sat slumped over the toilet bowl, panting, and repeatedly sticking two fingers down his throat. He gagged the first time, but nothing. The second time, nothing. Then on the third, he heaved, spilling the contents of his stomach into the bowl below. A whimper came from his throat as his stomach heaved again.

 

“Kenji?”

 

The blond whipped his heat around, wide golden eyes watery and staring up at her. He heaved again, gushes of liquid being expelled from his mouth. He clenched his eyes shut. “I’m not feeling so well, Kyouka. You should leave before I give you something.”

 

She sighed, crossing to him and kneeling beside him. She pulled some longer pieces of hair out of his face.

 

“Kyouka?”

 

“I saw you stick your fingers down your throat, Kenji.”

 

His eyes widened as he froze, struggling to keep control of his facial expressions. “I figured I should get it over with.”

 

Kyouka shook her head slowly. “Is that really why you did this? Because I know what else it can mean?” He watched her warily out of the corner of his eyes. “You can tell me. I’m not going to be mad.”

 

He dropped his head, looking away from her.

 

Her face softened and she lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “You can’t do this to yourself, Kenji. It’s not healthy.”

 

“Sometimes I have to…” He turned his head to look at her, his eyes pleading. “Please don’t tell the others. They can’t know.”

 

“Why do you have to do this, hmm? Can you tell me what’s going through your head?”

 

He swallowed thickly, fighting tears. “I’m useless once I eat. Because of my ability. So the only way to be useful, especially on cases like this, is to not eat. But at dinner, everyone was watching me. Making sure I ate…”

 

“So as soon as I left to go swimming…”

 

He nodded, dropping his gaze. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

 

“I’m glad I came back sooner,” she admitted. “How often do you do this?”

 

He shrugged. “Depends on the week. Sometimes a lot. Sometimes I don’t have to.”

 

She frowned. “You’re only hurting yourself, Kenji-kun.”

 

“I don’t want to be useless…”

 

“No you’re not, Kenji… please don’t say that…” She rubbed his back, pondering what to say to him. “Your ability doesn’t define you.”

 

“Without it, though, what can I do?”

 

“Be a human. Be a great friend and a hard worker. Everything else that you are.”

 

“I can’t let anyone else get hurt.”

 

“That can’t stop you from eating. You need to eat. And keep it down.”

 

He let out a long breath, echoing her words. “My ability doesn’t define me.”

 

“Exactly,” she confirmed, continuing to rub his back. “If it did, all I’d be is an assassin.”

 

“But you’re not!”

 

“Exactly. Now don’t yell,” she said, rising to her feet. She grabbed a cup from beside the sink and filled it with water as Kenji flushed away the vomit. “Your throat is raw, and you need fluids before you get dehydrated.”

 

He took the cup of water from her outstretched hand and sipped at it. “Thanks.”

 

Kyouka pulled him to his feet and guided him over to the overly large bed. It swamped the two of them, but neither complained. He climbed into the middle and sat staring at her. He watched as she flipped the light switch, the only light the setting sun as it filtered through the curtains. Then she clambered into bed beside him and shoved some more blankets his way.

 

“How’re you feeling? How’s your stomach?”

 

He scrunched his face up. “Uncomfortable.”

 

She nodded, flipping on the TV and opening the guide. “Is it always?”

 

“Yeah. It normally hurts a bit after from the force, I guess.”

 

Blue eyes glanced over at him, and quickly Kenji found himself engulfed in a hug. “Please stop… I care about you…”

He stared her straight in the eyes when she pulled back. “I don’t know how to…”

 

“We’ll figure it out, alright? Can we work together?”

 

Kenji hummed his agreement, looking away from her again.

 

“Wanna watch a movie? Or a bunch of movies?”

 

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah… that’d be nice.”

 

Kyouka chuckled, selecting one and laying back slightly. Then she glanced over at the boy beside her. Not just her co-worker, or her friend, but her best friend. She smiled at him slightly, and he raised his brows. “C’mere.”

 

He chuckled breathily and slid towards her, sliding an arm around her back. She held an arm up for him to rest his head against the inside of her shoulder and he did so, curling up against her side. Kyouka rested her cheek on the top of Kenji’s head, playfully kicking his leg. He chuckled, kicking her back.

 

The two fell asleep halfway into the first movie, exhausted from the case, but content to be with each other.

 

*

 

“Kyouka,” Kenji said, stooping over her desk. “You really should get checked out by Yosano.”

 

She shook her head adamantly, hiding the cloth she held against her thigh. “I’m fine.”

 

“But you’re bleeding…”

 

She glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye. “Yes.”

 

“In more than one place.”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“And you probably need stitches.”

 

She shook her head, looking away from him. “No stitches, thank you. I’ll be fine.”

 

Kenji pulled out the chair beside her desk and sat down. “Are you afraid of needles? Because I’ll go with you and try and make it better.”

 

“It’s not needles.”

“Is it the infirmary? Did you have a bad experience?”

 

“Not exactly…”

 

He lowered his brows in thought. “Is it Dr. Yosano?”

 

She shook her head. “No.”

 

“Then what is it? Why don’t you want to get checked out? At least let me help clean you up.”

 

“No, Kenji. I’m fine.”

 

“Look,” he said spinning her chair to face him. “I’m all for being optimistic, you know that. But some of your wounds are bad and need to be looked at, and no amount of optimism is going to change that.”

 

“Oh look, he’s growing up.”

 

He shot her a look. “I’ve always known that. I just prefer to be optimistic. But that’s not the point.”

 

“You’re going to keep pushing, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She huffed, giving him the most annoyed look she could muster. “Fine.”

 

Kyouka stood from her chair, retracting the bloody cloth from her leg. She took a few strides, then hesitated, looking back at her friend. He smiled sadly. “Do you want me to go with you?” Her nod was almost imperceptible, but he caught it nonetheless. “Alright, let’s go.”

 

Kenji sat next to her the entire time Yosano treated her. Kyouka remained silent, not letting out the slightest peep. She didn’t squeeze his offered hand when the large gash in her leg got stitched up, nor did she say a word when shards of glass were extracted from her shoulder blade. Completely impassive. And Kenji found it unsettling.

 

When Yosano left the room, Kyouka made to hop off the bed, but Kenji stopped her with a hand on her arm. She turned to him with raised brows. “Can we talk for a minute?”

 

She eyed him skeptically. “Sure…”

 

“You looked like a rock that entire time. Not a peep. That’s not…”

 

“Normal?”

 

“Well, yeah.”

 

“I’m not normal, Kenji. You know that. You know where I came from.”

 

He quirked his head at her. “But why did that make you silent during treatment? And why were you so apprehensive about being treated?”

 

“Because,” she said, deadpan. “I don’t want to be punished.”

 

Kenji’s brows shot into his hairline. “Punished? For being treated?”

 

“No. For showing weakness. For getting injured.”

 

“You were punished for that?”

 

Kyouka only nodded, staring at the floor.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I’m weak.”

 

He stared at her in disbelief. How could she say that about herself? “You’re not weak at all.”

 

“Then why did I get beaten? Why was I locked in a cell? Why did I get threatened and hurt when I was alright hurt? Huh, Kenji? Why?”

 

He blinked at her repeatedly. “Kyouka…”

 

Her voice wavered as she spoke, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I was only a kid. I just lost my parents and they took me and hurt me and everything was my fault.”

 

He drew her to him and she buried her face in his neck. He closed his eyes, letting out a long breath. “None of that was your fault, okay?’

 

Her shoulder shook. “I just expect everyone here to hurt me for being weak! It’s all I know now!”

 

“I’d never hurt you,” he stated, wrapping his arms tighter around her. He watched over her shoulder as Yosano poked her head in, concern etched onto her face. “No one here is going to hurt you.”

 

Kyouka sobbed in response. “Promise?”

 

He nodded as best he could. “Promise. I’m sorry you had to go through that… I have no idea how that would feel, I’m sorry…”

 

“I’m glad you don’t,” she choked. “I am.”

 

“You don’t deserve what happened to you in the Port Mafia, Kyouka. You don’t.” She only cried harder. “You never deserved any of it. I mean it.”

 

“Okay…”

 

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

 

She shook her head against him, and he frowned. “You will. I’ll find a way to show you. To prove it. Alright?”

 

Kyouka didn’t respond, only continued to cry into his neck. Kenji sat still with his arms around her, mind whirling with possibilities to do exactly what he said he’d do.

 

Yosano poked her head in once more when it quieted down and smiled sadly. The most unlikely friends, and yet… it was a beautiful friendship.

 

*

 

Kenji and Kyouka may seem like the most unlikely duo. One an extreme optimist. A lively, bubbly young boy with a heart of gold. And a tortured young girl, struggling to find her place in a scary world. It wouldn’t seem to work, and yet, it does.

 

It’s a balancing act. Kyouka enjoys his upbeat persona and livelihood, but also helps him to be more realistic. And Kenji relishes in her blunt humour and finds her past intriguing yet knows when she needs a little more sunshine in her life.

 

So, are they a bit odd? Absolutely. But they’re also beautiful.

 

After all, the most unexpected things are.

Notes:

I keep hurting the babies, I'm sorry. Especially Kenji. There's just so much complexity to his character and ability that is overlooked and I just love him. But I've gotten requests and also a couple of my own fics that hurt him and I kinda feel bad ToT.

Anyways, requests are open. Leave yours in the comments w as much detail as possible.

A few notes:

1. I'm heading back to school next week early for Don training. I don't know how often I'll be able to update, but I'm hoping for at least once a week. No promises, though. I'll keep you updated.

2. I want to start a BSD fanpage on instagram. I'll post snippets of my stories, headcanons, drabbles, incorrect quotes possibly, thoughts about characters, shitposts... Would you guys be interested? It will also contain notices on story updates and I can interact with you more. Let me know your thoughts on this and also, bc I'm shit at usernames, what you think my username should be!

3. Because I'm curious... what BSD character would you ship me with?

That's all for now! Until next time, guys! - Emma :)

Chapter 21: Kunikida's Nightmare (Yosano and Kunikida)

Summary:

Kunikida has nightmares about those he failed to save. They plague him night after night. But one night, his screams wake his neighbour, who comes to comfort him when he needs it most.

Footsteps pounded the pavement as she flew through the city streets, streetlamps and shop signs illuminating her figure as she passed. Dark strands of hair flew in every direction as her head whipped around, the creaks and groans of the night catching her attention. She knew they lurked nearby—the men after her. Around corners, between dumpsters, down alleys… never far away.

 

A sharp intake of breath, a 180 degree turn—nothing. She spun back, puffing, white clouds of moisture floating in the cool air before her. Her eyes flit back and forth, scanning the dark street beyond. The silence enveloped her. She pulled a blade form her pocket, a scalpel, and held it in front of her as if it was a sword.

 

A shadow-shrouded figure stepped out of a doorway in front of her and she dropped her back foot, eyes narrowed. Then two strong hands closed around her throat, her right hand immediately flying behind her head and slicing at the person’s skin.

 

They released her and she jumped away, examining the crimson coated blade as screams tore from the man’s throat. Blood flooded his mouth and covered his scrabbling hands, wild eyes staring up at her. She could only stare, wondering why the man wasn’t gurgling—drowning in his own blood. Why he was only screaming—long, tortured sounds.

 

She continued watching as he collapsed, eyes barely fluttering, his mouth falling shut. And yet, the screams continued. She blinked at the ground, then the slice in his neck, brows furrowing as he faded from view.

 

Where was she?

 

Who was screaming?

 

And why did it sound so familiar?

 

*

 

Yosano’s eyes flew open, not fully aware of her surroundings until she realized she’d been searching the blank ceiling of her dorm. The screaming still continued, ringing in her head like a siren. She shook her head in an attempt to make it fade too, but it was futile. Her brows drew together as she listened to the pained, fearful noises coming from next-door. Next-door.

 

Shit.

 

Yosano pushed herself to her feet and jogged from the room, snatching a robe from the back of the couch. She slipped it over her shoulders and hastily tied it closed as she flung the door open and stepped out of her room. Her feet flew over the concrete outside, toes tingling from the cold, and stopped outside her neighbour’s door. Staring at the number plate, she contemplated momentarily what she’d be walking into, then pursed her lips and reached for the doorknob. She twisted it, startled when the door gave and she found herself in the man’s entryway. Yosano blinked at the floor. He’d never forget to lock the door… man, it must have really been a rough day. She cursed herself inwardly for not realizing it earlier. Saying next to nothing at work, waving off other’s concern, downing about a dozen cups of coffee… Damn.

 

She pattered through the dorm, cringing as another scream pierced the stillness of the air around her. Without a moment’s hesitation she slid the bedroom door open, her face immediately falling.

 

Her co-worker and friend lay in bed, arms thrashing and head turning every which way to escape the demons invisible to her. Tears slipped down his temples as he called out for help, stammering out incomprehensible pleas. His face contorted in pain as she dropped to the mattress below, a yelp slipping past his lips. She reached out to shake his arm, but he flinched away from her before she got the chance. Yosano tried again, getting a firm grip on his arm and shaking him. The only result she got was another scream and a failed attempt to pull away from her.

 

“No! N-no!”

 

“Kunikida,” she stated in an even tone. “Wake up.”

 

“Stop! Please st-stop! Leave them alone!”

 

She shook him again, harder. “Kunikida! Wake up!”

 

He threw an arm out to the side, as if blocking someone from moving.

 

“Kunikida!”

 

His eyes snapped open, staring up at Yosano in fearful confusion. Tears slipped from his eyes quicker as they welled up. He searched her face, pants shortening to hitched breaths.

 

She rested a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s me, Kunikida. It’s only me.”

 

“The—the kids! The kids were… were…”

 

Yosano smoothed sweat soaked bangs from his forehead, speaking to him in a soft voice. “It was only a bad dream. It wasn’t real.”

 

“It wasn’t… they…” He brought a hand to his mouth, effectively stifling the first sob. Kunikida shut his eyes again, trying to stop himself, but to no avail.

 

“It’s okay…” Yosano soothed, smoothing his hair. “It’s okay… It wasn’t real…”

 

He only clenched his eyes tighter, silent sobs wracking his chest. Tears raged down his face, dripping onto the mattress and into blond hair. Kunikida choked on them, dragging a stuttering breath back in between waves. His entire body jolted.

 

Yosano laid a hand on his heaving chest and his free hand clenched it like a vice. “Shh… it wasn’t real… the kids are okay…”

 

He shook his head adamantly, gasping several times for air. Shining hazel eyes stared into hers, begging her to understand. Pleading with her not to make him relive it one more damn time.

 

Yosano furrowed her brows at his disagreement. It was only a nightmare… Her eyes widened in realization, her mouth opening the tiniest bit. “It was real.”

 

He nodded, clenching his eyes shut again.

 

“And the kids…”

 

Several longer sections of hair fell in his face as he shook his head.

 

“I’m so sorry, Kunikida…” Yosano stared at his crying face, completely at a loss. She lowered herself to lay on the mattress next to him, sidling right up against his left side, feeling him tremble. She let out a long breath, then allowed her hand fall back to his hair, brushing it off of his forehead in a soothing manner. “Let it out…”

 

“They-they-they died because of me,” he spluttered, covering his eyes with his hand.

 

“Oh hun, that’s not true…”

 

“It was all my fault! Those p-poor kids…”

 

“Kunikida, I’m sure you did everything you could… I know you. You wouldn’t have stopped until you did everything you possibly could have done…”

 

“It wasn’t enough,” he sobbed. “They’re still dead.”

 

She swiped her thumb over the knuckles of the hand still clutching hers. “You can’t do everything by yourself… it’s not your fault, Doppo.”

 

He dropped her hand, bringing his own up to clutch at his hair. “I shouldn’t have brought out that damn notebook… it just causes trouble…”

 

Yosano swiped some of the tears off of his exposed cheek. “Your notebook helps people, Kunikida. It’s not troublesome.”

 

“With kids it seems to be…”

 

“What happened with these kids, hmm? Talk to me…”

 

He swallowed thickly, and took a deep breath, trying to regain control. “I… Please don’t make me…”

 

He bit her lip. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I can just sit here with you, if that’s what you need. But talking about it may help, and I’m here to listen.”

 

“You’re probably right. It’s just hard to talk about.”

 

“I know kids are a touchy subject for you… Have you ever talked to anyone about this?” He shook his head with a sniff. “Okay. Well, if you want to talk, go ahead. My attention is all yours.”

 

 Kunikida hesitated, tears flooding his eyes as he began talking, quickly pausing to swallow the lump in his throat before he began again. “Every time I’ve pulled my notebook out in front of a kid, they died. No matter what happened in the ned, the reason, in my mind, could also be traced back to my actions with the notebook. It’s caused the death of children… and the notebook is an extension of  my ability, which is an extension of me… so really, I am the one to blame.

 

“A little girl with grenades around her neck pulled the pin when she saw me pull out my notebook. I said I was going to show her a magic trick, because she was scared. But I saw it in her eye a second too late. She knew I was dangerous… and there was nothing I could do. I was all alone in the smoke and the stench and the blood splatter of an innocent child…

 

“A young boy hid behind me during a case where his family was in danger. When I pulled my notebook out for a flashbang to let us escape, the man struck out, aiming for it. But they were a bad shot, or I turned just slightly, or maybe both, but I let my guard down for two seconds. I stopped shielding him for a single moment. And the boy died.

 

“And then there were twins. No more than eight or nine. They were just walking home together in the afternoon… and I was—I was on a case. The guy I was fighting saw my notebook, and as soon as he saw it, he targeted the kids. He knew. He knew my weakness, Yosano. And he used the kids to get to me. To rattle me and get me off kilter. I tried to fight back and to defend these two children and help them get away… but I should have just led the fight the other way. I’m so stupid. I led him closer to them, and his ability got to them both before I could stop him. They might have been okay if it wasn’t for me…

 

“And a few weeks ago… this fourteen year old kid… a young boy. I…”

 

“Take a minute,” Yosano whispered, rubbing his arm. “Breathe…”

 

“He reminded me a lot of Atsushi and Kenji. I can’t quite say why. But I was working a case with Dazai—psychological ability user. She’d targeted this family of four, tormenting them for weeks. When we got there, the boy opened the door. Brought us inside. Such a nice kid… but Dazai said he’d seen self-harm scars on his arms. I’d never have guessed from his demeanor. But we talked to him for a while about what had been going on, and neither of us paid attention to the fact that the rest of the family wasn’t home… And then there was a knock on the door. This boy… he practically floated over and opened it, and the ability user steps in and stares at us. Dazai drew his gun but I couldn’t get to mine and she targeted me as well. I didn’t know it at the time, but she’d sent the kid up… upstairs. To the bathroom. And he… she used his mental illness against him. I have a vague memory of Dazai calling out to me and going up to the bathroom, only to see the kid bleeding out on the floor. The next thing I a page from my notebook turned into a blade and I’d slit his th—throat. I end… I ended it for him. On her orders. And then there was a gunshot. And darkness. And guilt. So much guilt…”

 

“You can’t blame yourself for that… you were being controlled by her ability…”

 

“I still slit his throat, Yosano… I can still feel the weight of it in my hand and then blood spurting from his neck onto my clothes and Dazai yanking it away… somehow all of that remained clear…”

 

“It must have been her ability…”

 

“That’s the only thing that makes sense to me… but I can’t forgive myself for this. For any of them. Even when I didn’t directly kill them I still did because of that damn notebook.”

 

“You were only trying to help, Kunikida,” Yosano soothed, her free hand resting on his chest. “You don’t have an evil bone in your body. Not a single fibre. You are a good man.”

 

“Would a good man let innocent children die before his eyes?”

 

“If there was nothing else he could do and he tried his very best, then yes. Yes, he would. He’d have to. It’s a fact of life. People die. And sometimes there’s nothing we can do about it.”

 

“It’s just… it feels like it was at my hand, even the first three I told you. Like I raised a gun to their heads and handed them a death sentence simply by having this ability. Because I couldn’t do better and save them from me.”

 

“You can’t save everyone, Doppo. You just can’t.”

 

“How do you do it?” He asked so quietly she wasn’t sure she’d heard him at first. “How do you deal with people dying in front of you and not being able to save them. I know… with your ability it doesn’t always happen. But it has. I know it has… Do you ever get used to it…?”

 

She smiled sadly, swiping another few tears from the other cheek when he dropped his hand. “No, honey. You don’t get used to it. It’s just something you learn to deal with.”

 

“When I first caused casualties on a case… I cried for days…”

 

“Which case was that?”

 

“The Azure King…”

 

“Is that why you didn’t come to work for a week?”

 

He nodded slightly, glancing up at her. “I told someone once that I don’t cry for them anymore when they die. But I do… Not as much, but I can’t help it. Especially when the victims are children…”

 

Yosano nodded. “It’s especially hard when its children.”

 

“If something were to happen to Kyouka or Kenji… I think I’d lose it. I was worried enough when Junichiro and Atsushi have been hurt, but those two… And that last boy that reminded me of those two… I didn’t know how to handle it. I couldn’t look either of them in the face afterwards without fear of crying…”

 

“I’d feel the same way if something similar happened to me. People close to you, children… it’s a different type of pain.”

 

He blinked up at her with a nod, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Yeah…”

 

“Are you okay to go back to sleep?”

 

“I might just lay here for a while… I probably won’t be able to sleep again without having the same nightmare…”

Yosano smiled sadly, laying her head on her arm and pulling the duvet over her. “Try and go back to sleep, okay?”

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“I’m staying right here,” she yawned. “So you can sleep.”

 

“But… you…”

 

She brushed a few blond strands from his face as he turned his head to look at her, followed by the remaining moisture on his cheeks. “Close your eyes. I’ll wake you up if you start having a nightmare.”

 

He opened his mouth the speak, but all that came out was a sigh. “Thank you.”

 

She nodded, settling down beside him for the rest of the night. “Of course.”

 

Kunikida rolled over onto his side, his back to her to create more space. Yosano let her eyes fall closed, going over her to-do list for the next day until the man’s breathing evened out and soft snores came from her right. Then she yawned again, letting Kunikida’s breathing and the hum of the heater lull her into a dreamscape of Yokohama.

 

And this time, there was no screaming.

Notes:

Heyo! So I hope this chapter was alright lol. let me know yout thoughts/comments/requests below!

Also, I have created a BSD fanpage on instagram with the username soukokous_shared_braincell. I have a few posts up already, but I will be posting drabbles, one-shot excerpts, headcanons, incorrect quotes, etc. I'll probably also post any updates about this story and the GC fic on there as well. If you want to follow me there as well it would be much appreciated, but obvi no pressure! I'll be able to interact more with you guys there. I wish I could DM on here but sadly I can't so that's th next best thing. If you're coming from this account and want to chat, let me know ur user from here so I know who you are!

On another note, I got offered a job as a Residence Ambassador at my uni as a live-in position today and it made my day! I accepted right away so now I'm a Don-Designate as well as a Res Ambassador and I couldn't be happier. I hope to get my contract in the next few days before I move back to school for training so wish me luck!

Also, @PolarChibi, I did manage to pass chemistry lmao.

Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 22: In Shock (Kenji/Kyouka)

Summary:

Kenji gets hurt on a mission and goes into shock. Kyouka knows what to do while they wait for Yosano.

Wind swept long strands of hair from her face as she jumped back, the man facing off against her holding a bow in front of him. She side-stepped as he drew back an arrow, back hand pressed against his ear, aiming straight for her heart. He readjusted, following her movements, ignoring the hair blowing into his eyes.

 

“Kyouka!” She whipped her head around, watching as the blond approached her, wielding a street sign.

 

“He’s an accurate shot. Can that sign block his arrows?”

 

Kenji nodded. “Should be able to block some. We’ll have to be quick.”

 

Kyouka spun out of the way of one arrow, drawing her blade. “Where are Atsushi and Junichiro?”

 

A clang reached her ears as an arrow lodged itself in the sign. “They should be here any minute. I left when only one guard was left.”

 

“I would’ve been fine.”

 

Kenji blocked his face with the sign, a fierce glint in his golden eyes. “I couldn’t leave you to fight on your own.”

 

A smile tugged at her lips. “That sign can’t take much more, it’s not very big.” She dove out of the way of another arrow. “Think you could lob something his way?”

 

He nodded, scanning the area for a heavy object. “Would a dumpster work?”

 

“Per—” The sign clanged again as Kenji blocked Kyouka’s torso from being pierced. “Perfect. I’ll fend him off. Be quick.”

 

“Got it!”

 

As he slid into the shadows of the alley, Atsushi’s voice reached her ears as he approached. “Kyouka, are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine! Where’s Jun?”

 

“He’s coming—watch ou—”

 

Kyouka hit the concrete and rolled out of the way. “Kenji, hurry!”

 

“Where’s he—”

 

Another clang. Atsushi’s eyes widened as an arrow poked his chest, Kyouka barely getting the sing in front of him in time.

 

“Kenji!”

 

“I got it! Here we go!”

 

From the left side of the alley just behind them, a green dumpster flew over their heads, soared up towards the roof in front of them, and crashed into the concrete. Kenji raised his brows and gave a nod.

 

“Did you get him?” Junichiro puffed, jogging towards them.

 

“Yeah, I think s—”

 

Kyouka whipped her head around at the sound of his scream, blue eyes immediately blowing wide. “Kenji!”

 

The end of an arrow stuck out from his chest, his eyes clenched shut, chest heaving for breath, yet wincing as the arrow shifted with it.

 

“How could it…” Atsushi trailed off.

 

“It must have abnormal strength or be inflicted with something to be able to hurt him like that,” Kyouka stated.

 

Junichiro rushed towards the blond, catching him as his knees gave out, blood dribbling from his mouth. He turned to look at Atsushi and Kyouka. “Go! Finish him off! I’ll hide him for now.”

 

Atsushi nodded, turning to leave, but hesitated when Kyouka didn’t budge. He grabbed her arm. “He’ll be okay. We have to get this guy or we’ll all end up like that.”

 

“But, Kenji—”

 

“Kyouka, we have to go!”

 

With one last look, Kyouka turned away from her boyfriend, following Atsushi down the alley. He tugged her behind another dumpster, eyes trained on the man’s movements across the rooftop. Atsushi tugged at his waistband, a handgun emerging from under his shirt. Kyouka raised her brows. “You have a gun?”

 

He nodded. “For times like this. I need to get a bit closer.”

 

“I’ll lure him out, then you can climb on top of the dumpster right underneath the roof.”

 

“Kyouka—”

 

“Do it.”

 

He took a deep breath, then nodded. “Be careful.”

 

She nodded, holding up the sign. Then she slid out of the shadows, jogging to the right side of the alley, making sure her blade was out in front of her as well. The man tailed her, crossing the roof, never taking his eye or bow off of her body.

 

With him distracted, Atsushi sprinted across the alley and hopped onto the dumpster in one movement, crouching once he landed to watch Kyouka. She nodded twice, not taking her eyes off of the attacker. As Atsushi stood, he caught sight of the man, then red glint covering his hands and in his eyes as he pulled back another arrow. The same glow covered the bow, and the arrows as well, until they pierced something. In other words, the arrows had some power on them only to pierce objects and hit the right spot every time.

 

Atsushi aimed his gun, waiting for the man to turn the slightest bit. As he pulled his arm back another few inches, he exposed his chest and Atsushi fired. A single gunshot rang out and it made its mark, the man collapsing to the concrete, his bow and arrows clattering to the alley below.

 

Kyouka turned to him then and he nodded, hopping down from the dumpster. She nodded back, then turned to glance down the alley. “Where’s Kenji? Where are they?”

 

“Junichiro!” Atsushi bellowed, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Junichiro we got him! Where are you guys?”

 

Mere seconds later the two materialized in the same spot, Jun kneeling on Kenji’s left while he sat on an overturned crate. With frantic eyes he glanced between the two. “Get over here, quick!”

 

He didn’t have to tell her twice. She stood at Kenji’s side in seconds with Atsushi right beside her, surveying him and the state he was in. Jun and Atsushi crowded in front of him as Kyouka stood back, contemplating.

 

“He’s gotten worse,” Jun said, the panic in his voice clear.

 

Kyouka nodded. Kenji looked awful. Pale as a ghost with a blue tinge to his lips and visibly shaking. “Move. Both of you.”  She raised a hand to his cheek, then checked his pulse. Cool and clammy skin. Rapid heartrate. “He’s going into shock.”

 

“What?’ Atsushi nearly screamed from behind her.

 

She didn’t look away from the blond. “He’s going into shock. Atsushi, I need you to call Yosano. Now. Tell her what happened, and that she needs to get here fast.”

 

“G-got it.”

 

“Jun, I need you to stay right here. Don’t do anything until I tell you too.”

 

“Okay.”

 

She knelt down in front of Kenji and tapped his shoulders. “Kenji, honey, can you hear me?” A slight nod. “Okay. You’re going to be okay. I’m going to try something to help, okay?” Another nod, though she wasn’t sure he was entirely there. She stripped the bands from her ankles and wrists. “Atsushi, give me your belt.”

 

“Wha—”

 

“Give me your belt. Yosano will be ten minutes at least and I have to staunch the bleeding.”

 

He blinked, then put the phone between his chin and shoulder, pulling the belt through the loops of his pants and handing it over. Kyouka handed it to Jun, then lifted two of the bands to Kenji’s chest. She pressed them around the bottom of the arrow. “Jun, hold these in place while I put the belt around the hold these on.” He nodded and Kyouka took the belt. “Kenji, hun, can you lift your arms for me?” She got no response, only his rapid breathing. Instead, she slipped the belt under his arms and did it up behind his back to hold the bands on. Then she returned to the front and did the same on top of the arrow with the sash from around her waist.

 

Junichiro moved to the side, allowing Kyouka to crouch in front of her boyfriend once more. She took his hands in hers. “Kenji?” Nothing. “Kenji… look at me…”

 

Slowly, he lifted his head, blown pupils staring into her eyes. He gazed at her momentarily before the look he gave her changed and she jumped out of the way just in time. The boy heaved violently, spilling the contents of his stomach into the pavement below.

 

Still on the phone with Yosano, Atsushi turned to them with wide eyes.

 

“Tell Yosano he’s in shock. Clammy skin, fast heat-rate, shakes, and vomiting.” When Atsushi nodded, she turned to Junichiro. “Give him your sweater. Drape it over his back and around his shoulders.”

 

Kyouka knelt next to him, watching as he stared at the arrow in his chest. His chest heaved, whimpers falling from his mouth. “Look at me,” she said, her voice soft. “Don’t look at it, look at me.” He turned his head to look at her, terror and pain written all over his face. In the grit of his teeth, the tears streaming down his face, the tension he held in his body. “Yosano’s on her way. Help is coming.” Kenji let out a sob, then cringed, clenching his eyes shut. She rubbed his back gently. “You’re okay. You’ll be fine. I’m right here. I’m not leaving.”

 

Atsushi looked to the three of them, pursing his lips. “She’s almost here. I’m going out to the street.”

 

Kenji’s shakes became more violent with every passing moment. He clenched Kyouka’s free hand with both of his. She glanced to Junichiro, who reached out and wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders. They needed him to stop shaking. Needed him to stop moving.

 

She continued to rub his back, whispering to him. “I love you. You’ll be okay. Just a bit longer. I’m right here.”

 

The clicking of heels reached her ears and she looked up as Yosano came barrelling around the corner, a medical kit clutched under her arm. Atsushi trailed behind her. The doctor stopped in front of the three, eyes searching each of their faces, then focusing on Kenji. “Who staunched the blood?”

 

“Kyouka,” Jun whispered as the young girl continued telling Kenji what was happening.

 

Yosano nodded, startling when Kenji leaned forward and threw up once more. Then a second time. He shuddered, breathing harsh. Jun tightened his hold on the boy as Kyouka spoke to him again. “It’s okay, it’s okay… Yosano’s here now. She’s gunna fix you up.”

 

Yosano frowned, the pain evident on her face at seeing him like that. She stepped forward, grabbing hold of the arrow in her fist. Kenji’s head shot up, searching her face. She bit her lip, feeling the arrow twitching in her hand from the uncontrollable shaking. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. This is going to hurt.” His eyes widened even further before a scream ripped from his throat as she pulled the arrow out, blood spurting out and into the existing puddle at their feet. Immediately after, golden butterflies emerged from her body, fluttering over to him and landing on the wound as she turned him to the side. They began knitting his skin and everything underneath back together, everyone only able to watch.

 

Kyouka knelt in front of him. His breathing stuttered as he stared at her with wild eyes. Frantic, terrified eyes. She cupped his face. “Breathe, Kenji. You’re okay now. It’s alright…” He stared down at his chest, scrabbling at the almost fully closed wound, hands coming away bloody. Kyouka took them in her own. “Don’t look at that. Look at me. Look at me…”

 

She stood abruptly, startling everyone but Kenji, who fell into her arms, unconscious. Kyouka glanced up. “Not that I don’t want to take him, but I can’t carry him. Junichiro?”

 

Jun nodded, rising to his feet. Kyouka pushed Kenji up and let him slump against Junichiro, who scooped him up in his arms.

 

Yosano sighed as Jun side-stepped the puddle. “We should get back to the agency. I need him in the infirmary, quickly.”

 

*

 

Kyouka sat slumped in a chair beside Kenji’s bed, head in her hands. Though stable, the scar on his bare chest made her eyes water every time she looked up. Yosano hooked him up to fluids and painkillers as soon as they got back and he laid under the thin blankets, twitching in his sleep.

 

If only shed been paying more attention… she could have warned him. But instead she’d let her guard down. He wasn’t invincible, and yet she’d been reckless, not making sure if the attacker was truly dead before they relaxed. A few more minutes and he could have died. A few more minutes and she would have lost him. Kyouka shook her head, eyes welling with tears.

 

A cough from behind her startled her from her thoughts. Kyouka looked up, a few tears rolling down her cheeks.

 

“You okay?”

 

She watched as Atsushi approached her, turning away from him. “No.”

 

He sat on the arm of her chair. “He’s okay, Kyouka.”

 

“He almost wasn’t. And that’s my fault.”

 

When her voice broke, Atsushi wrapped an arm around her and drew her to him. She buried her face in his chest, crying into his shirt. He sighed. “It’s not your fault, Kyouka-chan. I swear. You’re the one who knew what to do.”

 

“It doesn’t make-make it any better.”

 

Atsushi frowned, leaning his head on hers.

 

Clicking heels entered the room, stopping beside Atsushi. “Mind if I talk to her, Atsushi-kun?”

 

He glanced up at Yosano. “Yeah, of course.” He released Kyouka and stood. “Let me know if you need anything.”

 

Kyouka only nodded, watching as he turned and left the room. She turned her attention to Yosano, the light glinting off the butterfly clip in her hair. Oh. Now it makes sense.

 

Yosano sat on the edge of Kenji’s bed. “How did you know what to do?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“How did you know how to staunch the blood flow? Or to cover him with something when he was in shock, or even be able to identify it? You’re 14…”

 

Kyouka’s lips twitched upwards. “I took a first-aid class when I was younger. Before I was in the Port Mafia. It’s come in handy a few times now.”

 

Yosano nodded, a smile of her own gracing her lips. “You’re very good at it. Ever thought about becoming a doctor?”

 

“Actually, yes,” she admitted, staring at the floor. “That’s what I wanted to be before my parents died.”

 

The doctor chuckled. “I can teach you some things, if you’d like. You could be my apprentice.”

 

She glanced up. “Really?”

 

“Really.”

 

Kyouka’s face fell. “I really shouldn’t. The only reason I had to do any of that is because of myself. I didn’t pay enough attention.”

 

“You did everything you could.”

 

“Kenji got shot because I wasn’t paying attention. We thought he’d hit the man with a dumpster and didn’t think to make sure before we let our guards down… he almost died because of it.”

 

Yosano reached out and laid a hand on Kyoukas knee. She gave it a squeeze. “He’s fine, honey. Thanks to you. You kept him as calm as you could. You talked him through it. You did a good job. That’s what matters.”

 

“I guess you’re right…”

 

“Stop blaming yourself, and just be happy that he’s alright.”

 

Kyouka nodded. “Okay. I think I can do that.”

 

Yosano nodded, standing. “I know you can. I’ll be back soon, alright? Call me if you need anything.”

 

Kyouka watched her leave the room before scooting her chair closer to her boyfriend’s hospital bed.  She stood over him, taking in his sleeping face. The periodic fluttering of his eyelashes, the freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, and the blond hair splayed over parts of his forehead. She smiled, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

 

She sat back down in her chair, holding one of his hands in both of hers. She stroked her thumb across his knuckles, mind wandering.

 

“Kyouka?”

 

She startled, whipping her head around to stare at him. “Kenji! How are you feeling?”

 

“I’m alright, I think…” He glanced down at his chest, using his free hand to trace the scar with a fingertip. He cringed, blinking at it. “An arrow, right?”

 

“Mhmm. Do you remember what happened?”

 

He locked eyes with her. “Part of it. I remember the pain. And that I felt really sick and couldn’t breathe… Wait, did I throw up on you?”

 

She chuckled. “Almost.”

 

He raised his brows. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “I don’t blame you. You were in shock.”

 

“I was?”

 

“Yes. That’s what you were feeling.”

 

“I just remember being really scared and feeling lightheaded. But I wasn’t… I wasn’t fully there.”

 

Kyouka nodded, stroking his knuckles again. “I know. You weren’t responding to me.”

 

“You were talking to me, right?”

 

“I was. The whole time. Do you remember?”

 

“Bits and pieces,” he affirmed, watching her thumb tracing shapes on his palm. “You were trying to calm me down.”

 

“I wanted you to feel safe. To stop crying. Stop shaking… I was scared, too. We all were.”

 

Kenji smiled at her. “Well, I’m okay now.”

 

She let out a breathy laugh. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

 

“You blamed yourself, didn’t you?” She glanced to the floor and he quirked his head. “Kyouka, it wasn’t your fault. If anything, it was mine. I should’ve been paying more attention.”

 

“Okay…”

 

“Thank you for helping me. C’mere.”

 

She rose from her chair and leaned down, pressing their lips together in a gentle kiss. “I love you.”

 

His smile spread even wider. “I love you, too.”

Notes:

I know, I know, I keep hurting Kenji, I'm sorryyyy.

I just recently got certified for first aid and CPR and this popped into my head... I have a few other ones planned like this, too, but with different characters.

Anyways... let me know your thoughts. I feel like my writing has really gone downhill the last few weeks, rip. Requests are open, as always.

I move back to school on Saturday and now I have a job with Housing at my school so I have to do training so I'm really excited but also nervous haha.

Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 23: AkuHigu Fluff Request (Akutagawa/Higuchi)

Summary:

A request written for @akuhigu Stan . I hope that you enjoy this! Sorry it took so long!

Akutugawa is really stressed out and closed off and Higuchi finds a way to make him relax.

This is unedited so I'm sorry if parts don't make sense or there are stupid mistakes lol. It's 4 am. Why do I do this to myself.

Enjoy! :)

“That’s not going to work,” Akutagawa huffed, blinking down at a sheet of paper on top of a book in his lap. He scribbled out a line of writing, twiddling his pen. “They’re too fast. We’ll have too many casualties.”

 

“How about pushing Gin and Tachihara to the front line? We’ll go in the middle, and Hirotsu can hold the back line.”

 

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “No.”

 

“Why not? That’s perfectly reasonable.”

 

He sighed, scribbling down the idea next to the one he scratched out. “I don’t like it.”

 

“We don’t have a lot of options,” Higuchi said, watching him write.

 

“I know that,” he snapped. “But we can’t have subordinates dying left, right , and centre. This is a group mission against a very skilled group of enemies. It won’t be an easy fight.”

 

“We are a very skilled group, too. Tachihara is crazy talented with firearms, and your sister is daunting. The two of them alone have taken down many enemies. Pair them with us and Hirotsu, along with the rest of the Black Lizard… they won’t know what hit them.”

 

“That’s the thing. They know all about us. I don’t know how, but Mori warned me. We’ll most likely be outnumbered and they know of mine and Hirotsu’s abilities.”

 

Higuchi bit her lip, watching him clench his jaw, steely eyes glaring at the page. “What do we know about them?”

 

“Nothing. We don’t know anything other than what I’ve told you.”

 

“That’s it? And there’s no way to find out anything else?”

 

He shook his head, not looking at her. “No. We’ve had intelligence looking at them for weeks and nothing.”

 

She pursed her lips, watching as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “Then we just have to find the best option with our limited knowledge.”

 

“People are going to die.”

 

She blew out her cheeks. “Since when does that bother you?”

 

“Since I promised not to kill for six months… it’s changed the way I think about things.”

 

“It’s all because of Atsushi?”

 

He still didn’t look at her, just tapped the pen against the paper absentmindedly. “Gin.”

 

“Gin will be fine, Ryuu. She can handle herself perfectly fine.”

 

“They know we’re related.”

 

She froze, staring at him with wide eyes. “They know Gin is your younger sister? How is that possible?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“They’ll target her…”

 

“Yes.” He set the paper on the coffee table in front of him, then set his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. “And it’s personal in the first place.”

 

Higuchi laid a hand on his back, brows drawn together. “Why do you say that?”

 

He tensed under her hand. “Because Mori told me. Apparently I pissed someone off that I shouldn’t have.”

 

“So you think they’ll go after Gin to get to you.”

 

“Yes.”

 

She sighed, rubbing circles into his back. He tensed further, then turned his head very slightly to glance at her. “What are you doing?”

 

“I’m rubbing your back.”

 

“I gathered that. Why are you doing so?”

 

She blinked at him, brushing some strands of blonde hair out of her face with her free hand. “Because you’re worried.”

 

“It’s not necessary.”

 

She shrugged, continuing anyway. “I know it isn’t necessary. It’s just something you do.” Her hand trailed up his back and she furrowed her brows, pushing a bit harder. “Geez, your back is like a rock.”

 

Her thumb slid along the outline of his right shoulder blade, the tight muscle not giving at all. He twitched, but played it off as nothing. Higuchi scooted closer to him and rested both her hands on his shoulders, gently kneading them.

 

Akutagawa hissed, clenching his eyes shut. “Fuck.”

 

She raised her brows, then squeezed the muscle at the top of his shoulder. It drew a stronger reaction. “Take off your coat.”

 

His eyes flew open. “Pardon me?”

 

She arched one brow, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Take off your coat. It will be easier to get those knots out without extra layers.”

 

“It’s no matter. Forget it, Higuchi.”

 

“You must be in pain, holding so much tension in your back all the time. When’s the last time you worked the knots out or got a massage?”

 

“I never found it to be necessary. That would require someone’s hands on my body.”

 

“My hands are on you right now,” she pointed out, a fluttering in her stomach drawing her attention.

 

“Not exactly,” he mused. “I still have my clothes on.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Regardless, your back is rock hard. There’s no give.” He shrugged. She gave him a look. “You hold all of your stress in your back, neck, and shoulders. You work a stressful job. You need to find some way to relieve it.”

 

Akutagawa rolled his eyes, acutely aware of Higuchi’s hands on his shoulders, kneading harder. “I don’t—” He cut himself off as a moan fell from his mouth, quickly slapping a hand over it in horror.

 

Higuchi chuckled, a light and airy sound. “Let me do this for you.”

 

“I don’t need your help,” he said, voice muffled behind his hand.

 

“It’s not help. It’s just something nice. Will you let me?”

 

Grey eyes searched her face before he nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “Yes.”

 

“Alright. Take your coat off.”

 

“Wouldn’t you need my shirt off, too?”

 

Heat flooded her face and she picked at lint on the couch cushion, praying he didn’t take notice. “Only if you’re comfortable with that.”

 

Akutagawa shrugged his coat off and folded it over the arm on his right. He hesitated for a moment, then unbuttoned his white shirt, exposing his slim waist and chest. He draped the shirt over his coat, then turned to Higuchi, surprised to see her sitting with her back against the couch arm, one foot on the floor and the other leg stretched out against the back of the couch. He blinked at her and she patted the space between her legs.

 

He furrowed his brows skeptically. “Why?”

 

“It’s easier for me if I’m directly behind you.”

 

He gave a curt nod, then settled himself between her legs. Higuchi placed her thumbs at the bottoms of his shoulder blades, pressing in and sliding them around the inside edge closest to his spine. The more she repeated the motion, the more he tensed. “Am I hurting you?”

 

“Yes,” he hissed. “But it also feels nice.”

 

“Can I keep going?” He nodded. “Alright.”

 

Deft fingers trailed up the warm skin of his back, over prominent ribs and a plethora of scars. When she reached his shoulders, she squeezed the muscles on the top, receiving a breathy moan in response. She did it again, receiving the same choked noise as he tried to keep quiet. Higuchi laughed to herself, digging her thumbs into the pressure points of his shoulders and watching as he bit his cheek to keep quiet. Of course he didn’t want to show vulnerability or even that he liked what she did to him, but she found herself wanting him to. Akutagawa was always so uptight and tense about everything—it was time for a change.

 

“Relax, Ryuu,” she whispered. “I want you to enjoy this… You’re always so stressed out…”

 

“No, I’m not,” he replied, rolling his shoulders.

 

“You are. And you have reason to be. Take a deep breath for me and try to relax your muscles.”

 

Akutagawa did as she asked, the tension in his back releasing just enough for her to work on it. She dug into his muscles with her thumbs, rubbing them in lines and circles, undoing the knots and year’s worth of stress. It would take many sessions like this to really help him, she knew, but one step at a time. She wanted him to trust her and relax at her touch. The more of his skin she felt, the more the butterflies fluttered, and the warmer she felt inside.

 

One thumb slid over a previously untouched spot on his back and he jolted with a yelp.

 

Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry! I forgot you got hurt there recently.”

 

“it’s okay,” he breathed. “Is there a scar?”

 

She lifted her thumbs and traced the jagged line with her eyes. “Yeah. It looks painful.”

 

“It’s not that bad. Stupid mistake on my part.”

 

Without thinking, Higuchi leant down and pressed her lips to the spot just below his shoulder. She froze as he tensed, mentally cursing herself, and then deciding that she didn’t care, all within two seconds. When she pulled back, she continued massaging his shoulders as if nothing happened.

 

“W-what was that?”

 

Her face flushed as she chuckled out an answer, “I kissed it better. Just something I learned growing up.”

 

She could practically feel his scowl. “I’ve never heard of that before?”

 

“Really?”

 

Akutagawa shook his head, bangs falling into his face. “No.”

 

“It’s just something people do to show affection or comfort. There’s lots of things like that. I learned from my parents as a kid. Parents and children, couples, friends… it applies to a lot of things.”

 

“Just that?”

 

“No, no,” she laughed breathily, working on his neck. “There’s lots of stuff. Hugging or holding people for lots of reasons, like if someone’s upset or you haven’t seen them in a long time. Holding hands or kissing in romantic relationships. Massages for someone who’s stressed, like this.”

 

Akutagawa nodded, but remained silent, mulling over her response. Higuchi continued working his muscles, relishing in the small sounds he let out. Finally, he cleared his throat. “What else do people do… like that…?”

 

“Well… there’s different types of kisses. Cheek, lips, nose… forehead typically is special.”

 

“Why?”

 

“It’s usually taken as a show of love between lovers or even friends.”

 

“Oh. What else?”

 

“Playing with or smoothing someone’s hair, rubbing their back… there’s so many things. You really have no idea about this stuff?”

 

“No.”

 

“But why? I thought it was just… common knowledge.”

 

“Not for me. I knew about some of it, obviously. But I grew up in a harsh environment. I was never exposed to it.”

 

Higuchi frowned, working her way up his neck to the pressure points at the nape. He leaned his head back onto her thumbs letting out a long breath. The relief on his face seemed to spread to her as a smile made it’s way across her features. “We’re in this together, you know. You can ask for a hug or something if you need one.”

 

“Pssh. I won’t.”

 

She rolled her eyes, digging her thumbs into the tight spot near his jaw. Akutagawa moaned out loud and she found herself having to keep her mind focused on the task at hand. She continued for another minute, then retracts her hands.

 

He straightened, lifting his head. “Are you done?”

 

“Not quite.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

Higuchi snaked her arms around his waist, pulling him back against her chest.

 

“Wait, I don’t understand…”

 

“Just lean back against me.”

 

“I’m—”

 

“Relax, Ryuu. Lean on me.”

 

Hesitantly, he let his weight fall onto her, adjusting to the feeling of her arms wrapped snugly around his waist and her breasts against the skin of his back.

 

“What made your childhood so rough?” Higuchi leaned her head on his, continuing in a soft voice. “I’ve known you for years, but I don’t really know that much about you.”

 

He pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Don’t make me tell you.”

 

“I won’t make you do anything,” she reassured. “You don’t have to tell me anything or do this if you don’t want to. Just tell me.”

 

He let out a breath. “Gin and I used to live in this really run-down orphanage in the slums. It was not a good place to grow up. Lots of crime, not much money or food. We had nothing, not even the reason our parents gave us up.”

 

“Do you remember them?”

 

“Not really. Some flashes in my memory now and then, but not enough to see their faces or hear their voices. But it’s more than Gin has—she was only a baby. I don’t know which is worse, barely remembering or having no memories at all.”

 

“I don’t know,” Higuchi hummed, threading her fingers through his hair. “Were the orphanage staff good to you?”

 

“No.”

 

She raised her brows. “Why not?”

 

He shrugged impassively. “I was different, and so they thought Gin was, too. They didn’t treat anyone particularly well, but they took most of their anger out on us.”

 

“What did they do to you…?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“Okay, that’s fine.” She continued running her fingers through the short strands of hair at the back of his head. “If you ever do want to talk about it, though, I’m all ears.”

 

He nodded, but said nothing.

 

Higuchi leant her head around to look at his face. His gaze flitted away from hers as he turned his head. She blinked at him, puzzled, until the realization dawned on her. “Do you blame yourself?”

 

“Yes. I do.”

 

“Why?”

 

He took a deep breath, still not looking at her. “She was treated badly because the orphanage staff thought I was a freak. And on top of that, I was sick. So as much as I tried to take care of her… I couldn’t do much. It was supposed to be me taking care of her and then when everyone was being killed around us, her quick thinking got us out. I owe everything to her.”

 

“She was just protecting you, Ryuu. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

 

“I don’t know how to act around her. I’ve never been the supportive older brother I’m supposed to be. Emotions weren’t something you showed and comfort wasn’t allowed for us growing up, and no one was particularly nice… I just don’t know how to do anything you’d consider normal.”

 

Higuchi pondered that for a moment. “Well then she wouldn’t know what was normal either. And I don’t think it would matter to her. If she sees you’re trying, that’s enough. She loves you.”

 

He huffed out a laugh, gaze fixed across the room. “If you say so.”

 

Akutagawa laid completely relaxed against her, the most open and vulnerable she’d ever seen him. She knew he’d never been held—he was completely touch starved. No wonder he didn’t stop her like she’d originally thought. No matter how much he thought he didn’t want it, he craved physical affection and bodily contact. He’d never had someone there to comfort him or even really care, other than Gin.

 

This embrace, he’d never had anything like it before. Through his turmoil and pain in childhood and the stressful job he held, he never said anything about how he felt or what he needed. It explained a lot, she decided, tightening her arms around him.

 

Higuchi guided his head over to rest on the inside of her shoulder, revealing his face. The pure exhaustion he felt showed on his features with his guard down. She brushed his bangs out of his face, then leaned down and kissed his cheek. He glanced over at her as she began to speak. “Are you afraid to get close to people, Ryuu?” He blinked at her, a mixture of fear and surprise in his eyes at her accurate insight. She smiled sadly. “Is that why you keep pushing me away?”

 

“I don’t want to hurt you. I… I have no idea what I’m doing, Higuchi.”

 

Her face softened as they stared into each other’s eyes, before she leaned down and pressed her lips against his. He stayed still for a brief moment before pressing back. Higuchi cupped his cheek and applied more pressure, kissing him harder, before pulling back and pressing their foreheads together. “You don’t have to have your guard up with me, Ryuunosuke. It’s okay.” She pulled at his bottom lip with her thumb. “It’s okay that you’re confused and don’t know. We’ll figure it out together.”

 

He splutters, embarrassed but happier than he’d like to admit. She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, and he froze. “You said forehead kisses mean love.”

 

“I know what I said… Ryuu if you’re upset, you can come to me. Stressed? Come to me and we’ll talk about it. Hurt? Tell me. Angry? Vent. You don’t have to shoulder all of this pressure on your own. I’m here for you. I always have been.”  

 

He looked down, shifting more onto his side. Higuchi pulled him onto his stomach, wrapping him tightly in her arms, pulling a blanket off of the back of the couch and draping it over his back.

 

“We really need to work out this case,” Akutagawa protested. “If I stay here I’ll fall asleep.”

 

Higuchi shook her head. “You’re exhausted. Sleep. I’ll brainstorm.”

 

“But the case…”

 

She started to rub his back once again, soothing motions up and down against his bare back. “Did I ever tell you about the time I took my sister out driving for the first time?” He shook his head against her chest feebly. He felt her chuckle. “It was such a mess. I’d had my license for quite a while, so I took her out to an empty parking lot. She almost took out the trash cans and ended up driving onto the soccer field out back. I really don’t know how she managed to do that, but I have never been more terrified for my life. Honestly. I actually thought I was going to die. But I was fine, obviously. She’s a good driver now, but I’ll never forget how hard we laughed afterwards despite being so scared at the time.”

 

Higuchi glanced down at Akutagawa, loving the small smile gracing his lips. He laid with his eyes closed, bands falling into his face.

 

“Ryuu?”

 

She smiled upon receiving no response. He’d drifted off the sleep in her arms, listening to the calming lull of her heartbeat.  

 

Notes:

Hey everybody! Thanks again for reading! I hope this isn't too cringey or OOC. I have such a hard time writing Akutagawa lol someone help me. Anyways, requests are open as always. Please leave your thoughts and comments below :)

I move back to school this weekend and I'm so excited! But that also means I have to do school work so I'll probably post less often. Which sucks. But oh well. Requests will still be open unless I specifically say otherwise! I hope you're all doing well. Thanks for all the support you guys, it really means a lot!

Feel free to message me on my fanpage insta: soukokous_shared_braincell !

Until next time! -Emma :)

Chapter 24: Dark!Era Dazai and Aku Sickfic Request (Dazai and Akutagawa)

Summary:

A request written for @sleepawaysora . Sorry if this sin't what you exactly had in mind. It's a bit inconsistent and un-edited, but I hope its okay nonetheless. If it's not, I apologize, I tried my best. But I would like your honest opinion in the comments.

Dazai is assigned by Mori to watch over Akutagawa while he's sick. However, Dazai has brutal beside manner and quickly gets fed up with the situation and loses his temper. Good thing Chuuya's around to help out.

Footsteps pattered in the darkness, a figure wandering down a hallway, rubbing an eye with an extended yawn. As lights illuminated the path she followed, her figure became backlit, shadows cast over her bloodshot eyes and drawn brows. For a girl of only 14, her face showed a greater amount of stress than many adults. Both her job and the state of her only living family-member causing her great concern.

 

The pattering stopped as her feet sunk into a carpeted floor and she stopped abruptly, nearly banging her toes off of the bedpost. The mattress sank slightly under her weight, the ringing of the phone pressed to her ear the only sound in the air.

 

The line crackled before a weary voice came through. “Hello?”

 

“Hi, Mori-san. It’s Gin.”

 

“Gin-chan, it’s… six am.”

 

“I know,” she said, her eyes falling shut. “I might be a bit late for work, and Ryuunosuke won’t be coming in at all.”

 

“Why couldn’t he call to tell me that himself then?”

 

“He can’t speak.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’ve been up with him for most of the night—he’s really sick. I think he has pneumonia again.”

 

Mori made a noise of acknowledgement mixed with a yawn. “I see. Do you need me to come check on him?”

 

Gin bit her lip, opening her eyes to stare at her feet hovering over the carpet. “After work tonight, if you could. For now, I can watch over him. I know you have a big case today.”

 

“Mhmm… I can send someone over who knows him to watch over him in case anything happens so you’re more at ease, if you like.”

 

“That would be great, Mori-san. Thank you very much.”

 

“They’ll be over in a couple of hours. Try and get some sleep, Gin-chan.”

 

She nodded to the empty room. “Thanks. I’ll try. Bye.”

 

Gin let out a long breath before she stood and headed back down the hallway. Slipping back into the dim room she closed the door behind her and headed to the unoccupied side of the bed. Grey eyes searched her brother’s face, the creased brow and pained grimace present even in sleep. Setting her phone under her pillow she leaned back and rested her head, letting her eyelids droop until she was pulled into sleep.

 

A pounding on the door startled both siblings from sleep a few hours later, Gin gasping and sitting straight up, Ryuunosuke squinting in the lamplight, searching for the sound. Gin slipped out of bed and out of the room, approaching the door to their shared apartment. She twisted the knob and pulled it open, groggy eyes widening at the man who walked through the door.

 

He stepped into the room and toed off his shoes, turning to face her with an eyeroll. “Where is he?”

 

She blinked at him, unable to believe that despite his awful treatment of her brother, Mori had still sent none other than Osamu Dazai. She narrowed her eyes, pointing over his shoulder to the room she’d just vacated. “He’s in his room.”

 

Dazai nodded with a bored expression, stuffing his hands in his pockets and heading for the door. After pushing the door open Ryuunosuke came into view, his eyes a mixture of fear and skepticism. Dazai huffed. “So, you managed to get some time off of work, did ya?”

 

Ryuu narrowed his eyes, his voice barely audible as he forced himself to speak. “I really am sick.”

 

Dazai gave him a look, then turned to Gin. “Is he? Or is he just faking to get out of training?”

 

She rested her hands on her hips. “Of course, he’s sick. He’s had pneumonia a few times before and it always looks like this.”

 

“Well shouldn’t he be able to fight it off by now? Or is he just… defective?”

 

“That’s not how it works! And even if it were, his lungs are too weak for that.”

 

“There’s no need to shout, Gin-chan. I’ll take good care of your brother while you’re wearing the pants today. Not that you don’t wear them most days.”

 

Gin narrowed her eyes at him, but he’d already turned his back and sat in the chair she’d been using before. “So, Akutagawa… what symptoms do you have?”

 

“He’s got—”

 

“I didn’t ask you, I asked him.”

 

“But he can’t—”

 

“I can’t breathe well,” Ryuu rasped, once again forcing himself to speak. “My chest hurts when I breathe, cough, or talk. I’m coughing more and it’s bloody… and I have a fever.”

 

“Ew,” Dazai stated. “I’m pretty sure bloody mucus isn’t a symptom of pneumonia, just whatever you already have.”

 

“Just do what you came here to do.”

 

Dazai turned to her, brows raised. “And what am I supposed to do with him?”

 

“Mori said he’d send someone to take care of Ryuu while I’m at work so do what he told you to do,” Gin snapped. “Keep an eye on him and get what he needs.”

 

“That simple, huh?”

 

“Yeah, it is. Now I’m going to go get dressed.”

 

Once Gin had left the room, Dazai leaned towards his subordinate. “You had to go and get sick, didn’t you?”

 

“I didn’t mean to.”

 

“I don’t think anyone tries to get pneumonia. But here we are.”

 

“We?”

 

“Yes, we. You dragged me into it.”

 

Ryuu glared at him, interrupted by a shudder running through his body. He shivered again, trying to ignore Dazai’s sigh.

 

“Now you’re shivering.”

 

“It’s not that bad.”

 

The man stood. “I’ll be right back.”

 

Ryuu let out a short breath when Dazai exited, letting his eyes fall shut. Of all people to send to spend the day with him, it had to be Dazai. He already thought he was weak and this didn’t help in the slightest.

 

He heard Dazai before he saw him, footsteps echoing in the silence of the apartment. When he emerged through the doorway he held out a large blanket, and draped it around Ryuu’s shoulders.

 

Ryuunosuke glanced at him as he sat back down. “I have a fever.”

 

“And? You’re shivering?”

 

“But I have a fever.”

 

“Well, what do you want from me? I saw you shivering so I got you a blanket!”

 

He opened his mouth to speak again, but closed it just as quick. He nodded, pulling it tighter around his shoulders, figuring arguing with him never went well. “Thank you, Dazai-san.”

 

Dazai grunted. “Yeah, yeah. What else am I supposed to do?”

 

Ryuunosuke eyed him warily. “Nothing right now.”

 

Dazai nodded, leaning back in his chair and pulling out his phone. “You know, I’ve never been particularly good with people.”

 

Ryuu eyed him. “You don’t say.”

 

“Don’t talk.” He scrolled through his phone, scowling periodically. “I find doing things like this tedious and pointless. What can I do for you? Nothing. Do I want to spend the day here while you wallow in bed? No.”

 

“I’m not wallowing.”

 

“I said don’t talk.” Footsteps in the hall made Dazai turn his head. “Are you leaving, Gin?”

 

“Yes. Ryuu hasn’t eaten anything and I don’t have time, so you’ll have to.”

 

“Really…?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Dazai slumped before standing and trudging across the room. Gin watched him leve before looking back to her brother.

 

Ryuu gave her pleading eyes. “Gin…”

 

She crossed to him, leaning down and kissing his forehead. “I’m sorry, Ryuu. I didn’t kow it would be Dazai.”

 

“Can’t you just stay and send him home…?”

 

She frowned, hair falling in her face as she stared at her feet. “I know he treats you badly… Try and sleep as much as you can so you don’t have to listen to him and I’ll be home soon, alright?”

 

The look he gave her, so innocent and fearful and childlike… it seemed out of place on his features. He dropped her gaze. “Okay.”

 

“I’ll call Chuuya-san, maybe he can drop by on his break or after he’s done today.” She watched her brother nod. “Take it easy today. Call me if you need anything.” After he nodded again, she turned on her heel and left the room, passing Dazai on his way back with a bowl of soup and a glass of water.

 

Ryuunosuke pushed himself up with shaking arms, the struggle showing on his face. Dazai sighed, hooking his arms under Ryuu’s and pulling him up against the headboard. The younger dropped his gaze to the sheets, accepting the ball shoved into his hands. He brought it to his mouth, sipping at it meekly, the warmth of the broth soothing his throat and the tightness in his chest.

 

Dazai largely ignored him as he ate, scrolling through his email and messages from both Mori and Chuuya, as well as his subordinates. Spluttering caught his attention and he glanced up, raising a brow at the small whimper that came from Ryuunosuke. The boy took another gulp of the soup, the noodles at the bottom the cause of the ruckus. He winced as he swallowed, clenching his eyes shut and gritting his teeth.

 

Dazai coughed. “Your throat, too?”

 

Grey eyes shot up to meet his before a curt nod. He winced once more, hands going straight to his head. Dazai lurched forward and caught the glass bowl before it smashed off the bedframe. “And your head, apparently,” he muttered, setting the bowl aside and rolling his eyes. “Is there anything that isn’t bothering you, Akutagawa?”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Whatever. This is just perfect. Just what I needed.”

 

Ryuunosuke glared at him, steely eyes glinting in the lamplight. “This isn’t really about you.”

 

“It is now,” he scoffed. “You dragged me into it by picking something up.”

 

“It didn’t happen overnight… I tried to, to manage the symptoms as they came but last night it got worse.”

 

“And so you kept Gin up? Your poor sister.”

 

“She was the one who came to check on me.”

 

“In case you haven’t noticed,” quipped Dazai, scrolling through his phone again. “I don’t really care about how it happened. I just don’t know how to or want to deal with you right now.”

 

“Do you ever…?” Ryuu mumbled under his breath, taking a sip of water.

 

“No, not particularly.”

 

Ryuu side-eyed him before setting the glass down, pulling his phone out from under the blankets.

 

Dazai looked back up at him with furrowed brows. “Now I’m curious. How did this come on anyways?” Ryuu held up a finger, then opened his phone and began to type. “Don’t be a baby. Just tell me.” The younger boy shot him a look, to which Dazai raised his brows, questioning his obedience.

 

Ryuu sighed, setting his phone down beside him. “I noticed this tightness in my chest when I came back from the assignment in Tokyo… but I figured it was nothing, just my pleurisy acting up.”

 

“Clearly not.”

 

“No… the next day it was a bit worse, but still bearable, so I worked through it. Then my cough got worse, and Gin saw me spitting up blood.” He paused, swallowing thickly with a wince. Grey eyes fell shut, opening a moment later filled with moisture caused by the pain and exertion. “She kept checking in on me. But I kept getting progressively worse over the next day, and last night was the worst. I had a coughing fit that lasted over twenty minutes. I had a fever. And the pain was worse than ever. Feels just the same as when I had pneumonia the last time.”

 

“And the sore throat and headache?”

 

“That came on just today. Slowly. But now they’re both getting pretty bad. And talking like this is very painful.”

 

Dazai waved a hand. “It can’t be that bad.”

 

Ryuunosuke glared at his superior.

 

The brunet huffed out a laugh. “Well I’m not really sure what Mori wants me to do with you. I’m not a doctor and I shouldn’t be babysitting you.”

 

Ryuu only shook his head, rolling onto his side, his back to Dazai. He willed himself to fall asleep quickly, not sure how much more of Dazai’s bullshit he could take when he couldn’t even fight back. Luckily for him, darkness enveloped him within minutes, dragging him into an unpleasantly vivid fever dream.

 

When he woke up hours later, sunlight filtered into the room through the slats in the blinds on the wall behind his bed. He blinked sleep from his eyes, bracing himself for a headrush as he rolled over onto his other side. A fresh glass of water sat on the nightstand beside a bowl of soup, cooled as much as the water had warmed during his slumber.

 

“I’m not reheating that for you.”

 

He glanced up at Dazai, who’s eyes hadn’t moved from his phone. “You could have woken me…” Dazai shrugged. Ryuu pushed himself up without Dazai’s help, grimacing as he did so. He held his head for a moment after, his flushed face contorted in a grimace. He picked the bowl up from bside him, tipping some of the broth into his mouth. However, his body had other ideas, decided to cough and splutter on it instead.

 

The choking grabbed Dazai’s attention in a split second, brown eyes widening as he dropped his hand holding his phone into his lap. “Are you choking choking?”

 

Ryuu shook his head, setting the bowl in his lap. He continued to cough, tears flooding his eyes again from the pain. He held them back, hands pressed to his chest as pain coursed through it. Once it finally settled, he turned to Dazai, squinting at his blurry figure. “Can you grab me a couple of things?”

 

“I’m not a servant, Akutagawa. I’m just here to keep an eye on you.”

 

“I hate—” Another cough cut him off, his rasping barely audible after the fact. “I hate asking you for things. Showing weakness. But I really need my inhaler and some pain medication.”

 

“Anything else, your highness?”

 

“A couple of pillows to prop myself up and a cold cloth.”

 

“That was sarcasm, smart ass,” Dazai bit. “I don’t want to be here! I just owe Mori a favour. What happens to you doesn’t interest me.”

 

Ryuu opened his mouth to speak, but startled as the bedroom door swung open, revealing a red-haired executive.

 

“How’re you feeling?” Chuuya asked, stepping further into the room. Ryuu shook his head with a grimace. Chuuya frowned, glancing around the room. “Do you want that soup heated up?”

 

Ryuu nodded and Chuuya crossed to him, picking the bowl up from his lap. Dazai made a disapproving sound. “I told him I wouldn’t heat it up, Chuuya. Leave it be.”

 

Chuuya only shot him a look as he headed out of the room. “You have terrible bedside manner, Dazai.” He returned less than a minute later, handing his back the bowl. “Anything else?”

 

Dazai cut him off before he could speak. “He wanted his inhaler, a couple of pillows, a cold cloth, and pain meds. A bit much if you ask me.”

 

“I’m sure if he could get them himself, Dazai, he would. But that’s not unrealistic. Being propped up helps open your airways. Pain meds are obvious. And his inhaler—”

 

Ryuunosuke began to cough again, wheezing and gasping for air when he could. When he finished, he held his head in his hands with a groan, his face beat red.

 

Chuuya stepped towards him, resting the back of his hand on the boy’s forehead. “And this is what the cold cloth is for.” He pulled the blanket from Ryuu. “You shouldn’t have given him a blanket with a fever.”

 

“Whatever,” Dazai said, rolling his eyes. “Knock it off. Suck it up and drink your soup.”

 

Ryuu brought the bowl back to his mouth with a grimace and Chuuya turned back to Dazai. “Leave the kid alone, Dazai. Pneumonia can be really serious. That’s why Mori’s coming to see him later.”

 

“Why are you even here, Chuuya?”

 

“Because Gin called me and asked if I’d check in.”

 

“She didn’t trust me with her dear brother?”

 

“Uh, no. And neither do I. Clearly, I was right about that.”

 

“No you were—oh, what now?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

Chuuya turned to Ryuunosuke, who’d gone pale as a ghost, his white lips parted and eyes glassy.

 

“Shit.” Chuuya reached down and grabbed the garbage pail from beside the bed and held it beneath the boy, a little late. Gushes of soup spilled from his lips, searing his throat. He gasped for air, both his nose and throat blocked by it at times. It covered pieces of both his and Chuuya’s clothing, the boy whimpering and shaking, tears gathering in his eyes. His chest burned, as did his throat, head throbbing and the sights and sounds around him mingling into one. The symptom he hated the most and dreaded finally decided to show up. Confusion. Overwhelmingly so.

 

“Stop being a baby, Akutagawa!” Dazai bellowed, throwing his hands up. “You’re such a nuisance. Grow up! You’re in the damn Mafia, aren’t you?”

 

“Breathe,” Chuuya said, sliding an arm around Ryuunosuke’s back, both for warmth and comfort. Then he turned to glare at Dazai. “What is wrong with you? He’s got fucking pneumonia! Have you ever had pneumonia, Dazai?”

 

“No. But I don’t need to to know he’s milking it.”

 

“Oh my God, shut up. Can you imagine not being able to breathe already, with a searing throat and a migraine and then throwing up everything you’ve managed to eat that day? How much that would hurt?”

 

“I’ve said it a thousand times. I don’t care!”

 

“Cut him some slack!”

 

A sob cut through the noise, both men’s eyes turning to the younger boy. Tears rampaged down his face as he stared at the blankets, holding his head.

 

“Oh my God, Akutagawa, shut the fuck up!”

 

“Leave! Get out of here, Dazai! Go!”

 

Fuming, Dazai stood and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

 

Ryuu flinched, cringing at the noise. Chuuya rubbed his back, attempting to both comfort him and soothe the pain from vomiting. Ryuunsouke wheezed and whimpered, jolting from the pain and shaking for a multitude of reasons, curled in on himself.

 

Chuuya held him against his side, speaking to him in a soft voice. “Dazai’s gone. It’s just me. You’ll be alright. Try and breathe.”

 

“I-it hurts.”

 

“I know,” said Chuuya, rubbing his arm. “I know it does. But if you don’t try and breathe you won’t be able to calm down. You won’t get enough oxygen and you’ll get more confused.”

 

Ryuu took a shuddering breath, whimpering again.

 

“You’ll be alright. I’ll get you something for the pain in a minute. Once you calm down. Then we can get cleaned up, too, okay?”

 

“I-I don’t understand. I’m… what’s going on? Why the yelling and where’s Gin…?”

 

“Gin’s at work, so I’m here with you instead, okay? She’ll be home soon… You must feel very overwhelmed.”

 

Ryuu nodded.

 

“Alright, that’s okay. Just stay here with me for a few minutes until Gin comes home. Any minute now.”

 

Ryuunosuke nodded slightly, finding comfort in Chuuya’s arm around him. He leaned his head against the exec’s shoulder, closing his eyes to block out the light. Soon, he fell into a light sleep, oblivious to his sister’s footsteps in the hall.

 

Chuuya looked up as she entered the room, slipping her mask from her face and into her pocket. She surveyed the scene before her with concern, blinking at her brother before turning to the red-head. “He’s gotten worse.”

 

“No thanks to Dazai.”

 

Gin set her jaw. “I knew that was a bad idea. Thank you for coming, Chuuya-san.”

 

“Of course. I’ll stay the night if you’d like, to help out. Tomorrow is Saturday, anyway.”

 

“That would be a big help, thank you.”

 

Chuuya nodded, looking own at Ryuu. “We need to get cleaned up.”

 

Gin cringed. “How long ago was he sick?”

 

“Just a few minutes. But no one saw it coming in time.”

 

“Alright, you go home and get cleaned up. I’ll get the couch ready for you for tonight.”

 

Chuuya nodded. “Alright, I won’t be long.”

 

Gin tilted her head when Ryu moved his head. Tear-tracks stained his flushed, puffy face. “Take Dazai with you. His sulking on the cough. I don’t want him near Ryuunosuke right now.”

 

“Got it.”

 

Gin held her arms out and gathered Ryuu into them, holding his lithe figure against her own. His eyes fluttered open as Chuuya left the room. He blinked at her in confusion momentarily before his eyes lit up. “Gin.”

 

“Hi, Ryuu. I’m home now.”

 

He gave her a small, disoriented smile, leaning his head on her shoulder. “Don’t leave me with Dazai again. Please.”

 

She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t worry, Ryuunosuke. I won’t.”

Notes:

Hey hey! So I'm back on campus now which means I sadly won't be able to update as often as I am working and will be starting school in a couple of weeks. Training this week has got me tired out but also messed up my sleep schedule sooo much lol. Anyways, let me know in the comments your honest thoughts on this piece. Anyone have advice for writing sick-fics?

Also, feel free to leave as many requests as you like. Leave me a couple at once or once I finish one you can definitely leave another! Receiving requests honestly makes me so happy and your guys feedback and comments makes my day. It's the first thing I look for when I wake up in the morning, honestly.

Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 25: Tragedy-Part 3 (Kenji and Junichiro Request)

Summary:

Kenji goes to see his dad in the hospital with his brothers.

This could be triggering for some people, especially those dealing with grief. Take caution reading.

Tragedy—Part 3:

 

Through the bustle of the next morning, Kenji didn’t say a single word. He made breakfast for his brothers alongside Akira, waited patiently for everyone else to eat, then loaded into the car beside Jun. Though his eyes focused on the blur of foliage outside, his body fidgeted constantly, arms and legs as restless as his mind.

 

Junichiro opened his phone with a yawn, selecting his messages and opening his conversation with Atsushi. In the car on the way to the hospital.

 

Atsushi: hopefully all goes well today. I never want to see that much pain on Kenji’s face ever again

 

Me neither.

 

Atsushi: how was everything last night? Did u meet his brothers?

 

Jun stared at the screen, brows furrowed. Yeah. His whole family is so nice, just like him. And his one brother is only 4… he doesn’t understand whats happening.

 

Junichiro’s eyes wandered around the car. To Yosano asleep against the window, Kunikida’s fixed gaze, and Kenji, who repeatedly clenched and unclenched his fists. His phone buzzed on his lap, and he turned his attention to the message from Atsushi.

 

Atsushi: oh no… that poor kid. Did Kenji explain it to him? How’s he doing?

 

Jun sighed as he typed back. He says he’s okay. Trying to be strong for his brothers u know? But I can tell he’s lying and I don’t blame him. But no, he didn’t tell the little one anything.

 

His phone buzzed again.

 

Naomi: hey <3 how’s it going up there? On ur way to the hospital yet?

 

Yeah. We just left a few minutes ago. I’ll keep u updated <3

 

Atsushi: well I hope everything turns out okay! Keep an eye on him today Jun

 

I will.

 

Junichiro set his phone down, turning to watch the fields pass out the window. Not long after, Yosano stretched in the front seat, then looked into the back in the rear-view mirror. She frowned, then cleared her throat. “Kenji-kun?” Golden eyes met the reflection of hers. “About your dad… this might not be what you expect… he’s pretty banged up and he’s likely intubated. It’s not going to be pretty… and I don’t want you to get your hopes up too high.”

 

Something flashed in his eyes that Jun couldn’t identify before he turned to stare back out the window. “Okay.”

 

Moments later Kunikida turned into a long, poorly paved driveway. A six-story building stood before them as they slammed the doors shut, the beep of the lock barely audible over Akira’s ancient car pulling up beside them. The young boys piled out onto the asphalt, ogling at the size of the hospital.

 

Naoki toddled over to Kenji, looking up at him with big eyes. “Are we going to see mommy and daddy now?”

 

Kenji blinked at him. “We’re going to see daddy, yes.”

 

“Okay!” Naoki reached over and put his small hand in Kenji’s, who tightened his grip on his brother’s.

 

With Kunikida leading the way, the group headed for the building. The younger boys’ eyes widened as the automatic doors slid open, the fluorescent lights inside harsh to their sensitive pupils. The three oldest squinted through the lights, while Naoki tugged on Kenji’s hand to go faster because he wanted to see more.

 

Kenji held him firmly to his side. “We have to go upstairs, Naoki. Stay with me, please.”

 

He pouted. “Okay.”

 

Kunikida tapped the ‘up’ button on the elevator panel, the ring around it glowing blue.

 

“Woah!” Naoki cried. “Do the other buttons do that?”

 

“Yeah,” Kenji nodded. “The ones inside will, too.”

 

“That’s so cool! Do you see these at work, too?”

 

“Yeah! There’s a lot of cool buttons to push in Yokohama!”

 

“Is there all these lights? And that thing we rode here in? And magic doors?”

 

“There’s lots of magic doors,” Kenji replied, wiggling his fingers on his free hand. “Lots of fun lights and cars. It’s a lot of fun!”

 

Yosano narrowed her eyes at the young blond. The enthusiasm in his voice didn’t sound abnormal, but definitely fake. She knew it, Junichiro and Kunikida knew it, and Akira, too. They all watched his over the top interactions with his brothers, whom asked an overwhelming amount of questions. They might not have noticed, but she did. She saw the strain in his face, and the difference in his eyes. They didn’t shine like they normally did. She wondered if they ever would again.

 

The elevator dinged as they reached the fifth floor, nurses crossing in front of them every which way. Naoki stepped closer to Kenji, as did the other brothers, not used to so many people. Kunikida pressed past them and approached the desk off to the left. A nurse in bright orange scrubs pointed further down the hallway and Kunikida nodded, beckoning them with his hand.

 

The group pushed forwards, following him down the hall. Kunikida stepped aside, making way for the boys. Kenji stepped forwards, putting his arm across the doorway as he peeked around the corner. He gulped, then set his jaw, removing his arm and allowing his brothers into the room. Naoki tugged on his wrist and he followed. Kenji gathered around his dad’s bed with his brothers, the adults falling to the back of the room to give them privacy.

 

Junichiro watched from the back of the room as Kenji surveyed his dad’s body, which was mostly covered by a thin linen sheet. Bruises and burns littered his upper body, peeking out from under the neck brace he wore. An intubation tube snaked through his lips and thick bandages wrapped around his forehead, though the blood seeped through and stained the top layer. Staples ran from his left eyebrow up under the bandages and out again, ending in his scalp at a shaved patch of skin.

 

Kenji remained silent as the boys spoke to their father, his eyes trained on the man in the bed, unmoving. Jun glanced to Yosano and Kunikida, who held the same somber face he knew he expressed as well. It may not have been his dad, but his chest still ached for his chosen brother and his family. The staples in his skull and life support hooked up to the wall… somehow it changed everything.

 

A small voice broke through the lull as Naoki tapped Kenji’s hip. The blond boy glanced down at him with raised brows. “Why is daddy sleeping? Shouldn’t we wake him up?”

 

Kenji knelt down, his hands on Naoki’s arms. “Dad needs a long rest. His brain is very tired.”

 

“What about Mommy? Where is she?”

 

“Mommy’s gone away for… for a long time, Naoki. But everything’s gunna be okay.”

 

Naoki’s bottom lip trembled as his eyes brimmed with tears. “I miss Mommy…”

 

“I know,” Kenji said, taking Naoki in his arms. His cheeks twitched as he struggled to keep a straight face as he held his crying brother, the other three watching him with pained eyes. “I miss her, too…”

 

A drawn-out beep startled everyone’s attention away from the pair and over to the man in the bed, his heart monitor gone flat. Kenji’s eyes widened with a gasp and he whipped his head up to stare at Yosano, terror written on his innocent face. She stared right back, then turned to stare at the flat line on the monitor, swallowing thickly.

 

Kunikida grabbed her arm. “There’s nothing you can do.”

 

“But—”

 

“You can’t… remember what we talked about before?”

 

Her eyes pleaded with him as nurses flooded the room, pushing the boys out of the way. Kenji jumped back with Naoki on his hip, the second youngest brother pressed against his torso by his other arm. The other two brothers stood against the opposite wall, Eiji’s arm being crushed by the other’s fearful grip.

 

Hitomu and Mitsue both had tears running down their faces as the nurses shouted commands to each other, a few running in and out of the room.

 

“What’s happening?” Naoki called, sitting straight up in Kenji’s hold. “What are they doing to daddy?”

 

“I don’t know…”

 

“What’s wrong with him? Why is that thing beeping?”

 

“He’s…”

 

“Why are they moving him? WHY ARE THEY TAKING DADDY AWAY?”

 

Kenji opened his mouth to speak but remained silent, at a loss for words. Not only did he not know all of what was happening, but the stuff that he did, how was he supposed to explain that to his four-year-old brother?

 

Junichiro bit his lip as he watched Kenji slowly crumble, inching closer and closer to his breaking point. The nurses pushed past him; the wheels of the bed silent in the wake of the heart monitor as they wheeled him out of the room.

 

“He needs emergency surgery! Someone will be in to speak with you shortly!”

 

Yosano broke free of Kunikida’s grip, running after the nurses before anyone could say a word.

 

Eiji and Hitomu ran forward and Kenji stepped towards them, dropping to his knees and engulfing them as all four brothers cried against him. “Is dad going to die?” Eiji bawled.

“No,” Kenji reassured. “He’ll be okay.”

 

“How do you know?” Mitsue sniffed.

 

Kenji smoothed his hair. “I just know. It’ll be okay. We’ll all be okay.”

 

Junichiro’s face softened at Kenji’s words, knowing that he didn’t believe a single one. Though his brothers believed him, it seemed, Kenji had the same look in his eyes as he did two days prior as he laid next to Jun on the infirmary bed. The look of suffering did not belong on his face.

 

Yosano came puffing into the room, mumbling information to Kunikida and Akira about the nature of the surgery and the cause of the flatline. He didn’t listen, much more concerned with Kenji.

 

*

 

Jun found himself seated in the waiting room outside the OR, twiddling his thumbs as they waited for any news. Kenji sat on his left, between himself and Yosano, his head hung low. Akira sat on the floor nearby, her face deep in a battered old book. Mitsue, Eiji, and Hitomu sat in a circle in front of the adults, entertained by Yosano, Kunikida, and Kenji’s phones.

 

Naoki had taken to bugging Kunikida. The man pulled out his notebook, a playful look in his eyes. “Wanna see a magic trick?”

 

“Yeah!”

 

“Okay, okay… what do you want me to make magically appear, hmm?”

 

A smile spread on Jun’s face as Naoki put a finger to his chin, deep in thought. “How about candy?”

 

Kunikida chuckled. “A piece of chocolate?”

 

“Yeah!”

 

“Alright! Doppo Poet: Chocolate bar.” Green swirled around the page in Kunikida’s hand, and as it dissipated, a chocolate bar wrapped in silver foil appeared in his palm.

 

“It’s magic!!” Naoki cried, taking the bar and unwrapping it. He snapped it in half. “Here.”

 

“For me?”

 

He beamed. “Mhmm!”

 

A smile spread across the man’s face as he leaned forwards. “How about you give it to Kenji. I’m sure he’d love some chocolate.”

 

Naoki nodded, running over to his eldest brother. He tugged his pantleg and Kenji raised his head slightly. “What’s up, Naoki?”

 

The four-year-old thrust the chocolate into Kenji’s hands, then ran away, giggling all the while.

 

Kenji blinked at it, then glanced at Kunikida out of the corner of his eye. He watched as Naoki cheered, accepting the plush cow that the man had produced for him. A smile tugged at his lips, but was quickly replaced by a frown. They shouldn’t all be cheering him up. He had to be there for his brothers. That was his job. Yet here Naoki was, giving him chocolate while his head spun with endless nightmares. He swallowed hard.

 

“Hey,” Jun said, interrupting his train of thought. “Do you think you could take me out to see Miss later?”

 

Kenji didn’t look up. “Sure, I think we could do that.”

 

“Who fed her this morning?”

 

“Me.”

 

“Oh, how do you do that?”

 

“I can show you later.”

 

Jun nodded, getting the hint. He wanted no part of any conversation. Akira had already tried and failed, as had Kunikida. He reached over and placed his hand on Kenji’s knee, giving it a squeeze. Subtle enough that his brothers wouldn’t really notice, but enough that Kenji himself understood. The blond let out a long breath, letting his hair fall in front of his eyes.

 

Over the next half an hour, both Yosano and Kunikida tried again. Each time someone spoke to Kenji he became quieter and quieter, eventually not giving any hint that he heard them at all. Jun grew increasingly worried, though he said nothing to him, speaking to Atsushi on the phone in a hushed voice so the brothers wouldn’t hear the updates.  

 

Abruptly, Kenji stood, announcing that he had to go to the bathroom. But something on his face said otherwise, and everyone in the room turned to Kunikida, who’s eyes trailed after him. The blond man stood, slid his notebook into his pocket and followed the young boy. Kenji rounded the corner ahead of him and disappeared, causing Kunikida to hurry up as to not lose him.

 

He pushed the door open in silence and stood in the doorway, observing. Kenji stood over the sink, heaving shuddering breaths. Kunikida walked straight to him and drew him to his chest. Kenji allowed himself to be gathered in the man’s arms, his small body jolting against his torso.

 

His voice wavered as he spoke. “I’m so weak, Kunikida. I can’t stay strong for my brothers…”

 

“No,’ said Kunikida, squeezing him tighter. “It’s okay that you’re feeling like this. It’s okay.”

 

“I’m scared and it hurts…” His voice broke. “I don’t know what to do…”

 

“I see you trying to be strong and be there for your brothers, Kenji. We all do. But remember that we’re all here for you, too. If you need a hug, ask for one. If you need to cry, then cry. If you need one of us, then say so, and we’ll be right there.” Kenji shuddered in his arms. “I’m right here… I’m here. It’ll be okay.”

 

“What if it’s not…?”

 

“Kenji-kun… you’re always the positive one.”

 

“I just can’t be right now. Everything feels… hopeless…”

 

Kunikida sucked in a breath, pursing his lips. Having no idea how to respond to that he simply held the boy in his arms until he pulled away.

 

Wordlessly, the two headed back to the waiting room. Kenji sat back down between Junichiro and Yosano, the latter of which snaked an arm around his back.

 

She leant down to whisper in his ear. “You don’t have to do this all by yourself, hun. It’s okay to not feel strong all the time. We’re here for you.”

 

Kenji nodded, looking away. Yosano didn’t move her arm, leaving it there for silent comfort as they chatted. Though he said nothing, he felt grateful for the comfort. He really needed it. And for him, physical touch was the best way to give it. Apparently, they’d all caught on to that.

 

Kunikida went back to playing with Naoki, a small ball held in his palm. The golden-haired child bounced it, shrieking as it got away from him. Jun and Yosano tried to make conversation with Kenji, managing to get him talking about an upcoming case he’d found particularly interesting. The other three brothers talked amongst themselves, fiddling with the different functions on the borrowed phones as Akira continued to read.

 

The chatter in the room died down immediately upon the appearance of a nurse with a solemn expression. Kenji stood abruptly, his brothers copying him seconds later. The mood had shifted entirely.

 

“Are you Miyazawa-san’s children?” Kenji nodded. “Where’s your mother?”

 

“She was hurt in an accident on our farm the other morning. She passed away.”

 

The nurse blinked at Kenji, her shoulders dropping. Then she nodded with pursed lips, tears shining in her eyes. “I see.”

 

“Where’s our father?” Kenji asked, a pleading tone to his voice. “Is he alright? How was the surgery?”

 

“I so sorry, sweetie… there were complications with the surgery. We weren’t able to save your father.”

 

From beside him, Jun saw the exact moment Kenji’s heart shattered. The second the hope left his eyes, instantly replaced by despair. He choked down the tears rising in his eyes. “I understand. Thank you for doing everything that you could.”

 

“I’m taking care of them,” Akira interjected, standing. “Let’s talk about arrangements and… everything else. Let them be.”

 

The nurse nodded, glancing back at them over her shoulder as she rounded the corner with Akira.

 

Bare feet slapped against the tile floor as the brothers ran to Kenji, who still watched the place the nurse had vacated. The buried their faces against his stomach and chest, clinging to him as he welcomed them with open arms. Still, his face didn’t change. Clenched jaw, mouth pressed into a line, eyes burning with pain and brimming with tears he wouldn’t let fall. Not in front of his brothers.

 

Naoki tapped his side, staring up at him through blond lashes and watering eyes. “Is daddy’s rest over yet?”

 

Kenji released Eiji, Hitomu and Mitsue, crouching down and taking his brother’s tiny hands in his own. He nodded. “Daddy’s rest is over now, Naoki. But he isn’t coming back now.”

 

Naoki’s lips trembled. “Why not? Doesn’t he love us?”

 

“Of course, he does… he just can’t be awake with us anymore.”

 

A tear slipped down the boy’s cheek and Kenji wiped it away. “Is mommy coming back…?”

 

“She can’t. It’s just us now…”

 

“Why did they have to go? Why couldn’t they just stay here with us?”

 

The broken look on Kenji’s face said it all. He didn’t know. He couldn’t. None of it made sense and it hurt. One minute they were there and the next… “I don’t know, Naoki,” he choked. “I’m so sorry…”

 

Junichiro stepped forwards, his hand landing on one of Kenji’s trembling shoulders. The boy didn’t look at him, keeping his golden eyes downcast as they welled up. He fought it back, tensing his body, his breaths shuddering with the effort and pain. He squeezed his shoulder gently. “Come with me, Kenji…” Still, the blond said nothing. Jun leaned down to his ear. “We’ll go somewhere where they can’t see you, alright?”

 

He rose shakily to his feet, following Jun wordlessly from the room. His lips trembled and back shook beneath his friend’s guiding hand, trying so hard to keep it together that the strain became evident on his face. Then they turned the corner and Jun spun them around, pulling Kenji to his chest as the first sob tore from his throat. He held him close, pressed him against his torso, one hand on the back of his head, the other wrapped around his back.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… let it out, Kenji… let it all out…”

 

Kenji hiccoughed and sobbed into the redhead’s chest, his hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt from his back as if he’d leave if he didn’t. The screaming pitch of his cries broke Jun’s heart, but he couldn’t even begin to fathom the pain coursing through this poor boy. He swayed the embrace, smoothing golden locks as Kenji shook like a leaf.

 

“Why?” Kenji wailed, almost a scream. A desperate cry for answers he’d never get. “Why did this have to happen?”

 

“I don’t know,” Jun whispered, tightening the arm around Kenji’s back. “I don’t know, I’m sorry…”

 

“It all happened at once! Two days ago, everything was, was fine! And and now they’re both dead within a day and there’s nothing I can do about it! I-it hurts, it physically hurts, Jun…”

 

“I can’t imagine how it feels, Kenji-kun.”

 

“I’ve never felt this—this angry before… and I don’t even know what I’m mad at exactly! But then there’s pain and and confusion and I’m so scared, Junichiro, I don’t know what to do now!”

 

“What do you mean…? Why are you scared, hmm…?”

 

“I’m the oldest! I have to take care of them… I can’t just leave! But I’m only a kid, Jun I’m only fourteen and I can’t parent my brothers!! I have no idea what I’m doing and I don’t know how to even approach this I never thought this would ever be a possibility but here I am and I’m so scared I don’t know what to do!”

 

“Shh shh shh… breathe,” Jun soothed, rubbing circles into his back a couple of times. “Take some deep breaths… we’ll figure this out, okay? We will…”

 

“Promise?”

 

“I promise.”

 

*

 

Junichiro had never heard such loud silence. Only the whirring of the car’s engine stopped it from being pin-drop quiet. Jun couldn’t help but continuously check on the boy beside him in the backseat. His soundless hiccups and the tears dripping into his lap from his lowered head. Kunikida repeatedly checked on him in the rear-view mirror, frowning deeper each time.

 

Jun’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he slid it out, eyes scanning the lit screen.

 

Atsushi: how’s everything? Any news?

 

Jun sucked in a sharp breath, once more glancing at the red-rimmed eyes partially covered by blond hair. Kenji’s dad passed during surgery…

 

Not thirty seconds later, Yosano’s cell phone rang. She dug through her purse, pulled it out and bit her lip. “Hey, Dazai.”

 

Dazai’s voice rang through the car clear as day. “Hey. How’s the kid?”

 

Yosano checked over her shoulder with a defeated expression. “Not good. How’d you know?”

 

“Atsushi texted Junichiro. How long ago?”

 

Yosano looked to Kunikida, who sighed. “Half an hour, if that.”

 

“Are you guys in the car right now?”

 

“Yeah, we’re heading back to his house. We’ll be back tomorrow.”

 

“Will there be a funeral? For either of them?”

 

Yosano cringed. “Dazai, Kenji’s awake. Can we please talk about this later?”

 

“Of course. I’m very sorry, Kenji-kun.”

 

“Me too,” called Atsushi in the background.

 

“There’s a hug waiting for you when you get back,” came the voice of Kyouka.

 

“And some sweets,” said Ranpo.

 

Kenji sniffed. “Thanks, everyone.”

 

“We’ll talk later, Dazai,” said Yosano. “Bye everyone.”

 

She set her phone down in her lap, tilting her head back against the headrest. Kunikida kept his lips pressed into a tight line, staring straight ahead, an unfamiliar glint in his eyes. Jun looked to Kenji, who sniffed, not even bothering to fight his emotions anymore. Jun reached out and took his hand, giving in a squeeze. Kenji squeezed back, albeit harder than Jun did. But he didn’t mind.

 

The two cars reached their destination at the same time, pulling up the long drive and parking in front of the house. Akira and the brothers shut their doors, trudging up to the front door and filing inside. Kunikida and Yosano followed them up to the house, Junichiro following once Kenji began walking up as well. They slipped their shoes off in relative silence, each of the brothers sliding to the side and waiting for everyone to follow them to the living room. But Kenji had another idea, and went straight to his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

 

Jun blinked at where he’d disappeared from. “Kenji—”

 

“Let me,” said Yosano, touching his shoulder gently. “You take a break. Go sit down.”

 

Once he nodded and turned to leave, Yosano headed for Kenji’s room. She slipped through the doorway and closed the door behind her, padding over to the bed. She scanned over his small body, curled up on his side, back to her. She sat down near his head. “Hey, Kenji-kun…”

 

“Hi…”

 

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she soothed, running a hand over his hair. “I’m here for you whatever you need, okay?” The only sound that came from him was a whimper and she shut her eyes, taking a deep breath before looking at him again. “Is there anything you need right now?”

 

He shrugged.

 

“A hug? Something to eat?”

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

Yosano tilted her head in concern. “Hun, you haven’t eaten today.”

 

He shrugged again.

 

At a loss, she sighed. “If there’s anything we can do for you, let us know.” Then she leant down, pressed a kiss to his head, and left the room.

 

No one spoke at dinner. Kenji didn’t even leave his room to eat. His brothers held mixed personas the rest of the night. Eiji sat staring at the floor, hardly able to snap out of his daze. Mitsue fidgeted, completely unable to sit still. Hitomu made a couple jokes to Mitsue as they cleared the table after dinner, dark ones, clearly trying to process what just happened. And Naoki… he asked a lot of questions. Multiple times he erupted into tears. And several times he asked for Kenji, only to be turned down by Akira. She turned them all down to see him at least once.

 

Junichiro took it upon himself to entertain Naoki with his ability to distract him, ending up messing around for the amusement of all four brothers. They liked him and found his ability the coolest, continuously asking him to duplicate objects, make people appear, and make them vanish. It wasn’t until Eiji asked him to show them their parents that he stopped, sitting on the floor with a sigh. He didn’t even know what they’re Mom looked like.

 

She looked like Kenji and Naoki, Eiji had informed them. She’d also had an ability which she used for farming, but not of them really understood how it worked. Evidently, the gift of having an ability had only been passed down to her first-born child—Kenji.

 

In the kitchen, Kunikida kept himself busy by helping Akira with the dishes. They stood quietly, working side by side for the first few minutes, until Kunikida cleared his throat to speak. “How’re you holding up, Akira?”

 

She nodded a few times, her hands submerged in the sink. “I’m… I’m doing okay. I’m more worried about the boys.”

 

“It will be hard for them… losing both parents only a day apart.”

 

“I can’t imagine how they’re feeling… their oldest son is only 14! And Naoki is barely 4… They’re so young… How is Kenji going to feel once he’s back in Yokohama with no one who understands how he feels…?”

 

Kunikida smiled sadly. “We have quite a few orphans working at the Agency. Atsushi, Ranpo, and Kyouka… Kyouka is the same age as Kenji. She watched her parents’ deaths. She won’t know exactly how he feels, of course, but she can empathize. He won’t be alone.”

 

“That’s great! I mean—that’s not great that she had to watch that—”

 

“I know what you meant.” Akira chuckled, going back to the dishes. Kunikida picked up a plate and swirled the towel he held around on it. “Junichiro told me something early that Kenji said to him…”

 

She turned to him, eyes widening. “What was it?”

 

“Well, you mentioned him going back to Yokohama…”

 

“Of course, he is! He works there.”

 

Kunikida took a deep breath. “He’s worried about how he’s going to raise four kids by himself. As the oldest.”

 

She gasped, throwing water and soap behind her as her hands flew from the sink. “Oh, Kenji! He is not raising them by himself! Absolutely not! Where would he get that idea from?”

 

“He’s the oldest child, Akira. What else would he think?”

 

She shook her head adamantly. “No. He’s staying with you. It will be better for him.”

 

“Then who will stay here? Who will take care of his brothers?”

 

“I will! I’ll move in here and take care of them. Raise them as my own.”

 

Kunikida blinked at her. “But you have your own family, don’t you? Your own things to take care of?”

 

“My husband passed just over a year ago and I have no children. I’m only thirty. I can take care of them—all of them. They’re already my family.”

 

“But you aren’t their guardian.”

 

“Then I’ll adopt them. I won’t let them go into foster care or to another family. It’s not happening.”

 

“If you’re sure, Akira—”

 

“I’m positive.”

 

Kunikida nodded, smiling at her. “I’m glad. They’ll be in good hands.”

 

“I’m glad Kenji’s in good hands with you. Thank you for bringing him here. I can tell you all care for him very much. He’s very comfortable with you all. You’re like his second family.”

 

“That’s how it feels,” chuckled Kunikida. “He is my family. Watching him hurting hurts me. It’s the same for Yosano. The rest of the agency joke that it’s like we’re his parents.”

 

“Oh! Are you two—”

 

“No! No. Just friends and colleagues. She’s just very motherly to him.”

 

Akira nodded. “And how about Junichiro? Him and Kenji seem very close.”

 

“They’re best friends, despite the age gap. Jun even told me he feels as though they’re brothers. He’s very protective of him. He’s in pain right now, too. He doesn’t know what to do.”

 

“He just needs to keep being there for him. I saw him goofing around with Naoki and the other boys earlier. Distracting them and then talking about their Mom. Maybe that’s something he can do with Kenji.”

 

“Perhaps,” said Kunikida, brows drawn together. “He seems to respond well to physical comfort.”

 

“He’s always been a very huggy kid, so it doesn’t surprise me. I’ll talk to Jun when I’m finished with the dishes. Give him some advice.”

 

“I think he’d appreciate that.”

 

*

 

Around midnight, Junichiro slipped from the living room where he’s been speaking to Akira and tiptoed to Kenji and Eiji’s room. His fingers tightened on the doorknob, twisting it gently and pushing the door in as quietly as he could. Shutting the door behind him, he tiptoed between the two beds, almost holding his breath to not wake the two boys up. Just as he was deciding to sleep on the floor to not disturb anyone, a whimper reached his ears.

 

Jun stepped closer to the bed and squinted at Kenji in the dark. Even with his back to him, he could tell one of his hands was clamped over his mouth. Chest tight, Jun slipped into bed behind him, wrapping an arm tightly around his waist. Kenji froze.

 

“It’s okay,” Jun whispered. “Don’t hide it. I’m right here.” Kenji sobbed into his hand, then rolled over and buried his face in Jun’s chest. The redhead clenched his eyes shut, willing himself not to cry. Instead, he rubbed Kenji’s back. “You don’t have to do this alone, it’s okay… It’s okay… Akira’s going to move in here and take care of your brothers. You can come back to Yokohama with us if you want to.”

 

Kenji nodded against him, his hands balled into fists, pulling at his hair.

 

“Stop pulling you hair… hey… that’s going to cause you more pain.” Jun pulled the blankets higher over them, holding them tightly around the boy’s back. Kenji released his hair, bringing his hands down to his chest and pressing on it. “Does it hurt?” A nod. He kept rubbing his back. “I’m sorry Kenji… I really am. But you know what? Your mom and dad would be so proud of you. Of everything you’ve done and how strong you are. For being there for your brothers. They’re proud of you. They love you.”

 

Silent sobs wracked Kenji’s chest, crying harder to the point where no sound came out at all. He just laid in his friend’s embrace, pain and fear and exhaustion flooding his body and pounding against the walls of his chest from the inside out.

 

“I’m so sorry, Kenji-kun. I’m so sorry. I’m here for you. We all are… We’ll all come to the funeral. I’ll be right there with you.” Feeling the small boy’s body shake and jolt against him made it increasingly harder for Jun not to cry along with him. But as heart-wrenching as it was to feel him tremble and hear his hiccoughing gasps for air, he had to stay strong for him. Be the rock that Kenji was for his brothers. “You’re not alone, Kenji, okay…? You have a big brother to take care of you now. I’m right here… and I love you…”

 

Kenji only tried to bury his face further in Junichiro’s chest. He continued to listen to the older boy as he spoke softly to him, his touch calming. Eventually he drifted off to sleep, clutching his chosen brother’s shift in a loose fist. That night he dreamt of a sunny Yokohama street, with all of his family smiling widely at him. Including Junichiro, and the rest of the ADA.

 

Regardless of if they knew it or not, they were everything to him. He loved them all. And tomorrow, when they’d arrive back in his favourite city, he’d be sure to tell them all that.

 

Because life is too short not to.

Notes:

Hey everyone! I hope that you enjoyed this although it was sad. I've ben working on this chapter for the last two weeks so I hope that it was worth it! I might do a fourth and final part that's the funeral if that's something you'd read. Let me know in the comments.

This was hard for me to write. I lost my mom when I was sixteen and that was hard enough, so I can't even imagine what losing both parents essentially at once would feel like. I love this boy to death, Kenji is my favourite character so idk why I keep hurting him but it's not because I don't like him or anything. He's such a sweet bean.

Requests are open, as per usual. If you haven't followed my insta yet, go follow! It's @soukokous_shared_braincell !

I am back at school now. I've been here for two weeks doing RA training and although it was a blast, I've been so exhausted. My floor moves in tomorrow and I'm so excited but it will be absolutely chaotic. Classes start thursday. So I will be quite busy but I will still be doing my best to update at least once a week here as well as the groupchat fic if you're reading that. Updates on progress with that will probably be on insta as well.

I have a couple of ideas for new chaptered-fics for bsd as well so if you're curious dm me on insta! I'm excited but idk if the idea is good enough. I've run it by Polar Chibi though who said it was a good idea so hopefully you all like it and I can start to write and post it soon! If I post it I will let you know here!

Please, please, please let me know your thoughts on this chapter. I worked so hard on it and I'd really like to know what you guys thought. What was good and what wasn't, and just general stuff, too.
Until next time, guys!

-Em :)

Chapter 26: Mysterious Girl (TachiGin Request + some smut)

Summary:

A request written for @MisuzukiNaoto ! Sorry that this took so long! I hope that this lives up to your expectations. Also, should I concerned that I wrote the latter half of this story in my campus student centre? #noshame

Tachihara runs into a beautiful girl when he's out shopping one weekend. Though she leaves in a hurry, he finds himself thinking of both her and the familiarity she held. Torn between his feelings for her and his coworker, Gin, he doesn't know what to do. But the girl has a trick up her sleeve.

*Smut warning: between the first two stars (mild) and then proper smut at the end, but it's a build up so there is no star there. Read at your own discretion.

Tachigin Oneshot Request:

 

Sneakers treaded over the bricks of the Yokohama shopping district, the strolling pace fitting of a Saturday afternoon. Nowhere to be, nowhere to go… nothing in particular happening at all. They could take him wherever he pleased, whenever, on no fixed schedule. A bakery, perhaps? The clothing store on the next street over? The coffee shop at the end of the street?

 

He licked his lips. Coffee sounded good, particularly with a pastry to go with it. Amber eyes flitting about, he strode forward towards the shop, mind wandering aimlessly as he scanned his surroundings for something to do.

 

A man with a mask passed by him, raising a hand in greeting when he noticed the gaze on him. The white mask, the dark hair, the serious expression… though it wasn’t him, it reminded him of Gin. Such a mystery, Gin was. Tachi found himself wondering about him too often, curious about a plethora of things. His last name. His interests. Where he learned to fight. His past. The sound of his voice. They’d worked together for years, and yet he’d still never heard the young man speak. He didn’t even know how old he was!

 

Though they often antagonized each other, he’d save Gin if it came down to it. No way would he let him die on his watch. The trust they shared stood strong, knowing each other’s movements, tactics, the sound of their breathing in the darkness, waiting for the perfect time to strike…

 

He groaned. Of all things to distract himself with, did it really have to be Gin? Of course, he didn’t really expect his brain to go anywhere else. It rarely did anymore.

 

He shut his eyes for a moment as he neared the coffee shop, sighing inwardly at himself. But when he looked up, he stopped in his tracks, hands still in his pockets. In front of him stood a girl, just younger than him, who rendered him speechless. He blinked at her momentarily, taking in the extremity of her beauty. Long black hair, grey eyes, and a gorgeous smile. He raised his brows, then ran a hand through his hair, and crossed the space in front of the shop to her.

 

“Hey,” he said, standing a couple feet in front of her with a smirk. “I’m Tachihara. When I saw you standing over here by yourself, I couldn’t help but come say hi.”

 

The girl nodded with wide eyes. “Hi.”

 

Tachi’s smirk widened to a smile. “Wow. Your voice is just as beautiful as you.”

 

She brought a hand up to her face, glancing away. “Thanks.”

 

“You’re—” He tilted his head. Something about this girl seemed to familiar. He’d seen her somewhere before. “Welcome… What’s your name?”

 

She took a step back, eyes darting side to side. “It’s not important. I probably won’t see you again anyways.”

 

He furrowed his brows. “What’s wrong?”

 

She stared at him, searching his face, frozen like a deer caught in headlights. “Nothing.”

 

Tachi stepped back, hands up. “I’m really sorry if I scared you. I didn’t mean to.”

 

She looked at him a moment longer, swallowing. “I really must go.”

 

And with that, she turned on her heel and left him behind. He blinked after her retreating figure, puzzled. Something about her felt familiar. A brief glimpse of recognition had flashed behind his eyes when she’d covered her face. He thought of Gin.

 

With a huff, he shook his head. “Stop thinking of him, you idiot…” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, heading into the store. “You’re so ridiculous…”

 

*

 

Darkness only fueled the images in his head as he laid in bed that night, staring at the blank ceiling. He couldn’t get either of them out of his head. Neither the girl, nor Gin. If he’d only been able to get her name… maybe he could’ve figured out why he knew her. Because it obviously wasn’t what his brain had immediately thought of. Just because Gin had longer, dark hair and slate grey eyes, the same ones as the girl he’d met, didn’t mean they were the same person. Briefly, he wondered if she could have been his sister, and that was why she’d seemed so alarmed. Yeah, maybe that was it.

 

Regardless, he still couldn’t rid his mind of their faces, floating on the inside of his eyelids. He couldn’t shake his wandering thoughts, irritated as he felt his boxers become tighter. Something about this girl got him going… something he didn’t really understand. Her energy—her presence—it felt comforting. Familiar. And stimulating. Had his every nerve on edge in the best way, like the startle you get from a lightning strike, or the buzz of alcohol in your system after a few drinks.

 

He rolled his eyes at himself, realizing he’d only made it worse. He needed to think about something else. Anything else. Forcing himself to think about work, his mind wandered over his different colleagues. Of course, there was Mori. But Mori infuriated him and thinking about him wouldn’t allow him to sleep anytime soon. Then there was Higuchi, but he thought better of thinking about her. She was beautiful as well. And of course, how could he forget Akutagawa? The rabid dog. The black coated mafioso. His dark hair and eyes only added to his persona. Dark and mysterious.

 

Mysterious like Gin. Shrouded in mystery. But what Akutagawa seemingly lacked, Gin held in pride. Maybe it was just the relationship between them. The trust. The cooperation, despite constantly being at each other’s throat. Although, at that point it seemed more like a ritual. Neither of them would kill each other. He’d come to rather enjoy their interactions, their wordless teasing, subtle glances of communication, and ridiculous humour.

 

Gin had dark and dry humour. Often on cases he’d point to something and pantomime a laugh, find some way to piss him off without causing real trouble, or write something either crude or blunt in the dirt with it. Something about the look in the man’s eyes, his competition, his energy was attractive, and he liked it.

 

Unconsciously, his right hand snaked down under the blankets and his waistband, gripping his dick and tugging up on it. A soft groan slipped past his lips, and then his eyes flew open in horror. He’d been thinking of Gin… what was he doing? Gin was a guy! That—he couldn’t—he wasn’t—what was happening…?

 

He focused on bringing the girl back into his mind as he stroked his cock. Thought about his hands in her long hair, her nails raking down his back, her angelic voice begging him for release.

 

Another louder moan fell from his lips.

 

Grey eyes glinting in the sun, a slender body pressing his to the wall, a silent query: “What are you going to do about it?”

 

Tachi pressed his head back into his pillow, his mouth falling open with a string of curses. The pleasure in his voice amped up with each stroke, each image of the two figures mingling in his mind.

 

Moonlight on black hair, a side-glance from smouldering eyes, a white dress brushing against bare thighs, pink-tinged cheeks, slender fingers tugging on a black choker…

 

He bucked his hips, thrusting himself into his own palm as he called out, spilling cum onto his stomach and hand. Tachi panted, unaware of the name he’d screamed as he climaxed, too caught up in the euphoric high to wipe the man’s face from his mind.

 

*

 

The early afternoon sun blazed down on the pedestrians in the shopping district. Glinting off of dark hair and catching on the subtlest of jewelry, it illuminated everything in its path, casting the rest in shadow.

 

Tachi strolled down the street, eyes meandering over the scenery, the shop windows and the people around him. He watched his reflection in a shop window as he passed, doing a double take as he recognized someone else. Raising his brows, he took in the figure of the girl in the pale-yellow dress, her black hair partially covering her face. It was her. He was sure of it.

 

Spinning on his heel he headed for her, a smile curving his lips in the least threatening way he could make them. The girl glanced up at him, steely eyes widening in alarm, darting around. He held his hands up, slowing his pace with a concerned glance. “Hey again. I’m really sorry if I scared you yesterday. Would you let me buy you a drink to make up for it? Coffee?”

 

She glanced around again, then pursed her lips. “Okay.”

 

“Great,” Tachi chuckled, his smile widening. “It’s a bit of a walk though.”

 

She nodded. “That’s okay.”

 

She fell into step beside him, clutching the small bag she held in her hands. Glancing up at him, her cheeks dusted pink, she fought the smile from her face.

 

“So, what do you do?”

 

“I’m… a student.”

 

“A student, hmm. I thought you’d be done school by now.”

 

She laughed lightly. “It’s my last year.”

 

“Ah. Do you live around here?”

 

She nodded, watching the bricks pass beneath her feet. “Yes. Not too far.”

 

“Me too! We could be neighbours,” he chuckled.

 

Her eyes widened as she stared at the ground, forcing a laugh. He fell into silence beside her ad she relaxed her shoulders. “What do you like to do?”

 

“I really like going to the gym,” he mused. “But I also really like rock music and drawing.”

 

“Drawing? I wouldn’t peg you as the type.”

 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s what my parents thought, too. Well, not exactly. That would be sugar coating it.”

 

“They didn’t like that you enjoyed drawing?”

 

“Nah. I needed to be more like my brother. But I’d just do it in secret.”

 

She blinked up at him with a tilted head. “What’s your brother do?”

 

“He uh…” Tachi paused, glancing between her and the ground. “He died during the Great War. He was a soldier.”

 

Her eyes widened, watching as he gripped something through his shirt. “What’s that?”

 

“Hmm? Oh.” He tugged it from beneath his shirt, showing it to her. “It’s my brother’s dog tag.”

 

A sad smile tugged at her lips. “I’m really sorry, Michizou.”

 

“It’s—” he furrowed his brows, stopping outside of the coffee shop. Had she told him his first name? He didn’t remember doing so. “It’s okay. I’ll run in a grab our coffees. What would you like?”

 

“Small, one cream and one sugar, please.”

 

“Coming right up.” He flashed her a smile before turning and entering the shop.

 

Standing in line, he replayed the last few minutes in his head. The more time he spent with her, the more he couldn’t shake off the feeling of familiarity radiating from her every movement, every glance. The figure of a man in a black cloak, wielding a long blade, with a white mask covering his face appeared in his mind, and he physically shook his head.

 

A moment later he stepped back outside the shop. The girl giggled behind one hand as she took her drink form his outstretched hand. “M’lady.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

They sipped at their coffee as they continued to stroll down the street, steps in sync, feeling as though they’d done this a million times before. Tachi turned to her. “Do you have any siblings?”

 

“An older brother.”

 

“Oh nice. Hopefully he’s not too protective of you.”

 

She nearly snorted, covering her mouth with her hand. “No. Not at all.”

 

He eyed her but took another sip. “What’s his name?”

 

A flicker of panic struck her face, and then was gone. “Did your parents live in Yokohama as well? Do you still see them?”

 

He raised a brow but answered anyway. “Yeah, I was raised in the suburbs. They still live in the house I grew up in. But I don’t see them very much anymore.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“They don’t want much to do with me.”

 

She frowned. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s fine. How about you? Do your parents live in the city?”

 

“No.”

 

“Oh, then are you living here on your own?”

 

“No. With my brother.”

 

Tachi tilted his head. “If you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you live with your parents?”

 

She took a swig of her coffee, glancing around for a garbage can to place it in once she finished. “We’re orphans.”

 

“Oh. Well, I’m glad you got to stay with your brother, then.”

 

She hummed. “Me too.”

 

“What do you like to do in your spare time?”

 

She shrugged. “I’m not picky. Shop. Watch TV. Listen to music.”

 

“What kind of music?”

 

“Rock.”

 

He grinned. “Great minds think alike.”

 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said, grinning at how taken aback he seemed. “Do you listen to music when you draw?”

 

He stepped over piece of garbage on the street, scowling at it. “Sometimes. Depends on what I’m drawing.”

 

“What do you normally draw?”

 

He took the final swig of his coffee, then passed it to the girl, who chucked both cups in the garbage as they passed. “Thanks. Uh, normally… people and action sequences. I like to draw comics. But I can draw realistically, too. It’s just not my preference.”

 

She nodded. “Have you showed them to any of your friends?”

 

“Nah. They’d probably just laugh at me.”

 

“Probably not,” she said immediately. “They might think it’s cool.”

 

“Have you ever had to hide something from your friends because you were scared they’d think of you differently?” She took a sharp intake of breath, looking up at him. The sun caught her eyes and the image of Gin once again flashed though his mind. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

 

She shook her head, staring at the ground. “It’s… nothing.”

 

He cocked his head, leaning closer. “Did I just remind you of something? It wasn’t my intention to make you upset.”

 

“No, no it’s fine.”

 

“Then why won’t you look at me? What’s the matter?” She stayed silent. “Am I asking too personal questions?”

 

“No! Yes! I…” She looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”

 

“For what?”

 

She sighed, tugging his arm and leading him into the alley a few feet away.

 

“What? Where are you—”

 

“Just… close your eyes.”

 

“What?”

 

“Close your eyes.”

 

He blinked at her, the assertiveness taking him by surprise. That, and the iron grip she’d had on his arm as she pulled him off the path with barely any effort. “Okay.”

 

He listened to the rustling in front of him, wracking his brain for any clue to what could possibly be going on. Who was this girl? And what was she hiding from him?

 

“Open.”

 

Amber eyes fluttered open, taking in the sight before him, flitting around and blinking in disbelief. She held her hair up with one hand, the other holding a mask over one side of her face. Her eyes remained soft; brows lowered.

 

“Gin?? Wha—what? How? I…”

 

She let go of her hair, stuffing the mask back into the purse hanging off her shoulder. “Hey, Tachi.”

 

He stared at her, gaze unwavering. His feet stepped forward on their own accord, his hands hovering over her face. Breathing hard, he flicked his tongue over his lips, his voice quiet when he spoke. “Can I kiss you?”

 

Her breathing matched his as she glanced up into his face. “Yes.”

 

Tachi pressed his lips to hers, his eyes falling shut as he cupped her face. They went right from one kiss into another, his hands leaving her face, one falling to her hip and the other burying itself in her long hair. Gin pressed her lips harder against his, pulling him closer by the waist until they were flush up against each other. He licked her bottom lip and grabbed her ass, smiling slightly as she opened her mouth, their tongues dancing together.

 

A moment later he pulled back to look at her, panting, his hand still in her hair. “Gin.”

 

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

 

“It doesn’t have to stop here.”

 

“Your apartment?”

 

He nodded, tugging her back onto the path by her hand. “It’s only around the corner.”

 

“I know,” she replied, breathless. “I live there, too.”

 

“Right.”

 

They traded lingering glances in the elevator, their fingers intertwined. As soon as the door opened, he whisked her down the hallway, fumbled with his keys, and then shut the door behind them. Gin had barely slipped off her shoes before Tachi had grabbed her by the waist and pulled her against him. He stepped backwards, leading her to his room, their eyes locked.

 

Gin dropped to the mattress, Tachi immediately following, pushing her back against it as he crawled on top of her. Their lips met again, moving together as they deepened it. Tachi kissed across her jaw and suckled on the skin between her jawbone and her neck. He trailed one hand down her side, along the silky fabric of her dress, resting his hand on her side. He continued down her neck as she tilted her head to give him access, down to her collarbone, running his tongue along it. She shivered, bringing her hands up under the back of his shirt.

 

The hand on Gin’s hip moved to fondle her breast, the other hand back in her hair. She let out a breath, eyes opening to stare at Tachi. Pressing her lips together, she grabbed at his bare sides. Amber eyes looked up through his lashes to meet hers. “Do you want to feel more of me, Gin?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He dove back in, kissing and sucking at her neck. A hand slipped under her dress, the smooth skin of her thigh guiding him up to where he wanted to go. Tachi ran his finger over her slit through her panties. His flicked her earlobe with his tongue, then bit it gently. “So wet for me, already, hmm?”

 

“You’re just as excited, Michi,” she breathed. “Been thinking about me?”

He pulled her panties to the side and dipped one finger in. “How did you know that?”

 

“I saw the way you looked at me.”

 

He pushed his finger in further, bringing his lips back to hers, stifling the squeal she let out. “Yeah? How did I look at you?”

 

“Like you were conflicted about your feelings. But I saw it in your eyes.”

 

He plunged another finger in, a pleasured sound coming from her throat. He smirked, moving down her body and squuezing her other breast with his free hand. “What did you see?”

 

“Lust.”

 

“I didn’t even know you were a girl.”

 

He pushed her skirt up, kissing down her stomach. She watched him, eyes blown wide. “Does that really matter?

 

“No.”

 

“I didn’t think so.”

 

Tachi pulled his fingers out, leaving Gin panting as he tugged off her panties. He pulled her closer by her hips, lowering himself between her thighs, glancing up at her. “You’re okay with this?”

 

“More than okay.”

 

He smirked, pulling her folds apart with his fingers and diving in with his tongue. Gin’s head fell back, her eyes falling shut as he swirled his tongue around her opening, then latched onto her clit. She cried out, bucking her hips. Tachihara pressed them down with one hand, then circled the bud with his tongue. A moan tumbled from Gin’s lips as he continued, alternating between flicking and suckling it. Red hair stayed gripped between her fingers, pressing his head down further, his one hand no longer able to keep her from pressing her hips up as well.

 

When he pulled back, Tachi licked his lips, her fluids covering the lower half of his face. Gin’s voice caught in her throat, biting her lip as she felt more heat growing between her legs. Tachi lowered himself over her, pressing his erection against her leg. “Do you know what you do to me,” he growled in her ear. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you last night.”

 

She kissed his neck, pulling him down. Then she flipped them over, sucking down his neck and over his Adam’s Apple. “Which version of me?”

 

“Both.”

 

She smirked, sitting up and pulling her dress off over her head and unclasping her bra. “So, you like it when I’m powerful, too, then.”

 

He gulped, watching as she pushed his shirt up, kissing down his chest. “Yes.”

 

“Good.” Gin latched onto one of his nipples, swirling her tongue around it and then flicking it as she sucked on it.

 

“Ngh, Gin!”

 

“How’s that? You like it, don’t you?”

 

“Yes,” he breathed, before crying out again. He’d never tried this before, and the fierce glint in her eyes only made it better. She brought her other hand up to tweak his other nipple, grinding her hips against his bulge.

 

The groan that left his throat only encouraged her more and she moved down to his groin, running her tongue over his clothed erection. Deft fingers undid the button and fly, slipping his pants over his thighs, then tugged down his underwear. She bit her lip, watching as his dick hit his stomach.

 

Gin ran her tongue over the inside of his thighs, ghosting over the area where he wanted her most.

 

“Gin,” growled Tachi.

 

She glanced up at him though her hair, a vicious smirk playing on her lips. “Is there something you want, Michi?”

 

“You know what I want.”

 

“You want to see my lips wrapped around your cock, don’t you?”

 

“Careful, or I’m gunna fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”

 

She pushed his hips down, her mouth hovering over his tip. “I could just stop,” she said, shrugging.

 

“Did I say pretty? I meant snarky.”

 

She hummed in response, taking his dick in her mouth, the vibrations tearing a moan from him. Within moments she had his hands gripping her hair, his chest rising and falling even faster as he panted. 

 

“Fuck, Gin. If you don’t stop, I’m gunna cum.”

 

She popped off, smirking at him. “Well, that would ruin the fun.”

 

He rolled his eyes, huffing. But he didn’t mean it. He wanted it just as much as she did.

 

Tachi wrapped his arms around her waist, pushing her back to the bed, their heads facing the opposite way as before. “Now, do you want me to fuck you? Or should I tease you the same way you did to me?”

 

She laughed, pulling him down for a kiss. “Do what you like. We both know how this is gunna end.”

 

Leaning back, he pulled open the drawer beside his bed, fishing around in it and emerging with a condom. He tore it open, knowing Gin’s eyes stayed on him as he rolled it down his length. Then he spread her legs, rubbing his tip against her folds. “Are you ready?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Is this your first time? I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

She shook her head. “Only my first with you.”

 

“Does that imply there will be more?” Tachi asked, rubbing her clit with his thumb.

 

She shrugged. “I guess that will depend on how this goes.”

 

He laughed, pushing into her. His laugh turned into a moan. He pulled his hips back, then pushed back in again, a bit faster. Again and again he thrust into her, watching her head fall back, staring up at him with half-lidded eyes.

 

Tachi lowered himself over her, pressing their torso’s together, relishing in the skin on skin contact. In the feel of her body against his, finally.

 

Gin wrapped her legs around him, crossing her ankles behind his back and pulling him further inside her. “Faster, Michizou.”

 

“Faster? How about harder, too, hmm?”

 

“­Oh. Yes. Please. Harder, please, fuck!”

 

He drove himself deeper inside her, angling her hips to get a better angle. He watched as her eyes rolled back, her face flushed from pleasure and exertion. She bucked her hips, trying to meet his thrusts. Her nails scrabbled at his back until he grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head with one of his. He kissed her fiercely, swallowing her moan.

 

As his thrusts began to become erratic he buried his face in her neck, panting in her ear. “Ngh, Gin, fuck… I’m so close.”

 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

 

He pounded his cock into her relentlessly, holding back the heat coiled in his groin, begging for release. He focused on her, bringing all the awareness he could to the sound of her breathing, the breathy moans in his ear, the hitches and cries as she got closer and closer to release. Reaching one hand down, he pressed on her clit with his thumb, remembering her reaction from earlier.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Michi. Michi!”

 

“That’s it, Gin. That’s it.” He held on as she clenched around him, her whole body writhing and shuddering beneath him as she rode out her climax.

 

The sounds of him moving inside her became more apparent and he sped up, milking it for her. She cried out with each thrust, driving him crazy. The coil began to tighten, and he closed his eyes, moaning relentlessly in her ear. And just like that, just as the night before, he came with her name on his lips. He jolted, erratic thrusts inside her, riding out his own orgasm in the bliss of knowing he’d caused hers. She’d screamed his name.

 

Gin. The one on his mind for far too long. He’d finally gotten her, and he intended to keep it that way.

 

Tachi groaned, trying his best to hold himself up so he didn’t crush her. He panted. “Gin.”

 

“Fuck, Michi. I… fuck.”

 

“So… will there be another time?”

 

She chuckled breathily. “As long as my brother doesn’t find out.”

 

“Why?” Tachi asked, pulling out of her slowly.

 

“Because you’d be a dead man.”

 

Her looked her over as he pulled the condom off, knotting it. “Why’s that? Who’s your brother?” She pursed her lips, holding back a laugh. Though her flushed face was beautiful, he found himself suddenly anxious. “Who’s your brother, Gin?”

 

“Akutagawa.”

 

His jaw dropped. “No. You’re fucking with me. You have to be.” She shook her head. “Gin? Gin Akutagawa?” She nodded. “Aw, fuck.”

Notes:

Hey guys! So... this was my first male/female smut so please let me know how I did. I have plans for a few more, mainly AkuHigu and Ransano. So... I hope this was okay. Feel free to leave your thoughts and/or tips on how I can improve! I have confidence that it's at least okay because at least... tmi... I have experience, you know? Anyways sorry hahaha. I'm very open lmao.

As for Tachi's demeanor... I figured he'd be pretty polite off the job. He seems good with Teruko, and yes she's a child, but I think he'd be more laid back and polite when not on duty. Feel free to leave your thoughts, though!

I have a post for insta that I'm working on right now that's an NSFW compilation for all the older characters and that's where some of the inspo for this has come from.

More requests and stuff I jjust want to write coming soon! Until next time, guys!

-Em :)

Chapter 27: I Will Always Come For You (Shin Soukokou)

Summary:

A request written for @Sleepawaysora ! Thank you for continuously giving me interesting prompts!! I really loved this concept.

TRIGGER WARNING: Violence, torture, blood, sexual humiliation (sort of), emotional breakdown.

An extension of chapter 86! With Atsushi down and out, Fukuchi takes getting Akutagawa to join him into his own hands. But the amount of effort it takes to break Akutagawa is a different story all-together.

*Sorry if there's any inaccuracies to what happened in ch. 86, I've only seen the raws and I do not understand Japanese in any capacity.

Enjoy!

“Yes.”

 

Fukuchi stared at Akutagawa, fury glinting in his eyes. “What did you say?”

 

“Are you deaf? I said yes,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Atsushi. He laid on the deck of the boat, struggling to keep himself conscious. “His life is that important.”

 

“Such a fool… Have you no sense of reality young man?”

 

“More than you. You think you’ll actually win against us?”

 

A hollow laugh reached his ears as Fukuchi stared him down, hoisting his sword over his shoulder. He shook his head, the dangerous glint in his eyes flashing in the sunlight. “Do you doubt me?”

 

Akutagawa straightened, shifting his shoulders back in hopes of setting them in the right spot. “It’s not my doubt in your abilities, it’s my confidence that we are stronger than you.”

 

“You and this pathetic fool? Look at him! He can’t even get up. What do you think he’s going to do for you?”

 

“He’s done enough.”

 

“Maybe for now… but he won’t be able to save you from me.”

 

“From you?” Akutagawa chuckled.

 

“Yes. That is, if you don’t accept my offer.”

 

“I will not be joining the Hunting Dogs. I will not work for you.”

 

“As I’ve already said,” huffed Fukuchi. “There’s no need for you to work for me. I’ll train you. And then you can go back to your current mentor.”

 

“Unfortunately for you,” he hissed, “I want nothing to do with you.”

 

“The only unfortunate one here is you.”

 

Akutagawa barely had time to raise a brow before the sword sliced the air beside him, puncturing his back on the right side between his ribs and hip. He crowed in pain, glaring at his assailant. “So, this is how it’s going to be?”

 

“If you won’t cooperate,” said Fukuchi, “I will make you. I have tricks up my sleeve that you seem to have underestimated.”

 

“Well I’ll just have to kill you first.”

 

“Good luck with that.” The sword sliced through the air again, a near miss.

 

Akutagawa lifted a hand to his ear, fingers coming away bloody, but no missing cartilage. He chuckled, taking a step forwards, desperately trying to hold back the pained expression fighting its way onto his face from the wounds to his abdomen. “Why are you doing this? Why do you want to rid the world of the gifted?”

 

“You’re being brainwashed by that damned Agency!”

 

“The Agency is innocent!” Akutagawa side-stepped the next attack, dashing forwards and sliding underneath the blade. “And you can’t slander them, or my partner, without there being hell to pay.”

 

Fukuchi howled, catching him in the face with his elbow. “From who? You?”

 

He staggered to his feet, summoning Rashoumon. “The whole Port Mafia. We work together. Or were you not aware of that very important detail?”

 

“Oh, I was well aware. I just didn’t think,” he mused, forcing the blade into devoured space, “that when it all came down to it, you would risk your life for this scum.”

 

“You’re the scum!”

 

Fukuchi only smiled, forcing the blade harder, the tip beginning to pierce through the shield Rashoumon provided. Akutagawa spun out of the way, narrowly avoiding being skewered. However, he wasn’t fast enough to escape the blade entirely, his upper body searing as his coat and shirt fell from his torso, a flesh wound ripped up the centre of his back.

 

Akutagawa fell to his knees, blood trailing down his back to puddle at his feet. Fukuchi stepped forwards, yanking his head up to look at him by a fistful of his hair. “What say you now? Will you come willingly?”

 

Steely eyes glanced to the right, straining to see Atsushi’s limp form lying on the deck, crumpled from his injuries. Whether or not he was conscious, he couldn’t tell, but he prayed he was. Turning back to Fukuchi, he gathered the blood in his mouth, spitting it onto the man’s face. “Never.”

 

“Suit yourself.” He yanked backwards on his hair, then his foot connected with his ribs. Akutagawa screamed at the crack in his ribcage, falling onto his back. He scrambled backwards, but without Rashoumon, found himself too weak to push off of the ground and get to his feet. Fukuchi dropped to his knees, straddling his scrawny waist, making it even harder to breathe through the pain and weak lungs. His face contorted in pain regardless of his efforts to fight it off, a rumble coming from his throat as he tried to suppress that, too. “Give in.”

 

Akutagawa shook his head, searching for Atsushi.

 

“He’s not coming for you. Even if he could, he wouldn’t. Why would he?”

 

“He will,” Akutagawa rasped, barely able to speak due to the man’s hands around his throat. “Jinko!!”

 

“He’s not coming.” Fukuchi pulled a syringe out of his pocket, holding it in the light for Akutagawa to see. “If you won’t come willingly, I’ll be forced to use this on you.”

 

“Jinko!!”

 

“Fine. If you’d rather psychological torture, that can be done. I’m sure you have many skeletons in your closet, Ryuunosuke Akutagawa.”

 

“Atsushi!!”

Fukuchi lowered the syringe, plunging into the skin of his bicep.

 

“Atsushi…”

 

*

 

Akutagawa struggled to open his eyes, a beam of light continuously rolling over his face pulling him from sleep. Forcing them open though they felt like lead, he stared straight up, unsure what he was looking at. Surrounded by blue and nothing else, the ray of light coming and going as if filtering through a glass of water on a table.

 

His eyes widened. Was this water or air? This substance, this… nothing?

 

Hesitant to take a conscious breath he held it momentarily, desperately trying to move the cinderblocks that were his limbs. No movement—he couldn’t even lift his head. Was there anything underneath him?

 

Letting his head fall to the side, the only way it could move, he got his answer. It was as if he floated in an ocean of air, forever suspended and surrounded by blue nothing.

 

Akutagawa gasped for air. No water entered his lungs, though he felt no oxygen did either. He gasped again, pulling the nothing into his lungs, choking, spluttering. Frantic grey eyes searched his surroundings, but still found nothing. Nothing and everything. The blue suffocated him, the light probing into his panic. Soon the hyperventilation took over, the pain, the searing and burning in his lungs overcame him and he fell unconscious once more.

 

*

 

Akutagawa’s eyes flew open, sitting up with a gasp, his hands flying to his chest. He panted, staring at the floor in front of him.

 

“You’re awake.” Fukuchi stood over him, his face stony. “Are you ready to accept my offer yet?”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Suit yourself.” He turned on his heel, heading to a desk on the other side of the room.

 

Akutagawa shivered, though from nerves or from the cold he couldn’t tell. He’d never been drugged before, and the lack of control over his own mind frightened him. Not that he’d ever admit that.

 

He blinked after shivering again. No. Definitely the cold. He glanced down, flinching upon the realization that he longer had clothes on. A flicker of panic crossed his face. Defenceless. He crossed his legs, leaning his small body against the metal pole he was handcuffed to.

 

Fukuchi turned back to him; a wicked smirk plastered across his face. He stepped towards him at a snail’s pace, never taking his hungry eyes off the vulnerable 20-year-old before him. Then he laughed, brandishing a leather whip in his right hand. “The sword is my weapon of choice, of course. But for disobedient dunces like you, I much prefer this method of teaching…”

 

Akutagawa narrowed his eyes, wracking his brain for something, anything, to get him out of the situation. But there was nothing. They’d stripped him of his power. Of what made him special. Without Rashoumon, he sat there, a frail young man, in deep trouble.

 

The whip cracked across his chest, welts quickly forming over his hands and forearms that covered it. He grunted, whipping his head around to stare at Fukuchi as he circled him.

 

A boot struck him in the side, forcing him to face the pole. Akutagawa pulled his face off the metal in front of him, sure he’d have a shiner later in the day. If he made it that far. He pulled himself up in time to be whipped again, the thin piece of leather cracking over his spine. His chest slammed against the pole, face contorted in pain as he called out.

 

Over prominent ribs and the notches of his spine, Fukuchi remained relentless, blood dribbling down the man’s back after the delivery of each lash. Akutagawa continued to cry out against his will, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. By the thirtieth lash the man sat slumped on his knees, doubled over, nearly at the point of blacking out. He prayed for it—the darkness.

 

Then the lashes stopped, footsteps echoing in his limited consciousness. A moment later they approached him from behind, and with them came a slight pinch as another syringe plunged into his skin. The cool liquid ran through his body and he dropped, eyes falling shut.

 

*

 

Akutagawa lay perfectly still, not ready to face the suffocating nothing from before. But this time, as he became aware of his body, he tilted his head at the feeling of solid ground beneath him and the small rocks pressing themselves into his skin. When he wrenched his eyes open, the sky above him was grey. Gloomy, cloudy—full of despair. He pushed himself to a sitting position, his eyes widening as realization struck him in the centre of the chest. The sky, the scenery, the howl of the wind… all of it. The exact same as it had been six years before.

 

Akutagawa scrambled to his feet, whipping his head around, breathing heavy.

 

“Gin!”

 

He blanched, nausea coiling in his stomach.

 

“Gin! Where’d you go?”

 

He bit his lip, clenching his eyes shut. Though his voice now had become much deeper, he could never mistake the sound of himself calling for his little sister.

 

Akutagawa opened his eyes, taking a deep breath as he took in the scene in front of him. A young boy in ratty grey clothing stumbled through a cracked archway a few feet away. His bare feet pattered across the cobbles, dirty hair blowing in his face as he searched the area in front of him.

 

“Gin? This isn’t funny. We have to get back before we get in trouble!”

 

A high-pitched giggle rang through the air, a small girl peeing around the side of a tree. Her long black hair hung in her face. “Come play, Ryuu!”

 

“We can’t, Gin. We have to go back.”

 

She pouted, slumping her small shoulders. “But why? We never get to have any fun.”

 

The young boy frowned, stepping towards her with an outstretched hand. Gin took it, following her brother back onto the pavement. The two headed back through the cracked archway, swinging their hands until a blast knocked them off their feet. The pair stared in horror, the smoke erupting from the building before them disguised by the dusk. The flames that followed however brought with them enough light to illuminate a scene that would forever haunt the siblings. The screams of small children would echo in their ears forever, the cobbles smeared with the blood of their friends, the orphanage staff, and the headmaster. As survivors flooded the building, assailants in dark suits gunned them down, never missing their mark.

 

Heads cracked on pavement. Bullets hit the walls behind their targets, blood spattered around where it lodged in the walls behind. The scene screamed carnage itself.

 

Akutagawa watched in a trance, the same as his younger counterpart. But then Gin was pulling him from the ground, trying to break him out of his stupor. She screamed at him words he couldn’t hear but remembered barely hearing then through the din.

 

“Run. Don’t let go.”

 

Then, with his younger self screaming to the dead he left behind, they took off in the opposite direction. Stumbled down the embankment and into the forest, through the trees, safe-guarded by the darkness and out of sight.

 

They left them behind. All of them. Innocent children on the market for slaughter. Because that’s the world they lived in. Live in.

 

Akutagawa swayed on his feet, the scene disappearing into the distance. Further and further it sped form his sight, until it disappeared. Like the childhood, the life he knew. And just like it, everything turned black and collapsed.  

 

*

 

With a scream, Akutagawa’s eyes flew open. The handcuffs digging into his wrists brought him back to reality and he shook his head to clear his vision.

 

“Awake again, are we?”

 

He tensed, ready to be struck again.

 

“Oh? Not biting, eh?”

 

A glare over his shoulder was all he could muster.

 

“Pity. I was enjoying myself. Maybe something a bit more… extreme, will work better? What do you say, Ryuunosuke?”

 

“Don’t call me that,” he spat.

 

“Oh, so we are still a little feisty. Perfect.”

 

“I will never give in to you, Fukuchi.”

 

The man only chuckled, his back turned to Akutagawa as he fiddled with an object on the counter. “We will see about that.”

 

Akutagawa watched the man approach, his brows knitted together. A sly grin spread over Fukuchi’s face as he shook a small disk with two circular buttons in front of his crumpled form. Akutagawa narrowed his eyes. “What’s that?”

 

“Impatient, hmm? Or are you trying to stall?” Akutagawa remained silent as Fukuchi rambled on, hoping his glare would be enough to show his hatred. “Whichever it is, your distraction tactics won’t work on me. It won’t take much longer before you give in. Even someone as stubborn as you can only take so much before they hit their breaking point.”

 

“I will not break for you.”

 

“Is that a theory we can test?

 

Akutagawa shook his head, holding back his wince. “That’s a promise.”

 

“Well,” said Fukuchi, stepping closer to him, “I’m afraid you’re currently all bark and no bite. What, without your precious ability? What’s it’s name… rashinom? Rancidon?”

 

“Rashoumon.”

 

“Ah, that’s right. Without it, you’re stuck. And Atsuki isn’t coming for you. I made sure of that.”

 

“His name is Atsushi.”

 

“Whatever. It won’t matter when your only choices are give in or endure immense pain.”

 

“I’m used to pain.”

 

“Then this should be a piece of cake for you.”

 

Fukuchi flipped the remote towards him, then pressed one of the buttons. Instantly a scream ripped from Akutagawa’s throat, the electricity sent through his body forcing it out. When Fukuchi switched buttons, the shock stopped, and Akutagawa fell to the ground, splitting some slashes on his back further apart.

 

“A little worse than you expected?”

 

Akutagawa panted, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground in front of him. “You rotten bastard.”

 

“How about some more then?”

 

Once more, the shock penetrated his body. Akutagawa arched is back, his entire body tensed and writhing. The accompanying scream became deafening the longer it continued, though Fukuchi seemed to relish in it. He switched buttons.

 

Akutagawa slumped as close to the ground as he could. His body shook and jolted as he heaved for air, forcing himself to stay in check. He could not break in front of this man.

 

It didn’t matter how much he put him through. Not that he terrified the shit out of him, dropping him in some oxygen-less void or sent him reeling through traumas of his past. Nor the fact that he’d split his back open and practically shocked him into oblivion. The immense pain, though too much to bear, could not show. He could not cry, or beg, or give in. Vulnerability—emotional vulnerability—would wait until safety came. It had to.

 

“Not so smart now, are you?” Fukuchi’s footsteps echoed in the room as he circled to the opposite side of the pole. He kicked Akutagawa in the shoulder, sending him back until the handcuffs yanked on him. “Though, it never was your strong suit, was it? It was always your sister who was the quick thinker. If it weren’t for her, you’d be among the dead. With your friends. With the only people who’d given you any sort of home.”

 

Akutagawa remained silent. Didn’t even meet his gaze. He focused all his energy on remaining as stoic as possible, even if inside, his walls cracked and crumbled.

 

“I’d say I admire your confidence. But that’s gotten you nowhere. Confidence won’t get you what you want. Confidence doesn’t equal approval. Your mentor had to have shoved that into your head by now.”

 

Akutagawa clenched his jaw, jolting as Fukuchi sent a quick shock through him.

 

“You will never live up to his expectations. Not if you don’t come with me. Look at how helpless you are, naked at my feet. I could do whatever I wanted to you.”

 

Silence.

 

Fukuchi stepped forwards, grabbed a fistful of black hair, and smashed his head against the pole. He gripped the man’s jaw, crescents in pale skin from his nails. He chuckled, eyes searching his body. Akutagawa tried to pull away, squeezing his legs together and trying to hide behind the pole. “Ah, where’s that confidence gone? Don’t feel like showing off anymore? It’s a shame you’re not, shall we say, gifted in other areas. Though, it does make sense, I must say. Just another shortcoming—you’ll never be able to pleasure a woman. Or a man, as it seems that’s what you prefer… would you like him to see? I have been recording, after all.”

 

Akutagawa squirmed under his scrutiny. The man’s cold eyes on his body felt wrong. Tainted. This side of him should never have been revealed, not to just anyone. But he was on display for this man, a cruel son of a bitch with the desire to humiliate him by any means necessary.

 

“I could just send him a quick message from you… I do have your phone. Think he’d come for you then? Or would he be too disgusted just looking at you… Ah, don’t look at me like that. Of course I know you fancy him. My brain capacity isn’t as limited as the likes of you.”

 

A quick shock caused him to unravel his limbs, and Fukuchi smirked. Heat rose in the man’s face, tears pricking at his eyes. He forced them back, doing his best to ignore the physical and emotional pain the man was adamant about putting him through.

 

“Come now. Do you really believe you can keep this up? You’re much too weak. All it would take is a swift kick to those frail ribs of yours. Your lungs… you know they can’t keep up. If I could puncture them, crush them, block them… You’d be done. It’s your weakness. That, and your faith in that tiger boy. He’s forgotten about you. Probably gone after my diversion. You are nothing to him, just as you have never been anything to your mentor. If I’m right, he took on tiger boy instead of you? Get your head out of the gutter. Without me, you’re nothing.”

 

Another shock ripped through his body.

 

“Nothing.”

 

Screams tore from Akutagawa’s throat as he writhed and pulled at the chain binding him to this torture, blood flowing down his open wounds as he widened them and caused them to tear into each other.

 

He couldn’t keep this up.

 

He was right.

 

The shock ended abruptly, interrupted by the splintering of the wooden door. Guttural screams and the sound of tearing flesh filled the room, reaching Akutagawa’s ears and swirling in his head. More screaming, familiar voices calling to each other, gunfire… He brought his hands to his ears, a last-ditch effort to block it all out. How long it lasted, he couldn’t tell. Who’s screams reached his ears, he couldn’t identify. It was all too much.

 

Too much.

 

Akutagawa flinched with a gasp, his eyes flying open as a hand grasped his wrist. Met with two-toned eyes, he didn’t register the concern in the boy’s expression.

 

“You’re shaking.”

 

Akutagawa didn’t respond, just scanned Atsushi’s face in disbelief.

 

“What did he do to you?”

 

The only response Atsushi received was panting and a series of winces. The high pitched, pained noises snapped him out of his trance—a sound he never thought he’d hear.

 

“Let’s get you out of here. Everyone else is here to find the book.”

 

Atsushi produced a pin from his pocket, twisting it in the lock on the handcuffs until they released. Akutagawa collapsed to the ground, unable to prop himself up in the slightest. Alarmed, Atsushi yelped, glancing around the room for something to cover his partner.

 

A red jacket was thrown over his shoulder and Atsushi whipped his head around to see Kunikida. “It’s Katai’s. Cover him up and take him outside. Junichiro is waiting in the helicopter.”

 

Atsushi nodded, kneeling beside Akutagawa. He wrapped the jacket around his partner, who stared at him in overwhelmed confusion. In pain. In fear.

 

“I’m taking you to safety,” Atsushi said softly, looking him in the eyes. He took the shaking man in his arms, cringing as he cried out when his arm laid across his back. “I’m sorry. There’s no other way.”

 

Almost jogging from the room, cradling the beaten body to his chest, he headed for the deck of the new ship. He wished they’d found it faster. He wished a million things. Finding the boat faster. Figured out the book’s location faster. Removed Akutagawa from the situation faster. That he’d been able to go after him right away. But for now, Atsushi was glad he’d heard his plea for help at all. Even through his ringing ears, he’d heard the cry of his name.

 

“Do you want me to carry him, Atsushi?”

 

“No, Kenji, it’s okay. Go with Kunikida. Find the book.”

 

“Got it!”

 

Atsushi continued to jog to the top of the boat, every flight of stairs feeling like ten. With heavy legs, he emerged on the deck, the gusts of wind from the helicopter blowing his hair from his face. Junichiro’s eyes widened upon seeing him for the first time since the dispute began, relief and concern flooding his face as he opened the doors for them.

 

Atsushi scrambled inside and to the back, sitting against the back wall.

 

“Atsushi, my God, are you okay? What happened? Is he okay? Did you kill him?”

 

“Get me a blanket, please. Something.”

 

“R-right.”

 

Atsushi sat Akutagawa in his lap, holding him against his chest, the man’s feet resting on the seat to Atsushi’s right. He took the blanket from Junichiro and wrapped it around his trembling partner, unnerved by the near hyperventilation coming from him.

 

“Ryuunosuke.”

 

“What’s wrong with him,” Jun asked, sitting down on a seat nearby.

 

“Fukuchi tortured him. I dunno how, but it seems like he whipped him, at the very least.”

 

“That wouldn’t be enough to break him…”

 

Atsushi bit his lip, pulling Akutagawa closer to him. “I dunno… I… whatever they did to him seriously fucked him up…”

 

Weakly, a hand clutched at Atsushi’s shirt. When the boy looked down, watery grey eyes stared at his chest, his breath coming in heaves, his whole-body shuddering.

 

“Ryuu, it’s okay. Breathe…” The slight shift of Atsushi’s arm caused him to yelp, jolting. “I’m sorry. Am I hurting you?” A slight nod. “Do you want me to let you go? I don’t want to—”

 

“No.” He clenched his teeth, a few tears making their way down his cheeks and over blood-stained nail marks.

 

“But I’m hurting you.”

 

“I-I don’t care,” he spluttered, harsh breathes audible between words. “I-I need…”

 

“Okay… okay,” said Atsushi, readjusting them and wrapping his arms around him tightly. “I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m not letting go.” He winced, drawing in a sharp breath as he leaned into the boy holding him. “Yosano will be back soon, I promise. I’m so sorry.”

 

“I—he—I—”

 

“It’s okay, Ryuu… breathe…”

 

“No air, can’t, none.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

He shook his head frantically, whimpering as he did so. Atsushi bit down hard on his lip, hating the pained noises coming from his partner. Though dark hair fell into his eyes, the distress in them remained clear. “Lungs, can’t, smoke, Gin, they… they—they—they…”

 

“Gin’s okay. Everyone is okay.”

 

He shook his head again, clenching his eyes shut. “The-the kids and and the the the guns, forest and night and blood and I can’t—can’t—can’t—I…”

 

At a loss, Atsushi glanced up at Jun, who sighed. “I don’t think he’s talking to you, Atsushi.”

 

The shaking worsened, his breathing coming faster as the full effect of the day’s events set in, hitting him all at once. The scenes from his subconscious played through his mind on repeat. Fukuchi’s words. Humiliation. Degradation. It was over, though his mind continued to harbour the pain. To keep it going. Why, instead of relief, did the emotion wash over him and drag him under the surface of the unending blue waves? The undertow threatened to drown him, his lungs aching, his back searing, the electricity mixing with the riptide, his mind writhing as he had only minutes before in a futile attempt to hold it together.

 

“You’re safe, Ryuu,” Atsushi soothed, speaking softly in his ear, one hand in his blood-matted hair.

 

Safe.

 

The word he’d been waiting for. Praying for.

 

The trickle of tears soon resembled the current in his head, sobs tearing from his throat as the shakes wracked his battered body.

 

“Shh… shh… it’s okay… I’m here now. I came for you. He can’t touch you. He’s not here. It’s just me. It’s just me. Breathe…”

 

Akutagawa buried his face in Atsushi’s neck, the tears rolling down his skin and dripping onto his collarbone. Atsushi closed his eyes with pursed lips, only reopening to look across at Junichiro, who watched Akutagawa with concern.

 

“Ranpo messaged me and said they drugged him. Psychological torture. And you were right about the whip, along with verbal humiliation and electric shocks… that’d be too much for anyone.”

 

Atsushi leant his head against Akutagawa’s as he gasped for air. “I’m here. I’ve got you. It’s okay now. You’re safe.”

 

“A-Atsushi.”

“I’m right here, Ryuunosuke. It’s okay…” A pained noise escaped the man held in his arms, a sob quickly following. “I know… I know it hurts… but he can’t hurt you anymore…”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Atsushi only blinked at the wall across from him, rubbing his side gently, trying to avoid the slashes that snaked around from his back. “What for?”

 

“I think he means for this.”

 

He glanced up at Jun, a pained expression set on his face. Then he leant back down to speak to Akutagawa. “It’s okay… it’s okay. Don’t apologize. Please.”

 

Akutagawa slowly let himself relax in the boy’s embrace, his tears slowing despite the rampage inside his head. He let Atsushi speak to him softly, holding him to his chest, allowing himself, for once in his life, to be held the way he needed to be. To be vulnerable to someone else. To give in to his emotional needs.

 

Atsushi spoke to him, telling him he was safe and saying his name, promising to stay with him, for what felt like hours. He kept his eyes closed, the feeling of Atsushi’s arms around him all he wanted to feel. His arms, his chest supporting him, his head leaning lightly on his own. His fingers tracing shapes on his side as the helicopter took off, still talking to him as a distraction.

 

The hand continued to rub his side for comfort throughout the ride. When the commotion had started and everyone had returned to the copter, he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t been aware of their return until much later. He’d only been aware of Atsushi. And it remained that way until his body demanded rest, his fist finally released it’s grip on Atsushi’s shirt, and he gave in to the sweet release of sleep.

 

It was then that Atsushi finally relaxed, listening to the man’s even breathing, feeling it on his neck. He turned his head slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. And when he spoke to him, a whispered confession, his lips brushed over the pale skin.

 

“I will always come for you.”

Notes:

Man, I worked so ridiculously hard on this story! I'm actually very proud of it. I think it might also be one of my longest ones, so there's also that. I swear I love Akutagawa... It's sorta like Kenji. I just keep hurting them.

Requests are open, as always. There's still a few I have left to work on, but the number is dwindling. Hit me with your best shot!!

Also, this has got me writing angst in my group chat fic which was supposed to be completely crack, whoops...

Let me know your thoughts below!!

Until next time, guys!

-Em :)

Chapter 28: I'm Sorry (Ango and Dazai Request)

Summary:

A request written for @homosexualcast ! I hope this lives up to your expectations aha! Also, I'm so sorry for the wait! School has been... ugh. Second year of uni is already kicking my ass fml. A bit shorter than usual but this story actually brought me out of a bit of a writing funk bc I was in a bad place so I hope that you enjoy it!

Ango visits the agency for a meeting to see how he can help them out with a case. However, things quickly go sideways when Oda is brought up.

“What time is Ango supposed to be here again, Dazai?”

 

Brown eyes glanced up to Kunikida from his computer, where he sat pretending to do his work. “Any minute now, I’m sure.”

 

Kunikida nodded, checking his watch. He went back to his own laptop, typing out a few sentences, glancing around the room, and then repeating. “Do you think he’ll agree to help us?”

 

“I’m sure he will! And if he doesn’t, I’ll just persuade him.”

 

“That sounds vaguely threatening coming from you, Dazai-san,” croaked Atsushi from beside him.

 

“Most things sound vaguely threatening coming from Dazai,” Junichiro added.

 

Dazai chuckled. “Even my quips about suicide?”

 

“Wouldn’t that just be a threat to yourself?” Yosano asked, without looking up from filing her nails.

 

“Fine. How about my way with the ladies, then?”

 

“What ladies?”

 

Dazai glanced up, a smile spreading on his face. “Ango! How nice of you to join us.”

 

“I’m not late, am I?”

 

“No, no,” Kunikida reassured him, noting his alarmed eyes. He stood from his chair. “If you don’t mind, we’ll talk in the meeting room?”

 

Ango nodded, motioning for Kunikida to lead the way. Glancing over his shoulder at Dazai he offered him a small smile. “How’ve you been?”

 

“Same as always! Living the life.”

 

Kenji and Junichiro glanced back at Atsushi with raised brows. Atsushi shrugged. Ango, however, only chuckled lowly. “So drinking, having sex, and not doing your work?”

 

“Precisely.”

 

“Ew,” muttered Kenji. Junichiro and Yosano snorted.

 

“Are you still trying every new suicide tactic that you can?”

 

“Pretty much,” Atsushi mumbled.

 

“Still got that old book?”

 

“You know it!” Dazai grinned, pulling it from his pocket.

 

Ango rolled his eyes, though concern flashed in them as he faced the front again. “I wish you wouldn’t do that… I thought Oda might’ve knocked that out of you, but no dice.”

 

Atsushi glanced up at Dazai, noticing the way he straightened at the name. Though he said nothing, it was clear he bit his tongue, glaring at the back of the man’s head. Even as they sat down, Dazai remained stiff, sitting straighter than he normally would. Atsushi drew his brows together, wracking his brain for where he’d heard the name before. Oda. Oda.

 

“Is Mr. Fancyhat late, Dazai?”

 

Dazai snapped out of his trance, turning to glance at Ranpo across the table. The detective sat with his feet up on the table, his hat over his face. “It’s not surprising really. He always was the lazy one.”

 

“What did you just say?”

 

Dazai’s head snapped up as the rest of the room chuckled. “Uh…”

 

“That’s what I thought,” Chuuya drawled, stepping into the room, Akutagawa following behind him until he reached the spot next to Atsushi.

 

“Hi.”

 

Atsushi nodded to him, watching as he set his cell phone and keys down on the table. “Hey. I didn’t know you were coming.”

 

“Surprise.”

 

Atsushi rolled his eyes, watching Chuuya chew out Dazai but not really listening to what he said. “Will you be working this case, too, then?”

 

He deadpanned. “No, I just thought I’d pay a visit. Yes, I’m working this case, you moron.”

 

Though he said it bluntly, a hint of a smile played on his lips. Atsushi chuckled.  “Maybe you just missed me.” The side-eye was enough of a response.

 

“Okay, okay,” Kunikida bellowed over the chatter, glancing over the entire agency and guests alike. “Can we start the meeting now, please?” A round of unanimous yesses filled the room and Kunikida clasped his hands on the table in front of him. “Ango, are you aware of the case we are working on?”

 

“Vaguely, yes. About the organization from overseas?”

 

“Yes. We’ve been tracking them to the best of our, or Katai’s ability, for a few weeks now.”

 

“Where is he then?”

 

Kunikida glanced to Yosano, who chuckled at his grimace. “Why do you even bother asking at this point?”

 

“That reaction is precisely why.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Ranpo has figured out their motive from the small amounts of information we’ve gathered. That should have been in the email I sent you…”

 

“Yes, I got it. However, I was surprised the email didn’t come from Dazai. I was surprised to see you reach out to me, Kunikida. Not that I’m complaining.”

 

“I’m not surprised,” Dazai muttered, causing Chuuya to give him a look.

 

Ango glanced at him. “Well, if anyone from the Agency would speak to me, Dazai, I did think it would be you.”

 

“Well, you thought wrong.”

 

Kunikida glared at Dazai, a silent warning. “Anyway. Katai has also found a warehouse where he believes the organization has stored some inventory, which is where you come in, if you’re up for it.”

 

Ango pursed his lips, nodding at the wood beneath his hands. He tapped his fingers, mulling it over. “So, you need me to go inside and draw memories from anything that seems to be frequently used.”

 

“Precisely.”

 

“How will I do that undetected?”

 

Dazai chuckled. “You don’t.”

 

“Huh? You can’t just expect me to infiltrate with no protection!”

 

The chuckle turned into a laugh. “It wouldn’t be the first time. I have full confidence you can pull it off for a third time.”

 

Atsushi glanced back and forth between the two men, then glanced to Akutagawa, surprised by the steely glare in his eyes. When he looked back, Ango had turned to Kunikida. “Please tell me he’s kidding.”

 

“Of course. That’s where Junichiro comes in.” He turned to the red-head in question. “He has an illusion ability.”

 

“Oh yes, yes. Of course.”

 

“Y-you know me?” Junichiro stuttered. “I don’t think we’ve met before!”

 

“I know of all the gifted in this city.”

 

Jun blinked, looking to Kenji beside him. The blond quirked his head, then asked the question on many of their minds. “Is that how you know Dazai?”

 

Ango raised his brows, having not expected the question. “Uh, no. No, Dazai and I met outside of work.”

 

“Yeah. No. No, we didn’t. That’s a stretch.”

 

“Dazai,” Chuuya mumbled, side-eyeing him.

 

Dazai, however, ignored him. “I mean, we did meet at what I thought was your job. And, in a way, it was.”

 

“Okay, well, you weren’t working when you and Oda came and attacked me.”

 

“We were all at work, Ango. And you can’t deny you enjoyed that night at Lupin.”

 

He huffed. “Of course, I did. It’s sad they can’t happen anymore.”

 

“Yes, and who’s fault is that?”

 

“Moving on,” Kunikida interrupted. “As I was say—”

 

“So, are you friends, then?”

 

“Kenji—”

 

“No.” Dazai glanced around the table, then at Ango directly. “We used to be, though.”

 

“Why used to be?” Atsushi asked, bewildered by the cringe he received from Akutagawa, who’d grabbed his arm, and the warning in Chuuya’s eyes. He looked at them both in turn, blinking in confusion.

 

“Things between us just didn’t work out. It’s not really important.”

 

“Hell yes it is!” Dazai raised his voice, scrunching his brows together. “It’s important!”

 

“Not to the case,” Ango clarified, turning to Kunikida. “Procee—”

 

“What happened?” Kenji asked.

 

Ango sighed. “We had a… misunderstanding.”

 

“A misunderstanding?” Dazai spluttered, his face incredulous. “You call that a misunderstanding?”

 

“Yes. I was never able to tell you all of what happened. You and Oda didn’t want to hear it.”

 

“You’re the reason he’s dead!”

 

Atsushi’s eyes widened, staring between Dazai’s clenched jaw and Ango’s pale face, startled by the outburst. Dazai clutched the table, his knuckles turning white as Ango began to speak.

 

“Gide and Mori were the reason for his death, Osamu.”

 

“Don’t call me that,” he spat. “Are you fucking with me? You brought them here, you fucking traitor! All of this bullshit happened because of you!”

 

Kunikida cleared his throat, fixing his collar. “Can we—”

 

“You think I wanted to—”

 

“I think that’s exactly what happened, Ango! How else did you want me to take that? Look at what you’ve done!”

 

Atsushi hunched his shoulders, shrinking away from the table as he looked around at its occupants. Junichiro and Yosano sat stock still, their eyes nearly bugging from their heads. Kenji, on the other hand, didn’t watch the scene. He sat withdrawn, chewing on his bottom lip, eyes on his lap. Kunikida and Ranpo watched as well, although only one of them really knew what the two argued about.

 

Beside Atsushi, Akutagawa sat straight and alert, eyes never leaving the sight before him. Like him, Chuuya sat straight and alert, but he faced Dazai, one hand out of sight under the table ever since Dazai started yelling. He wondered if it was on Dazai’s leg and furrowed his brows.

 

“Dazai,” Ango tried to reason, “I’d never want to hurt Oda. I’m his frien—”

 

“You were his friend. Assholes like you aren’t! And now neither of us can be because you got him killed!”

 

“I cared for both of you.”

 

“Some shitty friend you are! You’re so pathetic, I can’t fucking deal with you. I can’t stand you. You think you’re right—”

 

“I never—”

 

“Let me fucking finish, goddamn it!”

 

“Dazai,” Chuuya murmured, his features softening as he looked at him.

 

“How could you think you’re right? When you led this group of homicidal fuckwads to Yokohama and let them slaughter my best friend! You knew what Gide’s ability was!’

 

Oda. That was the grave Dazai always went to visit… Atsushi turned to Autagawa, astonished at his lack of shock. He raised his brows. “Are you not seeing this?”

 

Akutagawa kept his eyes on Dazai and Ango. “It’s nothing unusual for me.”

 

He nearly flinched at that. What did that mean? Was this how Dazai normally was with him? He glanced at Chuuya again, noticing how restless he’d become over the past few minutes. His leg bounced under the table, eyes flitting over Dazai and his ever-changing (or slipping) demeanor. He found himself wondering how well Chuuya really knew Dazai, and how accustomed he was to this behaviour.

 

“Mori forced me undercover for mimic, you know that! I did what I had to do!”

 

Dazai stood abruptly, his chair scraping back until it hit the wall. “Don’t give me that, you bastard! You could have found a way around it! You could’ve asked your real boss for help!”

 

“There was no way around it! There’s nothing I could have done!”

 

“You’re lying! You’re fucking lying to me! Don’t you dare tell me that—let go of me, Chibi!” Atsushi’s gaze moved to Chuuya, who had a hand wrapped around Dazai’s arm he’d stretched out to point at Ango. Dazai tried to yank his arm away, but Chuuya’s grip remained firm. Dazai swallowed hard, his anger mixed with an emotion Atsushi couldn’t quite place, though the tears that gathered in his eyes told him it was bad. “Oda died because of this, Chuuya…”

 

“I know,” said Chuuya, lowly. He stood then, too, and tugged on Dazai’s hand. “But this is not the place. Let’s go outside and talk about it, hmm?”

 

“Ango—”

 

Chuuya shook his head, tugging on him again. “Let’s go.”

 

Without another glance back, Dazai relented, and the two men retreated from the room. When the door clicked shut, Atsushi’s eyes remained on the frosted glass window. The light cast shadows of their figures onto the window, and Atsushi realized with a jolt, that Dazai leaned on Chuuya, his head tucked out of sight.

 

Ango slumped back in his chair and ran a hand over his face with a sigh. When he finally opened his eyes, he kept them on the table. “I’m truly, very sorry for hurting your friend and co-worker.”

 

“What… what happened?” Kunikida asked, blinking furiously. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

 

Ango glanced around at them all. At Yosano and Junichiro’s confused faces, at Kenji’s shrunken form, at Ranpo’s inquisitive eyes, and Akutagawa’s lack of shock. At Atsushi’s own stupefied expression. He let out a long breath, pushing up his glasses. “I was sent by my boss to infiltrate the Port Mafia, which is where I met Dazai and our mutual best friend, Oda Sakunosuke. Five years ago, Mori instructed me to infiltrate an enemy group called Mimic. A year later, Mimic came to Yokohama… Their leader, Gide, had the same ability as Oda—the ability to see six seconds into the future. Therefore, Oda was the only opponent that could give him what he wanted… his own death.

 

“When Mimic found me out as a spy, they captured me, and Oda came to rescue me. Oda then refused to fight Gide.”

 

Atsushi noticed Akutagawa shift uncomfortably beside him, then cough into his elbow. He looked back to Ango. “Why? If he just wanted him to kill him and the whole mess would be over…?”

 

“It wasn’t that simple. He knew he’d end up dying if he fought him, and Oda didn’t want to kill anyone. He’d sworn off it. But then Gide captured his kids… these 5 orphans that he took care of. Stuffed them in a van and blew it up right in front of him. Sent Oda on a suicide mission to kill Gide. Dazai was seconds too late and Oda died in his arms.”

 

Kunikida’s lips formed an O as he blinked at the desk. “So… I…”

 

“Dazai made Oda a promise to become a good man to fulfill his dying wish, which is why he suddenly deserted the Mafia. I helped him clean his name and lie low so he could get another job after two years… And somehow, he still believes that I wished harm on the two of them. He usually acts friendly with me, but I know he’ll harbour this anger for a long time. Oda is a sore spot for him, for sure…

 

“They were both my good friends. We spent many good nights together. I, myself, spent many nights blaming myself for his death, when there was really nothing I could have done. Either way, my heart is still filled with regret.” Ango glanced out the doorway at the huddled figures, one hunched and still, the other moving slightly. He rubbed his neck. “When is this mission to take place?”

 

“Tomorrow,” said Kunikida, still processing the information. “At noon.”

 

Ango stood, nodding. “I’ll be there.” Pushing his chair back, he left the table and pulled the door open, stopping there. Blue eyes glared at him as he exited, Chuuya’s arms around Dazai’s waist, his shoulders shaking. Ango reached out and patted his unruly hair, tucked against Chuuya’s neck. “I’m very sorry for hurting you, Dazai-kun.”

 

Ango left without another word.

Notes:

Hey all! So, I hope that you enjoyed this! More is coming soon! Uni is being a little shit rn but I'm still doing my best to keep up with my writing so I'm sorry for not updating for like two weeks haha. Also, COVID can go suck my dick bc I'm so tired of this shit. As an RA at my school I have to take meals to the people in the quarantine zone and so far ive only had to do it once, which is good, but man you cannot see with all the PPE and the furnace BLASTING. Anyways, as always, let me know your thoughts and requests! Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 29: Ice Cream and Lollipops (Ranpo/Yosano Smut)

Summary:

Ranpo drives Yosano a little crazy with his tongue.

WARNING: Very explicit smut.

“You’re never going to finish that.”

 

A chuckle rumbled in his throat as he turned to look at her, chocolate ice cream sitting pretty on his tongue momentarily before his lips closed in a smile. “You don’t think so?”

 

“Not before it melts, no.”

 

“You have such little faith in me, Akiko.”

 

She rolled her eyes, taking a lick of her own ice cream. “You know, we aren’t too far from the dorms, but it’s a hot day. You can’t exactly stop it from melting.”

 

“Watch me.”

 

Shaking her head, she continued on her much smaller cone. Beside her, Ranpo licked a line up the soft-serve, having to dive back down to stop it running onto his hand. She chuckled as she watched him. Always such a dork. But she loved that about him.

 

To be fair, Yosano loved a lot about him. Most things, really. From his uncanny intelligence, his unwavering confidence, those striking green eyes… Not that she got to see them often. But whenever she did, something in the way he looked at her made her stomach twist. No matter the time or place, that gaze never failed to make her squirm. Mixed with his sly smirk, directed at her after some suggestive comment or a teasing remark… maybe it was a good thing he didn’t fully open his eyes more often. She wasn’t sure how she’d deal with it.

 

The further they walked, the quicker Ranpo had to try and finish the cone. His togue swirled around what was left, slurping at the dripping liquid. As his tongue darted out once more to lick up the cone, images flashed in her mind, causing her to turn away as a wave of lust struck her. If he noticed, he said nothing, but Yosano couldn’t look at him the rest of the way back. She had enough of him in her head, taunting her with his dancing tongue.

 

“Hey, Akiko,” Ranpo piped up as they neared the dorms. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

 

Sure there was a blush rising on her cheeks, she barely met his gaze. “Sure. What do you want to watch?”

 

He shrugged, turning back to the front and drawing his keys form his pocket. “I dunno. We can pick something off my Netflix.”

 

She nodded, following behind him wordlessly to the door to his dorm. It wasn’t as if she’d never been in his dorm before—she’d been inside a thousand times. But lately it felt… different. As if there’d been some sort of a paradigm shift and no one else had noticed. Well, no one other than Ranpo. Though they didn’t talk about it, she knew he felt it, too. That something was different between them. He would simply carry on rambling about a case he’d solved that day and she’d listen as she flipped through a magazine, pretending to read as she listened to the confidence drip from his voice. Ad when he spoke to her that way specifically… she was putty in his hands. She hoped he didn’t know, but part of her also wished he did. Wished he’d satisfy this need she had.

 

Ranpo flopped down on the couch, the remote in one hand and a lollipop in the other. She chuckled. Him and his candy. She crossed to him and settled into the space he’d left for her against his side, his arm propped on the back of the couch as he searched for a movie. Her mind wandered as he flipped through the options, offering feeble opinions here and there. He decided on a police-centric movie (surprise surprise) and let it play.

 

Yosano leaned into him as she had for forever, curled up on the tiny dorm couch. His arm hovered behind her, twitching periodically as if he wanted to drop it around her shoulders. She only half watched the movie, partially indulging in her mind’s own reel and otherwise laughing at Ranpo’s commentary as he chewed out the cops, wagging his lollipop at them before returning it to the front of his mouth, his togue flicking at it now and again.

 

Before long, the candy in his mouth drew her attention. Ranpo swirled his tongue around it, then drew it into his mouth to suck on it, his lips closed over it. Before long he repeated the same actions, putting more and more images in her mind. He had her undivided attention as her eyes scanned his face and watched his tongue, feeling herself grow wet as she pondered how it would feel for him to do those same actions on her clit.

 

He turned to her to make a comment, catching her staring. Ranpo only stuck out his tongue, but raised his brows at the deer-caught-in-headlights response he got from her. Licking his lips he eyes her quizzically. “Is there something you want, Akiko?”

 

She could only stare at him. He had to know. There’s no way he didn’t. And yet, he didn’t seem to mind. She breathed out a single word as her reply, searching his eyes. “Yes…”

 

He circled the candy with his tongue again, then pulled it into his mouth and sucked on it. When he finished, he smirked at her, leaning towards her. “What are you thinking about over there? Got something on your mind, hmm…?”

 

“You already know, Ranpo. I know you do.”

 

“Damn right I do,” he said, his voice dropping low. He set the candy down on the table and turned to her, burying a hand in her hair as he pressed his lips to hers. He’d barely pulled away when Yosano pressed her lips against his harder and he smirked into the kiss. Her tongue flicked out and licked the taste of the candy from his lips. Ranpo nearly growled, pushing her down until her back was against the couch cushions, his own body pressing flush against hers.

 

“Why’d you make me wait,” she gasped out as Ranpo made for her neck, sucking on the flesh between her jaw and her neck. Pure ecstasy showed on her face, not believing how close she had come to having him the way she wanted. Needed.

 

He tugged on her earlobes with his teeth, then whispered in her ear. “I needed to be sure. Needed to see how bad you wanted me.”

 

“Bad,” she admitted, pushing her hips up. He ground his hips against her, and she relished in the feeling of his growing erection against her leg. She had an effect on him, too. He wanted this, too.

 

Ranpo slipped the hand from her hair down her body and under her skirt, running it over the slit of her soaked panties. A whine slipped from her without permission and he smirked. “Do you like that?” She nearly glared at him for the way he caused her resolve to slip away, but nodded. She couldn’t help the way he made her nearly lose control. Just something about him… His body hovering over hers, green eyes piercing hers with dilated pupils.

 

“You’re already so wet for me, hmm?” He slid down her body, trailing his hands over her, feeling every inch he’d wished to for longer than he even realized. It wasn’t only Yosano who craved his touch—he wanted her just as much. When he reached her waist, he tugged at the waistband over her skirt and tights, watching her expression as he undressed her. The flush that dusted her cheeks, the heavy breathing, the sheer want on her face went straight to his groin and he nearly moaned from that alone.

 

Finally slipping her panties down her legs and tossing them onto the floor beside them he spread her legs only slightly, running a single fingertip over her entrance. “Tell me what you want.”

 

“I want you to go down on my clit like you did on that candy. Show me what you can do with your tongue—you’ve been driving me crazy.”

 

“Have I now?” Ranpo asked, sliding a finger inside her.

 

“You know you have,” she breathed, eyes closing at the feeling over the single digit pressing against the top wall of her pussy and curling upwards. He repeated this motion a few times, needing to hear her enjoying it.

 

When she moaned, her slipped a second finger into her and pumped them both a few times. “Yes, I know. But you don’t.”

 

“Don’t know—ah—what?”

 

He began to lower himself between her legs. “You don’t know what you do to me, Akiko.”

 

“Show me.”

 

Smirking, he pumped his fingers a few more times. She bucked her hips and he held them down with one hand. “Uh uh. I’d like to enjoy my desert.” With that he spread her legs further, withdrawing his fingers to push them as far as was comfortable for her. Then he leant down and dove in, lapping at her fluids before going for her clit. She called out as soon as he took the sensitive bud in his mouth, sucking on it. Her fingers gripped his hair, his fingers surely leaving bruises on her thighs.

 

Yosano threw her head back as his tongue swirled around her clit repeatedly, then flicked right over it. A moan tumbled from her lips as the pleasure took over. Her mind incoherent, she could only feel his mouth on her, his attention on her. She’d longed for it for so long. It had kept her up and night. And now here he was, his face between her legs, pleasuring her. Tasting her as he’d tasted the candy. Somewhere in her mind she wondered how he tasted, her brain flooded with erotic images of her lips wrapped around his cock as it slid down her throat, others of his dick buried deep inside her as he threw his head back, pure bliss written on his features. She moaned out loud—his name.

 

Ranpo moved down form her clit, pulled her legs slightly further apart, then plunger his tongue inside her pussy. Her fingers threading deeper in his hair, she called out, bucking her hips to push his tongue further inside her. He felt his dick strain against his pants, twitching at her actions. First his name and then pushing her hips up so he had to go deeper—they wanted each other so badly. And he wasn’t ready to stop anytime soon.

 

He soon went back to her clit, flicking int relentlessly as he pushed two fingers back inside of her, pumping them quickly as she started to pant. Her legs trembled as he held them, and soon her pelvis did, too. She pressed his head down, continuously moaning, breathing hitching as she got closer to climax.

 

“R-ranpo! Ranpo! I’m gunna—” She cut herself off with a scream, pressing his face against her so hard it was nearly suffocating, her hips jerking and fluids covering his face. He accepted them happily, enjoying the taste of her on his tongue. Just knowing he got her off at least once was enough. However, his own insatiable need said otherwise.

 

Panting, she stared up at him with half-lidded eyes, watching as he rose from between her legs, his face slick with her cum. He licked it from his lips and smiled, crawling back on top of her. “You’re delicious, you know? Better than any candy I’ve had.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Yeah.” His face hovered inches from hers. “Would you like a taste?”

 

She’d barely nodded before his lips were on hers, his tongue running over her bottom lip. Tasting herself on his lips and on his tongue as they circled each other was an unreal feeling. Yosano looped her arms around his waist, pulling his hips down against hers. Ranpo groaned at the pressure and she grinned at how hard he was only from getting her off. “Mind if I return the favour?”

 

Something flashed in his eyes as he stared down at her. Then his fingers fumbled with his button and fly, her deft fingers quickly taking over and freeing his erection. She pulled him closer by the backs of his thighs so that he could push himself into her mouth. The head slipped past her lips and she hollowed her cheeks to suck on it, drawing a choked noise from Ranpo. Leaning upwards, she took more of him in her mouth, running her tongue over his shaft and enjoying the shudder of pleasure that ran through him when she did.

 

He pushed himself further into her mouth, slowly thrusting, shallowly at first. But pleasure and lust overwhelmed him and soon the head of his dick hit the back of her throat. She gagged and he pulled back, staring down at her apologetically, only for her to take him back in her mouth. He called out at the unexpected action, eyes falling shut and mouth open. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who knew had to use their tongue.

 

“Ak—Aki—Akiko—If you don’t stop I’m going to cum down your throat.”

 

She popped off momentarily. “Fine by me.”

 

“B-but—Wouldn’t you like to finish this another way?”

 

She glanced up at him with raised brows. “You want to?”

 

He nodded fervently. “Fuck, I want you. So badly.”

 

She pumped his cock a few times. “Only if you make me cum again?”

 

“No doubt about that,” he said, smirking. “I’ll fuck you so good you’ll cum several times, if that’s what you want.”

 

“I just want you.”

 

“Deal.”

 

He slid back down her body, slipping off his pants, and grabbing his wallet out of one pocket as he did so, producing a condom. He tore it open and, after stroking himself a few times, slid it over his dick. Yosano watched with greedy eyes as he approached her, kneeling at her entrance.

 

He lined himself up, then looked up at her. “Ready?” She nodded, and he pushed in, his head immediately falling back with a loud moan.

 

Yosano felt herself clench around him, felt as he slowly slid all the way in, his dick sliding along her walls. When he could go no further he lowered himself over her, hands on either side of her head, and looking down at her directly. Slowly, he pulled out, then thrust back inside her, building pace as she got used to him. Soon, they both panted, exchanging moans and sloppy kisses. Yosano scratched and clutched at Ranpo’s back as he fucked her, one hand pulling at his hair as he moaned into her mouth.

 

He was loud, and she was sure their other dormmates could hear them. But the thought floated far form her consciousness as Ranpo buried his face in her neck and moaned wantonly, the lewd sounds of slapping skin and quick breathing the only sounds she cared about.

 

“You’re so good,” she praised, praying he heard her over his own sounds. “Fucking me so good, Ranpo. Fuck.”

 

“Akiko.”

 

He pulled his face from her neck to look at her, their torsos pressed together as he pounded into her. His pace quickened and he pulled himself back to kneeling, picking up one of her legs and resting it over her shoulder to angle his cock deeper into her pussy. Yosano nearly screamed as he rammed himself deeper inside her, repeatedly calling his name. He tilted his head back and let out a strong of curses.

 

Ranpo dropped one hand to her clit and rubbed it with his thumb, needing to get her off before he couldn’t hold back any longer. She was good, too good. The more he dragged himself along her walls the harder it was not to give in to the knot of pleasure building between his hips. Her yelps of pleasure came quicker and quicker, barely time for a breath between them. And then his name was on her lips, tumbling from her as something between a cry and moan as she came, shuddering and writhing beneath him.

 

It didn’t take long for him to be at his breaking point, the knot slowly unravelling as his cock slid in and out of her, his thrusts stuttering. His eyes flew open, the striking green with the blown pupils staring straight into her eyes as he called her name, spilling into the condom. After a few erratic thrusts his stopped, panting, and lowered himself over her to kiss her gently.

 

For a moment or two they simply stared at each other and then she smiled. “Ranpo.”

 

“How was that?”

 

“Amazing,” she breathed, leaning up to capture his lips.

 

He let out a breathy laugh. “Of course it was.”

 

Resisting the urge to swat him, she merely chuckled. “We missed the movie.”

 

“You weren’t really watching it,” he remarked as he pulled out of her slowly.

 

“No, I really wasn’t.”

 

He pulled the condom off and knotted it, crossing the room to throw it out as she slid her panties and skirt back on. He sat down next to her on the couch, then leaned back against the arm. “Would you like to watch another movie? You can pick this time.”

 

Yosano smiled, lying her head on his chest and embracing the feel of his arms around her. He pressed a kiss to her head, and she sighed contentedly. “You pick. No promises I’ll even stay awake.”

 

“That’s okay,” he chuckled. “I might not either.”

 

“You don’t mind?”

 

“Never with you, Akiko. Never with you.”

Notes:

Hey guys! Please let me know how I did... Whenever I write smut I never get any feedback so I don't know if that means I did a good job or not. Help.

Leave any comments/thoughts/suggestions/feedback/requests below!!

Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 30: Freak (Ranpo and Everyone Request)

Summary:

A request written for @Thebutterflyeffect ! I hope that you like it!

A sunny afternoon on a crowded Yokohama street was not the place anyone expected an Agency member to get jumped—least of all less than a block away. Hands shoved in his pockets, Ranpo took his time strolling back from his latest case, reassured he went the right direction based on the corner of the red brick building which houses the agency sticking out up ahead. Tilting his head up, he allowed the sun’s rays to wash over his face, bathing his skin in the familiar warmth.

 

Momentarily, it took him back to the countryside. Wind rustled the grass around him, his feet kicking up dust and snagging on pebbles along the dirt road. Cows mooing in the distance, the whir of machinery… he even thought the familiar scent of manure filled his nose as it did so often when he was a child. However, the peaceful feeling quickly flit away, the ringing laughter of the neighbourhood children morphing into the jeering and cackling of school boys. The dusty trail and soft grass exchanged itself for cracked pavement and splintered wood, their taunting words ringing in his ears as the manure changed to blood and the breeze became the impact of a fist.

 

His eyes flew open, staring up into the calm sky above, fluffy clouds passing him by. The chatter around him seemed to resume, however, the jeering didn’t leave him—he couldn’t seem to shake it. That was, however, because it wasn’t all in his head. Lowering his chin, he glanced to the left out of the corner of his eye, then right. Somewhere nearby, a group of men snickered to each other, speaking in hushed voices. Ranpo paused mid-stride, overly skeptical of the situation. This behaviour never occurred in this neighbourhood—not with the Agency around. Unless, that is, the Black Lizard raided the Agency itself… But this was not the Black Lizard.

 

Pursing his lips, he stepped into the shallow alcove between two shops, squinting through the shadow for a silhouette. Continuing into the space, he noted the trash littering the wall of one building, the scuffling of feet, and the butt of a smoking cigarette crushed into the concrete. The moment he turned his back he knew he’d made a mistake. A shadow took over his own on the stone wall before him and before he could spin around, a hand clamped over his mouth, a strong arm wrapping around his waist and yanking him off-balance.

 

Ranpo screamed into the hand over his mouth, the muffled sound only causing the man to laugh, a chorus of snickers echoing around him. Eyes wide, he struggled against the hold, trying in vain to pry the arms off of him.

 

The man dragged him around the corner to an enclosed lot at the back of a shop, the smell of fresh baked pastries mingling with sweat and grime. Within seconds the man had shoved him and his back hit the concrete, the man (presumably the same one) straddling his waist.

 

His laughter roared as he returned his hand to Ranpo’s mouth. “You really thought you could get away from me, there, pipsqueak? Well, have I got a lesson for you.” He snickered, glancing around at three other men. They seemed to be just younger than him, probably around Dazai and Kunikida’s age. But they were dirty, with shabby clothes and dirt caked faces, glaring down at him. “Do you remember us? From the other day? Because we sure remember you.”

 

“Yeah,” croaked the man on his right. “You sure gave our friend a hard time. Got him locked away for a while. We don’t appreciate it.”

 

“We don’t need jackasses like you in this city,” added another.

 

Eyes frantic, Ranpo squirmed under his weight, trying anything he could to get some leverage. “Lemme go! Get offa me!”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Let go!”

 

“More? Sure thing, kid.” He tilted Ranpo’s chin up, then sent his fist straight underneath it, knocking his head against the concrete. His fingers splayed over his face, grabbing at the underside of one eye and the side of his jaw, yanking his head to one side.

 

Ranpo bit down, his teeth sinking into flesh momentarily, before the man yanked his hand away, releasing his legs grip on one arm. Ranpo took the opportunity and swung his fist, making contact with the man’s jaw.

 

A boot pressed him down by the throat, his one free hand scrabbling at it relentlessly, struggling to breathe. Green eyes pleaded with the second man who’d spoken to him to lift his foot and allow him air, but no such luxury came until the first man recovered.

 

“How dare you,” he snarled, pinning Ranpo’s hands above his head. He struggled, but the one hand was enough to keep both of his in place. The man spat in his face. “You can’t go around here acting like you’re better than everyone else! You’re not some genius, you’re just some freak!”

 

“I’m surprised he even knew how to throw that punch,” one of the men snickered, out of view.

 

“Who taught you that? Daddy teach you?”

 

Ranpo made to hit him, trying to wrestle his arms away.

 

“No? Someone else? Well, even if it is useless for you, at least they had the common sense to know you’d need it when you get your ass kicked.”

 

“I dunno about that,” said the man who’d stepped on him. “Why even teach the freak how to punch? He’s too weak and scrawny to ever win in a fight, and it’s inevitable that it’ll happen with the way he acts. Do you have any concept of social interactions at all, dumbass?”

“Nah,” the first man said, keeping Ranpo’s head down by his hair. “If he did, he’d know to keep his comments to himself. Or not to leave without someone else. Yeah, we saw you asking people for directions the other day. Despite working as a detective, you’re awful stupid, you know?”

 

“Where’d they even pluck you from? Some loony bin?”

 

“Some parents you must’ve had to end up like this.”

 

“Stop it!!”

 

The man pinning him down stared down at him in amusement. “Struck a nerve, have we?”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

He chuckled. “Not quite yet. One last thing I have to do first. Someone send me a blade.” Within seconds of holding his hand out he drew it back, flicking open a switchblade in front of Ranpo’s face. “You see,” he said, digging the tip into the flesh under his chin, “we have a bone to pick with you. You can’t go around making everyone look stupid without some payback. And, we think, it’s about time for someone to put you in your place and teach you what you really are. What do you think about a permanent reminder? That way you’ll never forget.”

 

Ranpo searched his face in terror, still struggling against his weight. “G-get off of me!”

 

“Patience, kid.”

“I’m not a kid! I’m 26 years old!”

 

The man raised his brows, then burst out laughing, looking around at his comrades. “Well that just makes you even more pathetic, doesn’t it, boys?” Their laughter chorused, filling Ranpo’s ears. He wanted nothing more than to block out their jeers and taunts, but his hands were trapped and his ears exposed to this torture. The man shook his head, still laughing. “Now stay still, will ya? Don’t need the cops on us if we accidentally hit an artery. Someone throw that hat over his face and keep him quiet.”

 

Ranpo shook his head fervently as they stuck his hat over his eyes, blocking out their faces and any sunlight that made it to them. Another hand came down over his mouth and his nose, smothering him. He screamed, writhing, his veins ice cold with terror. A knee pressed down on his hand, pebbles and jagged pieces of cracked asphalt digging into his flesh, while another knee pressed down on his elbow. Ranpo continued to call out, the amount of oxygen he received severely limited. He would pass out here… fall unconscious and they’d do God knows what to him.

 

A searing sting erupted from his upper left arm, the cool of the blade disappearing as it cut into his skin. Strings of incoherent screams never reached the air, muffled by a firm hand. He clenched his eyes shut, unable to face the all-consuming darkness, the pain, everything all at once.

 

“You’re such a fucking freak,” the man with the blade chortled, starting on a second carving. A letter? “F R E A K, freak. And when I’m done with you, you will never forget that. Get it through your thick skull. Aside from whatever makes you a detective, you’ve got nothing. Other than maybe pity. You’re a freak.”

 

Ranpo’s thoughts grew incoherent and hazy, the oxygen deprivation getting to him. He felt faint, could feel the colour draining from his skin, other than the red of the blood and the sensation of it trickling down his arm that he tried desperately to ignore.

 

He was no longer in the alcove, pinned down and being carved by these men. Instead, his groggy brain pulled him back to being eleven years old. His back pressed to the bricks of the schoolhouse; head yanked back by a fistful of his hair. The fist in his stomach, the knee to his groin…

 

The splintered boards of the barn near his parent’s house, nails jabbing his skin, musty air clouding his lungs. Boys’ laughter echoed around him, his head darting in every direction, the bag over his head meant for shame also used for their protection. If he couldn’t see them, he’d never know who it was. And thus, everyone would be the threat. He couldn’t pick and choose.

 

His thirteen-year-old self shoved to the tile floor in the bathroom, another police academy student forcing his head into the toilet bowl. The darkness of 3am mixed with the eery silence of the building a perfect storm for the trigger it would become.

 

Kids on the street as he wandered, lost, desperate for someone to lead him somewhere—anywhere.

 

“Freak!”

 

“What’s his problem?”

 

“Go kill yourself!”

 

“You should have died with your parents!”

 

And just as his consciousness faded, the pressure released. The blade removed from his skin and footsteps pounded away from him, laughter chorusing off the brick walls. Ranpo gasped for air, his chest heaving as he sat up and yanked the hat form his eyes. He didn’t pause for a single second to gather his bearings, only pushed himself to his feet and stumbled down the block. For once in his time at the agency, he ignored the elevator and vaulted up the stairs, heaving for air as a shaky hand reached for the doorknob.

 

*

 

“Ranpo’s been gone an awful long time,” said Kunikida, checking his watch. “He should be back by now.”

 

“I wonder what’s keeping him,” Yosano pondered, glancing to his empty desk chair.

 

“He might just be stopping for some sweets,” Dazai pointed out, glancing up from where he pretended to be doing work.

 

“Even still… He would have messaged me if that was the case.”

 

“Relax, Yosano-sensei,” Kenji piped up. “Ranpo-san would have called if there was any trouble, right?”

 

“Kenji’s right, you know.”

 

She glanced to Kunikida, then dropped her gaze to her lap. “I suppose. It’s just—”

 

The Agency door swung open, revealing a severely disheveled Ranpo. He stepped in the door, a distressed expression on his face. Paired with his torn clothing, mussed hair, and the blood on his arm… it spelled out disaster.

 

Yosano and Kunikida immediately stood from their chairs, the former of whom went to him without a second thought. “Ranpo, what happened?”

 

He didn’t meet her eyes, his gaze staring a few feet ahead on the floor. He shook where he stood, one arm covering his wound, his chest heaving and stuttering in its attempt for oxygen.

 

She reached out for him. “Ranpo—”

 

He pressed himself back against the wall, eyes shooting up to meet hers. “D-don’t touch me!”

 

Yosano retracted her hand in horror. Ranpo had also been a very touchy person. For him to act like this when something was very obviously wrong…

 

Apparently, Kunikida had read her mind. “Atsushi, go get President Fukuzawa.”

 

“On it!”

 

Junichiro pulled a spare chair over to the wall Ranpo had pressed his back against, causing him to flinch and stare at him with the same terror-stricken, haunted eyes he’d given to Yosano. He put his hands up. “It’s alright, Ranpo-san. I’m not going to touch you. You can sit down, now.”

 

Ranpo turned from him to Yosano, then glanced over her shoulder at Kunikida. His mouth opened and shut repeatedly, but no words ever made it past his lips. Then he sank into the chair, staring at the floor between his feet as he hung his head. Yosano took another cautious step, then knelt in front of him. She took in his face, the bruise blooming on his chin, the dirt covering his throat, the pallor of his cheeks and lips, the tears welling in his eyes. “Ranpo, honey, you’re safe. Whatever happened just now, it’s over… You’re safe.”

 

He slapped his hands over his ears, curling in on himself. Ranpo shook his head, choking out a single word. “No.”

 

“It’s over, sweetie. You’re alright.”

 

His breathing came harsher, eyes clenched shut. “No. No.”

 

“Ranpo… it’s okay… breathe…”

 

Both hands ended up at his neck, clawing at an invisible force. “I can’t. I I can’t! I—they—”

 

“Who?”

 

“The-the… the-the-the-the-them! They—they!” A gasp came from him and he covered his ears once more. “Pease make it stop!”

 

Yosano stared at him, mouth slightly open, completely lost. “What? Make what stop, Ranpo?”

 

“The-them! All of them! I-I’m sorry!” Tears rolled down his cheeks and dripped into his lap. “I’m sorry for being a freak! I can’t I can’t h-he-help it! I’m—so—sorry!”

 

Behind Yosano, Kunikida and Dazai exchanged worried glances. Kunikida raised his brows, peering through the open doorway for Atsushi before looking back to his partner. Dazai pursed his lips and nodded towards Ranpo. “His left arm.”

 

“His left arm?” Kunikida hissed in a whisper. “What do you—oh my God.”

 

Dazai nodded solemnly. “Someone just did that.”

 

“He got jumped.”

 

Dazai nodded again.

 

Ranpo fisted his hair, pulling on it harshly. He started to sob, loud, pained, and frightened noises that no one ever thought they’d hear. That is, except for Fukuzawa.

 

He walked into the room a moment later, Atsushi trailing behind. He watched from the doorway momentarily, listening to Yosano speak to him as he took in his physical state.

 

“I’m—sorry! I’m sorry,” Ranpo sobbed again. “I don’t want to be a freak.”

 

“Hun, you’re not a freak,” Yosano soothed. “Where would you get that idea from?”

 

It was then that Fukuzawa saw Ranpo’s arm—the bloodstained carving of the word Freak. His blood boiled, an overwhelming surge of anger overtaking him. He forced himself to stay still and take a moment. Anything else would only make the situation worse.

 

“S-school. A-at the acad—at the academy. In the, in the streets.”

 

“Who told you that?”

 

“Kids. Teachers. Strangers.” His entire body shuddered. “Everyone.”

 

“Oh, honey…”

 

Fukuzawa stepped forwards then, kneeling beside Yosano. “Ranpo.” Gingerly, he took hold of Ranpo’s hands, prying them from his hair. Once he no longer clutched his hair like a vice, Fukuzawa pulled Ranpo down from the chair and held him in his arms. Ranpo wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in his shoulder, shaking uncontrollably. “You’re safe now, see? I’ve got you, just like always. It’s okay…” Ranpo tightened his grip. “You’re not a freak, Ranpo.They don’t know what they’re talking about. They’re stupid and you’re brilliant, and that’s all there is to it.”

 

“B-but it’s the monsters! E-everyone—I’m—It doesn’t make sense!”

 

In that instant, Fukuzawa could have sworn it was the fourteen-year-old Ranpo he held in his arms. Of course, it wasn’t, but he reminded him so strongly of his former self in that moment. Of their argument in the theatre all of those years ago, of Ranpo’s terrified confession and loneliness in the world.

 

Behind the two, Dazai had beckoned to Yosano. She sent a worried glance toward Ranpo, and then crossed to Dazai and Kunikida. “What is it? What do you know?”

 

Dazai sighed. “Take a look at his left arm.”

 

She turned to look over her shoulder, covering her mouth with her hands as she gasped aloud. “Oh no… How… when?”

 

“We don’t know,” said Kunikida. “But it had to have been fairly recently. The blood was still fresh when he came in.”

 

“I… I don’t know if I can get rid of that scar…”

 

Kunikida glacned to Dazai, who gave him a look. “Unless he wants to bandage it, I have no other option for him.”

 

Yosano nodded, turning back to stare at Ranpo, who’s head remained buried. Though his cries had settled slightly, they broke her heart regardless. How could anyone do that to someone? TO carve a word like that into another’s flesh… He didn’t deserve that. Not at all.

 

“Yosano?”

 

He head shot up at the softness of Fukuzawa’s voice calling her name. “Yes?” He motioned for her to come closer and she did so, settling herself behind him so she could face Ranpo. She took hold of one of his hands, running her thumb calmingly over his knuckles to soothe him. Her other hand went for his hair, smoothing it.

 

Kunikida and Dazai joined her as well, sitting on either side of Fukuzawa, a hand on Ranpo’s back. “Is this okay, Ranpo?”

 

He nodded against Fukuzawa in response to Dazai’s question.

 

“We aren’t going to hurt you,” Kunikida reminded him, gently.

 

Yosano squeezed his hand. “This is a safe place. We all care about you here. It’s okay.”

 

Slowly, the other Agency members trickled into the huddle, sitting quietly, each with a hand on Ranpo. Atsushi, Kyouka, Kenji, Junichiro, Naomi, Haruno… everyone.

 

Fukuzawa brought a hand up to the back of Ranpo’s head. “See? Not everyone is a monster. Here… There are no monsters here. I promise.”

 

Ranpo sniffled, nodding. “Thank you.”

 

“When you’re ready,” prompted Kunikida, “can you tell us what happened.”

 

Ranpo lifted his head from Fukuzawa’s shoulder, resting his chin on the man’s shoulder. He swiped at one cheek, and Yosano thumbed away his tears on the other. “I was on my way back from the case… And then, I heard this weird noise. This… laughing. So I went to investigate. But by the time I realized the danger, it was too late…

 

“These men jumped me. Four of them. Said they knew me from a case the other day and I’d sent their friend to jail. They didn’t like the way I acted and wanted to teach me a lesson.”

 

Yosano ran a hand over his hair. “And what did they do to you?”

 

He took a shaky breath. “They threw me to the ground and pinned me down. I got a few punches. It was mainly a lot of talking… about me and how I act and a bit about my parents…” He sniffed and Yosano wiped a fresh tear from his cheek. “I’m sorry. I know it’s stupid.”

 

“It’s not stupid at all,” whispered Atsushi.  “Especially if you had trauma in your past.”

 

He nodded, not looking anyone in the eye. “Eventually I got the chance to hit him, but that only made it worse. When I asked them to stop, they laughed and pulled out a switchblade. Said they wanted me to have a constant reminder…”

 

“Oh, Ranpo…”

 

He didn’t look at her. Instead, he swallowed thickly and continued. “Th-they covered my eyes so I couldn’t see. Pinned me down. I… I had no chance. And a lot of what they said was right… When I was younger… When I was…”

 

They waited expectantly, but the explanation never came. Instead, it was Fukuzawa who spoke. “He’s shaking again.”

 

Yosano reached out and cupped one cheek. “Ranpo, you’re not there, sweetie. You’re safe.” He shuddered and closed his eyes, a slight whimper coming from his throat. She swept her thumb across his cheek bone. “Ranpo… can you look at me? Look me in the eyes.”

 

Slowly, he opened his eyes, the watery green bright as ever.

 

Yosano trailed a finger down his cheek. “You’re not there. You’re safe.” He nodded. “We don’t have to talk about your past, okay?” He nodded again.

 

Dazai cleared his throat. “There may be a lot of monsters out there that don’t understand you, Ranpo. But not everyone is like that. And also, what people said to and about you when you were younger… they have no idea who you really are or what you’re really like. Your past doesn’t define you, just like it doesn’t define any of us, yeah?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“Good. What people say or have said… those things aren’t true.”

 

“You’re brilliant,” Kunikida added. “Screw them.”

 

“You solve cases scary fast,” Kenji offered.

 

“We’d have an awfully hard time without you,” said Junichiro.

 

“Plus, you make work fun!” Kyouka announced. “Even if you did eat my candy.”

 

He chuckled slightly, sniffing. “Thanks guys.”

 

Yosano smiled sadly. “You’re perfect how you are. And how you are is not a freak. Okay? You’ve got us here to back you up. Always.”

 

Green eyes stared into hers, the ghost of a smile curving his lips. “I’ll remember that, Akiko.”

 

“Good. Now… will you let me fix up that arm of yours?”

 

Ranpo took a deep breath. “Can you get rid of the scar?”

 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Notes:

Hey guys. I'm not gunna lie I am really struggling with my mental health right now and sometimes writing is my only safe haven and other times I just can't bring myself to even look at the keyboard so I'm sorry if I'm a little sporadic. Got quite a few one-shots lined up, though, and I'm excited to write them.

As always, let me know your thoughts and requests below.

Go follow me on insta: soukokous_shared_braincell !

Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 31: Puzzle Pieces (Oda/OC Request)

Summary:

Written for Sai! I'm sorry, I don't remember your AO3 account name it got lost in the abyss of my bookmarks. I hope that you like this and that my portrayal of Natsu is okay!

I don't even know how to summarize this whoops. It's 4am cut me some slack, guys :)

Bubblegum hair stood out against the dark wood of the door, the young girl leaning back against its cool surface, her face to the ceiling. Her shoulders sagged, a small bag dropping from her shoulder to the floor, a metallic thunk reverberating off of the walls. When she opened her eyes, she paused momentarily, then brought her head down and crossed to the kitchen counter.

 

Tap water filled a glass, a drop of the clear liquid trailing down her chin as she downed it like it was a lungful of oxygen. She brought the glass down to the counter, catching her reflection in the glass of the cabinet across from her as she stared across the room. A sigh fell from her lips. She couldn’t go out like this.

 

Lost in thought, she stared absently at the image of her dishevelled appearance, only breaking from it when the phone in her pocket began to ring. She closed her eyes as she drew it from her pocket, answering the call without even looking at the ID. “Hello?”

 

“Hey, Natsu.”

 

“Oda!” Her eyes lit up, lips curving into a smile for the first time that day. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you until you came to get me.”

 

“Well, that’s why I’m calling, actually.”

 

“Oh? Is everything okay?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, letting out a long breath. “I’ll just be a bit longer than I thought. Would you mind meeting me at the restaurant?”

 

“Ne, are you actually going to make me walk, Odasaku?”

 

“No! I mean, we could just—"

 

“I’m kidding, Oda. Of course, I’ll meet you there.”

 

The relief in his voice was audible. “Okay, perfect.”

 

“The usual place?”

 

“As always.”

 

The grin on her face widened. “See you then!”

 

Natsu shoved her phone back into her pocket, hurrying down the hallway and into the bathroom. Avoiding her dirt-stained face in the mirror, she stripped off her clothes, dropping them in a pile at her feet. The shower steamed beside her as she undid her hair, letting the pink buns fall from atop her head and down her back in slight tangles.

 

Tipping her head back into the stream of water, she allowed it to wash over her, to warm her body and cleanse it of the day’s troubles. Of the bloodshed. Of the guilt. She ignored the tear that rolled down her cheek as her fingers massaged the floral scented shampoo into her scalp, trailing it to the tips and repeating. It would blend in with the water… Or so she told herself. It will blend in, as she often did. Or didn’t, in the instances of comparison to those she loved. Which was worse, she wasn’t exactly sure.

 

That day’s mission had been bloody and fatal. Natsu had lost one of her own, the man directly in front of her. If he’d moved even the slightest bit, it would have lodged in her skull. Subconsciously, she touched her forehead, rubbing soap into it with the tip of her finger. He hadn’t deserved to die—she hadn’t even known his first name! Only a nickname they’d used on missions. Although, it wasn’t as if the enemy had necessarily deserved it either—she had no idea why they were even fighting them. They’d simply been given an order by Mori, and no one argued with him if they knew what was good for them.

 

Natsu wrapped her hair in a towel, tucking the corner underneath to hold it in place. She kicked her clothes across the hall to her bedroom, biting her lip as she pondered her outfit for that night. Even still, she thought, pulling a black skirt from the recesses of her closet, despite the fact that no one wanted to fight Mori, it didn’t mean they necessarily wanted to kill anyone. Of course, there were Mafia members who enjoyed it, or found some sort of meaning in their job. But Natsu… she often found herself wondering about her chosen profession. Who did this make her? And if that bullet had entered her brain, and she’d stopped moving forward (if she could call it that) right then and there, was she even worth remembering?

She cursed as the eyeliner wobbled over her lid, removing it the best she could with a Q-tip. Tossing it in the trash, her baby blue eyes caught sight of the family portrait on her desk. Would they be proud of her, now? Would she be different enough, now? She chuckled in spite of herself. Of course, she wasn’t. She didn’t know if she ever would be.

Her black heels clacked against the cobbles outside as she strolled down the street, fiddling with her freshly dried hair. Adjusting the purse strap on her shoulder, she kept her eyes forwards, reading the street signs as she passed. Soon enough she found herself standing outside the restaurant, staring at the glass doors without really seeing them. Her shoulders rose with a deep breath. Oda was all she needed. He never failed to revive her back to her cheery self on her off days.

Natsu stepped inside and glanced around for the familiar red head of hair but found none.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

She turned to the hostess who approached her, flashing a smile. “Yes! I’d like a table for two, please.”

“Of course, follow me.”

The table sat beside a window at the front of the restaurant, a single, dimly glowing lightbulb hanging above the centre. Natsu smiled, setting her bag down beside her and shrugging off her jacket. “Thank you.”

The hostess nodded. “Waiting for a boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

She nodded, pushing hair from her face. “Boyfriend,” she replied, a faint flush appearing on her cheeks. “He had to work late.”

“Ah, that’s the worst.”

“I mean, he could just not show up.”

The hostess stared at her suddenly blank face, then laughed. “I guess that would be worse, you’re right.”

“Oh! Here he is!”

Oda leant down and pecked her cheek, his stubble tickling her face. “Hey, you.” Then he straightened and nodded at the hostess. “Thank you.”

She only nodded, winking at Natsu as she walked away. Natsu giggled, turning to Oda. “How was work?”

“Same old same old,” he sighed, rubbing a temple. “How about you? How’d that case go at the docks?”

Her face fell. “It was fine.”

“Was it really?”

“We lost one.”

“I’m sorry, Natsuki.”

She shrugged, picking up a menu and flipping through it. “Nature of the job, I suppose.”

“I guess.” He flipped through a menu as well, chewing on his bottom lip.

When the waitress stopped at the table, they ordered the same meal by coincidence. Well, Natsu said it was a coincidence. Oda only stared at her as the waitress chuckled, writing down his order as the second, to the exact same, well, everything. No basil, extra meatballs, and a spoon on the side. Natsu stuck her tongue out at him. She always did stuff like that. Found the smallest ways to irk him, just for the fun of it. But he didn’t really mind. Well, usually, at least.

“You did that on purpose,” he stated once they were alone again.

“No, I didn’t.”

He gave her a look. “Yes, you did. You never order spaghetti. Do you even like spaghetti?”

“Course I do.”

“Natsu.”

She chuckled to herself, a shit eating grin on her face. It only widened as his eyes did, the influence of her foot trailing up his leg. “What do you think we should have for dessert tonight?”

“Uh…”

“Gelato?”

“Um…”

“Crepes?” Her foot continued up his leg in the wake of his silence. She leaned back in her chair, arms behind her head. “Someone’s indecisive, today.”

“Could you maybe not… you know?”

“Not what?”

“You know exactly what.”

She shook her head. “Sorry, Oda. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He leaned towards her; face turned to the side as he spoke in a low voice. “Stop trying to seduce me in public.”

She only winked at him, then chuckled at his exasperation.

“You’re unbelievable.”

*

Their hands swung between them on their way back to the apartment complex. They said nothing, simply enjoying the other’s presence.

When they reached the building and went inside, Oda quickly pulled Natsu aside.

“Oda, what are you doing?”

His hands held her firmly in place by her waist. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Can’t it wait until we get upstairs, my feet are killing me!”

“Shouldn’t have worn heels,” he teased. She stuck out her bottom lip. “Fine, I’ll be quick.”

At that her pout flipped to a smile. “Okay. Proceed.”

Her shook his head at her with a breathy laugh. “I have a surprise for you. But we have to stop at my apartment quick. Is that okay with you?”

“Do I have to do a lot of walking.”

He rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Then yes.” She tugged him towards the elevator, practically bouncing on her toes as they waited.

Oda jiggled the keys in the lock on his apartment, not bothering to flick on the light inside the door, leaving Natsu to wait in the doorway. She scowled. “Oda!”

“Just hang on a second!”

“But I want to help!”

He returned a second later, handing her a few pillows. He poked her cheek with his free hand. “Was I fast enough for you.”

She immediately perked up. “Yes. Now where are we going with all of these?”

“Secret.”

“Ooh, I know! Blanket fort! It’s a blanket fort, isn’t it?”

He turned to look at her as she followed him back to the elevator. He drew his brows together, but smiled, his reply coming out as a laugh. “No.”

“Damn. Really thought I had it that time.”

They stepped out of the elevator at the top floor, and Natsu followed him to the stairwell in confusion. “You said I wouldn’t have to do much walking!”

She could feel him roll his eyes, even with his back to her. “Just come on.”

Pouting, she went after him. They went up one flight, stopping at a door with the words roof access printed on it. She quirked her head. “The roof?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling softly. “I like to come up here sometimes. It’s peaceful. I thought you’d like it.”

The blush returned to her cheeks. “That’s sweet.”

“Yeah, well…” Oda pushed the door open, holding it for her with his foot.

She followed him to the side of the pod of concrete that held the door, the breeze hitting her instantly, the smell of the brisk night air filling her nose. She inhaled it like a sweet perfume, letting out a sigh.

Oda laid out the blankets from his arms against the wall facing out over Yokohama, followed by the pillows from hers.

She snorted. “It’s kind of a pillow fort.”

“It’s not a pillow fort, Natsuki.” She shrugged. Oda lowered himself to the ground, holding an arm out to his side. “C’mon.”

She breathed out a laugh, shaking her head at his cheesy (but welcome) gesture. Natsu sank to the ground, allowing Oda to pull her to him, her cheek resting against the inside of his shoulder. He leant his head against hers and she smiled. “This view is amazing. I forgot how pretty this city is.”

“Sometimes I sit out here at night and just think. Puts me at ease.”

“It would. Feels… calming.”

He nodded. “Do you want to tell me about your case from today?”

She let out a long breath. “How’d you know?”

“You weren’t as peppy as usual.”

“Was too,” she protested half-heartedly.

“Nah. You weren’t. What happened?”

Her sigh got caught up in the wind, blown away with any hesitance she had to tell him her thoughts. “We got through the main dock warehouses unscathed… but then they ambushed us. I guess they’d caught on to our plan.”

“It’s not often that happens.”

“No. It caught us off-guard. And one of my coworkers… he got a bullet in the head. I nearly tripped on him when he collapsed. I think I got the one who hit him, but I can’t be sure. There were too many of them to really keep track at that point.” She looked down, picking at a piece of lint on her skirt. “I was too distracted anyway. I was in point and shoot mode after he fell.”

The arm around her side tightened. “Are you okay?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. I mean, we weren’t close. But… it could have just as easily been me, Oda. And if it had been me… then…”

The silence dragged on, Natsu not looking up at him nor continuing. Oda turned his head to look at her. “Then what?”

She swallowed thickly, letting her mouth fall open as she stared at the ground, but no words fell out. Then she turned her head, looking up at him through long lashes. “Do you know who you are, Oda? And I don’t just mean a man in the mafia. Do you really know?”

He leant his forehead against hers. “What’s brought this on?”

“If I had died today… Instead of him… What would my legacy be? Who am I? Am I… am I just some Mafia worker? Am I inherently bad?” She searched his eyes, a silent plea for him to understand her unspoken question. “Will I ever be anything more than just a Mafia member?”

His soft smile morphed into an expression she’d never seen before. “Natsuki. Do I seem like a killer to you?”

She furrowed her brows. “No. Why would you even ask that?”

He pulled back, looking at her with a sad smile. “Before you met me, I was an assassin.”

“No, you weren’t. I mean… I know you swore off killing, but…”

“That’s why. Because I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“You never told me… Why?”

“I was scared to tell you… In case it changed what you thought of me. Or how you… felt about me. I didn’t want to lose you because of stupid decisions I made when I was a kid.”

Natsu snaked an arm around his waist. “No, Oda. I love you for you, regardless of your past.”

Oda visibly relaxed. “You do?”

“Of course, I do! I fell in love with you for who you are now, not who you were then.”

He dropped his head to rest on hers. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for telling me… And also… look at our jobs now. It’s not like I can say much.”

He chuckled. “I guess.”

“How does this link back to being more than a Mafia member, though? You were an assassin before this job, so what?”

“I was. But you said I’m not a killer, right?”

“Of course, not. But that’s not the same.”

“How is it not? It was my job to kill people, but I’m not a killer. It’s your job to kill and work for the Port Mafia, but that’s not who you are. Right?”

“Well…”

“Your job doesn’t define who you are, Natsu. Only you can decide that.”

She dropped his gaze. “It’s hard. I can never escape it!”

“You want to leave the Mafia?”

“That’s not what I mean…”

“Then what is it, Natsuki,” Oda encouraged, his voice softening. “Talk to me.”

She shook her head. “It’s my parents. They have this… this insane set of expectations for me. And I have never managed to attain them. My whole life my parents compared me to my siblings and my friends, asking me why I couldn’t be more like them. They didn’t care who I was… and I think it rubbed off on me. I started to blend in and become like everyone else so they wouldn’t single me out… But…”

Oda ran a hand over her side. “But what?”

“At some point I realized that it wasn’t me. I wasn’t any of those things, and I never would be. I don’t know who I am or what I’m meant to be. And on days—missions—like today, it makes it worse. I can’t help but wonder if this is all I’m destined for. If I’m ever going to be more than what I am right now. At this moment.”

“Natsu,” said Oda, shifting his hold so she laid on his chest, the both of them laying on the ground. “What your parents wanted for you, what your current job is, what people think of you, none of that is who you are. You are the only one who really knows, and the decision is yours. It’s your life. What do you want to be?”

“I just want to be someone of my own. I want to mean something! I don’t want to blend in anymore or be a failed project of my parents. I want to really do something and make a difference, Oda. But I’m only one person. There’s only so much I can do and I… I have no idea where I’m going. I’m lost.”

“You’re not lost. You’re exploring.”

“That’s not how it feels.”

He shook his head. “Of course, it’s not. It’s scary and full of doubt. But you’ll figure it out.”

“How?”

He hummed in thought, running his fingers through her hair. “Do you know what you’re really passionate about?”

“I can’t say I do. I’ve always just gone with what I was told. Do you?”

“Writing.”

“I knew you enjoyed it, but I didn’t know that was your true passion. You never talk about it.”

He chuckled, nuzzling her head with his nose. “You’re right, I don’t. I should read you some of my stuff sometime.”

 “I’d love that,” she hummed. “Why didn’t you make a career out of it?”

“I got in trouble as a kid, back when I was an assassin. And now I’m here. It’s not something I really have time to focus on.”

“So, is that it then? Is that who you are?”

“A writer?” He huffed out a laugh through his nose. “I don’t know, Natsu. I don’t know if it’s something we’ll ever know with full certainty.”

“I guess. It just really bothers me that I don’t know. It’s… It’s always on my mind. And it’s not even just that I don’t know who I am to myself, but I don’t even know who I am to the people I care about! It’s so frustrating, Oda!”

“I know. But it’s not going to just appear the harder you think about it. You have to keep trying to be the person that you want to be. Remember what you said to me before? That you love me for who I am now, not who I was before? That means you can change and grow and be who you want to be.”

She remained silent for a moment, fiddling with one of the buttons on his shirt. “What if I want to be more than one or two things… I mean… Is all you want to be a writer and someone who doesn’t kill?”

“No… there are other things.”

“What else?”

He glanced down at her, the moonlight illuminating the side of her face against his chest. He smiled. “A father, one day. Someone who can pull Dazai out of his depression, even just for a little while. But mostly… what I want to be is someone you want to spend your life with.”

She turned her face further into his chest, smiling like a mad fool. “Stop, you don’t mean that.”

“I do. Why don’t you think so? Is there something I did?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” she admitted, her face burning. “It’s just that I didn’t think you could ever want something like that as much as I do, Odasaku. You’re my rock. You have been for over a year now. And you do so much for me.”

“You have done more than your fair share of that, too, love.”

“It’s not the same…”

“Why?”

 

“Because I feel like I need to do more! It’s not just in general that I want to be someone significant… important. I want to be important to you! To be that person in your life that you can come to for anything and spend it by your side. For me, at this moment, there is nothing I want more than to be that for you.”

“Natsu, look at me.”

Her eyes flit up to his, which roamed her face. “You already are all of that, Natsuki. If that’s what you want to be, then you already have it. You have me.”

She blinked up at him, lost in the moment until his lips met hers, pressing them together gently. She pressed back, and when he pulled away, she met his eyes once more. “I love you.”

“I know,” he breathed. “I love you, too.”

Oda kissed her again, as she adjusted herself to accept his affection. For a while after that, they exchanged the same slow, sweet kisses they were all too familiar with. And when Natsu became drowsy, sleepy eyes staring into Oda’s, he kissed her forehead. She laid back on his chest once more, content in the fact that even if she didn’t know all of her identity, she had assurance about one part. And one of the most, if not the most, important to her.

Oda was right, even if she would never admit it to him when she was awake. It really was up to her to decide who she was and what she’d do with her life. It was no one’s business but hers. And she was perfectly happy with that.

Natsu fell asleep quickly, her even breathing audible in the silence of the sleeping city below them. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, holding her close. She was, he thought, one of his missing puzzle pieces. The one that, without it, the picture just didn’t look right. Without her, he just didn’t feel right. But now she slept in his arms, as she had so often in the past year.

He knew he’d never let her go. That wherever this ambition took her, wherever her chosen path lead her, he would follow her. To the ends of the earth if he must—if only to help her complete her own puzzle.

That’s all life is, really. A big puzzle. Sometimes you jam the pieces together and they clash and bend, but they never break. For years and years, you add pieces, find pieces, rearrange pieces…

Perhaps, Natsu had some rearranging to do. That was fine with him. As long as he held onto her piece and she held onto his, they’d be okay.

 

Oda smiled down at Natsu, smoothing her hair away from her forehead. With his consciousness slipping, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you, Natsuki.”

 

With that, Oda slipped into a blissful abyss of dreams. Dreams of writing, of his friends, of Natsu. And Natsu dreamt of him, safe in his arms.

 

After all the forcing they’d had to do in their lives, this was one piece they didn’t have to jam into their lives. It blended and morphed into the ever unfolding image of their lives.

 

And with each piece they found, the image became clearer.

Notes:

Hey all! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! I'm proud of it, I don't write stuff like this too often and it's been years since I wrote a character x an OC! Anyways, as always, let me know your thoughts and requests in the comments!

Go follow Sai's BSD high school AU on insta if you haven't already! It's hilarious and I look forward to each new post! @bsdhsau

Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 32: Safe (Kunikida/Dazai)

Summary:

Kunikida's father visits the Agency... and it's a bit of a problem.

TRIGGER WARNING: Homophobic slurs, emotional abuse.

Office work had never particularly interested Kunikida, but when it came to the Armed Detective Agency, he was more than willing to finish it all in a timely manner. Whatever he could do to keep his position and ease the cases, make them easier and quicker to solve—less likely to cause fatalities. Besides, with his notebook permanently glued to his side, it wasn’t too much of a stretch from his normal routines.

 

Sunlight filtered through a layer of clouds outside the Agency window, casting shadows and sunrays over the office floor. Kunikida sat at his desk, as he did every other weekday at that time, fingers flying over the keyboard. Work documents, schedules, emails… anything and everything he could finish up.

 

Across from him, Dazai squinted at his face, hand poised in the air. He flicked his wrist, the small chunk of eraser pinging off of the other man’s glasses. Kunikida only raised his eyes and brows in annoyance. “Again?”

 

“Of course!”

 

“What is it this time, Dazai?”

 

The brunet shrugged, then leaned back in his chair. “What else did you expect from me?”

 

“I don’t know at this point,” he admitted, rubbing his temples. “Are you ever going to finish your case report?”

 

“Nah. Atsushi’s doing it.”

 

Kunikida turned to Atsushi, who sat beside Dazai, typing away. He didn’t even look up, chewing on his bottom lip as the clicking of his keyboard continued. He turned back to Dazai. “That was your case report.”

 

“And now it’s not. Easy!”

 

“I’d give up if I were you,” called Yosano from across the room. “He never listed to you before. He’s not going to start now.”

 

“Yeah,” Junichiro agreed. “You’re not going to win. No one can control him.”

 

“I-I’m not trying to control him! I just need him to finish one damn report.”

 

“Woah,” said Yosano, holding her hands up. “We’re just kidding, Kunikida.”

 

“Yeah!” Ranpo popped another chip in his mouth, swatting away both Kenji’s and Kyouka’s hands from the bag. “Take a joke would ya! We’re just poking fun.”

 

“I don’t appreciate it.”

 

“Fine then. You’re a grump.”

 

Kunikida turned to glare at Ranpo, who had truthfully only been joking around, but whipped around when the office door opened without a knock. Haruno stepped into the room, holding onto the doorknob as a tall man stepped in behind her. His blond hair was streaked with grey, sharp eyes gazing over a pair of glasses at the room’s occupants.

 

Kunikida immediately stood, startling his coworkers, who stared at him in confusion. At his sudden movement, rigid posture, and eyes that pierced the floor beneath his feet. “Hello, father.”

 

“Sit down, Doppo,” said the man as he strode across the room. “No need to look foolish at work.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Dazai watched with inquisitive eyes, keeping his face impassive as the older man took the empty chair from beside Kunikida and dropped down into it crossing his legs. He’d never talked about his father with him before. He knew it was a sensitive topic, but he didn’t know why… “I see you still haven’t cut your hair. I was hoping you’d finally get the memo.”

 

Kunikida’s hand twitched, lifting towards his head, before he settled back into his lap as a fist. “I like it long. I think it suits me.”

 

“Have you looked in a mirror recently? It looks ridiculous. No professional man would dream of keeping his hair like yours.”

 

“Fine. Maybe I’ll cut it.”

 

His father nodded, ignoring the way his son had dropped his gaze and now studied the empty desk before him. “What? Is your partner sick today?”

 

“I’m right here.”

 

The man’s eyes moved to him, and he didn’t miss the relief that washed over his partner’s face for barely a second. His father took him in, bandages and all. “You get in an accident or something?”

 

“No, sir.”

 

“What’s your name?”

 

“Dazai Osamu.”

 

“Well, Dazai,” he said gruffly, “I’m sorry you got partnered up with my son. He’s a bit of a handful.” And then he laughed, clapping Kunikida on the back a bit harder than was necessary.

 

Dazai narrowed his eyes. “If anyone here is a handful, it’s me.”

 

He waved him off, turning to Kunikida. “So, your Mom tells me you’re doing okay. You don’t call me anymore.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Yes, well, I’m sure you’re busy with your girlfriend.”

 

He tensed, not daring to look up at anyone. He couldn’t risk it. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

 

“Still on about this ideal woman, are you?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

Dazai clenched his teeth, unsure whether he was more enraged at Kunikida’s discomfort or at the man assuming his son was straight. Clearly, the rest of the agency felt the same way. Atsushi glared at his desk, unable to even look at him. Yosano and Junichiro pretended to work, but their screens didn’t move an inch. Kenji and Kyouka openly watched the pair from behind, Kenji with wide eyes and Kyouka with narrowed ones. And Ranpo… well he seemed to have put two and two together quite quickly, realizing why his quips earlier (and on many other occasions) had gotten to him so much. He clenched his fists in his lap, his jaw set, squinted eyes watching as if eyeing prey.

 

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t care who you end up with, as long as you’re not a faggot. As long as she’s a woman. That’s all I ask.”

 

“You’re not asking. You’re demanding.”

 

“Same thing. You know that. And why does it matter? Just tell me her name one day and I’ll keep you on the Christmas card list.” His chuckle seemed jovial and joking. But Kunikida rounded his shoulders, still unable to look him in the eyes. “Anyways. I’m sure if you’re not busy with a woman you’re busy playing detective. Does your… ‘ability’… even come in handy in a place like this?”

 

“Well—”

 

“It’s not like it could be of much use.”

 

“He’s done a lot, even in the limited time that I’ve been here,” piped up Atsushi, who’d finally torn his eyes from the screen of his laptop.

 

His father barked out a laugh, eyeing Atsushi. “How long have you been around, son?”

 

“Only a few months, sir.”

 

“That explains it. Give it a few months, and you’ll come to see just how useless this one really is.”

 

Atsushi stiffened in his chair, watching as Kunikida’s dad turned back to his son, who sat still as a statue as if he was bracing himself for impact. He glanced at Dazai out of the corner of his eyes, who returned the same concerned expression. Something was very wrong here. They had to get his dad out.

 

“My notebook does come in handy. Just because it’s not completely offensive doesn’t make me worthless.”

 

His father hummed, sliding the book away from his son and picking it up. The whole agency froze, watching as Kunikida remained still, staring down at his desk with wide eyes. Pages flipped, interrupted now and then by scoffs and snickers. Finally, the book dropped back to the table and Kunikida’s dad leaned back in his chair, laughing as he shook his head. “I’d beg to differ.”

 

His eyes remained downcast. “Why?”

 

“Didn’t you get a young girl killed a few weeks back? Down in some sewers? All because of that book.”

 

His blond ponytail flew over his shoulder as he whipped around to face his father. “How did you know about that?”

 

“Weasled it out of your Mom. Now, did it happen or not?”

 

His eyes blazing, Kunikida grit his teeth. “Yes.”

 

“Oh, I also saw that article in the paper a few months ago about those people that got gassed. You were in the picture with it, banging on the glass, with, I assume Dazai, pulling you off. Isn’t that the second time with the “Azure” whatever? King was it?”

 

“You saw that?”

 

“Of course, I did. I’m always keeping tabs on you. You are my son, after all.”

 

Kunikida flinched at that. “Well, yes. It happened. But there isn’t anything I can do about it now.”

 

“There was then. But I guess I can’t expect much from a college dropout.”

 

“It was the right choice for me, Father.”

 

“I don’t think it was. I think it was a pathetic choice.”

 

“I know. You think everything is pathetic.”

 

“Well look at you!” His father gestured to him with both hands. “Those deaths are on your hands, and your lack of preparation and thought was pathetic. Just like your ability. And those ridiculous ideals of yours. They’ll get you nowhere but killed or bullied, just like high school all over again.”

 

“Yeah,” Kunikida mumbled, his fists shaking in his lap. “Except that wasn’t normally the kids.”

 

“What was that?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Best to not talk back to me, Doppo. I deserve respect.”

 

Kunikida nodded, looking him in the eyes. Barely. The strain etched itself into every line of his face. “Yes, sir.”

 

“Wipe that look off your face,” he hissed. “Do you disagree with me? Because if you do, I suggest you tell me now. You know what happens when you keep the truth from me.”

 

His eyes widened, mouth opening slightly. He choked out a few syllables, but largely remained unable to speak. Until Dazai spoke up for him. “What the fuck is your problem?”

 

The man turned to Dazai, fury in his eyes. “Excuse me?”

 

“You can’t just speak to him like that.”

 

“And who are you to tell me how to parent my own child?”

 

“He’s not a child,” Atsushi interjected. “He’s a grown man.”

 

“If he was a grown man, he could tell me that himself. Until then, he remains my pathetic child. Is that clear?”

 

“What’s clear,” added Ranpo, “Is that you’re a major douche. This is ludicrous.”

 

“And this isn’t parenting,” Dazai nearly growled. “It’s abuse. Now back off.”

 

“Dazai,” Kunikida protested, his shocked eyes pleading.

 

“No, Doppo. This isn’t going to continue.”

 

“Continue?” His father roared with laughter. “I get it now. Let me guess… he told you that I beat him as a child. Or that I called him names or some utter shit like that.”

 

“He never told us that. But just this interaction has been enough to tell us what we needed to know.”

 

“Are you all serious? Let me speak to my son alone!”

 

Kunikida made to stand, when Dazai stepped around the desk and grabbed his wrist. “No. I can’t let you do that. Get out of our office.”

 

“Are you kidding me, Doppo? I worked to put food on the table, a roof over your head, clothes on your back, and this is the thanks that I get? Discarded? Slander? I tried to help you and make you normal and I get a son like this? Like you?”

 

“You abused me!” Kunikida wrenched his wrist from Dazai’s grasp, stepping towards his father. “You beat me constantly, and I have a ton of scars to prove it! You, you tore me down and degraded me day after day for 20 years! You smacked me around and swore at me and cussed me out on a daily basis! Always telling me how worthless I was and how much of a freak I was!”

 

“What? Are you gunna cry about it? These little fights aren’t over until you do, you pussy. C’mon, Doppo. Show me.”

 

Dazai stepped in front of Kunikida, shielding him with his body. “Leave him alone.”

 

“Who are you to get in my way? Move!”

 

“I’m his boyfriend, you mother-fucker.”

 

The man lunged forwards, causing Kunikida to jump back, much unlike his normal self in a fight. Dazai took the impact, holding him back.

 

“You’re gay? Doppo, you’re a fag? Are you fucking kidding me? I didn’t raise no queer!”

 

“That’s not how it works.” The voice came from someone else—a young boy. Kenji appeared out of thin air (with Junichiro’s help), yanked the man off of Dazai, and prepared to fight him. After dodging the first punch, he gave him an uppercut to the jaw, knocking him out cold as he fell into the hallway through the open door.

 

Fukuzawa stood in the doorway. “Thank you Kenji, Junichiro, Ranpo. I’ll take this from here.” With that, he pulled the door closed, the only sound from beyond it Fukuzawa dragging the man across the floor.

 

Kunikida stepped back once more, falling into his chair. He spun to face his desk, panting, his whole-body trembling. The office stood frozen, watching as he put his head into his hands, his pants turning into first cries, and then broken sobs. Dazai stepped towards him, standing beside him. He rested a hand on his back, leaning over to talk to him. “Doppo.”

 

He gasped for air, immediately returning to his cries. He didn’t even bother to wipe the tears from his face. “D-D-Dazai.”

 

“You can relax now… He’s gone…”

 

“C-can’t!”

 

A few other Agency members crossed the room, but Dazai held up a finger. “Do you want us to leave you alone right now?”

 

“N-no!” Kunikida gasped, shaking his head vehemently. “Please, Dazai, don’t leave me alone.”

 

“Okay,” he said, curling his ponytail around one finger. “Okay, Doppo. I’m not leaving, alright? Do you want the Agency or just me?”

 

“Just you,” he sobbed, his back and shoulders heaving with each one. “Just you.”

 

The other agency members backed up and Dazai shot them a sad smile. “Alright. I’m right here. It’s okay.” He stepped around to the back of his chair, leaning over him from behind and wrapping his arms snuggly around the man’s chest. Dazai leant down and pressed a kiss to his temple and then to the side of his jaw. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

 

Kunikida’s cries died down, but he continued to tremble. Dazai simply held him tight, his warmth and weight on the man’s back, letting him know he was still right there. “Thank you…”

 

“You’re welcome.” He took hold of Kunikida’s chin, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. The blond turned his head, and they connected their lips for a brief moment. Dazai went back to hugging him, one thumb swiping at the wetness on his cheeks. “I love you.”

 

Kunikida sniffed. “I love you, too, Osamu.”

 

“You’re safe with me, Doppo,” Dazai reassured him. “You’re always safe with me.”

Notes:

Hey all! Sorry this one-shot was so short and trashy. I had this idea and i don't know if it turned out well. I'll take another look again when it's not 4am. I'm currently at the cottage with my friends but they're all asleep so... this happened. I might go and edit it later if I don't like it. Let me know your thoughts, requests, questions... anything really.

Also, to the person who requested the oneshot where Kunikida self-harms and Dazai finds out, your fic is coming, I promise! Also, Shane, yours is coming, too! School is just kicking my ass. But next week is reading week right up until halloween so I should be able to get some more stories out then!

Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 33: Always (Junichiro and Atsushi)

Summary:

Junichiro suffers from panic disorder. One day it gets the best of him and Naomi isn't home. Atsushi gets a frantic call during dinner.

TRIGGER WARNING: Panic attack.

Junichiro and Atsushi got close quickly after Atsushi joined the Armed Detective Agency. It wasn’t uncommon to find them together at lunch breaks, on cases, or in each other’s dorms after work. If you looked at their phones, they had a conversation that never seemed to end going in their messages, as well as one on snapchat and Instagram, both for different things, of course. Their call history showed much the same, multiple calls between the two in the past week alone. Junichiro was the first person Atsushi really confided in about what he’d gone through, and Atsushi was the only person, other than Naomi, who knew about his struggles with anxiety and panic disorder.

 

Both boys seemed to be the rock for the other, the person they went to for anything. Of course, Atsushi had become close with many of the Agency members, as had Junichiro, but those two knew each other like the backs of their hands. And of course, that’s how Atsushi knew that something was very wrong.

 

Junichiro, although quiet by nature, had never seemed so to himself. As Atsushi sat at his desk across the room, ignoring Dazai’s pestering of Kunikida, he watched the screen of the other boy’s laptop scroll up and down the same page repeatedly. He’d periodically turn to the report he’d been assigned to and type a sentence, or two, or three, but nothing more than that. Then he’d return to the previous page and stare at it for a while, before scrolling through it again.

 

Junichiro never brushed Kenji off the way he did that day. Not when the kid’s eyes shone as he tried to engage the other in conversation—he had a soft spot for Kenji. They all did. No one could say no to talking to him.

 

Not even when Dazai got strangled by Kunikida did Jun raise his head from his laptop. While the rest of the office laughed and cracked jokes, he kept his head down, staring at his lap.

 

When they’d normally grab lunch together, the red-head passed up the offer, saying he wanted to finish his barely touched report. Atsushi had brought him back some soup and a tea after spending his lunch with Kyouka and Kenji, but Jun barely touched it. He stirred it repeatedly, long after it had gone cold. He only drank half his tea.

 

The entire day, Atsushi couldn’t focus. Something was up. He knew it. But whenever he approached, Jun put on a smile and acted as if everything was fine. It wasn’t until their walk home from work did the mask fall, the conversation Atsushi usually carried with him floating away in the afternoon breeze, unanswered. Junichiro watched his feet on the sidewalk, his hands in his hoodie pockets, the red hood partially covering his face. It was nearly twenty degrees.

 

When they reached the dorms, Atsushi paused at the stairwell, Kyouka a few stairs up from him. He turned to Junichiro. “Hey, Naomi’s out tonight, right?”

 

“Yeah, she’s gone out with Haruno.”

 

“Why don’t you come up for dinner?”

 

“Ah don’t worry about me, I’m going to have leftovers from last night. But thank you, Atsushi.”

 

He nodded, bangs swaying in his periphery. He watched the way Jun didn’t quite meet his eyes, kicking a stone at his feet. He turned to Kyouka. “Go ahead without me, I’ll be right up.”

 

She nodded, hurrying up the stairs. Jun raised his brows, looking up at Atsushi through his bangs. “Something the matter?”

 

“No. I just… Are you okay? You seem off.”

 

Junichiro met his eyes, raising a hand to the back of his neck. The forced smile reappeared.  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

 

“Okay,” Atsushi turned on his heel. “Call me if you need anything.” With that, he headed up the stairs, missing the deep breath his friend took before he opened his door, stepping inside and shutting it behind him.

 

“What was that about?” Kyouka asked from the kitchen as Atsushi toed off his shoes.

 

“Nothing.” He crossed to her, bringing down the two bowls that she struggled to reach.

 

“It didn’t seem like nothing. Is everything okay? Are you two fighting? You didn’t talk much today.”

 

“No, no,” he said, passing her a few carrots from the fridge to chop. “Nothing like that. He just seemed off is all.”

 

She nodded, slicing into one of the carrots while Atsushi set a pot of water on the stove to boil. “Do you think something happened?”

 

“I’m not sure. He said he’s fine.”

 

“Do you believe that?”

 

“No.”

 

Atsushi’s phone buzzed on the counter, catching both of their attention. He glanced at it before furrowing his brows, picking it up with one hand.

 

Junichiro: Did you finish your report today?

 

He blinked at the message before swiping on it and reading it again in the app. What an odd question for him to ask… ‘Yeah, and Dazai’s. Why?’

 

He’d barely placed his phone down when it buzzed again. Kyouka eyed him as he picked it up, quirking her head. He bit his lip, eyes scanning over it.

 

Junichiro: oh. I didn’t finish mine. Think Kunikida will give me trouble?

 

It clicked. ‘No, probably not. Everyone has their off days. Is your anxiety bothering you today?’

 

Junichiro: A little, but it’s fine. It’ll pass I’m sure.

 

He nodded. ‘Let me know if you need anything.’

 

Atsushi set his phone down, turning back to Kyouka, who’d raised her brows. “What is it?”

 

“Anxiety bothering him. Says he’s fine, though.”

 

“Think that’s the truth?”

 

Atsushi shook his head, adding rice to the pot. “Still, no. But I can’t do anything until he tells me.”

 

Kyouka tilted her head in agreement, going back to her carrots. “Did Dazai really make you do his report again?”

 

“Is that really a question?”

 

“He’s gotta stop eventually, or Kunikida might actually kill him.”

 

“Yeah, but he’d like that.”

 

“I thought he wanted to die with a woman.”

 

Atsushi paused, squinting at the counter. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that one.”

 

Their laughter rang off the walls as they continued to prepare their dinner, dancing around the kitchen, chatting and joking all the while.

 

*

 

Finally, the two sat down for dinner. Rice and vegetables were a common meal for them, quick and easy to make. They knelt at the table, chopsticks in hand, discussing that day over their meal.

 

Atsushi chuckled as Kyouka wolfed down the first few mouthfuls, her eyes widening as she dropped her chopsticks, waving a hand in front of her mouth. “Hot, hot, hot!”

 

“Well, yeah. It just came off the burner.”

 

“Hot!”

 

He shook his head at her, smiling wide. “You’re such a dummy sometimes.”

 

“You’re the dummy,” she countered, shoving another scoop into her mouth and repeating the fanning motion.

 

“You could just wait for it to cool down. Or, at least blow on it.”

 

“Where’s the fun in that? I’m hungry.”

 

“Okay but your ton—”

 

Atsushi’s ringer interrupted him, blasting music from the ground beside him. Atsushi startled, overly aware of Kyouka’s eyes on him as he picked it up. His face fell.

 

“Hello?” No one answered from the other side. Atsushi’s eyes fell shut. “Junichiro?”

 

That time shallow breathing registered from the other end, followed by a hoarse voice choking his name. “Atsu-Atsushi.”

 

The sound of his voice alone was enough to send Atsushi’s heart jumping into his throat. “I’m right here, Jun. Are you having an attack?”

 

“Yes,” he breathed. Another quick breath, and more words tumbled out quicker than Atsushi could take them in. “I-I ran out of my meds earlier this week and they still haven’t come in and I thought I’d be okay for a few days and I’d be fine but then I couldn’t stop thinking about if I had another attack I don’t want another one I don’t but but then it cre-ept up on me and I couldn’t stop it but I didn’t wanna say anything but I couldn’t I can’t I don’t know I’m sorry I’m so sorry!”

 

He felt his eyes widen, his mouth falling open. He hadn’t heard Junichiro like that in a long time. “Jun. Junichiro. Try and take a few deep breaths for me, okay? I’ll be right there. I’ll be there in less than a minute, alright?”

 

“Okay.” With one last shuddering breath, he hung up.

 

Atsushi let out a long breath. “I knew it.”

 

“He’s not okay, is he?” Kyouka asked, her face soft.

 

He shook his head, getting to his feet. “No. Not at all. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

 

She nodded. “What are you going to do?”

 

“Same thing I always do. There’s a few things he’s told me that help, but it depends on the day, really. Just being there helps though, so at least there’s that…”

 

“I hope he feels better.”

 

“Me too.”

 

Atsushi didn’t even bother to put his shoes on before he flung the door open, pattering down the outside hallway and then down the staircase. Luckily, Jun had left his door unlocked, but whether that was on purpose or not he wasn’t entirely sure. Stepping in the door he scanned the dorm, coming across no sign of his friend. He shut it, then ventured further inside, only stopping once he spotted a door that stood slightly ajar.

 

He took a deep breath, then pushed the bathroom door open with two fingers, a pang hitting him square in the chest at the scene before him. Junichiro sat against the wall across from the toilet, hands pulling at his hair, legs bent in front of him. He took scattered, shuddering breathes, unable to draw the air his lungs desperately craved. “Junichiro?”

 

The boy flinched but didn’t look at him. Atsushi stepped towards him slowly. “It’s Atsushi.” He knelt beside him. “Is it okay if I touch you?” When Jun nodded, a wave of relief washed over him. The other boy went back and forth with that—sometimes the touch freaking him out more. Atsushi found it easier to help him this way. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make it worse.”

 

Jun nodded vigorously, which worried Atsushi. He never did that unless he desperately needed it, but whether it was to ground him or to comfort him, he wasn’t sure. Atsushi rested a hand on his knee. “This isn’t going to hurt you, Jun.”

 

He swallowed. “I don’t feel well.”

 

Atsushi nodded to himself. “I know. I know you don’t. But you’re not going to be sick, alright? You never are when this happens, you just feel nauseous. You’re okay.”

 

Jun nodded, his face scrunched up.

 

Atsushi felt his heart clench. He hated to see his best friend in so much pain, both mentally and physically. The way he choked on his own breaths, his body shaking as he shook his head at what he thought was his own stupidity. The tightness of his chest and clenching of his stomach, the spinning and torturous cycle of thoughts in his head… He knew. Jun had told him.

 

He shifted into a sitting position, keeping his legs bent and apart. Atsushi held his arms out for Junichiro. “C’mere, Jun.” The other boy didn’t look at him but leaned towards him instead. Atsushi pulled him into his arms, settling his back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around Jun from behind, resting a hand on his chest, feeling his body shaking against him. “This can’t hurt you. It will be over soon.”

 

“I-I’m so stupid!”

 

“No, you’re not.”

 

He shook harder. “I am! I should have known I couldn’t do it!” He gasped between sentences, some tumbling into others and some being cut off by a gasp for air before he continued. “I should have said something earlier but I didn’t! Why didn’t I say something before why am I so stupid!”

 

“You’re not stupid, it’s okay,” Atsushi reassured him. “It’s okay…”

 

Jun’s shoulders lurched, a strangled sound coming from his throat. Then they lurched again. Quickly realizing Jun struggled to force back his tears, Atsushi squeezed him a bit tighter.

 

“Hey… Don’t hold it back. It could help relieve some of this pressure you’re feeling.”

 

Junichiro shook his head, his voice choked when he spoke. “No, I’ve done enough already. You shouldn’t have to deal with me.”

 

Frustration flared in Atsushi and he took a moment to calm it. Jun couldn’t control this. He worked on it, but he was bound to have his bad days, just like everybody else. And for him, this embarrassment and feeling of being too much… this was his kryptonite. Atsushi leant around to look at him. “You are not a problem, okay? I care about you. You’re not a problem.”

 

“I-I’m so annoying Atsushi, I always get like this and then someone has to deal with me I’m sorry!”

 

“Don’t apologize for something you can’t control. I will never blame you for this or judge you for needing someone, alright?”

 

“I-I’m sorry.”

 

Atsushi’s face softened. “Can I try something? I think it might help.” Jun nodded. “Can you turn around for me?”

 

Slowly, Junichiro removed himself from Atsushi’s embrace, kneeling in front of him instead. He kept his head down, bangs blocking his face so Atsushi couldn’t see the tears welled in his eyes or the twitching he tried to suppress, desperately trying not to cry.

 

“Are you okay with a proper hug, even if we’re sitting down?”

 

He nodded, eyes clenched shut.

 

“Okay.” Gentle hands guided him forwards until his knees hit Atsushi’s thighs. He pursed his lips, not having thought this through. Jun would have to essentially sit on his lap. He didn’t mind, he was light, but how would he react?

 

Jun opened his eyes when they stopped moving, glancing down to see what the problem was. He sucked it a breath, then looked to the side. “I didn’t mean to make it awkward or weird for you I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Oh my God I shouldn’t have called you you were probably busy. Oh shit were you in the middle of dinner I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

 

Atsushi maneuvered him to sit with his knees on either side of his lap, causing Junichiro to cut himself off and stare at Atsushi with wide, teary eyes. He searched his face, breathing hard, still shaking. He placed his hands on the boy’s sides, looking him in the eyes. “It’s okay. This isn’t your fault. You’re not bothering me. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

 

Atsushi continued to reassure him, feeling the anxious jolting of the boy’s arms against his hands. He reassured him as Junichiro slowly lost control, unable to hold back the emotions he’d bottled up the entire week. All the anxious energy, the guilt, the fear, the embarrassment, and the shame that he held in his body, that swirled around his head. Atsushi remembered their late-night conversations about their fears. And for Junichiro, his panic disorder was the biggest one. Atsushi himself had anxiety, but he couldn’t fully understand how his friend felt at times like this. The all-consuming fear that another attack could strike at any moment. The unending feeling of helplessness, the constant tipping over backwards on your chair feeling.

 

Junichiro buried his face in Atsushi’s neck, a sob tearing from his throat. Atsushi wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer so their chests pressed together, letting out a long breath as he closed his eyes. He hated the sound of Junichiro sobbing in his arms, the violent shaking and the way his entire body jolted with the force of his cries. The distress that laced his voice as the sobs wracked his chest. He was terrified—that much he knew. Terrified and embarrassed and upset and ashamed. He hated that Junichiro felt like a burden when his anxiety got bad. That he didn’t want to bother anyone with it and would suffer in silence 99% of the time. He just hated that he was in pain. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. He just had to wait it out as he held Jun against his chest, praying for the crying to stop and the shaking to subside so he’d be okay again. But it was never that easy. It never was after panic attacks.

Atsushi slipped a hand under the back of Jun’s shirt, his hand warm against the clammy skin of the boy’s back. Skin to skin contact had always helped, he knew that much. As long as he was okay with contact that day, that is. And so Atsushi rubbed lines up and down Jun’s back, over his spine, the slow, repetitive motions soothing in and of itself.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Jun choked again, pushing his face further into the crook of Atsushi’s neck.

 

“Shh… Jun, it’s okay. You can’t control this. It’s okay. I don’t blame you.”

 

“B-but I… I…”

 

“You called for help when you needed it. You called me when you needed me. It’s okay…”

 

“I…”

 

“It’s alright, Junichiro. You have nothing to be sorry for. I care about you. I’m here for you when you need me.”

 

Junichiro could only nod as Atsushi threaded a few fingers into the orange strands, the way he’d seen Naomi do many times before. When Jun choked for air again, he did it once more, then repeated it. “Breathe… focus on your breathing…”

 

“I can’t…”

 

“Yes, you can. Follow mine. Can you do that?” He nodded. “Alright. In… two… three… four… Out… two… three… four…”

 

“I missed one… I can-can’t get it…”

 

“That’s alright. Keep trying. In… two… three… four… Out… two… three… four…”

 

Atsushi continued to rub his back as Junichiro got a handle on his breathing, his tears slowing and shaking mostly subsiding, save for a few nervous jolts in his arms and legs. He kept a hand on the back of Jun’s head, a couple fingers playing with his hair. Whatever it took to keep him calm. Because Atsushi knew from personal experience that it wasn’t hard for Junichiro to slip into another attack when he hadn’t fully calmed down from the initial one.

 

Junichiro kept his head on Atsushi’s shoulder, eyes closed, focusing on his breathing. The hand in his hair and on his back kept him calm, as did the warm embrace from his best friend. Maybe it was unconventional, maybe it wasn’t. He didn’t know, nor did he care at that particular moment. He needed what he needed. And if Atsushi was willing to help in Naomi’s absence, then that was fine with him. He didn’t even really mind or care that it wasn’t Naomi. Atsushi was perfectly fine with him. He’d helped him before and he’d do it again. Jun shuddered at that, a pang of fear in his chest. He took a sharp inhale of breath.

 

“Shh, it’s alright…”

 

“I don’t want this to happen again, Atsushi…”

 

“I know, Jun. I know it scares you.”

 

He started to shake again and Atsushi’s eyes widened. “It’s terrifying, the feeling, the thoughts, the nausea, the, the the the…”

 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright… It’s alright…” Atsushi rubbed his back faster for a moment, bringing the hand down from his head to his waist, hugging him tightly. He couldn’t let him slip.

 

“Please, Atsushi, not again. Not again.”

 

So he felt it, too.

 

“Breathe, Junichiro. You’re alright. It’s not happening again. It’s okay.”

 

“Atsushi.”

 

“Look at me, Junichiro. Look at me.”

 

Jun pulled back, his wild eyes staring into Atsushi’s. He cupped the boy’s face, swiping a thumb over each cheek. He didn’t care what it took. He just needed him to calm down. “Breathe. You’re okay.” Jun’s chest heaved. Atsushi kept his arms around his waist. “Breathe. It’s not going to happen again right now. You’re alright. You’re safe.”

 

Jun nodded, closing his eyes.

 

“I’ve got you, Junichiro. You’re safe with me.”

 

Jun nodded, leaning forwards and resting his head on Atsushi’s shoulder once more.

 

“We’ll make sure to get your medication tomorrow. Maybe Yosano can do something to get it faster. And then you’ll be just fine.”

 

“Okay…”

 

Behind the pair, the door swung open, revealing Naomi. Her face immediately fell and she knelt beside them. “Jun?”

 

He only took a deep breath and Atsushi turned to her with a sad smile.

 

“Was it bad…?”

 

Atsushi nodded. “Very. But I got here quickly, so I was here with him for most of it.”

 

“That’s good. Thank you.”

 

“Of course. We’re at the tail end now… he hit the peak about ten, fifteen minutes ago. He’s just still calming down.”

 

“I almost had a second one…” Junichiro mumbled.

 

“But you didn’t,” said Naomi softly, cupping his cheek. He leaned into the touch. Naomi leant down and kissed his forehead. “Atsushi, I can take him now if you want.”

 

“You okay to move now, Jun?”

 

He hummed in agreement, letting go of Atsushi from where he’d clutched the back of his shirt and allowed Naomi to take him into her arms. He slumped against her, leaning his head against the inside of her shoulder. She kept her arm around his back, using her other hand to rub up and down his exposed arm. “I love you. I’m here now. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when this started, Jun.”

 

Junichiro barely nodded, his voice a ghost of a whisper. “S’okay.”

 

She smiled sadly, pressing another gentle kiss to the top of his head. Then she looked up to Atsushi, who’d stood and dusted himself off. “Thank you, Atsushi.”

 

“Of course. He’s my best friend. But he’s in good hands now.”

 

“He was already.”

 

Atsushi smiled, watching her hold Jun. “Hey Junichiro?”

 

“Hmm?” He opened his eyes, squinting up at him.

 

“I’m always here for you, okay? I’m just that one call away if you need me.”

 

A smile played on his lips ever so slightly. “Thank you, Atsushi.”

 

He nodded back. “Anytime.”

 

With that, Atsushi turned on his heel and headed back to his dorm to finish the supper he’d left abandoned on the kitchen table. But he didn’t mind so much. Junichiro had needed him more than he needed it. And he’d always be there when he needed him. Always.

Notes:

Hey all! So hopefully this was alright. It's 6am. I don't know why I've done this to myself. I was having a bad night with my own panic disorder so I decided to write this. Yes, I have a headcanon of this for Junichiro. There's a backstory for it but I'm not going to get into that right now.

Let me know your thoughts/questions/requests!

I said this in the group chat fic yesterday but here we go again because it was well received. I am a shit artist. Absolutely awful. But I want to draw scenes from these oneshots, especially ones like this. So if any of you talented artists out there wanna draw some, I will love you forever and will find a way to post them with the chapter because I think there's a way to do that (I'm just dumb and not tech savvy don't mind me).

Go follow me on insta @soukokous_shared_braincell for story excerpts, drabbles, headcanons, shitposts, and the like!

Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 34: The Sun Will Rise Again (Kunikida and Dazai Request)

Summary:

Written for @thatsalotofredbullmydude ! Idk if this was exactly what you were looking for but, here it is! Also, I am so sorry that this took so ridiculously long. My apologies.

DISCLAIMER: I am in no way, shape, or form saying that anyone should use self-harm as a coping mechanism. If you are struggling and thinking about hurting yourself, please seek help. Just as much as you don't want to see these characters do it, we don't want you too, either! You're loved and you're important.

TRIGGER WARNING: dark themes, self-harm, panic attack (sort of?), scars, mentions of violence

Dragging feet on a cobbled street was the only sound carried through the streets by the crisp morning air. The sun barely peeking over the horizon, orange rays glittered in windowpanes and through the rustling leaves overhead, the pink glow in the clouds brightening with each passing moment. Pink, orange, yellow, green, red… colours of the world around him.

 

Grey, black, coiling threads… the scenery of his mind.

 

Sleep didn’t come easy to him anymore. Not that it had for the past five years… but the past five months had been particularly difficult. Continually plagued by the internal downward spiral of his capacity to cope, the grainy images and intrusive thoughts ensnared him and dragged him to his knees, torturously drowning him in the undertow of his own guilt and pain. If only they knew. If only he knew how to make it stop.

 

The walk to the Armed Detective Agency had never seemed so long, never felt so arduous and dim. Yet still, in the early morning light of six am, he pushed himself forwards, one step at a time, ignoring the protest in the forefront of his brain. He’d make it to work for one more day. Yet, when you tell yourself that every day, you start to wonder when the day will come that you don’t need to anymore. He started to wonder, too.

 

The silent building towered above him, hazel eyes staring up at its shadow as he did to the demons the followed him wherever he went. Even now, he was sure that upon turning around, they’d be there waiting to tear him down. He thought about letting them.

 

He didn’t.

 

The stairwell seemed easier than the elevator, the gentle hum and dim lights easier to bare than the overbearing fluorescents overhead.  Near silent, the building felt larger than ever, like he could get lost inside it. But this wasn’t his mind—he wouldn’t become trapped in such a vast expanse. And yet, it suffocated him. 

 

The door swung open, the lights switched on, eyes clenched shut just inside the doorway. A deep breath, followed by a shaky exhale. Just another day. He could do that, right?

 

Right?

 

He sat with his head in his hands, elbows propped up on the desk in the empty room, eyes shut. Deep breaths, one at a time. A series of flashes in his mind. That little girl. His open notebook. Aya. Rokuzo. His father. His mother. His younger brother. The notebook. The notebook that tore him apart.

 

No. It wasn’t the notebook. But part of him believed it to be. Because if he didn’t blame it, then who would he blame? If not himself, then who?

 

Atsushi, bleeding on the ground. Kenji, his bright eyes never fading before being struck. Himself, spluttering blood as he stared up at the woman from the Guild.

 

If it hadn’t been for him…

 

The President in his hospital bed, Lucy his saving grace when none of them could be, because he messed up. The bloodstain under Katai’s futon. Ranpo, grieving for the man who wasn’t yet dead, but was the only family he had left. The notebook.

 

Why couldn’t he have been quicker? Not caved under the pressure?

 

Junichiro and Naomi, bloody and barely breathing, undeserving of the brutal attack on their lives. Naomi, protecting her brother. And Junichiro, traumatized by having to go under the knife, yet again. His worst fear faced for the nth time.

 

Because he hadn’t been smart enough to see through Higuchi’s plans.

 

Kyouka’s teary eyes. Yosano’s determination to heal his friends in the wake of his mistakes. Sasaki, looking for the strong ideals of the Azure King, the one who had been so much like him.

 

And Dazai. Dazai’s voice, calm and collected, telling him to give them up. Dazai. His calculated movements contrasting against his aloof personality—most of the time. His desire for death against his jokes and laziness. White bandages against his olive skin.

 

The bandages. What did they hide anyway? And why was he so against taking them off. Even for Yosano, when she stitched him up. Even for him, protesting his questioning when they first became partners. He wondered how he’d react now.

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t have an idea what lay beneath them. He did. It was that he didn’t want to face it. He didn’t know if he could. Because Dazai acted similarly to himself, putting up a front in front of the others. But he saw him when he thought no one else was watching. He’d walked into the bathroom when going after Dazai, catching a glimpse of his shaking back and shuddering breaths, his eyes clenched shut, gripping the counter like a vice. He’d heard the waver in his voice on the phone with Chuuya last week after everyone else had left, peeking out the doorway to see where he had gone. Noticed the way he winced when his arms hit the table or he rubbed up against something unexpectedly.

 

Was that how Dazai coped with the madness inside his head? How he staunched the flow of overwhelming emotions that threatened to overtake him, the chaos snowballing out of control? Was it what he thought it was? Was it—

 

“Good morning, Kunikida-san!”

 

His blond ponytail whipped over his shoulder as his head shot up. He blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his vision until the image of the blond boy before him came into focus. God… how long had he been sitting there?

 

“Good morning, Kenji-kun.”

 

“You seem tired! Did you not sleep well?”

 

Kunikida forced a smile onto his face. “I just haven’t had my coffee yet.”

 

The young boy grinned, padding over to his small watering can on the windowsill. “I don’t like coffee. It tastes too bitter.”

 

“That’s why you but creamer in it.” Both of them turned back to the door, Yosano’s smirking face watching the boy. Then she turned to Kunikida. “How early did you get here today?”

 

“Just a few minutes before Kenji.”

 

She quirked her head at him, knowingly, but said nothing about it. “Any new cases today?”

 

Silently, he sighed. It would be a long morning.

 

*

 

Although productive, the morning dragged along like nails on a chalkboard. Though his mind whirled continuously, he managed, as he did every day, to finish the last case report with precision and ease. It was only busy work for him after all… and somehow, it only kept his body busy. Busy hands tip tapping over the keyboard, busy eyes flitting back and forth over the screen…

 

His mind, on the other hand, was still a whole different kind of busy. The work didn’t keep him busy in the sense of distracting him like it did his fingers that so often clicked a pen or toyed with his hair. He wished it did, but then again, wishing had never done him much good in the first place.

 

The only thing that differed that day from his normal routine, was his lack of nagging Dazai. While the other man did short, easy tasks here and there, mainly pawning them off on Atsushi, Kunikida repeatedly found himself glancing in his direction. Watching his arms move, the way the bandages wound themselves around his arms so tightly they didn’t even shift. Even the white circling his neck stayed put. Although it would be odd to see the man without his bandages, he had to know if he was right. If that was Dazai’s method of coping.

 

Several times Dazai caught him in the act, first wiggling his eyebrows, but simply raising them by the fourth time. By the firth, Kunikida was sure Dazai would say something. But he said nothing. Not a word. He’d half-hoped that he would. He wanted to ask a question in return. He needed to know. Desperately.

 

By the time lunch rolled around, Kunikida’s chest burned from anticipation, his brain teeming with curiosity. He didn’t fold his laptop closed, a she normally would. Nor did he put his pens back in his top drawer and slide his notebook into his vest pocket. He simply kept typing, waving off the other’s who called to him. Until Dazai rose from his seat, his head shooting up quick enough to startle the man.

 

Dazai stared at Kunikida, more than slightly confused. “Is there a bone you have to pick with me, or can I go and ask maid-chan to commit double suicide with me?”

 

Kunikida’s face softened and he cleared his throat. “Sorry. I—no. Not a bone to pick. I just wondered if I could speak to you alone for a minute.”

 

Skeptically, Dazai lowered himself back into his chair. “Okay… what is this about?”

 

“Don’t look at me like that, Dazai.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like I’m about to snap at you and you already have your argument ready. Whatever it is you did, it can wait until I find out. I just have a question for you.”

 

Dazai folded his hands in front of him on the desk. “Hit me.”

 

He took a deep breath, his eyes closed. When he opened them again, Dazai still watched his face curiously. “What’s underneath your bandages?”

 

Dazai straightened, his bangs moving on his forehead. He blinked at him. “What?”

 

“What’s under your bandages? Specifically, on your arms.”

 

“Why now?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Why now are you asking me?”

 

“Well, I did ask you when we first me,” Kunikida reminded him. “But you only joked about how it kept your skin “youthful and firm”.”

 

“That is why.”

 

“No—” Kunikida cut himself off, taking another deep breath. He let it out slowly through his nose, giving Dazai a stern look. “No. It’s not. I know it’s not.”

 

“You can’t possibly know that.”

 

“Come on, Dazai. Don’t play games. I’m serious.”

 

“Why now?” Kunikida startled at the sudden raising of the man’s voice. “Why didn’t you press me on this before? Why only now did you think to really take an interest?”

 

“Because… I’m worried about you. And about how you’re coping.”

 

“Why? And with what?”

 

“I know you know what I’m talking about. The way you act worries me. There’s so much that’s happened and…” He paused, hesitating. “Dazai, are you self-harming?”

 

Dazai’s face fell, his tongue flicking out over his bottom lip as he dropped his gaze. “How did you know that when no one else ever caught on?”

 

Kunikida dropped his head to stare at his lap momentarily, his silence the only answer Dazai needed. “Can I see them?”

 

Wordlessly, Dazai unfolded his hands, rolling up his jacket sleeve. A single, slim finger slipped under the edge of his bandages where they met his palm, beginning to unwrap the white cloth. A moment passed before Dazai spoke again. “You can look.”

 

Hesitantly, Kunikida lifted his head, having to immediately stop his jaw from dropping. Dazai’s arm… his wrist, all the way up the inside and outside was laced with thin red lines. Some had faded with age, some thicker than others. A few ran vertical, closer to his hand. A suicide attempt. And the rest, horizontal, more or less. Angry, red, jagged…

 

He caught sight of a group of scars clustered in the more concentrated area on his inner forearm. The area stood out, the marks brighter, the area around it a canvas of blood splotches. It wasn’t art, the way he’d heard it described. No. It was horrifying. Terrible. Just… painful to look at.

 

A twinge in his gut distracted him from his train of thought. “When was the last time you cut yourself?” His voice had barely been a whisper.

 

“This morning.”

 

Finally, Kunikida met Dazai’s eyes again. “Why?”

 

“Rough night.”

 

“No… I meant why do you do this?”

 

“There’s a few reasons,” said Dazai, searching the area around them, subconsciously shifting his arm away.

 

Kunikida reached out and grabbed his fingertips to prevent him from moving. “There’s no sense in hiding it now that I know.” Dazai nodded. “Now why? You said there’s a few reasons.”

 

“I… It’s not going to make sense. You’ll think I’m crazy.”

 

“Try me.”

 

Dazai let out a breath through his nose. “It’s a way of stopping the pain.”

 

“But you’re already in pain.”

 

“But when it’s physical, it’s not in my head. Or sitting on my chest. But then it’s also a way to just feel something. That’s the thing with depression. Sometimes you feel nothing at all. And that’s my way of dealing with it.”

 

“Is there anything else?”

 

Dazai nodded. “I feel like I deserve it. But it’s also…” He sighed, dropping his head, bangs falling in his face. “It’s one of the only things I have control of. That I’ve ever had control of. Even in the Port Mafia, Mori always pulled the strings. But this… this was all me. All my own decision.”

 

Kunikida sat up straight, taking Dazai in in silence. And then he stood, his feet seemingly moving on their own, and his arms wrapped around Dazai’s shoulders. Brown hair fell against his shoulder as he stood as well, hugging him back. It was… peculiar. Kunikida couldn’t recall a time here they’d ever hugged before. Then again, Dazai wasn’t a huggy person. But that brief moment…

 

He wasn’t sure. Something had clicked. They were more similar than they realized. He wondered, as they walked out the door to lunch, if Dazai felt it, too.

 

He wondered for the rest of the day and into the next if Dazai knew what he thought about after that. If he realized what had gone off in the man’s head. But if he did, he said nothing.

 

And Kunikida continued on his path of self-destruction.

 

*

 

Days passed… Two, three, four… On and on they went, nothing eventful happening in their small Agency office. Relatively few cases. A lot of paperwork. And an extremely busy mind.

 

Kunikida slept less and worked more, staying late nearly every night. If anyone suspected anything, they said nothing. He guessed Dazai hadn’t clued in, which was very unlike him. But that’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? For no one to notice how much he suffered? Wasn’t that the whole point? Suffer in silence? Press on?

 

Or maybe it wasn’t.

 

The days didn’t only get longer—they got harder, too. Asleep later, awake earlier. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen hour work days, only to be followed by more once he arrived home. But the physical office work, the cooking, and cleaning… it was nothing compared to the heavy lifting and marathons he ran inside his head. They paled in comparison to the game boss of his conscience… The one that said No. Fix this.

 

The one that destroyed him daily and nightly, staying within close enough range to strike, always poised for an attack at all hours.

 

The one that routinely tore him up from the inside out, a balloon about to pop inside his chest. A wet rag plastered to his face, not quite drowning him when al he craved was the sweet release of a dreamless, dark abyss.

 

The one that made his skin crawl and his mind itch, uncomfortable in his own awareness.

 

Desperately, he searched for something, anything, to relieve him of the burden of his own life. Nothing seemed to be enough. Not the silent tears he shed at night, or the screams he was surprised didn’t wake his neighbours. Not the blasting music, trying to drown it all out, or the scribbling of his bed in his notebook, taking meticulous notes of his surroundings when it all became too much.

 

Until, once more, it clicked.

 

Kunikida stood from his chair by the window, nearly knocking his tea over with the force of his hip coming into contact with the table. Desperate to cling to his sanity, he fled down the hall and through the bathroom door open. He stopped at the counter, fingers white knuckling the porcelain sink, not willing to look himself in the eyes. He couldn’t bare himself. Couldn’t even look at his own reflection. Because then he’d be staring back.

 

His chest heaved with the force of his laboured breathing, body shuddering. Tears slid down his cheeks silently. He shook his head at himself, clenching his eyes shut. And then, as he made to stifle a sob, they flew open, a glint catching his eye.

 

It’s one of the only things I have control of.

 

With tingling fingers, Kunikida picked up the razor from the edge of the sink, fumbling it until one of the blades slid out into his palm. He held it out in front of him between two fingers, studying it. The cool, merciless steel blade. The unforgiving edge that he pressed flush to the skin of his wrist.

 

This was all me. All my own decision.

 

Blood trickled down his arm, pooling in his open palm before dripping off his fingertips. Soon, another stream joined it. And then a third.

 

His own tears soon mingled with the blood, dripping into the white basin below. Staining it crimson. Staining it with all of his pain and regret and suffering.

 

Staining it with him.

 

*

 

Weeks passed, the workload steadily increasing with the temperature. More work meant more cases, and more cases meant spending more time with Dazai.

 

Something had shifted after their encounter that day over lunch. Kunikida wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but it was there. He felt it. Trust, maybe? Understanding? He supposed it didn’t matter. They’d become closer. And that wasn’t a bad thing. Not until Dazai got suspicious. When the two were out on a mission together in the sweltering heat, both men still wearing their long-sleeved dress shirts.

 

The two had themselves pressed against the brick wall of an adjoining alley, guns drawn. The main man, a water wielding gifted, had already been eliminated. It hadn’t been Kunikida’s preference, but he’d almost gotten a hold of Ranpo and Yosano. Now, the other pair lingered behind them, waiting for them to clear a way out.

 

Only a few men remained, patrolling the only viable exit. Dazai peeked around the corner, followed by Kunikida. But the blond stepped slightly too far, and Dazai yanked his by his left arm back to his side. He hissed subconsciously at the contact, quickly checking his shoulder for Yosano and Ranpo’s position. And then they were around the corner, shot two bullets each, and dove behind a dumpster. With no way to preserve them and get all four of them out alive, Kunikida allowed Dazai to peek out overtop, the last two bullets making their mark instantly.

 

That was that. Another day, done, over. Another day wasted. Another death. And another and another.

 

Would it ever end?

 

*

 

Back at the Agency, everyone began to pack up for the end of the day. Luckily, Yosano had been able to help Kunikida finish the case report before the end of the day, and he’d started to pack up with the rest of them.

 

He was grateful for an early escape. He didn’t think he could take one more minute of the fake smiled he’d nearly tatooed on his face, while the scars on his arms itched and burned against his sleeve, reminding him of just how shattered he really was. That fake smile would never last. How can someone be happy when they’re only a shell of who they used to be? There’s no joy in that.

 

As Kunikida made to take his leave, that same hand latched onto his wrist. He winced, yanking his arm away, coming face to face with Dazai. His eyes widened, the fear registering on his face before the man’s eyes. He gulped. Dazai didn’t move.

 

“Are you two coming?” Ranpo called from the doorway.

 

“Yeah,” said Dazai, not taking his gaze off of Kunikida. “We’ll be leaving soon. See you tomorrow, Ranpo-san.”

 

“Bye Dazai-kun. Kunikida-kun.”

 

And the door shut behind him.

 

Kunikida searched Dazai’s face, his heart pounding in his chest. The other man blinked slowly, biting his lip. Then he reached forwards, taking hold of Kunikida’s wrist for a third time. “That’s the second time you’ve done that today.”

 

“Done what?”

 

“Winced when I touched your wrist.”

 

He thought back. Had he?

 

He hissed subconsciously at the contact, quickly checking his shoulder for Yosano and Ranpo’s position.

 

His shoulders slumped, staring at Dazai like a child about to be lectured. The brunet let out a small huff of air from his nose. Gently, Dazai inched the black fabric up Kunikida’s wrist, stopping after a couple of inches. He glanced up, but Kunikida no longer looked at him. He stared at the floor to the side of them, and Dazai felt his arm shake.

 

He continued, pushing the sleeve as far up as he could. “Kunikida… Why—” He cut himself off when he saw the blond’s gaze fixed on his other arm.

 

Kunikida felt Dazai take hold of his other arm, completely dropping his head. Again, the sleeve made its way up his arm to his elbow, and this time Dazai took a sharp intake of breath.

 

Silence for a moment, before Dazai spoke again, a hint of desperation growing strong with every word. “No, no, no… Why are you doing this? Did I cause this? Did something happen? Did I do something?”

 

Kunikida said nothing. He only stared at the tiles beneath his feet.

 

“Kunikida. Please.”

 

He looked at Dazai through his bangs. “I couldn’t cope. Everything was spiraling out of control and I needed it to just… stop. Just for a minute. And then I remembered what you said. That it gave you control…”

 

“No. No, Kunikida, you can’t do this.”

 

“It’s working.”

 

“No. It’s not. You only think it is because I was so damn stupid. I never should have told you, god dammit.”

 

“It’s not your fault, Dazai.”

 

“You’re cutting yourself, Doppo. Because of what I told you.”

 

“I deserve it. And I need the control.”

 

Dazai stepped closer to him, taking hold on both of his arms. “No, you don’t. You don’t okay? Look at me. You don’t deserve this pain. And look, I don’t know what’s going on with you or what’s hurting you so dan badly that you feel the need to hurt yourself but please, stop.”

 

“Dazai—”

 

“I’m the one who deserves it, okay? I’m the one who deserves it covering my arms and legs and stomach and neck and chest and… and…”

 

Kunikida’s jaw dropped, his eyes raking the man’s body. All of those bandages. All of them. “Osamu.”

 

“It’s addicting, Doppo. You need to stop.”

 

“I think it’s too late for that.”

 

Dazai’s face fell. “Please, don’t say that. I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

 

“You didn’t. I did it to myself.”

 

“It won’t help you. It’s only going to make it worse. I promise.”

 

Kunikida fell silent, his body shaking, mind sinking into darkness. He fought it, just as he always did. His breathing picked up, becoming audible without his knowledge. The spiraling cords, the undertow, the snowballing guilt. It threatened to crush him. To break him, right there in front of his best friend.

 

It needed to stop. Just for a few minutes. One minute. One second.

 

Please.

 

“Kunikida?” Dazai’s hands on his shoulders pulled him from the quicksand. He felt his eyes water. Dazai’s voice softened. “Doppo.”

 

When he spoke, it wasn’t his voice that passed his lips. Not his current self at least. He couldn’t recognize himself anymore. But the soft, scared whisper that barely made it to Dazai’s ears was him. The final shred of him that wanted to fight when the rest of him had given up.

 

“I need help.”

 

Dazai pulled his friend to him, hugging him tightly. He said nothing. Neither of them did. Not for a long while after that. But when they did, after Kunikida finally stopped shaking and the clouds had cleared the tiniest bit, Dazai made him a promise. To look for help for the both of them. TO get through this, their hardest moments, together. No more secrets.

 

And when they left the office that night the sun was setting. A warm orange, glittering in the window panes and shining through the leaves, the pink glow fading with every moment. They headed home together, starting the long trek back to the Agency dorms, confident in their promise to each other.

 

After all… The sun will rise again.

Notes:

Hey all! So... this was very dark. I struggled to find a way to write this one for so long but I finally worked up the were-balls to do it so here it is! I hope that it was okay. Ahhhhh.

Also... I'm looking for some feedback on my last chapter as well. I'm not sure how to feel about it.

To the person who requested a oneshot where DAZAI IS THE BOOK... ITS COMING. I finally figured out how to make that work. And it probably won't be exactly what we talked about, but I'll try my best. That's coming soon. And no, Shane, I haven't forgotten about you. That one is coming as well :)

Sorry. School sucks and my death is imminent. Jk. Mostly. But in all seriousness, second year is whooping my ass rn and it's really not fun.

Follow me on insta: @soukokous_shared_braincell . Don't be afraid to reach out! I'd love to chat with you guys! My AO3 OGs. Sorry, that was lame. I'm lame. Oh well. That's just me.

Until next time guys! -Emma :).

Chapter 35: Black Holes and Butterflies

Summary:

Written for @sleepawaysora ! I hope that this lives up to the outline you gave me, Shane! I had to alter it a tiny bit. I hope you don't mind. :)

Atsushi and Akutagawa get taken hostage. Yosano must help Mori experiment on Chuuya. And Dazai is not happy about it at all. He has a decision to make, one that will save one life and take another.

TRIGGER WARNING: Medical torture (?)

Faintly, creaking registered in his subconscious mind, rousing him from sleep. He stirred, groaning and twisting his neck form side to side. A chill ran through the boy’s body, hair on his arms and legs standing on end as a draught rolled over his exposed skin. He furrowed his brows in discomfort, shifting his body to try and make himself more at ease, but quickly found that he couldn’t move.

 

The red glow behind his eyelids quickly disappeared as his eyes flew open, searching a grey ceiling. A sudden wave of pain washed through him and he called out, his voice echoing off the stone walls. His head throbbed, the pain radiating from a place on the upper part of the back of his head. When he tried to lift his head, he felt the spot cool from the draught in the room and liquid trickling down the back of his skull.

 

Had someone hit him? And if so, who? He never went on solo missions, so his partner had to be around here somewhere… Kyouka? Junichiro? Akutagawa…?

 

He whispered their names, one by one. He blinked at the ceiling, then turned his head side to side, ignoring the throbbing, squinting eyes scanning the room. Terror gripped his heart and it took him a moment to convince him he wasn’t at the orphanage. He wasn’t chained to the wall, the headmaster feet away, ready to hammer a nail through his foot.

 

No, he wasn’t in the orphanage, but the room sure reminded him of it. With its bare, stone walls and dim interior. In the corner sat a cart of miscellaneous instruments that he couldn’t make out, and to his left, a tall stone pillar with several sets of shackles. Slowly, Atsushi began to piece it together. He hadn’t gotten hurt on a mission at all. None of his potential partners were in danger. It was him that was in danger, and him alone. Someone had struck him in the back of his head and brought him here, strapped him to a bed, and left him alone.

 

The issue was that he didn’t know where here was or what they wanted from him. He’d settled things with the Guild—there was no longer a bounty on his head. The Agency had an alliance with the Port Mafia, so he couldn’t fathom them having attacked the Agency… Plus, he had a deal with them anyways, being partnered with Akutagawa. And as much as the man seemed to hate him, Atsushi knew he wouldn’t let the Mafia hurt him.

 

So, who were these people? And what did they want from him?

 

*

 

“You wanted to see me, Boss?”

 

“Ah, Chuuya.” Mori’s voice carried through the long room easily, clear as the sky visible through the glass wall. “Yes. Come in.”

 

Chuuya crossed the space to his boss, standing beside him where he looked out over the city. He handed Chuuya a glass of wine, which he took without hesitation, instantly bringing it to his lips. Tarte, just how he liked it. “Did you have a job for me?”

 

“I do, yes.” He swirled the wine in his glass, not tearing his eyes off of the view outside. “Do you know what method you’ve used in the past has been the most efficient for our purposes?”

 

“I can’t say I do.”

 

“The full capability of your ability—Corruption. You’re unstoppable in that state. The black holes you are able to create can engulf anything needed and eradicate it completely.”

 

The glass nearly slipped through his fingers. “You’re not saying you want me to use corruption on my own? Are you trying to kill me?”

 

“Exactly the opposite.” Mori turned to him then, the peaceful smile from before a mere memory. Now he held his lips in a line, eyes slightly narrowed. “You’re my most loyal employee and most valuable asset. I’d never want to kill you.”

 

“Then why bring up Corruption? You know I can’t use it without Dazai.”

 

“Not yet. But I intend to have you back at 100% without having to rely on a traitor.”

 

Chuuya eyed him skeptically, bringing the glass back to his lips. “How do you propose we do that?”

 

“How would you like to find a way to overcome corruption. To find another way to break out of it, or control it, which would be best.”

 

“Impossible.” He shook his head, bangs swinging it front of his eyes. “Dazai is the only way.”

 

“Now, we don’t know that with one hundred percent certainty.”

 

“The only way to is to force me to use it, which would just end up killing me, boss.”

 

He shook his head, a smirk curling his lips. “That’s where you’re wrong. My experiments will not kill you.”

 

Chuuya took a deep breath. “How can you be so certain?”

 

“Because.” The smirk widened to a wicked grin. “I have a very talented skill user on board to prevent that from happening.”

 

*

 

“He is not with a woman!”

 

Dazai snickered, spinning around in his chair. “He might be.”

 

“He wouldn’t ditch work for that, Dazai!”

 

“Yeah,” piped up Junichiro, who didn’t look up from his computer. “Only you would do that.”

 

“No! It’s not only me!”

 

“Yeah? Who else then?” Kunikida demanded.

 

Dazai gestured around the room, with both Kunikida and Junichiro now looking at him. “K-Kenji! You know, always out after those pretty young ladies!”

 

Kenji turned and gave him a look over his shoulder. “When have you ever seen me ditch work for a girl?”

 

“Like last week, wasn’t it?”

 

“Yeah, a female cow. She was giving birth!”

 

“Still a girl!”

 

Kenji opened his mouth to speak, but quickly thought better of it, turning back around to do his work. Junichiro laughed beside him, turning back around to talk to him instead of Dazai. Kunikida rubbed his temples. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”

 

“Relax! You’re always so stressed.”

 

“Because of you!”

 

“Details, details…”

 

Kunikida narrowed his eyes, ready to retort when Yosano brushed past him and headed for the door. “Yosano?”

 

She didn’t respond, the only sound her heels clicking against the tiles as she exited the office and headed down the hall.

 

“What was that about?” Dazai asked.

 

Kunikida blinked at the door, perplexed. “I have no idea.”

 

Ranpo announced his presence with a sigh, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Don’t try and ask where she’s going. She can’t tell you.”

 

“What?” Kunikida nearly bellowed. “Why not?”

 

“Atsushi has been taken hostage. And Yosano, and her alone, is the only one that can go to save him.”

 

*

 

Pounding on the thick metal door distracted Mori from his conversation with Chuuya. He turned his back on the redhead, who immediately closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.

 

“Come in.”

 

The door swung open, revealing two Mafia men, the two of whom had a tight grip on a young woman. She attempted to wrench her arms out of their grip. “Let go of me! I wasn’t even struggling!”

 

“Ah, Yosano-kun. Glad you could make it.” He turned to the two men. “You can go now.”

 

Yosano only glared at him. “What’s so important that you had to capture one of my friends to make me cooperate?”

 

“You wouldn’t have even considered otherwise.”

 

“No, of course not. But you could have at least asked nicely.”

 

Mori rolled his eyes. “Just as snide as ever, I see.”

 

She sneered, then peered around the room. Quickly, her eyes landed on Chuuya, who seemed both alarmed and terrified at the same time. She narrowed her eyes at him as he sat on an examination table, then turned her gaze back to Mori. “What’s with ginger over there?”

 

“Chuuya is your project.”

 

“Hey! No way am I being reduced to just a lab rat! Not again!”

 

“Relax,” said Mori, waving him off. “It’s not the same. Here we’re just trying to help you.”

 

“Are we?” Yosano asked skeptically, eyeing the way Chuuya fiddled with the chain on his hat when Mori wasn’t looking. She’d never seen him so… not confident. Not sure of himself. Scared, even. Something was very wrong. “What am I supposed to do with him? He doesn’t look injured.”

 

“Oh, he’s not. But he will be when we go through with this little experiment, which is why I need you here.”

 

She looked back at Chuuya, who stared back with wide eyes. They almost pleaded with her. Yes. She was right when she’d first looked at him. He was terrified. Yosano narrowed her eyes at Mori, wracking her brain for what could get the exec so scared and have to do with him… Then her eyes widened, and she looked between them in quick succession. “No! No way! I-I can’t do that! He won’t survive!”

 

“Sure, he will. That’s why you’re here.Those little golden butterflies of yours can heal him if things go a little haywire.”

 

“I can’t just stop him from dying from corruption, Mori! I’d have to stop it first!”

 

“Not necessarily. That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

 

“Are you willing to take that chance?”

 

“it’s not much of a chance at all.”

 

“You’re actually insane! This is just a cruel thing to do to him, and that’s coming from me!”

 

“Do you want your precious Tiger back or not?”

 

Yosano inhaled sharply. She looked back and forth between Mori, who smirked, and Chuuya, who held a defeated expression before the experiments even began. He knew exactly what her choice would be. How could he expect otherwise? “I won’t agree until I see that he’s alive.”

 

“Fine.” Mori pressed a button on the screen beside him, which turned on to a security camera overlooking a dungeon-like room. On a single cot lay Atsushi, strapped down and staring at the ceiling.

 

She bit her lip. “If I do this for you, you’ll let him go?”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

“I really don’t have a choice in the matter, now do I?”

 

Mori chuckled—a low, hollow sound. “My dear. Did you ever when it came to me?”

 

*

 

“Ranpo.”

 

The detective startled at the sudden presence at his desk. He glanced up at Dazai with slightly widened eyes. “Can I help you?”

 

“Where is Yosano?”

 

“I can’t tell you that.”

 

“But she’s with Atsushi.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then you need to tell me where she went.”

 

He shook his head, sighing. “I can’t, Dazai. She said it would put people in danger.”

 

“Like who? Besides herself and Atsushi, who are already in danger.”

 

“She didn’t know. Just that it would happen.”

 

“Ranpo.”

 

“I’m sorry, Dazai.”

 

Dazai leaned over the desk, almost eye level with Ranpo, who leaned back in his chair to escape the invasion of his personal space. “I won’t ask again. Where. Is. Yosano?”

 

“I can’t.”

 

His hand shot out faster than Ranpo could react, and the taller man had him by the collar. “Where are they?”

 

“You’ll be in danger—” Ranpo choked, eyes blown. “Some-someone might die!”

 

“Dazai!” Kunikida shouted at him in the background, but he ignored it, yanking on the man’s hair.

 

“It’s not just Atsushi, is it, Ranpo?”

 

“N-no!”

 

“But Yosano didn’t know the full story. You only pieced it together after she’d left.”

 

“Yes!”

“And she left her phone here!”

 

“Y-yes! She had to!”

 

He pinned Ranpo to the wall behind the desk, ignoring the shouts of his coworkers to put Ranpo down. “Atsushi was insurance, correct?” A nod. “And it involves Chuuya. Doesn’t it?” Another nod. Fury flared in Dazai’s eyes. “So, I ask again. Where. Are. They?”

 

“P-Port Mafia! M-Mori—”

 

“That bastard!” Dazai dropped Ranpo, yanked his coat off the back of his chair, and booked it from the room. He, too, although unintentionally left his phone at the Agency.

 

The door had already slammed by the time Ranpo regained his composure. “He can’t! He can’t go! One of them will die!”

 

But it was too late. No one could reach him now. And no one could change his mind, either.

 

*

 

Strapped to a table of his own, Chuuya glanced around the room anxiously. His eyes darted to and from, taking in the medical instruments, the monitors, the drugs… Yosano stepped out of a room off to the side, clad in scrubs and a lab coat, a clipboard against her hip. She saw Chuuya and shot him a sympathetic glance.

 

Mori pressed electrodes to his scalp and hooked them up to a machine beside the bed. “I assume you know how to read an EEG?”

 

Yosano nodded. “Yes. Why do you want to use one, though?”

“Studying his brain activity while he uses corruption might give us a clue.”

 

She nodded again. “Are there any strong sedatives in here?”

 

“Back shelf. Take what you need for him, if you need them. Can you prep his IV for me?”

 

Wordlessly, she crossed to the counter, grabbed the IV port and needle, and went to the side of Chuuya’s bed. She flicked the back of his hand, probed the skin for a moment, and then looked up at him, needle poised above the selected vein. “Ready?” He nodded, not looking at her. “Scared of needles, are you?” He only tilted his head further away. She let out a breathy laugh. “It’s not surprising. IVs especially aren’t pleasant. Three, two, one…”

 

Chuuya winced as the needle pierced his vein and Yosano plugged the tube into the port. He cursed himself mentally, knowing that what to come next was going to be much, much worse.

 

Yosano tightened his restraints, which covered his entire body in strips except for his head and the top of his right hand for the IV. She pulled the long section of his hair out from under his shoulder, laying it on the bed beside him and studied him, scribbling something down on her keyboard.

 

He closed his eyes, not wanting to stare up at another doctor ever again. He felt himself begin to tremble, willing it to stop. This wasn’t the lab. He was going to be fine. Right? Right?

 

“I have a few calls to make,” Mori announced, pulling out his phone. “I will be twenty minutes, most likely. Perhaps a bit longer. If you try to pull any funny business, Akiko, I will kill Atsushi. Count on it.”

 

She nodded curtly, throwing as much hate and fury into that one look as she could.

 

“Get him started.” With that, Mori slipped from the room, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.

 

Yosano turned to Chuuya, who’d clenched his eyes shut. She looked down at him, letting out a long, silent breath. He was going to die here. And they both knew it.

 

She brushed his bangs out of his face with a featherlight touch. “Chuuya…”

 

His eyes opened, staring up at her, pleading. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know Atsushi was here. I swear.”

 

“I know. I could tell by the look on your face.”

 

He nodded, looking away. “So… we’re both wanted, eh? Blackholes and butterflies… what an odd combo.”

 

“Draws a lot of attention to us.”

 

“Creates a big mess for everyone around us is what it does…”

 

“I’m so sorry, Chuuya.”

 

“I’m going to die here. Aren’t I.” It wasn’t a question. He knew it as much as she did.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

He nodded. “I know.”

 

“Is there anything you want me to tell anyone?”

 

He thought for a moment, before a small smile graced his lips. “Yeah. Tell shitty Dazai that I finally grew that extra inch. I didn’t, but it will piss him off to think I did.”

 

She smiled sadly, running a hand over his hair. “Okay. I will.”

 

Chuuya smiled back, then let his eyes fall shut.

 

“O grantors of dark disgrace, you need not wake me again.”

 

*

 

Vibrations against his leg alerted Mori to his incoming visitor. He slipped the phone from his pocket and answered the call. “Are you here?”

 

“Yes,” came the low, unimpressed voice of Akutagawa. “I’m in the alley where the Black Lizard like to meet, just as you asked. What is my objective?”

 

Mori chuckled. “Before I let you get into action, I need you to observe something for me.”

 

“Of course. What am I looking for?”

 

“You’re looking for a small pipe, maybe a centimeter in diameter.”

 

“Do you have any idea where it would be?”

 

His lips curved down. “It’s either between the dumpsters on the right side, or at the very end, wedged between some bricks. Hirotsu has alerted me of both.”

 

Footsteps came from the other line, pausing every few steps as the man looked around. “It’s not by the dumpsters. I’ll try the bricks. Is this thing loaded with anything?”

 

“The enemy apparently ran out of ammo when they tried to attack the Black Lizard last week. But they weren’t sure exactly where it came from.”

 

Akutagawa hummed, then continued walking. “I think I see it.”

 

His frown deepening, Mori stepped around the corner, the phone still pressed to his ear. He observed the black-shrouded mafioso from behind as he caught sight of the silver tube, glinting in the sun. “Are you sure?”

 

He watched him nod even though he shouldn’t be able to see him. “Yes. You said one centimeter in diameter?”

 

“Should be, yes. Silver.”

 

“Yes, this is it. What do you need me to do with it?”

 

Mori shut his eyes momentarily. “Take a closer look.”

 

The skepticism in Akutagawa’s voice was poorly concealed. “Okay…”

 

From the end of the alley, Mori watched him crouch down, leaning towards the pipe. He pressed on it, the end of it between his thumb and index finger. Mori thumbed the button in his pocket, watching as a white cloud spewed from the end of the pipe, surrounding Akutagawa. The only noise Mori heard as he fell was the phone hitting the ground. “I’m sorry.”

 

*

 

Atsushi blinked at the ceiling, letting out a long sigh. What did they want from him? Why keep him here if they weren’t going to do anything? It had been hours.

 

He started at the sound of the heavy door opening on the other side of the room, forgetting about his immense boredom. The end of a cot identical to his wheeled into the room, followed by an armed man in a black suit. He narrowed his eyes at him, but they immediately flew open when he caught sight of the person in the bed.

 

The cot stopped not two feet from him, just out of arm’s reach. In it, a pale man lay asleep, naked except for a cloth which covered his groin. Black hair splayed across his face, the white tips standing out to Atsushi more than anything else.

 

What was Akutagawa doing here?

 

He was restrained as well, a leather band across his chest, thighs, and ankles, just as Atsushi’s were. An IV stuck out of his arm as well. Atsushi bit his lip, pondering exactly how they’d both ended up in this situation. Perhaps someone they’d recently fought had held a grudge?

 

Akutagawa’s head wasn’t bleeding like Atsushi’s had been from what he could tell, as the back of his head faced him. Neither of their IVs were full, so he hadn’t been injected with something to make him sleep…

 

Just as he thought that, Akutagawa stirred. A small cough past his lips and he turned his head to face the ceiling. His moved his shoulders, and then seemed to try and move his arms. Atsushi watched in surprise as the man’s eyes flew open, his body struggling against the restraints. “Wha—what the hell?” He whipped his head back and forth, doing a double take when he noticed Atsushi. “Were-tiger?”

 

Atsushi rolled his eyes. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

 

“Force of habit,” he replied, too nonchalantly for the look on his face. “Where are we?”

 

“Hell, if I know. I woke up in here hours ago. No one has come in or out of here until they wheeled you in here naked a few minutes ago.”

 

“Na—what?” He immediately glanced down, his face paling even more, jaw actually dropping. “No, no, no. No, they—he—”

 

“Relax, you’re covered.”

 

He glared at Atsushi. “You checked?”

 

“Hard to miss a black cloth on your ghostly skin.”

 

“You’re literally white in your tiger form.”

 

“I was just saying.”

 

“Well, don’t.”

 

Atsushi rolled his eyes once more. “Did you say he? He who?”

 

Akutagawa stared at the ceiling, clenching and unclenching his fists. “The last thing I remember was doing a job for Mori. And then this gas hit me in the face. And now I’m here.”

 

“You think it was Mori?”

 

“No. He has no reason to do this to the both of us.”

 

Atsushi hummed in agreement. “Then why’d you say he and they?”

 

“I just meant whoever took my clothes,” he said, turning his head away. “They really understand my ability. Many people don’t.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Yes, Atsushi, I know. You do tend to be the exception to my rules.”

 

“Rules,” Atsushi mumbled, shaking his head.

 

“What was that?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Both of then whipped their heads around as the door opened once more, the outline of a man backlit in the hallway beyond. Atsushi gulped, eyeing him with wary eyes. Whoever this was, they weren’t going to treat them well.

 

“Who are you?” Akutagawa voiced, as steady as he could.

 

“What do you want with us?” Atsushi added.

 

The man chuckled, and when he spoke his voice was all too familiar. Familiar enough for Atsushi to easily recognize, and for Akutagawa to nearly jump out of his skin. “I’m sorry boys. But this had to be done.”

 

“Boss?”

 

Mori stepped into the light; hands clasped behind his back. His eyes landed on Akutagawa, who stared at him, betrayal igniting the flames in his eyes. “Yes. I had to bring you both here for my insurance.”

 

“You’re insurance?” Atsushi asked, lowering his brows. “Insurance for what?”

 

“My top executive, Chuuya, has a special capacity to his ability, as I’m sure you both know.”

 

“What does that have to do with us?”

 

Mori nodded solemnly. “You will find out any minute now.” He turned back to Akutagawa. “I apologize, Ryuunosuke. You were a regrettable choice for this.”

 

“Then why pick me,” he nearly spat. “I’ve been nothing but loyal to you.”

 

“Yes, I’m aware.”

 

Atsushi made to speak again, but stopped when the door smashed against the wall, nearly popping off its hinges. In strolled another man, unruly dark hair bouncing as he crossed to Mori and grabbed him by the collar. “What do you think you’re doing?”

 

Mori merely smirked. “Ah, Dazai, I’m glad you’re here.”

 

“What do you want with Chuuya? And what do you want with Atsushi? Have you not taken enough from me?”

 

The smirk widened to a smile, and he began to laugh. “You have me all wrong. I’m trying to improve Chuuya.”

 

“Improve him? He’s perfectly fine the way he is!”

 

“Not in my opinion. He won’t be as effective as he used to be unless he no longer needs you.”

 

“He will always need me,” Dazai said, his voice lowering with each sentence he spoke. “What are you going to do to him?”

 

“Put me down and I’ll tell you.”

 

Dazai released him and took a step back. “Tell me what you’re doing to him.”

 

“Are you not even going to say hello to our guests? You seem to have forgotten about one.”

 

Dazai raised a brow but failed to conceal his shock at the sight of Akutagawa in a cot beside Atsushi, staring right into his eyes. “What are you playing at, Mori? What are you up to?”

 

“These two, as I’ve already told them, are my insurance.”

 

“Your insurance?”

 

“You see… I don’t want Chuuya to rely on a traitor such as yourself. So, I enlisted the help of another gifted to help me find a way to force him to overcome corruption.”

 

“You got Yosano to do what?” Dazai stepped towards him, now menacingly calm. Atsushi shivered just watching him.

 

“Yosano-kun has agreed to help me improve Chuuya on the premise that I don’t kill Atsushi. However… if an intruder were to try and save the day and stop corruption, namely yourself, then I’d have no choice.”

 

“You knew I’d find out somehow. You knew that I’d get it out of Ranpo and come here. How?”

 

Mori gave him a look. “Dazai, I watched you and Chuuya work together for years. It doesn’t take a genius to know you’d come for him. And so,” he gestured to the partners in the cots, “I created this insurance to back me up.”

 

“What makes you think I won’t just kill you right now?”

 

“Take a look behind you.”

 

When Dazai turned, Atsushi turned his head to glance as well. In the doorway as well as a down the back wall behind the cots stood armed Mafia men. Dazai turned back to Mori, smirking. “Seems like you have this all planned out then.”

 

“Indeed. And, should you attempt to simply escape, I will kill both boys.”

 

“So, you just wanted to trap me here until Chuuya dies?”

 

“Such little faith,” Mori tutted. “He doesn’t need you as much as you seem to think, Dazai.”

 

“Thy aren’t really insurance. Are they?”

 

“Seen right through me, as always, Dazai.”

 

“Then what is it? Why lure me here?”

 

“You have a choice to make.”

 

“What?”

 

Mori stepped towards him, pulling a clear vial from his pocket. “Do you know what this is?” Dazai remained silent. “It’s a little concoction I made up. Lethal. Can you guess what I’m going to use it for?”

 

“On me, hopefully.”

 

“You wish.”

 

“Then what?”

 

“Well… to put it simply… I can’t have my organization working with an Agency of traitors. And thus, all partnerships need to end. First, between yourself and Chuuya. And secondly, between these two.”

 

“So just terminate the deal.”

 

He shook his head. “It’s not that simple. See, as with yourself and Chuuya, I have a feeling these two won’t be able to stay away from each other.”

 

“So, you’re going to kill one of them.”

 

“Yes,” he said, glancing over them both. “One of them must die today, at my hand. However, one of them shall live. And the choice, Dazai, I’m leaving up to you.”

 

Atsushi’s eyes widened, instantly turning to Akutagawa. The man’s face fell. He already knew what Dazai’s choice would be. Something tugged at his heart. “Akutagawa…”

 

“Don’t.”

 

Atsushi could only stare at him with sad eyes, then turn back to Dazai. “Pick him. Save him.”

 

Dazai cocked his head at him. “Atsushi…”

 

“You’ve barely known me a few months. He was so loyal to you for years and—”

 

“He won’t listen to you.” Akutagawa had closed his eyes. “Don’t bother, Atsushi.”

 

“But—”

 

“Atsushi.” Dazai stared down at him, shaking his head.

 

Two-toned eyes turned back to his partner. “Akutagawa, I’m so sorry. If I could choose this for you…”

 

“I know.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Stop…”

 

Mori stepped towards Akutagawa, pouring some of the liquid into another instrument to insert into the IV port. “I am very sorry, Akutagawa-kun. But it has to be done.”

 

“You’re a monster,” Atsushi hissed.

 

Mori made eye contact with him. “So be it.” He turned to Dazai. “Is this your choice?”

 

Dazai glanced between the two.

 

Mori coughed. “Before you choose, this death will be painful. The drug I will administer will target the subject’s vital organs, causing them to fail. As the organs fail the subject will experience chills, a throbbing sensation in the abdomen, restricted breathing, violent coughs, and will then convulse for at least three minutes... Considering Akutagawa’s health it might be less than that. But I intend to introduce the poison in slow doses, so it will be much more prolonged. All for the sake of you losing your humanity knowing you chose such a death for your once loyal apprentice.”

 

Dazai shook his head. “You make me sick.”

 

“Sick in the head, perhaps. Although, you already are. Aren’t you, Dazai?”

 

“First Oda. Now Chuuya and Akutagawa.”

 

“It’s what you deserve, Dazai-kun. I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize to me, you sick bastard.”

 

Mori only chuckled, a smirk on his face. “Is Atsushi whom you choose to save?”

 

Dazai’s eyes flit between the two, and for a fleeting moment, hope sparked in Akutagawa’s eyes. But then Dazai nodded, and the spark disappeared just as quickly.

 

“Don’t do this,” Atsushi begged, struggling against his restraints. “You don’t have to do this.”

 

“Elise?” Mori didn’t even look up as a glowing figured appeared above Atsushi, the figure of the young girl holding his shoulders down against the bed. “On the contrary. This is a necessity.”

 

“Dazai!”

 

Dazai didn’t look at him. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of the clear liquid as it passed through the IV port. Atsushi turned to watch his partner, his chest aching at the sheer terror on his face as the liquid entered his veins. Akutagawa paled as he watched, the muscles in his face twitching as if he were going to cry. He didn’t, but Atsushi wouldn’t have blamed him if he did.

 

“Stay strong, Akutagawa.” Dazai nodded at his former pupil. “You can do it.”

 

For a few moments, nothing happened. Akutagawa stared at the ceiling, breathing slightly heavier than normal, as he had been since the discussion had begun. But slowly, his demeanor began to change. His arm closest to Atsushi jolted slightly, and then his opposite leg. They jolted again and he started to squirm, clenching his jaw as the pain began to radiate through his body. His body shook as the chills came and went in waves, like an ice bath every twenty seconds. And the pain in his abdomen… it stared in the center, blossoming from there and spreading. It burned, the repetitive, searing throb of the poison in his vitals. He squeezed his eyes shut, doing his best not to scrunch his face up.

 

Atsushi watched Akutagawa’s bony fingers curl around the edges of the cot, desperate for something to hang on to. Something to distract him from the pain. And when the slightest whimper of pain reached his ears, Atsushi instinctively made to reach out for him, his fingers pointed in his direction as if to let him gab his hand and squeeze it until it broke.

 

Mori brushed a strand of hair off of the man’s forehead, not even turning when he gestured to Dazai. “Come here.”

 

With a straight face, Dazai crossed to Mori, standing between the two cots. He swallowed thickly, but other than that expressed no emotion of any sort. He watched as Mori administered another dose and Akutagawa’s back arched from the table.

 

Atsushi clenched his fist, struggling against Elise’s hold. Akutagawa writhed on the table, his breathing raspy and laboured. Atsushi felt his eyes water. He’d just began to form some sort of relationship with him, and the man was slipping away before his eyes. After being tortured, no less. And he didn’t deserve it. Especially not from Dazai and Mori.

 

Akutagawa cried out, a heart-wrenching, pained sound. It ended with him coughing, his chest rattling with them. Over and over, worse than he’d ever heard from him. A scream ripped from his throat, followed by a sob.

 

Atsushi fought the lump in his throat as tears slid down his partner’s temples. “You don’t deserve to go through this. I know you don’t.”

 

Dazai turned to look at Atsushi, but the young man couldn’t look at him. His gaze stayed glued to Akutagawa, crying as the pain wracked his body and nearly took over completely.

 

Mori grabbed Dazai’s chin and forced him to look at Akutagawa. “Watch what you’ve done.”

 

As Mori injected the final dose, Atsushi couldn’t fight the tear that slipped down his cheek at the look on Akutagawa’s face. He coughed, seemingly without end, barely able to get any oxygen at all. His entire body shook and the sobs he emitted sounded more like screams. He wouldn’t get that sound out of his head anytime soon, if ever. He wanted nothing more than to take his pain away. But of course, that wasn’t possible.

 

To Atsushi’s horror, Akutagawa began to convulse. His eyes widened as he stared, mortified, at the arching and twisting of his back, the only thing able to move. He threw his head back and forth, his eyes flying open and catching Atsushi’s for the briefest of moments. They said so many things. But he said nothing. All the words were in that one glance, the one pained, tormented expression on his face.

 

Atsushi couldn’t hold back his tears any longer. “I’m so sorry, Ryu. It will be over soon, I promise. You’re so strong.”

 

Over the next minute, slowly, the convulsions stopped. Akutagawa laid on the bed, taking shallow breaths. His eyes fell shut, unable to look Dazai in the eyes as he watched his once loyal apprentice die before his eyes. And as he took his last breath, Atsushi felt the moment his heart shattered into a million pieces.

 

Dazai must have felt it too, because he turned to him with apologetic eyes. But Atsushi still didn’t look at him—he searched Akutagawa’s face, unable to believe what he saw right in front of him. He couldn’t be dead. He just… couldn’t be.

 

“Atsushi—”

 

A crash reverberated throughout the room, followed by another, during which a substance which Atsushi didn’t recognize flew through the air and struck the area beside Akutagawa’s bed, engulfing Mori and everything on his right side for a good five feet.

 

Gunshots filled the room along with hysterical laughter. The guards against the back wall collapsed, the ones in the doorway running before they were incinerated as well. Atsushi whipped his head around, squinting through the dust that had been thrown up by the explosion, and made out a head of red hair. Chuuya. He’s alive.

 

The man now stood a few feet to Akutagawa’s right, where Mori’s cart of supplies had just sat. The floor in the doorway—engulfed. Blood dripped down his face, his normal azure eyes nowhere to be found. He held a wicked smile, though his body shook with exertion and blood drained out of his ear. The back wall was engulfed as well. And then he raised his right hand once more, the black ball swirling at his fingertips, until Dazai’s fingers curled around his wrist.

 

“Chuuya. Rest.”

 

The man collapsed, crumpling into Dazai’s arms. Dazai sank to the floor with his former partner, holding him to his chest, relief evident on his face. He held a hand on the back of his head, fingers tangled in orange locks. He breathed heavily, gathering Chuuya in his arms. Slowly, blue eyes turned to meet him, seeming only half aware. “You came.”

 

Dazai gave him an incredulous look. “Of course, I came… You needed me.”

 

“I’ll always need you…”

 

Yosano burst into the room through the hole Chuuya has blasted in the opposite wall. “Oh, thank God! You’re all ok—What happened?”

 

“Mori killed him,” Atsushi nearly wailed, searching Yosano’s face with wild eyes. "He just drugged him! It was… it was awful!”

 

Yosano was at his side instantly, cutting his restraints. She went in for a hug, but Atsushi rolled off the other way, kneeling next to Akutagawa. He took his hand, still warm as if he were alive. It had only been a minute. It was as if he could still hear him breathe, see his pulse in his neck, like he’d jump up at any second and tell him what a moron he was. But it never came. He really was gone.

 

Only a minute…

 

“Yosano! Yosano please bring him back. Please!”

 

Yosano raised her brows at him. “Him? Are you sure?”

 

“He suffered so badly,” Atsushi admitted, tears rolling down his face once again. He turned to look at her, desperate. “I’m an awful partner. I just left him there and there was nothing I could do except for watch him suffer. Please. Save him.”

 

“Please,” came Chuuya’s soft voice.

 

Yosano looked down at him, his head resting on Dazai’s chest. She sighed, watching Dazai stare at the young man’s pale body. “Fine.” She stepped up to the side of the bed, noticing the defibrillator. Briefly she questioned Mori’s motives, but quickly shook the thought away. “I have to bring him back to the brink of death first, so I’ll need this.”

 

Within moments, she’d been able to restart his heart. Though he didn’t regain consciousness and he didn’t breathe, it put everyone at ease.

 

“Ability,” said Yosano quietly. “Thou shalt not die.”

 

Golden butterflies escaped her body, covering Akutagawa from head to toe. Within seconds he regained his colour and his chest rose and fell at its normal pace. She stepped away, watching his eyes flutter.

 

Atsushi watched, his hand lying on top of his partner’s once more. Grey eyes appeared and he blinked at the ceiling, slowly. “Ryuunosuke.”

 

He tilted his head to the side, mouth falling open slightly. His voice was raspy when he spoke. “Atsushi?”

 

Atsushi swiped his thumb over the back of the man’s hand. “Yeah.”

 

“But I was… I was dead.”

 

“Yosano took care of that. She saved you when I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

 

He searched Atsushi’s face. “I-I don’t understand…”

 

“Chuuya took out Mori. Everyone’s okay. You’re safe.” He repeated the motion once more.

 

Akutagawa turned his hand over and gripped Atsushi’s, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling. He took a deep breath. “I’m alive.”

 

“I figured your death wouldn’t be permanent.”

 

Akutagawa lifted his head to stare at Dazai, sitting on the floor with Chuuya cradled to his chest. He scowled. “You made your decision.”

 

Dazai raised his brows in shock and then lowered them, guilt replacing his surprise. “I’m sorry, Akutagawa.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I’d come check on you,” rasped Chuuya, “but I can’t even stand right now.”

 

“I understand, Chuuya-san.”

 

“So, who’s the boss now?” All eyes turned to Yosano, standing a few feet away. She shrugged. “I mean, did you guys not have a successor in mind for when Mori inevitably kicked the bucket?”

 

Silence took over the room momentarily, until the battered redhead spoke up. “I… I guess that would be me. The only other exec we have right now is Kouyou, and she doesn’t want to be the boss.”

 

“I thought there were five,” Atsushi asked.

 

“In theory. There’s Kouyou and I. Then there’s Ace, but he died recently. Some unnamed guy that no one has ever meet… Odd, I know. And then Mori left a spot open for Dazai.”

 

“So… you’re the new Boss…” Akutagawa pondered, pushing himself to a sitting position. “Huh.”

 

Chuuya sat up, shifting to sit with his back against Dazai’s chest. “I… Yeah.”

 

“Excuse me!”

 

Everyone turned to the doorway, which had been largely obliterated. There stood a man and a woman, both with their dark sunglasses on top of their heads and their guns at the sides.

 

Chuuya cleared his throat. “Yes?”

 

“Where’s the boss?”

 

He raised his chin. “The boss is dead. You answer to me now.”

 

The man spluttered while the girl simply nodded. “Chuuya Nakahara correct? The executive?”

 

“That’s me. Let Ozaki-san know.”

 

“Will do, Nakahara-san.”

 

The two left, leaving the group alone in the ruined room once more. Chuuya turned back to them, and then to Yosano specifically. “Thank you.”

 

She startled. “Huh?”

 

“For taking care of me as best you could. And keeping me alive.”

 

“Oh! Um… it was nothing. I found some interesting results on the EEG. We can go over that later though.” He nodded. “I’m sorry Mori put you back in an experiment.”

 

Chuuya dropped his gaze and Dazai wrapped his arms around him. He shook his head, red hair flying out every which way. “I hate the lab…”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

He looked at Dazai over his shoulder. “I will be.”

 

“So… who are you going to make executives, Chuuya-san?”

 

A smile slipped onto his face as he stared at the floor. And then, when he raised his head, he looked straight at Akutagawa. “Akutagawa-kun, how would you like to be my executive?”

 

The man’s jaw dropped, but he quickly set his face to one of nonchalance. “I’d love to.”

 

Chuuya nodded. “Good.”

 

“Well… that’s it then. It’s over.”

 

“Yeah, Atsushi,” said Dazai, leaning his head against Chuuya’s. “It’s over. And Akutagawa?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I really am sorry. You were a very loyal apprentice.”

 

He shrugged. “Thanks.”

 

“You’ve become very strong.”

 

“Does that mean I have your approval?”

 

Dazai nodded, his face softer than Akutagawa had ever seen it. “Yes. You have my approval.”

 

Akutagawa stared at him momentarily, until Atsushi squeezed his hand and he looked down, the faintest smile playing on his lips. “Thank you, Dazai-san.”

 

“You earned it.”

 

The five of them sat in that room for a while longer, talking about what was to come next. Yosano retrieved Chuuya’s phone from the room they’d been in before, allowing him to call Kouyou back. Dazai then used it to call Kunikida at the Agency and apologize to Ranpo, which surprised everyone. Two apologies from Dazai in one day had to be some kind of record.

 

But in the end, they all survived. Akutagawa, though he remembered the immense pain, no longer had to live through that suffering. Atsushi was able to comfort him the way he’d wanted to then, of course, not without some initial protest. Yosano had a breakthrough with corruption, albeit a small one, and relished in the fact that she’d been able to solve a mystery that Ranpo hadn’t. As for Dazai and Chuuya… they stayed huddled together on the floor for ages. Eventually, Chuuya fell asleep in Dazai’s arms, content to be with him.

 

Dazai had come when he needed him, just as he said that he would. Mori had been wrong. Chuuya did need Dazai, just as Dazai needed him. Just as Atsushi and Akutagawa needed each other. And luckily, they had all survived the ordeal to continue on together. They had all made it out alive and well.

 

Thanks to blackholes and butterflies.

Notes:

Hey guys!! I was actually given a proper outline for this story so thank you to Shane, because I could have never come up with this on my own. I'm so glad you trusted me to write this for you!! Let me know what you guys think of this in the comments blow! Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 36: The Book (Request)

Summary:

Written for @Panickedpansexual ! I am SOOOO sorry this took so long. Like LITERALLY months. I just ha such a hard time with this one for some reason I just couldn't figure out how to make it work. I hope you haven't given up on me, lol. It may not be exactly what you were expecting... but here it is. Also... I hope you don't mind Soukokou...

The book is not what it seems.

TRIGGER WARNING: Graphic descriptions of cutting (not i the sense of self-harm, but still cutting. That doesn't make sense but I don't want to spoil it.), self-harm scars, v*miting, blood, shock.

The stillness of night didn’t do much to mask the slinking of four men through the weeds outside the dorms. Nor did it mute the tapping of their shoes on the stairs despite how quiet they tried to be. Over the floorboards, picked the lock, and onto a carpeted floor, cushioning their approach to the unsuspecting victim.

 

Willing the door not to creak in the silence, the leader pushed through, squinting through the darkness. And in the middle of the room lay the man they’d come for, asleep on his futon and completely unaware, just as they’d planned. However, as the leader knelt down next to the sleeping man, he was met with the shock of startled brown eyes and a gun in his right hand.

 

In a split second, the second man who’d stood in the doorway had both taken the gun and covered the man’s mouth before he could call out. As he tried to bite him, the first man tutted. “Come now, Dazai. You know the drill.”

 

“But rill?”

 

“What drill?” Fyodor chuckled. “I suppose you wouldn’t know, would you. Ah, well. It’s not important for you to know anyway.”

 

“But do yu wat?”

 

“What do I want? You’ll find out very soon, rest assured. Sigma, hold his legs down please. Tie them if you must.”

 

“O-okay.”

 

“Now,” said Fyodor, paying no attention as the fourth man straddled Dazai so he couldn’t move. “To remove these pesky bandages.”

 

“Stob!”

 

“My apologies, but I can’t do that.” He wiggled one slender finger under the edge of Dazai’s bandages and pulled up, loosening them to the point of being able to unravel them. Torturously slow, he removed the wrap from Dazai’s arm, forcing him to watch the damaged skin underneath be revealed to everyone in the room. Fyodor tutted once more, shaking his head. “You really shouldn’t do this to yourself, Dazai. Leave the damage to me.”

 

From his pocket, Fyodor drew a short blade with a single point at its tip. He grinned as it gleamed in the moonlight, then glanced to Dazai. “This will be over soon. It’s nothing personal, really.”

 

As he took the knife to Dazai’s skin, the man’s brown eyes widened at the ceiling. His head had been forced back, any noise he could make muffled by the second man, and his movement restricted by the third, Sigma, and the fourth man. Fyodor dug into his skin, repeatedly, the tip of the knife tearing through layers of skin and muscle. He could feel the tip grind into bone, writhing under then men’s’ hold. He tried to scream, tried to call to his neighbours for help but to no avail. They would not come for him. Not when they couldn’t hear his distress.

 

Dazai couldn’t tell what Fyodor had carved into his skin, couldn’t even raise his head to get a clue. But whatever it was seared and burned. The ceiling above him became fuzzy, black spots dancing in his vision and something warm and slippery trailed down his arm. By the time Fyodor was done, Dazai couldn’t even tell the liquid from it’s smell and Fyodor’s face had become a liquidy, out of focus blur. All he saw clearly was a blinding white flash, followed by the same darkness as before.

 

Faintly, he could hear Fyodor’s voice speaking to his companions. “Thank you,that’s okau Nikolai, Sigma. Now, fourth, you know what to do.”

 

The fourth man, who sat on Dazai’s chest chuckled, removing himself and letting one of the others replace him, though he couldn’t tell which. Then he leant down close over Dazai, into his glassy eyes, and began to speak.

 

The last thing Dazai remained conscious of that night was the man’s final, fleeting words.

 

“The fault is irrevocably and inexcusably yours.”

 

*

 

For weeks, Dazai couldn’t help the feeling that something was wrong. For weeks, he went to work, staring around the Agency as if someone were going to suddenly drop dead or be attacked on a job and the fault would be his. And though he couldn’t shake the feeling, he tried his best to play it off as nothing.

 

Even through his time in prison, locked up and playing mind games with Fyodor, the feeling wouldn’t leave him alone. It gnawed at him daily and sat on his chest like a rock at night. His scars itched and his mind whirred, desperate for some kind of answer. Why was there this issue in his brain, this itch he couldn’t scratch? It was on the tip of his tongue, and yet, whenever he thought he had it, it slipped away again, like a thief into the night.

 

Once Chuuya had broken him out of prison, he thought that maybe his anxiety would stop. That finally, everything was back in its rightful place. But it wasn’t. Although the agency had gotten back together, Fukichi had been killed and Ranpo had worked out a conditional bail with the government, something still wasn’t right.

 

Of course, there was the matter of each individual at the Agency. They’d all gotten pretty fucked up over the course of the previous few weeks. It wasn’t common to hear Kenji scream in the middle of the night, his hands scrabbling at his chest, pulling at an invisible sword. He’d been inconsolable the first few nights back, Atsushi had told him, to the point that he’d taken to sleeping in their dorm with himself and Kyouka.

 

Yosano had found herself trying to calm Junichiro down from a panic attack a few times a week since they’d all reconciled. Herself and Atsushi would lead him from the room to the infirmary and stay with him until the shaking subsided and he breathed properly.

 

Kunikida… he’d been a wreck. Yosano had been able to heal his hands, but he still sometimes flinched as if they’d been sliced off all over again. He tried his hardest to be there for everyone else despite the fact that he fell apart at night, blaming himself for all that had happened.

 

Kyouka, try as they all had, had not been able to keep her innocence. She’d gone back for Atsushi and ended up in a fight for her life, continuously on dangerous missions. The girl couldn’t relax. She was always on edge.

 

Yosano didn’t seem like herself anymore. She didn’t joke around about her ability. She couldn’t. It brought back painful memories—one’s that had only been solidified during the previous events. And to add to it, she barely escaped being sent back to work for Mori. Luckily, Fukuzawa had been able to work something out.

 

Ranpo had spent weeks on his own for the first time since he was 14. He’d been terrified, despite the front he’d put up when he’d saved his friends. On the run and worrying about the other’s well-being more than his own, he was more alert now than he’d ever been before. And not only that, but he’d become more clingy to Fukuzawa than ever. He spoke of monsters outside that no one could see… But Fukuzawa somehow understood what he said.

 

And Atsushi… his young apprentice. Left to fend for himself until Kyouka had arrived, and by a miracle, saved by Lucy and Ango. And yet, he was then sent to his death once more, paired with Akutagawa to fight Fukichi. And what a fight it had been, from what he’d been told. Atsushi had seriously believed his partner was dead and dying more than once. Not only that, but he’d dropped a bomb on him, and now Atsushi worried about his illness, trying to find a way to help him get better. He’d lost limbs, been battered and bruised and sliced up… and still he worried about others. He had a kind heart. And Dazai didn’t want to ruin that.

 

Every day he went to work… was forced to see their faces. To face the consequences of his actions. To see what he’d done. It was his fault, after all. In some way or another, it was. He knew it.

 

The search for the book continued daily, over half of the staff working on it at any given time. Ranpo never took a break form it, tirelessly searching for clues and trying to work it out. The day before he’d seemed to have some kind of epiphany, but no one knew quite what it was. All they knew was that if they hadn’t found the book in the next two days, they all had to go back to court. And the likelihood of being released again was slim to nothing.

 

*

 

Dazai sipped his tea as he entered the office after lunch, a paper bag in his hand. He set it down on Kunikida’s desk, who glanced up at him quizzically. “What’s in the bag?”

 

“A stinkbomb.”

 

“Come on, Dazai. What is it, really?”

 

“It’s just a muffin. You didn’t eat lunch.”

 

Kunikida sighed. “I have more pressing matters…”

 

Dazai nodded, flipping the lid of his laptop up and logging in. He chewed on his bottom lip, barely noticing Atsushi sit down beside him. He stared at the files he’d left open before lunch, still trying to puzzle it out.

 

“Dazai?”

 

“Hmm?” He glanced up, turning to his left. “Yeah, Ranpo?”

 

“Can you come here for a minute?”

 

He furrowed his brows, but stood anyways, crossing to the detective. “What is it? Did you find something?”

 

Ranpo nodded, not looking up. “Yes. But I need to check it with you first?”

 

“Okay, hit me.”

 

Green eyes met brown. “I need to see under your bandages.”

 

Dazai blinked at him, before bursting out laughing. “You’re funny, Ranpo. No, seriously, what is it?”

 

“I need to see under your bandages.”

 

The smile fell from his face. “What?”

 

“I need to see what’s underneath. On your arms, specifically.”

 

“Wha—no! No, you’re not doing that!”

 

“What’s the commotion over there?”

 

Dazai turned to Kunikida, who raised a brow at the frightened look on his face. “Ranpo wants to see under my bandages.”

 

“And how does that have anything to do with this case, Ranpo?”

 

“Just trust me. It has everything to do with this case. Now, Dazai—”

 

“No!”

“Why not? What’s so secret under there that you can’t let me see for the purposes of this case?”

 

Dazai blanked, pulled back to every single instance that caused a mark to lie on the skin beneath. He gulped. “That’s private.”

 

“Dazai,” said Atsushi softly. “Just let Ranpo see. If he’s serious about this, it must be important. And none of us are going to judge you for what’s underneath.”

 

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as his fingers tugged at the loose end tucked underneath. Inch by inch, scarred skin revealed itself, and inch by inch, the Agency became more concerned about the man who wore it. When the bandages finally hit the floor, Dazai opened his eyes, gauging Ranpo’s reaction.

 

To his surprise, all Ranpo did was step around to his right side. He pursed his lips. “I’m sorry Dazai, I need to see your upper arm. Can you roll up your sleeves that far?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then I’ll need you to take your shirt off. The bandages underneath can stay on, but the shirt has to come off.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“I told you,” said Ranpo, getting irritated. “I need to see your upper arm.”

 

“What?” Dazai demanded, holding out his arms, anger seeping into his tone. “Are my self-harm scars and burns and miscellaneous other cuts not good enough for you? What are you looking for, Ranpo? What more proof do you need?”

 

Ranpo only stared him dead in the eyes, his lips a thin line. “Dazai. I think you’re the book.”

 

“Wha—”

 

‘The fault is irrevocably and inexcusably yours.’

 

Dazai froze in place, his eyes wide. The others, specifically Ranpo, called his name, but he said nothing. Was that true? Was this why? Was this the reason?

 

Abruptly, Dazai pulled off his vest and tie and began to unbutton his shirt. One by one, the buttons slid through their holes, revealing more damaged skin and more bandages. He tossed the shirt onto Ranpo’s desk, craning his neck to look at the skin on his upper arm. Ranpo did the same, moving it under the light, until he suddenly stopped. Squinting at it, he raised a finger and pressed down right in the middle of a scar.

 

Dazai yelped, jumping away from Ranpo. He stared at him with wide eyes. “What the hell was that?”

 

“Was that one self-inflicted?”

 

“No.”

 

“Do you remember getting it?”

 

He glanced down at it. The scar was two precise lines running a good length of his arm, with white scar tissue around it. He shook his head. “No… No, I don’t remember this at all.”

 

Ranpo nodded, looking around the room. “So. We found our book.”

 

“But how,” asked Kunikida. “How could he possibly…”

“Dazai doesn’t remember because the DOA has a fifth member with a mind wiping ability. They clearly selected that memory specifically so he wouldn’t suspect. When I poked that scar, it glowed. Bright white. And the two white lines suggest where the text was, same with the surrounding area of scar tissue.”

 

“But there’s only one. They used the book more than once.”

 

Ranpo shook his head, crossing to Dazai’s other side. “There’s another one here, too.”

 

“He really is the book,” whispered Atsushi, staring at Dazai in amazement.

 

All eyes were on him in that moment. As he stood half naked in front of his coworkers and friends, his scars bared for them all to see. Ranpo nodded at him. Dazai paled, his heartbeat rising tremendously. “No…no. I-I didn’t know…”

 

“We know, Dazai,” Kunikida reassured him.

 

“I…” He shook his head. “This really is all my fault. All of this. You… You’re all suffering because of me.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” voiced Junichiro.

 

Dazai backed against the desk, trying to escape. “No. No no no. I-I could have fixed this I could have!”

 

“Dazai—”

 

“No, Ranpo, I could have! But instead you were left on your own and Kunikida lost his hands and Jun has PTSD and Kenji gets these awful nightmares and Akutagawa almost died and and and—”

 

Ranpo took hold of his shoulders from where he slumped against the desk, giving him a shake. “Dazai!” A sharp intake of breath. Dazai stared down at the detective, breathing heavily. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. But the thing is that now you can change it. You have that power to fix it.”

 

“Right.”

 

“So, fix it.”

 

He nodded vigorously. “Okay. I will.”

 

Ranpo nodded, stepping back. “Okay. Good.”

 

“What do I need to say?” Dazai asked, crossing towards the bank of desks that sat Kenji, Kyouka, and Junichiro.

 

“Simply, ‘The Armed Detective Agency is Innocent.’”

 

“Got it.”

 

As he passed behind Kyouka, he snatched her dagger from her obi, stepping out of her reach as she swung at him reflexively. “Dazai! What are you doing?”

 

He said nothing, remaining silent as he walked back to where he had previously stood, talking to Ranpo. Then he looked up, staring him dead in the yes. “You’re sure about this?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Without another word, Dazai began to drag the blade over the skin of his inner forearm. The shape of a T quickly began to appear, followed by an H. The blade slipped slightly as Atsushi’s yell startled him. “Woah! Dazai, what are you doing?”

 

“I have to do this, Atsushi-kun.”

 

“But… shouldn’t you sit? Doesn’t it hurt?”

 

Dazai chuckled lowly, not meeting his eyes. “Cutting myself this way is nothing new to me.”

 

As the rest of the room went silent once more, Dazai continued with the sentence. Letter by letter, words by word, not deep enough to cause serious injuries but enough to bleed. And slowly but surely, the phrase was completed, shining scarlet on his arm. He dropped the blade to his side, looking up at Ranpo. “Is this it?”

 

Ranpo beckoned to him and he crossed to where he stood, leaning against Kunikida’s desk. He nodded. “Yes. But it should glow…”

 

“What?”

 

“Remember how it glowed when I touched it? It needs to glow… but—”

 

Ranpo stopped as a white light began to seep from the words. However, it flickered quickly, and burned itself out. Dazai glanced around at them all, then to Ranpo. “Was that it?”

 

“No. No, it flickered. From what I’ve been able to figure out, it needs to glow bright and take over the space as it spreads the truth.”

 

“So…”

 

“It wasn’t deep enough.”

 

“What?” Kunikida looked between the two. “What do you mean? It’s bad enough he had to do this, but cutting deeper could cause some serious issues!”

 

Ranpo bit his lip. “It shouldn’t be too much deeper… I hope.”

 

Dazai grabbed the blade and hovered it over the first letter. “You’re sure?”

 

“Positive. I wouldn’t make you do this if I wasn’t.”

 

He dug it deeper into his arm, his face contorting at the pain, a hiss escaping immediately. “I’ve never had to…”

 

“Never that deep…?” Kunikida asked.

 

Dazai shook his head. Yosano cleared her throat. “He’s getting into muscle territory there almost. He shouldn’t be doing this himself.”

 

“I’m fine—Ah!”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

Dazai ignored her, only continuing the phrase. Blood dribbled off his arm and onto the floor. He couldn’t do it quickly, and it had to be legible. His eyes welled with tears, the writing becoming blurry. His face drained of colour, his lips a ghostly shade as he continued. Tears slipped down his face, mingling with his blood. He couldn’t tell them apart anymore. He couldn’t even tell what he wrote.

 

Kunikida stood abruptly, noticing the second Dazai started to sway on his feet. Steadying him, he studied his partner’s face. “Dazai? You shouldn’t be doing this yourself.”

 

He sniffed. “’M fine.”

 

“Can you see what you’re, er, writing?” Atsushi asked.

 

He said nothing, the knife shaking in his hand. Kunikida pulled him backwards and sat, pulling the man onto his lap as his knees gave out. “Okay, Dazai. Alright. Give me the knife.”

 

It wasn’t hard to pry the blade form Dazai’s weak fingers, the far off look in his eyes a testament to his pain. He pulled him steadier so his torso leaned against his own chest, one arm around his back and the other on his knees. His eyes turned to Ranpo. “Can you finish the job?”

 

Ranpo turned his head away and shook it. “No. N-no, I can’t…”

 

“Let me do it.”

 

Yosano stepped out from the group that had surrounded them, worried about their friend. She swiped the knife from Kunikida’s hand and looked down at Dazai. She wiped the cold sweat from his forehead with a straight face. “This will only take a minute, Dazai-kun.”

 

He still said nothing, staring at the wall across from him with glassy eyes. Yosano dug the blade into the letter he’d left off at, finishing the job swiftly. He clenched his jaw and eyes shut during it, a few strangled noises escaping, but nothing more than that. When she stepped away, the entirety of the Agency held their breath. The same white light appeared, stronger this time. It spread over his arm, but then it flickered, too, and extinguished itself.

 

Dazai whimpered—a sound none of them ever thought they’d hear from him. He began to shake and Kunikida tightened his hold on him, using both arms.

 

“How is that still not enough?” Yosano asked, exasperated. “Any more and I’m going to hit his artery and bone.”

 

“That… that might be what has to be done…” Ranpo had gone pale, too. “I’m so sorry, Dazai.”

 

“How would he have survived then?”

 

“It seems to heal itself. And he has to be conscious, which is why they had to use the memory ability.”

 

She sighed. “I’ll go get a scalpel then.”

 

Kunikida closed his eyes as she left, impatient for this to be over. But then Dazai whimpered again, and he leaned over to look at him. “You doing okay, there…?”

 

“I don’t feel well…”

 

“Not surprising,” said Yosano as she returned. “Your body is essentially going into shock.”

 

Atsushi approached them, handing a plastic bag to Dazai, who clutched it with numb fingers. Kunikida thanked him, then looked back to Yosano.

 

“Ready, Dazai?” He nodded slowly. Yosano took a deep breath, then plunged the scalpel into his arm, straight through the muscle, and pushing until it hit bone. Immediately, Dazai lurched forwards, throwing up into the bag, the scalpel still in his arm. Kunikida held onto him to keep him steady, and Yosano rested a hand on his back.

 

She rubbed it, watching him in concern. “Should I stop? We can take a break…”

 

He shook his head, and then puked again, tears squeezing from his eyes. She sighed, pushing him back to rest against Kunikida, watching his breathing shake and stutter along with his body. Then she began carving again, biting her lip.

 

“Ranpo, can you hold his arm still for me?” The man stepped forwards and took hold of his wrist and elbow, keeping his head turned so he didn’t have to look. “Thank you.”

 

The other four members of the agency stood off to the side uncomfortably, barely able to watch. Atsushi and Kyouka watched in horror, Kyouka standing partially behind him and peeking from around his side, clutching his waist. Junichiro stood next to him, unable to tear his eyes from the mortifying scene before him. He tried to keep his breathing calm, partially for him, but mostly for Kenji, who’s face he kept pressed against his chest. The boy’s breathing had gotten erratic and he’d almost puked twice already, body shaking. He kept a steady arm around Kenji, the other on the back of his head to keep him from watching, blond hair between his fingers. None of the three who watched missed the pleading look in Dazai’s teary eyes, or the way Yosano did her best to speed up.

 

Dazai sobbed as the scalpel grinded into his bone—nearly screamed as it sliced through his artery. Blood spurted from the would, and Yosano set a hand over it, doing her best to finish quickly. She tried to ignore his shaking body, the way he grit his teeth and bit back screams as the sobs wracked his chest.

 

Kunikida ran a hand over Dazai’s side, desperate to soothe him in some way. But when someone is putting you through a prolonged time of intense pain, there really is no way to do that. “It’s almost over, Osamu… it’s almost over… I promise. Shh… it’s okay, you’re doing a good thing…” Dazai choked on his tears, pressing his face into his partner’s neck. Kunikida felt his heart clench as Dazai’s tears rolled over his skin, a fierce protectiveness overtaking him. “Shh… you’ll be okay in a minute, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Osamu… you’re doing so well, it’s almost over… I’m so sorry…”

 

And then Yosano stepped back, holding up her hands. “I’m done.” The scalpel clattered to the floor, staining it with Dazai’s blood. She closed her eyes and backed away, giving him space. “It’s over.”

 

He peeked at her from where his head rested, the pain held on his face nearly knocking her off her face. She gave him an apologetic look, but found herself lost for words. Ranpo stroked Dazai’s hair, unsure how else to comfort his sobbing coworker. Kunikida hugged him. “It’s over, Osamu. It’s over. It’s over.”

 

The light reappeared, seeping from his skin and spreading over Dazai’s arm. Then his shoulder, his torso, his legs… Soon it overtook him, tearing a scream from his throat, that seemed to echo long after it was over. It spanned the room, seemingly blinding everyone inside. The group blinked as it disappeared, momentarily only able to see white. However, when their vision became clear again, they found that Dazai was gone. He was no longer in Kunikida’s arms but had somehow managed to stumble to the bathroom mere feet away, his body hanging over the toilet basin.

 

Dazai threw up violently, gushes of liquid being expelled from his stomach due to all of the pain and stress to his body. Yosano dropped down beside him and pressed a cloth to his arm where she had struck the artery. “Dazai, I’m so sorry. That was brutal.”

 

“It was enhanced because of the circumstances, as well, I think,” said Ranpo, appearing in the doorway. He handed Yosano a cup of water, and she set it on the floor next to her.

 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Dazai,” she repeated, rubbing his back. She watched him intently, noting how clammy his skin felt to the touch. How pale, and cool he was, trembling as he sobbed between heaves. He could barely hold himself up.

 

Kunikida entered the room and knelt behind him, securing Dazai with an arm around his upper chest. He also laid a flat palm against his stomach to help but didn’t want to press too hard and cause him any more discomfort.

 

Atsushi, Kyouka, and Kenji ran over to the door as well to check on Dazai. However, although Atsushi and Kyouka were relieved, Kenji immediately turned his back, slapping hand to his mouth as he tried to hold in his vomit. Startled, Kyouka turned to him. “Ken-chan?”

 

He waived her off with his free hand. “’M fine.”

 

She pulled him outside again, the two standing against the wall as she attempted to calm him down. As they exited, Junichiro went running over. “Guys! GUYS!” Ranpo and Atsushi turned to look at him with raised brows. “We did it! Dazai! Dazai, you did it! We were found innocent! Look!” He held out his phone which showed an article detailing their acquittal.

 

Atsushi, Yosano, and Ranpoall cheered, screaming to each other in delight. Dazai simply smiled warily, looking over his shoulder. “That’s… that’s great…”

 

“Dazai,” Atsushi mumbled. “You don’t look so good…”

 

“Huh?” Dazai asked, blinking at him slowly. His blurry vision swam, black dots swimming in his vision, before they consumed it entirely. He crumbled into Kunikida’s arm, who stumbled back to sit against the wall, Dazai unconscious against him. He stared at him with wide eyes.

 

“Atsushi, get me some cloths from the infirmary and some cleaning supplies.”

 

“On it.”

 

“I’m not surprised he passed out,” said Yosano, looking up at Kunikida. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, just… woah.”

 

“Very articulate.”

 

He gave her a look. “I don’t really know how to express it. That was just intense, and I never want to see him like that ever again. I don’t care how much he’s annoyed me in the past. He… never again.”

 

Yosano nodded as Ranpo spoke up. “I never thought I’d see him vulnerable like that. And I never want to see him cry like that. Or… hear him like that. Ever again.”

 

She nodded again. “We also need to talk to him about these other scars…” She ran a fingertip over a series of other horizontal and vertical scars on his arms. Self-harm scars.

 

Kunikida sighed. “I was afraid of that…”

 

“Me too,” said Ranpo. “I have tried to talk to him about it in the past, but he always weasled his way out of it.”

 

“Yeah, he’s good at that.”

 

Yosano chuckled, glancing up at Atsushi as he reappeared. He handed her the supplies, looking down at his mentor, limp on the floor. “He’ll be okay, right?”

 

“Yeah,” said Yosano, mopping the sweat from the man’s forehead. “He’ll be perfectly fine.”

 

“O-okay.”

 

“Yeah, try telling Chuuya that.”

 

Yosano raised a brow at Kunikida, adding alcohol to a cloth and doing her best to disinfect the wounds. “Why do you say that?”

 

Ranpo, Kunikida, and Atsushi all eyed her. “You’re kidding right?”

 

“No.”

 

“You haven’t seen how protective he is over this one.”

 

She squinted at him. “I thought they hated each other.”

 

The three burst out laughing, and even Kyouka poked her head in from the other side of the door. “Chuuya? Hate Dazai?” She laughed. “He never used to shut up about him.”

 

“Yosano-sensei,” Atsushi chuckled. “Um…”

 

“What? What is it that you all know and I don’t?”

 

“Dazai-san and Chuuya-san are together.”

 

“What?”

 

“They’re in a relationship.”

 

She paused her cleaning and stared up at Atsushi in silence. “Really?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Huh. So what would Chuuya do?”

 

“Go batshit,” said Kunikida. “Chuuya would go batshit.”

 

“I would go what?” All eyes turned to the doorway, footsteps approaching from the office. And then he appeared in the doorway, his jaw immediately dropping. “Holy fuck! Osamu! What happened to him?”

 

Dazai stirred, groaning, his eyes fluttering open. “Chuu?”

 

Chuuya dropped to his knees, a hand on Dazai’s cheek. “What happened to you? Are you okay?”

 

He hummed in response, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

 

In the doorway, another voice spoke, drawing everyone’s attention. “Is Dazai-san okay?”

 

In the doorway stood Akutagawa, his eyes wide. Atsushi turned to him and guided him back out into the office. “He’s fine. Let me explain…”

 

Chuuya did a once over of Dazai’s body, eyes resting on where Yosano held a cloth to his arm. He made eye contact with her, and then turned back to his boyfriend. “Osamu, were you self-harming again?”

 

Dazai let out a breathy laugh. “Yes… But not for why you think…”

 

“What do you mean?” H glanced up at Kunikida and Yosano. “What is he saying? What does he mean?”

 

“Dazai is the book,” Ranpo stated.

 

“What?”

 

Yosano removed the cloth. “Look.”

 

“The Armed Detective Agency is innocent.” He blinked, looking back and forth between Dazai’s arm and smiling face.

 

“I did it, Chibi. I did a good thing.”

 

Chuuya’s face softened. “You did.”

 

“Do you love me?”

 

“Of course I do! You know I do!”

 

“He’s a little out of it,” Kunikida warned him.

 

Chuuya nodded. “Yeah… I can take him if you want, Kunikida.”

 

“I’m sure he’d rather have you hold him.”

 

Chuuya took Dazai into his arms after Kunikida disentangled himself and stood, brushing himself off. He cradled Dazai against his chest, holding him tightly. Blue eyes studied the wounds on his arm once more, cringing. “Is that… is that bone?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He blanched, staring up at Yosano. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

 

“Nope. I had to carve those words down into his bone in order for it to work.”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

“And we had to do it three times,” Ranpo added. “Dazai couldn’t finish the second so Yosano took over.”

 

“Oh my God!”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Chuuya hugged Dazai tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Osamu. You didn’t deserve that.”

 

“Fyodor did it to him at least two other times that he can’t remember because of a memory erasing ability.”

 

“Holy fuck…”

 

“He’s been through a lot.”

 

“That’s an understatement.” Chuuya sighed. “Why haven’t you stitched him up yet?”

 

It was Yosano’s turn to sigh. “I can’t. It has to heal on its own.”

 

“That’s some bullshit! What the fuck?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Can I at least take him somewhere mor comfortable?”

 

She nodded. “Yeah. Just give him a few more minutes for his stomach to settle.” He raised a brow. “He got pretty sick after.”

 

“It was gross,” Ranpo added.

 

“Lovely.”

 

“Ye—”

 

The ringing of Dazai’s phone cut them off. Kunikida bent down and picked it up, squinting at it. “Hello?”

 

“Kunikida?”

 

“Ango?”

 

“Where’s Dazai?”

 

He paused, staring down at his partner with a cringe. “That’s… not important. He’s fine. What’s going on?”

 

“Fyodor’s dead.”

 

“What?”

 

“Put me on speaker.”

 

“Alright.” Kunikida pressed the speaker button and then held it out in his palm.

 

“Fyodor was found dead just a few minutes ago. We don’t know exactly what killed him, however, it may have been because it was necessary with the rules of the book for him to die in order for you to be innocent.”

 

“Well, that’s another problem off our hands,” muttered Yosano.

 

“Also, the gifted known as Sigma, as I’m sure Atsushi will be happy to know, has returned to the Sky Casino.”

 

“He’s safe?” Atsushi beamed.

 

“He is. And the other one, Nikolai Gogol, has been set free.”

 

“That was his wish, after all…”

 

“As for the fifth member, we are not sure of his whereabouts or even his identity. But we can discuss that another time.”

 

“Thanks, Ango,” said Kunikida. “We appreciate it.”

 

“Congratulations you guys. Enjoy your freedom.”

 

“We will. Bye, Ango.”

 

“Goodbye.”

 

Kunikida hung up the phone, handing it back to Dazai. He took it, nearly dropping it as soon as it was in his hand. Chuuya only shook his head. “You’re free now, Dazai. All of you are okay.”

 

Dazai nodded, smiling wider. “I did something good.”

 

“You did.”

 

“Oda would be proud of me. Right?”

 

Chuuya looked down at him with such an intense love it was nearly palpable. “Yes, baby. Oda would be proud of you.”

 

Dazai let his eyes fall shut, nuzzling against Chuuya’s chest. “Love you…”

 

Chuuya pressed a gentle kiss to Dazai’s lips. “I love you, too, Osamu.”

 

As Dazai fell asleep, Chuuya rose to his feet, scooping Dazai up in his arms. It looked kind of funny, such a small man carrying Dazai’s lanky figure. But, as he passed through the office and into the infirmary, Kunikida couldn’t help but smile. Dazai was safe now. He’d be just fine.

 

Thank God for Chuuya. And Yosano. And Ranpo.

 

Thank God for Ranpo.

 

Without him, they would’ve been toast. Gone back to court and sentenced to death. And although it had caused Dazai immense pain… they all knew he’d be okay. Even Ranpo had, the moment he’d asked Dazai to remove his bandages. In that moment, he’d proven his strength. In that moment, he’d chosen to save the Agency.

 

And that was irrevocably and inexcusably because of Dazai. And Dazai alone.

Notes:

Thank you to anyone who stuck around through this. I know it wasn't great and it was very graphic and everything so I'm sorry, but I couldn't think of another way to work this request. I hope that it's okay, at the very least.

@PolarChibi... see what I mean now?

Let me know your thoughts/questions/requests below!

It's the end of reading week. Boo. I've basically slept this entire time, so yay for me. I've done like nothing productive. Oh well.

Until next time, guys! -Emma :)

Chapter 37: Unexpected (Akutagawa and Atsushi Smut Request)

Summary:

Requested by someone on Instagram who wish to stay anonymous. I hope that you like this! Sorry that it took so long.

Atsushi walks into Aku's apartment to find him masturbating.

WARNING: Explicit sex scene.

The smell of the pizza alone was enough to make his stomach grumble. Having just gotten off of work, Atsushi hadn’t eaten in a few hours and decided to pick up dinner for himself and his new partner.

 

Despite working for two different organizations, Atsushi and Akutagawa worked together on missions as the new double black. IN the past few months they’d worked multiple cases, trusting each other and spending more time together than ever before. Though they still bickered, it was nowhere near as bad as it had been before. They’d come to an understanding, a tentative friendship. Or so they called it. It wasn’t uncommon for the two to meet for lunch, or for Gin to come home to see the two of them watching a movie in the living room.

 

In truth, they liked spending time together, but were both too stubborn to admit it. Instead they beat around the bush, making excuses to hangout like planning for a case, when really all they did was annoy the hell out of Gin with their obnoxious commentary while watching TV, or talking for hours on the phone about anything and everything when they said it would be a quick call for work purposes.

 

It had gotten to the point where Gin had jokingly cut another key to the apartment and given it to Atsushi in front of her brother, who had no objections. The next day, Atsushi had another key cut to his and Kyouka’s dorm for him. For work purposes, they said. But that’s never what it was used for.

 

Atsushi nodded to Chuuya as he got onto the elevator, the red-headed exec smirking at him as he passed, holding up a gloved hand in greeting. He pressed the button for the fifth floor with his elbow and waited for the doors to close, pondering if his partner would appreciate the surprise. They had agreed to meet later that night, but Atsushi had finished work earlier than normal.

 

He didn’t have much time to think though, as he fished for the key to the apartment in his pocket. The door made no noise as it opened, as per usual, the apartment silent as he entered. Atsushi toed off his shoes, glancing at the other pair at the door. Only the one, meaning that Gin was still at work, as he figured she would be. She’d mentioned something the other night about working a night case.

 

Atsushi peered around the corner into the living room, finding it empty. He furrowed his brows. It wasn’t normal for the apartment to be that quiet—there was almost always something on the TV or at least music playing. But there was nothing except the dull hum of the air conditioning.

 

Atsushi crossed to the kitchen island and set down the pizza, grabbed a few plates, and set those on the counter, too. A few glasses as well. But then he shook his head, wondering how Akutagawa hadn’t heard him and come into the room. Of course, he wasn’t that loud, the clinking of the plates barely audible if he was in his room down the hall.

 

Deciding to go and check, Atsushi padded down the hall in his sock feet. However, about halfway down he froze, squinting towards the wall at the end. What was that noise? A pant? Some kind of laboured breathing? He continued towards Akutagawa’s room, stopping just outside of his door, which he’d left ajar. He peered through the crack, not wanting to startle him if he was sleeping, but stumbled backwards at first glance. He blinked at the floor, then stepped back to the door to confirm that what he saw was in fact real. And it was.

 

Akutagawa laid on his bed, his shirt pushed up to his collarbone and pants pushed down just below his hips. Both hands were busy, one hand around his dick, stroking it at a languid pace. The other roamed his body, trailing down his stomach and back up again, tugging at one of his nipples. A breathy moan escaped him once, and again as he ran his thumb over the tip of his dick.

 

Atsushi found himself unable to tear his gaze way from the sight of Akutagawa pleasuring himself. Always so serious, he’d never expected him to do something like this. He always seemed so closed off to everything, almost like a robot. But, when he really thought about it, that wasn’t really true. He seemed like that to an outsider, but to someone who knew him (or was getting to know him), he was just reserved. He guessed he should’ve assumed as much. But who was he thinking about…? And why did his pants suddenly feel so tight…

 

At first, that shocked him even more than the fact that Akutagawa was jerking off. But, as he watched the way his hand pumped his cock and his fingers tweaked his nipple, the shock faded. Of course, it was arousing for him. He’d felt that way for quite a while. His voice, the way they talked and bicker, the way he looked at him… Everything. It stirred something deep inside him, both sexually and romantically. And staring at the flushed face and closed eyes of his partner sent a wave of jealousy through him at whoever it was on the man’s mind.

 

Briefly, Akutagawa stopped, using both hands to push his pants further down and pulling them off completely, leaving his bottom half completely bare. One hand trailed back down, cupping his balls, and then further down still. With two fingers he pressed in just behind them, moaning louder than before, tilting his head back. He repeated it twice, three times, and then withdrew the hand again, bringing it up to his mouth.

 

Atsushi wondered, as Akutagawa stuck two fingers in his mouth, what he was doing. He turned on his right side and lifted one leg slightly and then lowered his hand once again, trailing the tip of his index finger around his asshole. As he pushed it in to the first knuckle, Atsushi’s eyes widened. Was it possible that he liked men, too? He’d never even considered it. But he’d also never seen him with a woman, or anyone at all for that matter, acting I that way. He supposed he shouldn’t have assumed.

 

Akutagawa twisted his finger, then pushed it in to the second knuckle, letting out an obscene moan that made Atsushi’s dick twitch. Subconsciously, he began to rub himself through his pants. He grinded against his hand as he watched a second finger sink into the man’s asshole, biting his lip to keep quiet. Akutagawa continued to thrust his fingers in and out of himself, simultaneously pumping his dick, practically keening.

 

It was then that Atsushi realized how needy his partner was. How badly he needed someone to touch him like that. To touch him at all. He rutted up against his hand, not caring that there was a wet patch on the front of his pants. All he could think about was Akutagawa, needy and desperately horny, right there in front of him. Would he let him touch him like that? And then, in a voice that was barely a whisper, Atsushi heard him stutter his name.

 

He continued to pump his fingers relentlessly, crying out, his head back. Never having seen him less composed, less vulnerable, Atsushi pushed the door open with a gentle touch. He headed for the bed, never taking his eyes off of him, less than two feet away when Akutagawa’s eyes shot up and met his.

 

His eyes immediately widened, making to lash out until he realized who he was. Atsushi stopped walking, holding his hands up with a sweet smile. Akutagawa spluttered. “W-what, why are you here so, so early? What… you… I…”

 

“Relax,” he said softly. “It’s alright.”

 

“How long have you been here?” His eyes travelled down to the bulge in Atsushi’s pants, the slightly darker patch over his crotch.

 

“Long enough.”

 

“Let me get dressed…”

 

Atsushi stepped forwards again, his face soft, but a glint in his eyes. “Let me take care of you.”

 

“W-what?”

 

“You need it, don’t you? Someone to touch you like that?”

 

Akutagawa stared up at him, subconsciously flicking his tongue out over his bottom lip. “I-It’s fine.”

 

Atsushi stepped forwards again, his thighs hitting the mattress as he undid his tie and the first few buttons of his shirt. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

 

Watching Atsushi slip the suspenders from his shoulders, he nodded, his dick twitching against his stomach.

 

Atsushi ran a hand up his leg, then took hold of the knee on his raised leg, pushing it to the side until he lay flat on his back. Then he straddled his waist, his clothed bulge pressing against his hips as he ran his hands over his pale chest, over every inch of him that he could reach. “Is this okay?”

 

“Yes,” he breathed.

 

Smiling, Atsushi leaned down, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck. He hovered over him, their lips barely brushing. He looked him in the eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

 

“Please.”

 

He pressed his lips to Akutagawa’s, firmly, but gentle. At least at first. It quickly sped up, Akutagawa parting his lips as Atsushi kissed him, their tongues circling each other. Gentle fingers tangled in black hair, Atsushi’s other hand trailing down the man’s side, roaming his skin. He grinded his hips down, desperate to show his partner just how much he also wanted it.

 

His lips left Akutagawa’s, instead trailing to his jawline, kissing up it towards his ear. He sucked on the spot where the corner of his jaw met his neck, just under his ear, eliciting a moan from the dark-haired man. “I didn’t know you wanted me,” Atsushi almost purred, starting a trail of kissed down his neck.

 

Though he couldn’t see it, Akutagawa nodded anyways. “I have for a while…”

 

He nipped at his neck. “Me too.”

 

“Really?”

 

Atsushi hummed, moving down his body, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “I wish I’d known sooner. I could’ve fucked you into the mattress a hundred times and taken care of you with gentle touches…”

 

Akutagawa breathed out a moan as Atsushi’s lips closed around one of his nipples. “You don’t mean that…”

 

He pulled the bud between his teeth, then let go. “I do.” He flicked it with his tongue then circled it and sucked on I again, tweaking the other and rolling it between his fingers. Breathy moans and small yelps of pleasure flowed from him continuously. However, when Atsushi glanced up at his partner, he didn’t look at him. He kept his gaze averted, worrying his lip between his teeth.  

 

Atsushi went back to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to them. Akutagawa looked at him then, as if trying to communicate a question to him without speaking. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

He pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “What is it?”

 

He averted his gaze. “Why are you doing this?”

 

“Because I want it, too. When I saw you from the hall… you have no idea the effect you have on me, Ryuu.”

 

“Yeah, okay.”

 

Atsushi ran a gentle hand over the side of his face, cupping his cheek. “I mean it. Watching you touch yourself got me so ridiculously horny… you’re sexy.”

 

“Then why touch me like this? Why not just… fuck me?”

 

“Is that what you want me to do?” Akutagawa didn’t look at him. “I want to take care of you. Yes, I want to fuck you, but I also want to hold you against me and feel your skin on my skin and give you all of the affection you never got.”

 

“Don’t play with me, Atsushi.”

 

He kissed him again. “I’m not. I promise. Do you still want to keep going?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Alright then.”

 

Akutagawa leans up as Atsushi connects their parted lips, the heated kiss continuing for minutes on end, Atsushi’s hands in his hair, and his clutching at Atsushi’s back. Atsushi pulled him up to sit on his lap and Akutagawa pushed the dress shirt from his shoulders, running his hands over the expanse of soft skin on his back. His fingers trailed over the scarred skin and around his waist, over his chest, ever inch that he’d longed to touch for months. And Atsushi returned the favour, slipping the white shirt off over Akutagawa’s head, the only time their lips parted the whole time. He caressed his body lovingly, his arms around his waist, hands running up and down his back.

 

Atsushi pushed him back to the mattress, lowering himself down his body and smiling up at him. Akutagawa gulped as kisses trailed down his chest and over the flat expanse of his stomach, over his hip bone… And then Atsushi spread his legs, staring at him, lust glinting in his eyes. He raised his brows and Akutagawa nodded, giving him permission to keep going.

 

Atsushi took two fingers, as he’d seen Akutagawa do, and pressed then into his skin just behind his balls. Akutagawa pressed his head back against the pillow with a moan, unaware of the smile spreading over his partner’s face. He pushed his legs up a bit and pressed his tongue flat against his asshole as he pressed on his taint once more. The man shuddered in pleasure as Atsushi continued, plunging his tongue into his heat. Akutagawa threaded his fingers into Atsushi’s hair, a gentle but firm pressure on his head to keep him there. Atsushi lapped at his ass as he stimulated him from outside his body, relishing in the sounds he drew from him.

 

The hand retraced after a minute and Atsushi raised his head, licking his own saliva off his face. “Can you pass me some lube and a condom?”

 

Akutagawa leaned over to the nightstand and pulled open the drawer, tossing Atsushi a half empty bottle of lube. He waited for the second item, but it never came. Akutagawa cringed. “I don’t have any condoms.”

 

“Oh.” Atsushi looked down, then met his eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

 

“I’m okay with you doing it anyways if you are.”

 

He nodded. “Do you want me to pull out?”

 

He dropped his gaze. “No.”

 

He smirked, squirting some lube onto his fingers. “You want me to come in your ass, Ryuu?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Atsushi’s dick twitched again; his pants uncomfortably tight. But he ignored it for the time being, pushing his partner’s legs up to trace his asshole with one lubed finger. “Ready?” He nodded. He pushed one finger in, thrusting it into him a few times before adding the second, scissoring them. When he added a third finger, Akutagawa called out. He started keening again as he had before the faster he went. “You needy,” Atsushi teased, pulling his fingers out. Akutagawa panted, watching him unzip his pants and push them off. He climbed back on the bed and knelt in front of him, lining himself up. He rubbed the tip of his throbbing dick against his asshole, teasing him.

 

“Atsushi. Please.”

 

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” He pushed in, not daring to close his eyes despite the overwhelming pleasure. He wanted to watch Akutagawa’s face as his dick filled him up and stretched him, giving him what he wanted, finally.

 

Akutagawa tilted his head back, his mouth wide open as he called out and swore. Atsushi gave him a moment to adjust, and when he nodded, pulled back out halfway and thrust himself back in again. His thrusts grew faster, reducing Akutagawa to a babbling mess.

 

“Atsu-ngh. Atsushi…”

 

Atsushi cursed under his breath, pausing momentarily. Akutagawa stared up at him in confusion until Atsushi slid his arms under his back and pulled him up to sit on his lap. He slid deeper into his partner, who yelped at the pressure on his prostate. “Yeah? You like that?”

 

“M-more.”

 

“That’s up to you,” Atsushi mumbled, encircling the man’s waist and pressing kisses to his neck.

 

Akutagawa sighed in pleasure, looping his arms around Atsushi’s neck. He ground down on his cock, circling his hips before raising himself up and slamming back down again. The head of his dick rammed against his prostate and he nearly screamed, burying his face in Atsushi’s neck.

 

“That’s it,” he cooed, running his hands over the man’s skin. “Fuck yourself on my cock. Nnngh.”

 

Akutagawa’s sobs of pleasure were only muffled by the way he’d buried his face, but Atsushi could still hear him. He held him closer, their bare chests pressed together, knowing that Akutagawa needed the skin on skin contact. Knew that he craved. He relished in the way he fell apart as he bounced on his cock. He didn’t even touch his own, letting it hit both of their stomachs as his ass got wrecked, the knot between his hips stemming almost completely from the stimulation of his prostate.

 

“Ah, ah! Atsushi! Fuck!”

 

“Yes, Ryuu. Fuck, yes.”

 

“I’m… I’m…”

 

“Close?”

 

Akutagawa moaned in response, nodding vigorously. Atsushi thrust his hips up as Akutagawa lowered himself down again and watched as his partner threw his head back in ecstasy. He did it again and again, feeling himself start to lose control, the heat coiling in his groin nearly ready to explode. Akutagawa chanted his name intermingled with a string of curses and wanton moans. “Come for me, Ryuu…”

 

Within seconds Akutagawa’s body shook with the force of his orgasm, Atsushi’s name tumbling from his lips as he muffled a scream with the boy’s neck. Atsushi continued to thrust into him, working him through his climax and right into his own. The coil started to unravel, his thrusts erratic.

 

“Fuck… fuck, Ryuu, I’m gunna cum… nghh.”

 

Atsushi’s hips stuttered, his dick pulsing as he spilled into Akutagawa’s ass, filling him with his cum. Akutagawa panted against him, Atsushi able to feel the steady rise and fall of his chest.

 

He laid his head on Atsushi’s shoulder with his eyes closed, not minding when Atsushi lifted him by the hips to pull out and set him back down on his lap. He wrapped his legs around Atsushi’s waist, lowering his arms to his chest instead. He sighed contently, comforted by the feel of Atsushi against him, with his arms around him, holding him close. This was the touch he needed and craved all the tie. Every day. How lucky he’d gotten to get it from the specific person he wanted it from the most.

 

Atsushi pressed a kiss to his head, smoothing his hair repeatedly. “I wish I’d known how you felt sooner.”

 

Akutagawa smiled. “You want more than just sex?”

 

“I said I wanted to give you the affection you needed, didn’t I? So yes,” he chuckled breathily. “I want more than just sex.”

 

“Me too.”

 

Atsushi kissed him again. “Perfect. You’re perfect.”

 

Akutagawa hummed content for once in his life to just be held. To allow himself to feel safe, because with Atsushi, he was.

 

“Why were you early anyways?” Akutagawa asked a few moments later, yawning.

 

Atsushi chuckled. “I got off work early. So, I brought pizza.”

 

“Oh. That’s nice of you.”

 

“I thought you’d be hungry. But not for food apparently.”

 

He chuckled, too. “Apparently not.”

 

“Do you want some pizza now?”

 

He thought about that for a moment. “Can we just stay like this a little bit longer?”

 

Atsushi smoothed his hair. “Of course we can.”

 

“Pizza later?”

 

“Pizza later.”

Notes:

Hey all! So... I'd love some feedback on this. Like... I have no frame of reference to know if my smut is good or bad or what I do well or what I need to work on so please help me out. I just want to improve, lol.

Anyways, until next time, guys!

-Em :)

Chapter 38: Overwhelmed (Junichiro and Atsushi)

Summary:

So... this was a very spontaneous fic. There was no planning for this, nor did this idea even exist until I started to have a mental breakdown a few hours ago so here's... whatever this is.

TRIGGER WARNING: Panic attack, self-harm.

The heaviness in his chest weighed him down no matter how much he tried to lighten the load. Medication seemed to work wonders on some days and not at all on others. Laughs passed between himself and his colleagues, light-hearted jokes that made the days bearable… Bearable obviously wasn’t ideal, but it was enough to survive on.

 

Like a cup of water when eight isn’t feasible. Or eating half of a meal when the thought of a whole one made his stomach turn. Survival mode was a default for him at this point, whether the others noticed or not. He doubted it. He wasn’t very noticeable as it were. Average. Run of the mill. Nothing special—neither here nor there. Not many people paid him any mind anyways, and he was perfectly fine with that.

 

Or, at least, he thought he was.

 

Are we truly ever happy with no one noticing our suffering without us having to say a damn word? Did he truly feel relief that none of his friends had noticed his absence for long stretches of time during the day or how he never grinned the same way he used to? Did he not want them to show that they cared, even just a little?

 

No… He didn’t want to seek attention. He couldn’t.

 

It wasn’t their problem. It was his. The swirling thoughts and the pit in his stomach had nothing to do with them… They bore no responsibility. Not for his numbness, nor his anger, nor the despair that swallowed him whole and devoured him from the inside out like a never-ending carousel spiraling into the pits of hell. Of course they didn’t care. Why should they?

 

It was only him, after all.

 

Someone laughed nearby, the sound of it ringing through his ears. It hurt… Just a little. Enough to sting, but not enough to burn. Not yet. He didn’t know that mere feet away sat his best friend, lost in his own mind, eyes focused on the aimlessly scrolling screen before his eyes. He didn’t know the way that laugh tormented him, because while he could laugh as genuine as Kenji could smile, he couldn’t. He couldn’t. And it hurt. It twisted in his stomach that he couldn’t feel that happiness anymore the way he fought to… that the fire within him had burned out for seemingly no reason.

 

There was no trauma, nor death, no abuse. No… nothing, that anyone and everyone else had been subjected to. Just him and his ordinary life and ordinary looks and ordinary personality, with some form of extraordinary pain that wouldn’t leave him alone.

 

No, he couldn’t tell them. He couldn’t say anything, even to his best friend, though he wanted to. So badly did it sear his chest when he grit his teeth and lied to his face that the day had been great and he’d had a good time that weekend. It wasn’t that he was boring or annoying or the places they’d gone or the things they had done hadn’t been fun—they were. But somehow, ten minutes later, it was on the backburner of his brain and the happiness he’d felt in that moment slowly washed away with the midnight tide, soon to be lost in the depths of the ocean.

 

He couldn’t tell them, because how could he in his right mind compare what he felt to what they had been through. When he had clearly done something to deserve it. If it had come out of nowhere and seeped into his bones, then surely, it must be meant for him… right? How could he go up to an abused orphan or an ex-mafioso and tell them that he needed help? How could he take that from them when they were the ones who should be talking to Yosano. Who should be given the attention and the love because they need it more. They never got it their entire lives.

 

And he had a family. Parents. Somewhere. And a younger sister. And though he knew they loved him, strangely, it wasn’t enough to tear the dread from his heart or fill the hollow in his ribcage where life was supposed to be. How could he tell them?

 

In truth… he wanted the help. Desperately needed it. But where do you turn in a circumstance like that? Despite the urge to tell your best friend something pulls you back when you turn down that path and holds your voice hostage until it gets lost in your throat and you swallow your shame and guilt and pain all over again.

 

He needed him. But the gatekeeper of his mind and heart didn’t know if it could let him. Let him let him in or shut him out. Back and forth, a tug of the war of the mind.

 

It needed to end. Someway. Somehow.

 

He stood from his chair, pushing it back and leaving the room. No one noticed him. No one cared.

 

Ordinary. Normal. Sane.

 

But also, none of those things.

 

The stall door locked behind him and he sank down the wall, not caring about the fifth of the bathroom floor. The fifth that had taken him over and impersonated him was worse. The fifth that was him was worse. And there was really nothing he could do about it.

 

He clutched his left arm through his sleeve, digging his nails in until it stung. Not now. He couldn’t do it now. But later. He’d have to take care of it later.

 

Later when he was alone in his dorm, no worries about his sister walking in and finding his mess. No worries about unplanned lectures or trips to the hospital. Just him on the bathroom floor with a single blade and enough pressure to satisfy this bizarre itch.

 

For now all he could do was breathe. In and out, find the rhythm his chest was supposed to follow. It rarely did. But it was good practice. Fingernails dug into half-healed scars, eyes shut tight and jaw clenched. Begging.

 

But, in reality… sometimes no matter how much you beg…

 

You never get relief.  

 

*

 

The trek home was uneventful from his point of view. Though a few of them walked in a group, he didn’t speak often, only if directly spoken to. A constant battle of should I say something or shouldn’t I wagered in his head, swords and spears the primary weapons judging by the throbbing in his head. Or… not his head. His… consciousness? Was that even possible?

 

He didn’t know what was and what wasn’t anymore. Just that he felt things he couldn’t explain. The heaviness and the lethargy and the damning feeling that no matter what he did, it was all useless anyways. It physically manifested in ways he couldn’t explain. With stomach aches and oversleeping. With insomnia and an obscene amount of caffeine. With angry outbursts and random breakdowns where the tears meant nothing but also meant everything, and he truly couldn’t pinpoint what had set it off. Not that time or the time before that. Probably not the next time either. If it was one thing it was everything and if it was everything it was nothing at all.

 

By the time they made it back to the agency dorms, the group had reformed in front of him. Had he been lagging behind? Had they slowed down for him? Fuck. They probably had.

 

He never caught up. Instead, he stayed behind, watching them as though from far away. Tunnel vision, almost. He was aware, but not at the same time, drawn into his head without realizing how much so. It didn’t matter. Soon he was in the door, his bag was hung up, and he’d sank down to the futon below. His head hit the pillow, but it didn’t really register with him. Instead he stared at the ceiling, the blank look in his eyes the foil to the chaos he felt inside. Numb but overwhelmed. Needing support but not wanting to seek it. Wanting to seek it, but not wanting to come off as whiny. Needing his best friend but holding it in to avoid bringing him down along with him. It was too much. He was too much. It was all too much.

 

When the first few tears fell down his face he wasn’t sure. All he was sure of really was that once they’d started he didn’t know if they’d stop. It hurt. His chest. Despite the relief tears sometimes give, he felt a cinderblock drop in his chest. In his stomach. It hurt to breathe.

 

Swiping them away, he sat up and pushed himself to his feet. More followed but he swiped at them angrily, wiling them to stop if they were going to be useless. Sock feet carried him down the hall and through a doorway, closing the door behind him. His hands rifled through a drawer, fumbled through a small box and produced a blade.

 

Make it stop.

 

It wouldn’t. Logically, he knew that. But it didn’t stop him. The red lines appeared anyways.

 

He needed help.

 

He knew that. But it didn’t bring it to him. He didn’t think he deserved it over the others anyway. And so crimson coated the blade.

 

Make it stop. (The burning didn’t work.)

 

Make it stop. (The drops of blood on the floor wouldn’t it make it disappear.)

 

Make it stop!

 

He hadn’t realized he’s said it out loud. Not until it ripped form his throat and he stared into his own eyes in the mirror, his chest rattling, blood dribbling down his forearm and onto the floor. He sank down to meet it, staring at the wall with uneven breaths.

 

It would never stop… would it?

 

He needed Atsushi.

 

*

 

“Kyouka, do you remember where I put the saltshaker?”

 

She eyed him from across the room. “In the cupboard?”

 

“Very funny,” he said, stopped over to check the bottom drawer. “If I’d put it back in the cupboard I wouldn’t be asking.”

 

“I thought it made sense.”

 

“Well, in any other circumstances, yes. But not this one.”

 

“Why do you need the saltshaker?”

 

“I’m making pasta. Lucy said to salt the water.”

 

Kyouka pulled a face. “I’ve never heard that.”

 

He shrugged, looking at her over his shoulder. “She explained to me why, but I don’t remember.”

 

“Very good listening skills. Very observant.”

 

“Clearly not.”

 

“No, not at all.”

 

When his phone went off across the room, Atsushi smacked his head off of the underside of the other cupboard, rechecking it for the third time in five minutes. “Can you answer that, please, Kyouka?”

 

“You didn’t even ask who it was.”

 

“Just answer it.”

 

“Fine.” She slid her thumb across it and held it to her ear. “Hello?”

 

“Kyouka?”

 

“Yeah. Atsushi’s looking for the salt-shaker.”

 

Silence, for a moment. And then, “Can you put Atsushi on the phone, please?”

 

She frowned. “Yeah. You uh… you don’t sound so good. Is everything okay?”

 

“Kyouka, please. Just put Atsushi on the phone.”

 

“Okay…” She removed the phone from her ear, looking to where Atsushi came towards her with raised brows. She shrugged, handing it to him.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hey, Atsushi.”

 

“Jun? Is everything alright?”

 

He let out a long breath. “Can you uh… can you come over?”

 

“Yeah, of course. Is everything okay?”

 

“Well…”

 

“Jun, are you okay?”

 

“That’s what I want to talk to you about,” he said, voice wavering.

 

Atsushi blinked at the floor a few times before raising his head. “Okay. I’ll me down in like thirty seconds.”

 

“See you. Oh, and uh… I’m sorry for what you’re about to walk into.”

 

Atsushi toed on his shoes and slipped out the door. “What do you mean? You’re making me nervous.”

 

“Shit, I really…” He sniffed, pausing for a second. “I didn’t think this through. This is so shitty of me, I’m sorry.”

 

“What is it, Junichiro? What’s the matter?”

 

“Just come in… the door’s unlocked.”

 

“Okay. I’m coming.”

 

Atsushi hung up the phone and stuffed it in his pocket before pushing open the door. He stepped inside and left his shoes out the door, stepping into the living room. The ginger was nowhere to be found, not on the couch, nor in the kitchen, and the open bedroom door revealed mussed blankets and an empty bed. Only the bathroom was left, and Atsushi furrowed his brows. His heart fell into a pit in his stomach. Something was very wrong.

 

He tread carefully, no exactly sure what he was about to walk into, just that it wasn’t good. But nothing could have prepared him to see Junichiro sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor, a razor discarded in a small puddle of blood and his arm torn open. “Junichiro…”

 

The boy looked up at him, his pleading eyes searching his face. Then he let out a shuddering breath and looked back down without saying a word.

 

Atsushi knelt down beside him and gingerly took his damaged arm. He bit his lip, then looked back up at Jun, who wouldn’t look at him. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

 

Jun nodded.

 

Atsushi pulled him to his feet and Jun leaned against the sink. He wet a cloth, then pressed I to the damaged skin on the boy’s forearm. Jun winced, turning his head even further from Atsushi’s gaze. “I’m not mad at you, Jun.” Jun only gulped in response, using his free hand to swipe at a stray tear on his cheek.

 

Atsushi hadn’t missed that. The puffiness of his face and his red rimmed eyes. It had been clear he’d been crying. And now that he thought about it, it wasn’t the first time that month or even that week he’d seen the same look on his face. His heart clenched. How long had this been going on?

 

After rinsing the cloth until I ran mostly clean, Atsushi shut off the tap. He turned to Jun, releasing his arm. “Is Naomi coming home in the next few minutes or do we have some ime to talk?”

 

“We have some time…”

 

“In the living room or in your bedroom?”

 

“Do you mind sitting in my bedroom?” He was tentative. Nervous.

 

“No, of course not. Wherever would be most comfortable for you.”

 

Jun nodded, eyes trained on the floor. When he moved, Atsushi followed him, closing the bedroom door behind them lest Naomi come home early. He dropped to his knees, sitting cross-legged on the bed beside his friend. They were both silent for a few minutes, simply coexisting. Atsushi wasn’t exactly sure what to do or say. Did he need comfort or just someone to talk to? Or neither? Did he just want to sit there together in silence and that would be enough?

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Atsushi blinked. “Huh?”

 

“I said I’m sorry.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For not cleaning up first. I just… I just got so worked up. I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“It’s not okay,” Jun mumbled, picking at a fluff on his pantleg. “I’m not okay.”

 

“How long have you felt like this?”

 

Jun let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. It’s been off and on for years. But in the last year specifically it’s been getting worse…”

 

“Did something happen?”

 

Junichiro tensed, drawing his shoulders towards his ears. “Uh…”

 

“Hey,” Atsushi said, dropping a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want to press you or make you uncomfortable. I’m just asking a question. If you can’t, that’s okay.”

 

“It’s not that…”

 

“Then what is it?”

 

Jun glanced at the hand on his shoulder, and then towards Atsushi’s face. “Nothing.”

 

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing, Jun.”

 

“No.” Jun looked him straight in the eyes, begging him to understand. “I mean it’s nothing. Nothing happened. And I’m still like this and I don’t know why, Atsushi. I don’t know why I’m like this but it hurts and I want it to stop.”

 

“Okay.” He dropped his hand from Jun’s shoulder to his knee. “Okay.” Jun shuddered, his eyes searching his face, his breathing uneven. “Breathe. We can stop whenever you want. Or I can go if—”

 

“No.”

 

Atsushi raised his brows, glancing down at the hand that latched onto his wrist. “Okay. I won’t.”

 

“I needed you.” Jun’s chest heaved, the amount of work it took for him to stay calm obvious from the strain on his face. “I need you. Here.”

 

“I’m right here.” He squeezed his knee. “I’m right here. Breathe, Jun. I’m right here.”

 

Junichiro shook his head, slowly retracting his hand. “Sorry.”

 

“You don’t have to apologize.”

 

“Yes, I do.”

 

“Why do you think that?”

 

“Because I took you away from whatever you were doing to come sit with me for no stupid reason.”

 

Atsushi sighed, scooting closer to his friend. He bumped his knee, then slung an arm around his shoulders. “It’s not for no reason. You said you needed me so I’m here. You’re not okay and you’re having a hard time. And that’s not your fault.”

 

“It must be,” he whispered. “It has to be.”

 

“It’s not. I promise.”

 

Jun shook his head, staring into his lap. “I had to have done something. Everyone else… you all had something happen to you that caused it. But for me… for me it’s nothing! It just happens. So, I must deserve it, Atsushi, that’s the only thing that makes sense! I just don’t understand what I’m being punished for!”

 

“You did nothing wrong. Sometimes it’s just a chemical imbalance in your head. Or there could be things you just aren’t aware of that are a part of it.”

 

“Aren’t my meds supposed to fix that?”

 

Atsushi rubbed his arm. “They should, but you might not be on the right one. Or maybe you need to go to therapy. Or any combination of things. But I’m not a doctor, Jun.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Do you want to go talk to Yosano? Not right now necessarily, but tomorrow? I could go with you, if you want.”

 

“No!”

 

“Okay, I won’t go with you then.”

 

“No. That’s not what I mean. I-I can’t seek help from Yosano.”

 

“But you need help, Jun.”

 

His voice broke. “I know.”

 

“Then why don’t you talk to her? She can help you.”

 

He shook his head vehemently, tears welling in his eyes. “I can’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“You don’t understand! I don’t deserve it!”

 

Atsushi’s eyes widened at the pain on his friend’s face. “You do. You deserve to get the help and support that you need.”

 

“What have I done to deserve it, Atsushi? I’m supposed to be normal. Everything else about me is normal so why isn’t this? Why can’t I just be normal?”

 

“Jun—”

 

“There are people who need it more than I do! You. Dazai. Kunikida. Kyouka. So-o many people need it, need it more than I do.”

 

“Jun—”

 

“And and and I’ve done nothing, I’m just a freak! I lash out at people and I don’t finish my reports because I’m sad or tired or God knows what and I don’t understand why! And it’s so much at once but then it feels so empty and I don’t deserve the good things. I-I mean I’ve heard people talk about my ability being good for evil and I know I never really stand up for much or do much good so I must have done something. I had to! Otherwise this wouldn’t be happening to me?”

 

“I—”

 

“Why is this happening to me, Atsushi, I don’t understand!” Tears fell down his face and he clenched his eyes shut. “It just hurts and I want it to stop so I hurt myself but I know that that won’t make it stop but it does something and I just don’t know I don’t know I don’t get it!”

 

Atsushi pulled Jun to him with the arm around his shoulder and the other boy leaned into him. “Oh, Jun…” His other arm made its way up to hug him, trying to ignore the pain he felt at the tears that soaked the collar of his shirt.

 

“I… I don’t understand!”

 

“Okay,” Atsushi breathed, easing them to lay down on the mattress as Jun started to sob. “Okay. I’ve got you. It’s okay. It’s alright.”

 

“I’m so lost!”

 

“You’re not lost, Junichiro…”

 

“Please, make it stop!”

 

Atsushi held onto him tighter, staring at the ceiling, completely at a loss. Letting his eyes fall shut he attempted to ignore the pain in his chest. His best friend needed him. “Shh… I’m sorry, Jun, I can’t… I wish I could help you…”

 

Jun could only continue to cry, his face buried. The raw pain in those sounds hurt Atsushi’s heart, but there wasn’t much else he could do. One hand stayed put on Jun’s back, the other gently resting on the back of his head.

 

“Your pain is valid, Junichiro. You don’t have to go through something horrible to deserve help. You don’t have to earn it. And you’re not taking it from anyone else. It’s okay.”

 

Jun squeezed him tighter.

 

“I’m right here. I’ve got you. It’s gunna be okay.”

 

“I-I’m—so—sorry!”

 

“Shh,” Atsushi soothed, running a hand over his back. “It’s okay. Thank you for trusting me with this. That was brave.”

 

“S-s-stupid…”

 

He shook his head. “No… I mean it. That was brave. Thank you for trusting me.”

 

“It hurts…”

 

He just continued to hold him against his body. “I’m here, Jun. Whatever you need.”

 

“Just you right now,” he hiccoughed. “That’s all I can take.”

 

“That’s alright. One step at a time, yeah?”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

Jun sniffed again, his breathing beginning to settle. “I really hate this. A lot.”

 

“I know. I can’t understand how it feels, but I understand that it must be really hard for you.”

 

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” he replied, still hiding his face. “Bawling my eyes out.”

 

“You don’t have to apologize, Jun. It’s okay to cry. You’ve seen me cry before.”

 

“You had a reason.”

 

“So did you.”

 

The two boys laid in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Atsushi played with Jun’s hair idly without even realizing he was doing it. But Jun didn’t mind. He actually thought it felt nice. He pondered what Atsushi had said to him while he’d been losing his mind.

 

“Thank you, Atsushi.”

 

“Anytime, Jun. I’m always here for you.”

 

“That means a lot. I was so scared to tell you. Or anyone, really…”

 

“I’m glad you told me.” He paused, turning to look at the back of the boy’s head. “If you don’t want to see Yosano, how about I come with you downtown to see another doctor or a counselor? Would that be okay?”

 

“Are you sure it’s okay…?”

 

“I’m positive.”

 

“Then yes… I… I need to do something about this…”

 

“Do you want to go tomorrow after work? I can try and help you book an intake appointment.”

 

“You wouldn’t mind?”

 

Atsushi shook his head. “No, of course, not.”

 

Jun released the tension he held in his body, letting out a long breath. “Thanks, Atsushi. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Notes:

Hello... Hopefully that wasn't too awful. I didn't edit it. I didn't even plan it. It just happened. So... yeah. There's that. I'm currently in a JuniAtsu brainrot so I guess this is how it manifested even though it's not like... romantic in any way? I dont know I just love the two of them so much. Jun is my comfort character (along with Kenji) and I realy wish there was more content of him.

Let me know your thoughts/questions/requests below.

Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 39: Thunder Cracks and Cobblestones (Ranpo and Yosano and Fukuzawa request)

Summary:

Written for someone on instagram!

Ranpo is terrified of storms... justifiably. But when a lne of storms bear down on Yokohama... how will he take it?

The quiet pitter-patter of raindrops on the windowpane barely registered in his subconscious. Instead, as brilliant green eyes traced the lines of text before him, it was wheels on cobble-stones and the clopping of hooves on dirt. The blazing sun beat down on him, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead and he trekked down the street, searching shop windows for something—anything—sweet. Of course, there was nothing that he was looking for, not anything modern at least.

 

He marvelled at the flow of Poe’s words, the way they seemed to slip by unnoticed as the beautiful imagery appeared before him—and it had nothing to do with his ability. Not this time. This wasn’t one of him novel traps, but it was just as immersive. Although Ranpo found the mysteries easy to solve, he still got tangled up in the fluidity of the prose and characterization of the people who seemed to stand mere feet away from him.

 

The harder the rain fell, the harder his brain tried to drown it out. The louder the baying of the horses and the chatter of those around him. The quicker he walked down the street, tipping it at the ladies across the street. But you can’t escape a storm as it towers over you, not when you’ve got your nose stuck in a book, sitting cross-legged on your bed.

 

The howling wind outside pulled his mind from the book as it threw a sheet of rain at his window. He startled, staring out into the darkness beyond. Shaking his head at himself, he returned to the story. His feet on the cobbles, kicking a pebble as he continued down the street. Watching the horses pull past him, a young girl waving at him out the back of the wagon. A smile on his face.

 

The rain demanded his attention. He wouldn’t give it.

 

The shrill voice of a woman around the corner, scolding her children for running off. The clinking of glass bottles. Was that even accurate? He’d have to ask Poe later. Two young boys ran out into the street before him, laughing with their heads thrown back, their clothes caked with dirt and grass stains. He couldn’t help but briefly think of Kenji.

 

Another sheet of rain on the window, immediately followed by another. Was he tearing the pages from the spine? The lamp next to him flickered and his heart leapt into his throat.  White knuckles on white pages, deep breathes drowned out by the thunder.

 

A young woman leaving a bakery, her son trailing behind her, dragging his feet.

 

The lamp flickered again.

 

Was that the same two young boys?

 

Did he just read that line?

 

Thunder rattled his window.

 

Was this even the right paragraph? He’d just read about that little girl, hadn’t he? But where’d the older man with a cane come from? Whe—

 

A crack of thunder roared overhead, it’s deafening sound drowning out one of his senses and the immediate darkness that followed taking another. He called out unintentionally, scrambling back against the wall. Pulling his knees to his chest, he didn’t notice the book slide off the mattress—all he could focus on was his own rapid breathing and the overwhelming black abyss surrounding him.

 

Eyes wide open, he scanned the darkness before him, flinching with each strike of lightning, each crash of thunder. The momentary illumination only made it worse. Nature liked to tease him—liked to dangle release, relief, in front of his face and then snatch it away in the same instant. Not only that, but he couldn’t rid his brain of the memories of flashlight beams. Then shafts of light dancing over the rubble, over the cold skin of his parents.

 

A whimper left him without his permission, his shaky arms hugging himself in the darkness. One, two, three, four… was that four? Or was that three? One, two three, four, five… Dammit. He couldn’t even breathe right. They’d taken that form him, too.

 

The door to his room slid open, the figure in the hallway beyond illuminated by the soft glow of a lantern. “Akiko?”

 

“Mhmm,” she hummed, closing the door behind her. “I came straight here when it started getting bad. Sorry that I’m a bit late.”

 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he mumbled, not meeting her eyes. It was barely a whisper.

 

She set the lantern down at the end of his futon. “Honey, you’re shaking.” When he didn’t look at her, she set a hand on his arm. “You’re safe, Ranpo.”

 

He let out a long breath, staring at the pattern of stitches beneath him.

 

“I saw you were reading another one of Poe’s novels. I might have to borrow it after you, see what it’s all about. They have to be good if you keep reading them.”

 

“Mhmm…”

 

“You’re alright… You’re not there…” Another wave of thunder drowned her out as continued to speak, causing Ranpo to curl into himself further. She gave his arm a squeeze to remind him of her presence. “I’m right here. You’re not alone.”

 

A strangled gasp slipped from him with a fork of lightning clearly visible out the window. He buried his head, shaking harder. “No.”

 

“It’s not the same thing, sweetie. That’s not what you think.” The only reply she received was heavy breathing.

 

Ranpo yelped again when the door slid open once more, hugging himself with white knuckles.

 

“Ranpo,” said a familiar voice. “It’s only me. I brought more lanterns.”

 

At the shuddering of his breaths, Yosano let out a breath. “It’s Kunikida, Ranpo. He brought more lights. We’re not going to leave you in the dark, okay?”

 

“P-please… please…”

 

“It’s okay…”

 

By the time Kunikida had finished placing lanterns around the room, Yosano watched Ranpo, concern etched into her features. He visibly shook, choking on his breaths. She didn’t need to look from Kunikida to know what to do—she would’ve done it anyways.

 

“Ranpo,” she said softly, “come here, sweetie.”

 

He didn’t look at her but leant towards her. She wrapped him up in her arms, biting her lip when he turned into her more to hide his face. “Don’t leave…”

 

“I’m not… I’ll be right here until you’re okay again…”

 

“When will it come back…?”

 

Kunikida cleared his throat, sitting down on the floor next to the futon. “Probably not until morning. There’s a… there’s a strong line of storms coming through.”

 

Ranpo curled closer to Yosano, who’s face softened even further, holding him tightly. “H-how strong?”

 

“Enough to knock out the power… maybe some flooding. Strong winds.”

 

Images flashed through his mind, sounds echoing in his brain as if he was hearing the for the first time. Howling wind. Shattering glass. Thunder. Creaking and more creaking, followed by a snap and a chorus of screams and splintering wood. His own cries muffled by the dust and dirt falling from above. Or to the side. What the direction was, he wasn’t sure then and still never found out. Flashlight beams mingled with lightning through debris, the buzzing of electricity in the surrounding water. Careful, don’t step there. Not that he could move anyways. Not in the suffocating silence that followed, or the unending blackness that threatened to take him, too. To suffocate him. As if it hadn’t done that, already.

 

 

“You’re not there,” Yosano soothed, running a hand slowly over his spine. “You’re safe. That’s not going to happen, alright? I promise you, Ranpo. It’s not that bad.”  

 

“We would have gotten you out of here if it were,” Kunikida added. “Everything is going to be fine. These lanterns will last hours.”

 

Ranpo clutched Yosano around the middle, lost in his head. She rested her head on his, praying she’d be able to pull him from the intrusive thoughts eventually. “You’re not there. You’re safe. You’re safe.”

 

“The president should be here, soon,” said Kunikida to Yosano. “I called him straight away, but he’d beat me to it. Said he was already on his way.”

 

“Good,” she sighed. “He should be able to help.”

 

“Not another parent,” Ranpo whispered, his voice barely audible. “Dad.”

 

She bit her lip. “Nothing will happen to him, Ranpo.”

 

“Dad.”

 

“Safe… You’re safe. Everyone is safe.”

 

“Mom…”

 

“Shh…” She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Safe… You’re safe…”

 

Ranpo went silent, letting Yosano rub his back and talk to him quietly. He focused on her voice, trying to center it out over the pounding rain and rattling of the windows from the wind. Kunikida watched them quietly, glad that Yosano had gotten there first. Not that he’d mind helping Ranpo, but he was sure he wouldn’t react nearly as well to him.

 

After a few minutes, he pushed himself to his feet, brushing off his pants. Yosano didn’t stop talking, but she turned to glance at him questioningly. “I have to go check on the others. I trust he’ll be okay with you. And the President, once he gets here.”

 

Yosano nodded with a small smile, immediately returning her attention to the man in her arms. It wasn’t long after that that the door slid open once more, revealing Fukuzawa. His face softened immediately upon seeing Ranpo curled up against her chest, a sad smile gracing his lips. He crossed to the pair and patted Ranpo’s head. “Hello, Ranpo-kun.” When Ranpo started to stutter a response, he cut him off. “There’s no need to respond unless you want to. I understand.”

 

Yosano nodded at him as Ranpo relaxed against her. “See, Ranpo? He’s alright.”

 

“I am perfectly okay, Ranpo. The storm will pass, and I will still be okay. In fact, I’ll be right here.” Ranpo nodded against Yosano. “I did think of something to pass the time.”

 

He opened his eyes to look at him, quirking his head. “What’s that?”

 

“How about I read to you?”

 

Ranpo felt a flush rise in his cheeks. And yet, although he hated how it made him feel like a child, he nodded anyway. “Okay.”

 

“I brought a book, but I see you were in the middle of one.” He reached forwards and picked up Ranpo’s novel, which had fallen to the ground, open to a random page. “Would you like me to continue where you left off.”

 

Desperate to control his breathing, he sat up slightly in Yosano’s embrace, ignoring his body’s protest. “It’s up to you.”

 

“Do you have a reference, Akiko?”

 

She hummed, pretending not to notice Ranpo slowly shifting away from her. “I think I’d like to hear Poe’s novel.”

 

“Ah, is this one of Poe’s? I thought you didn’t like his mystery novels, Ranpo-kun?”

 

“I find them too easy,” he mumbled, now sitting slightly in front of Yosano on his own. “But I like his writing.”

 

“I didn’t know you liked reding,” Yosano teased. “I thought you only read the comics you forced Kenji to find you in the paper.”

 

“I can too read,” he quipped, sending her a glare.

 

She chuckled. “Fine. Then catch us up on what’s happening in this novel before we continue.”

 

He let out a breath of annoyance, and both Yosano and Fukuzawa pretended not to hear the way it shuddered. He was still terrified. But for some reason he’d abruptly tried to straighten himself out.

 

Once Yosano and Fukuzawa had been caught up, Fukuzawa set his glasses on his nose and leant back against the wall. He held the book in his lap, tracing the text with his finger to find his place. It took him a minute, as Poe had written the novel in English and then translated it into Japanese on the right page. Though it had been confusing at first, Ranpo had found it interesting to see the story in the man’s native language right next to his own.

 

Fukuzawa continued from where Ranpo had left off in a steady voice, perfect for lulling someone to sleep. But Ranpo couldn’t and wouldn’t sleep then. Not only was he too wired, but too ashamed. How could he let himself get this far? How could he let himself slip? He needed to keep himself in check. He was 26-years-old and here was Fukuzawa reading to him as if he were a child.

 

Did it help? Of course, it did. But that didn’t mean he wanted it to. Did it feel better to have Yosano hold him then to sit alone, shaking for hours until the storm ended? Of course. But his cheeks burned just thinking about it. What would the others think if they found out? What if Poe found out? Or any of the police chiefs in the city? Would they still hire him? Or would he be the laughingstock of Yokohama? What would happen? Why did this have to happen?

 

Why couldn’t he just be normal? Yosano was fine. She came here for him. Kunikida was bringing everyone lanterns like this was completely normal and not terrifying at all. Because for hem, it wasn’t. And he should feel that way, too, right? He knew he was weird. Knew he wasn’t ‘normal.’ But moments like these, in the middle of a storm with the swirling thoughts that drowned him with the rain… They’re what got him. What dragged him under with the traumatic memories and nervous breakdowns.

 

It was stupid. But he couldn’t fight it. Not by himself. And not for long.

 

Yosano watched him closely. Watched the rise and fall of his back with each breath. With the way he screwed up his face in concentration and anger. Anger at himself, no doubt. No doubt he’d berate himself repeatedly, punish himself for something he’d experienced through no fault of his own. No fault of anyone’s, really.

 

She reached out and pulled him down to lay his head in her lap. He stared up at her pleadingly and she only smiled. “I know what you’re doing,” she whispered, hoping Fukuzawa would just continue to read. “It’s okay to need this, hun.”

 

“It’s stupid,” he mumbled, turning his head away.

 

Yosano threaded her fingers into his black hair, trailing them from his scalp through to the ends. His body relaxed at her touch, shoulders visibly dropping and jaw going slack. “See… if this helps then it helps. Let us help you keep calm, Ran. It’s alright.”

 

“Okay…”

 

Yosano went back to listening to the story, content with Ranpo settling down and starting to breathe properly again. Her fingers traced shapes and doodled aimlessly and the exposed skin of his stomach, kanji symbols she’d memorized, hearts and stars, Ranpo’s favourite candies… anything that rested in the back of her brain and showed itself when her mind was otherwise occupied. Just like the margins of her old notebooks or sheets of paper at the office.

 

He let out a long breath, content in the presence of his best friend and father figure. Yosano had been right this was safe. This was a safe place. The two of them. They wouldn’t judge him. They only wanted to calm him down.

 

Maybe it wasn’t so embarrassing… Not when he thought about it. When he thought of Yosano screaming at spiders or Fukuzawa’s awkwardness around kids. Kenji and Kyouka made him uncomfortable. He didn’t know how to treat them.

 

Not when he thought about Yosano in a wheelchair, broken and distraught. The butterfly clip being handed back to her, a constant reminder that she wore every single day.

 

They all had something, didn’t they? Atsuhsi had the orphanage. Dazai and Kyouka the mafia. Yosano the war. And him… well, he already knew what that one was. He’d lived it and relived it often enough. He’d never forget it… that he was one hundred percent sure of.

 

He continued to relax, despite the continuing rumbles of thunder and the whipping of the rain against the window. Content where he was and who he was with, he let Yosano’s touch and Fukuzawa’s voice lull him into a calm he’d longed for nights like this.

 

When Ranpo’s eyes start to droop, Yosano smiled down at him. He’d always found this soothing, her aimless ministrations, hands in his hair or on his back. Not always situations like that, but bad days or sleepless nights. She ran a hand over his forehead, pushing his hair from his eyes. “Close your eyes, Ran. It’s alright.”

 

“I’ll fall asleep…”

 

“Go to sleep. I’ll be right here all night. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

“Are you sure,” he asked, watching the raindrops race down the glass across the room.

 

She held back a chuckled, wondering if he was cheering one of them on, but quickly shook the thought away. “I’m sure. I’ll be right here if you need me, sweetie.”

 

Nodding against her thighs, he let is eyes fall shut. Fukuzawa said nothing only continued to read in the same calming voice. Yosano vowed to ask him later if he’d ever voice sleep audios. He’d be perfect for that. She nearly snorted at the thought but held it back for fear of jostling Ranpo from his half-sleeping state.

 

When he did finally slip into sleep, Fukuzawa glanced up, and then set the book aside. He smiled slightly, just the corners of his lips quirking up. “He responds well to you.”

 

She nodded. “Always has.”

 

Fukuzawa chuckled, settling down on the edge of the futon, folding a piece of cloth from his pocket to rest over his eyes. “You should get some sleep.”

 

“He might wake up.”

 

He shook his head. “Probably not. If you’ve still got him, he’ll be fine.”

 

She quirked her head in agreement, waiting until the man had placed the cloth over his eyes to move. Yosano maneuvered Ranpo off of her lap and back onto the bed, his head back on his pillow. She sidled up to him, wrapping her arms around him from behind and pulling his back to her chest. Happily cuddling with her best friend, Yosano pressed a kiss to the back of Ranpo’s head, slowly drifting off to sleep as well.

 

And though the wind howled and the thunder cracked, the pitter patter of the raindrops on the window faded into the background… long forgotten by morning, when the sun’s rays beat down on his face once again.

Notes:

Helloooo. Guys I'm so sorry that I went MIA for a while there. The last few weeks have been tough mental health wise and school wise. I chopped all my hair off and didn't sleep for over 48 hours yayyyyy. I did not have the mental capacity to do anything for quite a while, including my lectures and school work. It was awful. But I seem to have snapped out of it, so here I am! I will try to update a few more times this week, haha.

On another note... If I started commissioning stories... would you guys still want them...? All outstanding requests would still be fine but new requests I mean...

Let me kow your thoughts/comments/questions below!

Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 40: Kenji Assaulted (heavily, heavily edited)

Summary:

Okay hi, so, I got a lot of both positive and negative feedback on this one-shot so I majorly edited it and completely took out and rewrote parts. I am truly horrified that the original version seemed like sexualization, because that was never, ever, my intent. As you know if you read my stories, I like to bring light to topics that aren't often discussed, and in this case it happens to be younger male sexual assault victims. It is bad enough that male victims as a whole are ignored, but due to the stereotypes surrounding teenage boys, most don't come forward about being assaulted because they think no one will believe them or they will just say that they should have enjoyed it and whatnot. I have seen firsthand male friends that have had similar experiences where they didn't even know it counted as assault because of a variety of reasons and it is sad that they don't think they will get the support that they need. However, I saw what people were saying about how this was originally written and have remedied it as much as I can.

TRIGGER WARNING: Sexual assault, drug use, physical examination, panic attacks, nightmares, derogatory language. Proceed with caution.

 

It wasn’t often that Kenji got to eat during the workday—hardly ever. While everyone else ate lunch or snacked in the office, his diet remained restricted, especially on case days. Kunikida insisted that he remain alert and able to use his ability at all times, until the case was done, and the workday finished. They couldn’t have him falling asleep on the job, both for their safety and his own.

But that day was different. He’d gone out to collect information downtown by himself, as the Agency had seen no danger in him doing so without a partner. It was just intel and clarification, something his repour with the citizens was particularly good for.

It didn’t take him long, only an hour or two. The city folk, as he called them, were as helpful as ever and happy to see him, pointing him in the right direction. He got some stories from an older lady who’d been nearby and a young boy who’d been on his way home from school when the incident had occurred. All in all, it had been a good take, a good start to the day. Of course, then he’d have to go and report to Kunikida and write a case file, but that could wait. Before any of that, he needed to eat.

Kenji sat down in a small tea shop on one of Yokohama’s side streets, a favourite he’d taken a liking to when Kyouka had brought him there. He thought back to their first date as he waited at the table, smiling to himself. It had been a good night, the tea house and the Ferris wheel… Kyouka had said it seemed like something out of a teen romance movie, but he hadn’t quite known what she’d meant at the time. Now though, after she’d wrapped the two of them up in a bundle of blankets and got him to watch a few with her, he could she why she’d say that. But he didn’t mind. It had been fun.

The waitress wandered over, grinning at him. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“She’s still at work. It’s just me today.”

“She’s got you hooked, hmm?”

He nodded, smiling up at her. “In more ways than one.”

The waitress chuckled. “Same as usual?”

“If you don’t mind, miss!”

“Not at all. I’ll be back soon.”

Kenji pulled his notebook from his pocket, rereading his notes. It shouldn’t take him too long to type them up, but then again, his computer skills weren’t fantastic. Junichiro had taught him everything he knew to date, but there were still many days he wound up puzzled, clicking aimlessly on icons until he found the right one. Jun would only smile, waiting until he asked for help to give it, which he always did with a laugh and a grin.

They were best friends from the beginning, the two of them. As soon as Kenji had entered the office, he’d gravitated towards the other boy. Because of his age or because of his personality he wasn’t exactly sure, but they’d clicked almost instantly. His home away from home—the older brother that he’d never had but always wanted. Sure, he liked being the oldest sibling, but there were days that he wondered what it would be like to have someone to look up to, and someone who would look out for him the way he did with his younger siblings.

He hadn’t been back home much since he moved to Yokohama a year and a half before. Once or twice for a few days, sure, but not for long enough to really feel at home. He missed the farm and the cows and his family, the small community he was from. They always welcomed him back with open arms, showering him with questions and concerns about city life and his job, and more recently, his girlfriend.

Kenji hadn’t yet brought Kyouka to meet his family, though they’d been together for nearly a year. He wanted to wait until he could go home for longer and really show her what it was like in Ihatov, and that was still a ways away. Nevertheless, his family constantly asked about her in their letters and on his sparse trips home, which always brought a smile to his face.

When the waitress returned, he immediately thanked her, wasting no time in digging into his food. It wasn’t much, but enough to tide him over for the time being. Absently, as he pinched a piece of beef between his chopsticks, he wondered if he should bring Jun to Ihatov at some point as well. The boy was always asking what it was like there and seemed very bewildered by the ways of his people. Well, truthfully, most of the agency was, but Jun especially. He seemed both intrigued and scared of them but had said that if they were anything like Kenji then he’d love to visit. Kenji smiled at the thought.

A few feet away the door chimed as it opened, three men walking in and glancing around the room. Kenji didn’t pay attention to them, too wrapped up in both his meal and his thoughts. The waitress quickly seated them, and he could hear them mumbling a few tables away, but he didn’t pay enough attention to understand what they were saying. Not that it mattered, anyway.

Kenji pulled out his phone and scrolled through his notifications. An email from one of the Agency clerks, a very late reply from Atsushi to a conversation from the night before, and a new message from Kyouka. He responded with one hand, furrowing his brows as he tried not to fumble the phone. He let her know he’d be back soon, his task already completed. She immediately responded with only a smiley face.

As he set his chopsticks across his bowl, Kenji felt his eyelids drooping. Of course, they would—they always did. Hastily, he set a timer on his phone for half an hour. Half an hour he’d allow himself, and then he’d make himself trudge back to the office and report back to Kunikida. It wasn’t a far walk anyway. Maybe ten minutes? Give or take a few.

As he drifted off, scuffling behind him registered in his subconscious. The men whispered again, their voices getting louder after the waitress’ clicking heels faded into the distance. Louder and louder they got, one of them snickering and another shushing them, before a hand covered Kenji’s mouth.

His eyes flew open, his scream only muffled by the hand clamped over his face. He wrenched away from them, nearly falling out of his chair, but one of the men caught him around the waist with a broad arm. He flailed, screaming as he tried to kick the man holding him.

“Let me go!” Kenji tried to scream, but all that came out was incoherent mumbling.

Another man grabbed his legs, leaving him only able to twist his body feebly, not making any progress. The man holding his upper body huffed. “Come now. Be a good little lady and stop struggling.”

Lady?

“Yeah,” laughed the third man. “Give us ten minutes and we’ll be done with ya.”

Done with him? Done what?

Kenji’s back hit the tarmac and a weight dropped down on his stomach, a hand still pressed firmly against his mouth. He stared up at the man’s face, into his dark eyes. They had a determined glint to them. A chill went through his body. This was wrong. This was very wrong.

The black-haired man above him turned to another man who stood behind him. He had a crew-cut and light-coloured eyes, as far as he could tell. “Do you have the shot?”

The man with the crew-cut nodded. “Yeah. Got it right here.” He pulled a vial from his pocket along with a syringe.

“Good. Shoot ‘er up.”

“On it.” The man knelt down next to Kenji, smirking at him mercilessly. “Now you’ll have no choice but to be obedient. Be our bitch, will you?”

“Look at her,” laughed a man that Kenji couldn’t see. “Stupid bitch doesn’t even know what we’re gunna do.”

“Bet she’ll like it though,” said crew-cut.

The man on top of him stared right into his young, terrified eyes. “You’re a little whore, aren’t you?” Kenji’s brows shot into his hairline. “Oh, you get it now do ya? You’re a little slow. Bout as smart as you are pretty.”

Crew cut plunged the syringe into his arm, watching Kenji intently as the liquid seeped into his veins. The man became blurry within seconds, looking as though he saw him through tears. Wait, was he crying? He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t tell much of anything. His vision swam and his hearing started to go fuzzy, as though cotton balls had been shoved into his ears.

“She’s all ready for ya.”

“Perfect.”

Kenji couldn’t move an inch. He couldn’t scream, he couldn’t turn his head, he couldn’t even see straight. He blinked lazily at the sky, a shiver running through his body. This was wrong. His body shook as his consciousness began to fade.

Somewhere, he knew he should be screaming. Crying. Fighting back. But his consciousness had slipped away into a haze of confusion and fear. Though his eyes were shut, and he no longer struggled, the laughs of the men echoing far away from his consciousness, he knew something was very wrong. It was only a vague idea, floating through the abyss, but it was a prominent one. The only one.

 

Something was very wrong. Something bad was happening to him.

 

And he was powerless to stop it.

* 

The hustle and bustle of the Agency was the same as it always was. Dazai slacking off and passing his work over to his frowning apprentice, the crinkling of Ranpo’s snack bags and Kunikida chiding at them both to ‘get some damn work done.’ Junichiro and Kyouka sat at the same bank of desks, working on their own reports and chatting idly. Kyouka’s fingers tapped over the keys on her laptop as she tried to keep herself focused. Kenji took longer than she had thought, especially since he had texted her and said he had already finished his field task. What could he possibly have been doing that would take him so long to return?

As if he had read her mind, the door swung open and the boy’s small figure stepped inside. Kyouka hopped up from her desk and crossed the floor to him with open arms but stopped when she spotted the hickeys on his neck. She glared at them, dropping her arms, her mouth wide open. But just as she was about to say something, she noticed how badly he trembled. She brought her eyes up to his face, to the sheer terror in his golden eyes. “Kenji?”

He said nothing, only stared at her, his chest rising and falling at an uneven pace. She took him in. The tears in his clothes, the blood on his face and in his hair, bruising on his exposed skin… Something was seriously wrong. She couldn’t tear her eyes off of him. “Yosano?”

“Just a minute!” Yosano called back from the other side of the office.

It couldn’t wait a minute. Not judging off of the look on her boyfriend’s face. “Yosano.”

At her stern tone, the woman whipped around, a gasp falling from her lips. “Kenji! Oh my god!”

As Yosano hurried over, Kyouka reached out to him. He flinched away. “Don’t touch me!” Her eyes widened at his out-of-character request. This was bad.

Scraping chairs could be heard all through the office as the rest of the Agency hurried towards him, firing questions left, right, and center.

“No! Don’t touch me!” Kenji’s eyes grew frantic. “Please don’t touch me!”

Kyouka looked up at Yosano, who’d arrived beside her. They both looked at Junichiro beside them. He spoke to the rest of the room but didn’t look away from Kenji. “Give him some space! You’re freaking him out.”

When everyone else backed away, Yosano knelt down in front of him. “Kenji-kun, can you tell me what happened to make you so upset? You look pretty roughed up.”

His eyes finally left Kyouka’s, turning to Yosano. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t remember.”

She quirked her head at him. “Did you hit your head?”

He shook his head no, swallowing thickly. “No. No, I… I was…”

“What’s the last thing you remember before all of this happened?”

He thought about that for a moment, his chest heaving. “I was eating lunch… I… I finished my field task early…”

She nodded. “Okay… Do you remember where you ate?”

“At the tea house Kyouka took me to.”

“Do you remember anything else?”

“These men came in and sat behind me. But I was falling asleep.”

“Then what?”

“One of them… he-he grabbed me and had a hand over my mouth.”

“And where did he take you?”

“I don’t know exactly… I don’t… I don’t remember much else…”

“Is there anything else you can tell me, Kenji-kun?”

“I-I think they drugged me… And they kept calling me a girl… And then they were mad… and… and…” His voice wavered and he took a shuddering breath, staring at the floor.

“And what, sweetie? It’s okay, you can tell me.”

He brought his eyes up to meet hers, tears welling in them. “I-I think they touched me…”

Yosano pursed her lips, nodding. “Okay.” When he looked down, trembling harder, she frowned. “Kenji, look at me.” He glanced up at her through his bangs. “I believe you. And you’re safe here. No one here is going to hurt you.”

“Okay…”

His voice was so small and hurt… It made her heart clench. “Are you in pain?”

“Mhmm.”

“Okay.” She paused for a moment, not daring to look at her coworkers. “Tell you what honey, let’s go to the infirmary. I’ll take a look at you and ask you some more questions, you can lay down, and we’ll try and do something for the pain. Is that okay with you?”

“Do I… do I have to go alone…?”

“No, honey, of course not. Who do you want to come with you?”

Kenji chanced a glance to Kyouka and Jun, who stood beside him. “Will you…?”

“Of course,” Kyouka breathed, her eyes watering. Beside her, Jun nodded.

Yosano got to her feet and dusted herself off. “Okay. Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

*

Yosano waited patiently for Kenji to climb onto the examination table, wincing as he did so. He drew his shoulders up towards his ears, hissing as he sat on the hard surface. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

“You can lie down if that’s more comfortable.”

He looked up at her and nodded, sliding down so his back rested on the table instead. “What are you going to do to me?”

She raised her brows. “I’m not going to do anything that you don’t want me to do, hun. You can tell me to stop any time and I will.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I only want to help you.”

He looked away, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. The chair beside him scraped across the ground as someone sat down, and another one plunked down beside it seconds later. His whole body shook with tremors, fear radiating from him as he stared at the ceiling. He didn’t want to know what the clanging from the other side of the room was.

“Kenji?” The gentle voice had come from Kyouka. His eyes darted to her, taking in the worry on her face. She reached out a hand but didn’t touch him. “You’re shaking. Do you want to hold my hand? It might make it less scary.”

He thought about it for a moment, the ghosts of other people’s hands on his body flashing through his mind. He clenched his eyes shut and took a deep breath, then reached out one shaky hand.

Kyouka took it in both of hers, stroking her thumb over his knuckles. “You’re safe, Kenji.”

“I know,” he breathed, staring at the ceiling again.

Yosano’s heels clicked over the tiles and she reappeared in his sightline, sitting on a wheeled stool at the end of the table. “Alright, Kenji-kun. Before we can do anything else, I have to ask you some questions. Is that okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“Alright,” she hummed, clicking her pen. “Do you know who you are, where you are, and what day it is?”

“I’m Kenji. I’m at the Agency. It’s September… fifth, right?”

“Right. Did you at any point not remember any of that?”

“For a while… they-they gave me something. I wasn’t aware…” he shuddered. “I wasn’t aware of anything. I just knew something bad was happening to me…”

Yosano frowned and Kyouka stroked his knuckles again. “You said they were men… do you remember how many of them there were?”

“Three. I think.”

“Okay…” She scribbled that down and continued her questions without looking back up. “Do you remember what they looked like?”

He wracked his mind for any details his brain would spare him. The drugs had wiped out most of his memory from the ordeal. “The main guy… I think he had black hair? And one of them had a crew cut…”

“Do you know how tall they were?”

“No.”

“Do you remember anything about the third man?”

“No.”

“Any tattoos? Piercings?”

He shook his head, his eyes closed. “No. No, I don’t remember anything else. I’m sorry.”

Kyouka squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

He couldn’t look at her.

“I need to ask some questions about your medical history now, okay?” He nodded. “Are you on any medications?” He shook his head. “Have you had any surgeries besides the ones I gave you?”

“I had my appendix removed when I was little.”

She tilted her head, scribbling on the clipboard. “That’s good to know… Okay. Any allergies?”

“Peanuts.”

“How did I not know that? Anything else?”

“No.”

“Have you ever smoked or used drugs?”

“Not until today…”

Yosano looked up at him, her expression soft. “That doesn’t count, honey. I mean something you took on purpose.”

“Then no.”

“I didn’t think so.” She tapped her pen against her chin, checking it over. “Are you sexually active?”

“No.”

“Okay… Anything else you think I should know?”

Kenji shook his head. “You’re not going to tell anyone about this, are you?”

“No. Whatever you tell me in this room stays in this room. Unless of course, you decide to take this case to court. Then some of it will have to leave.”

“Okay.”

Yosano flipped a page on the clipboard, then looked him in the eyes. “I have some more specific questions now. If you need to stop or take a break, let me know.”

“Okay.”

“Do you remember how they took your clothes off?”

“All I remember is they pulled off the straps of my overalls and he… he put his hand up my shirt… And then… And then I think he pulled everything, everything down…”

“What way were you facing?”

“I was on my back, but I couldn’t see much. Everything was blurry by that point.”

“Take a breath, Kenji. Deep breath.”

He followed her direction, not even noticing how much his breathing had picked up. Eyes shut, he took a few deep breaths, paying attention to the air filling his lungs and Kyouka’s gentle hold on his hand. “Okay.”

“Do you have any recollection of what they did to you?”

“The biggest man was sitting on me and he had his hands up my shirt and on my chest. He—he—I think he was, was kissing my chin and then he bit my neck.”

“Where?”

“Where the mark is. I felt the skin break.”

Yosano’s eyes widened and Junichiro cleared his throat. “Kenji… Your whole neck is covered in bruises.”

He inhaled sharply, hands flying to his throat, flinching as soon as his fingers brushed the skin. His eyes searched Jun’s face as his breathing picked up. “I… I don’t remember which ones are hickeys. I don’t remember!”

“Aren’t they all?” Kyouka asked.

“No,” Jun said, shaking his head. “Those are finger marks, and I’m not sure what those ones are.”

Kenji’s eyes widened further. “They choked me? They… were they trying to kill me? Did I almost die?”

“Woah woah woah, Kenji, it’s okay,” Jun reassured him. “Breathe. You’re safe, remember? Whatever they did to you then, they aren’t here now. You’re safe now.”

Kenji only stared at him, his fingers wrapped around his own throat. Yosano’s voice tore his gaze away. “Is there anything else you remember?”

“Pain. And feeling like I was going to be sick. Like someone was gagging me.”

“Was something in your mouth?”

“I think so.”

She nodded. “Where was the pain?”

“I don’t remember… I just knew something hurt.”

She wrote that down, too.

“How can I remember what they did but also not remember it?”

“Drugs do funny things, sweetheart. Some things your brain might not have picked up on, but your body remembers. And it’s okay. Just tell me what you do know. Alright?”

“Okay.”

 “Did you come straight back?”

He nodded vigorously. “I was scared. I didn’t know what happened, just that something felt wrong. But I didn’t know what. I just woke up face-down on the ground… but my clothes were on…”

Yosano furrowed her brows at the clipboard, then looked back up at him. “They were on?”

“Not well, but yeah. My overall straps weren’t on and my shirt was still pushed up, but my pants were on. But everything hurt and I was scared so I came back here.”

“Okay. Did you notice any bleeding or other symptoms?”

“I knew my arms were cut up… And I felt… I felt…”

“You felt what, Kenji?”

He looked away. “Sticky.”

 Yosano said nothing about it, just continued her notes. “Is there anything else you can tell me before I take a look at you?”

He turned his head further away. “I feel stupid.”

Yosano set the clipboard on the edge of the table, standing. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I didn’t fight back… I just let it happen…”

“It’s not your fault. You couldn’t fight back. It doesn’t mean you just let it happen or that you liked it.”

“I must have liked it though.”

Yosano stepped up beside him, studying his neck and face. “What makes you think so?” Kenji said nothing, but looked right at her, his eyes silently begging her not to make him voice it out loud. “What is it, Kenji-kun?”

“I… I…” A few tears spilled over his lashes and he looked down at his lap. “I…”

Realization dawned on her face. “Oh, sweetie, no.” She reached out to him, her hand hovering over his head. He looked up at her with flooded eyes and nodded, giving her permission to touch him. She let her hand fall to his hair, smoothing it gently. “No, Kenji. That’s just your body reacting to what happened. You can’t help that.”

“B-but—”

“Shh…” She continued to smooth his hair off his forehead, trailing her thumb down the side of his face, brushing some of his tears away. “A lot of other men and women I’ve examined have said the same thing. That doesn’t mean you liked it. I promise. It’s okay.”

“It’s my—my f-f-fault-t!”

Yosano knelt beside him, her fingers gently combing through his hair in the spots that hadn’t been yanked until they were bloody. She tried to ignore the blond strands that came out on her fingers as she spoke to him. “It’s not. It’s not your fault, Kenji.”

Kyouka squeezed his hand, using both her thumbs to sweep over the back of it. “Ken-chan, it’s not your fault. None of what happened is your fault. We don’t blame you.”

“It’s the men who assaulted you,” Yosano said. “It’s their fault. They’re the ones who hurt you and they are at fault. Not you.”

Kenji shut his eyes, willing his tears to stop. He couldn’t do this. It was his own fault. He had no right to be upset over it.

Junichiro sat stock still in his chair, watching the scene unfold with horrified eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. What he was hearing. He couldn’t believe that any of this had just happened to his baby brother. To such a sweet kid. Not that it should happen to anyone, but Kenji of all people… He swallowed his anger as best he could, along with the lump in his throat. Kenji needed him.

When Kenji’s tears slowed, Yosano stood back up, staring down at him with the most reassuring look she could muster. “I know this is going to be hard for you, but I need to take a look at you. I can give you a gown, but I have to ask you to take off your clothes.”

“We can leave if you want some privacy,” Jun said.

Kenji shook his head. “Please don’t go.”

“Not if you don’t want us to.” Kenji shook his head adamantly. “Then we won’t.”

Kenji took a deep breath, sitting up momentarily, then slid off the straps of his overalls. He peeled off his overshirt, followed by the tighter black shirt he wore underneath. Yosano handed him a gown, and he slid it over his head. He paused, starting to shake again when he realized how exposed he’d be. His hands trembled over his belt, fumbling with the buckle. He couldn’t grab it. He couldn’t.

“Kenji?” Yosano gave him the most caring look he’d ever seen on her features. “I’m not going to hurt you and I’m not going to do anything without your permission. But I do need to take a look at your lower body.”

“I…” he raised his shaking hands, then looked down at his jolting legs. “I know. I just don’t think I can stand up, right now.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to,” said Yosano. “Here, let me help you…”

Kenji’s eyes flew open when he heard his clothes hit the floor along with a soft gasp. “What? What is it? Is it bad?”

Yosano blinked repeatedly, then looked up at him. “Everything is fine, Kenji-kun. Let me get some stuff to clean you up, okay?”

He watched her skeptically as she retreated further into the infirmary. Kyouka and Jun only stared at him apologetically. His jaw quivered as he fought back another round of tears. Pain? Humiliation? Fear? He wasn’t exactly sure. But whatever it was, it was overwhelming. He dug his nails on his free hand into his palm, desperate to hold it together.

“Kenji,” said Jun, quietly. “Is it okay if I touch your head?”

“Mhmm.”

Junichiro scooted his chair closer, laying his hand on Kenji’s head. He resumed Yosano’s previous motions, smoothing his hair from his forehead, hoping to soothe him in some way. The boy shook harder the longer this exam continued, and Jun wasn’t sure how much more it would take for him to break down completely. “We’re right here. We won’t let anybody hurt you. Those guys will never touch you again, okay?”

“O-okay…”

“You’re safe here with us. Breathe…”

 “I’m never eating again…” Kenji choked, the tears he fought away evident in his voice.

“What?”

“I-I don’t know what happened, but I could’ve fought back if I could use my ability! But, but I ate so I couldn’t, I couldn’t use it!”

“No, Kenji, that’s not—”

“It’s all my fault, I’m so stupid!”

“You’re not stupid,” said Kyouka.

“Then why did I eat? Why didn’t I just listen to Kunikida and not eat until after work?”

“You—”

“I can’t eat… I just can’t! Never again!”

“No, baby,” Kyouka said, taking his hand once more and sitting down next to him. “You have to eat.”

“I-I can’t-t!”

“You can’t starve yourself, babes, that will only make things worse for you.”

His breathing shuddered. “I—I—I—I—”

“Kenji-kun?” Yosano rushed over, setting down a basket of supplies. “Hey… Take a deep breath for me, alright? Try and take a deep breath.”

Jun smoothed his hair as he struggled to breathe. “It’s alright, Kenji. It’s not your fault.”

“It has to be! Nothing else makes sense!”

“I know, honey… I know it doesn’t make sense.” Yosano cupped his cheek, forgetting to check with him in her need to comfort. He flinched at first, but quickly leaned into her palm. “I know you’re scared, and you’re hurt and none of this makes sense, but I promise you… None of this is your fault. None of it. I promise.”

Golden eyes stared up at her, searching her face for any signs of insincerity as his chest heaved for air. Finding none, he let his eyes fall shut, leaning further into her touch. It was calming, unlike what had happened earlier. Junichiro, Yosano, and Kyouka didn’t want to hurt him. They wanted to calm him down and make him feel better. To feel safe.

“Breathe,” Yosano soothed, watching the panic leave his eyes. “That’s it… Good. I have to take your vitals now, okay? Just your standard procedures. It won’t hurt. Alright?”

“Mhmm…”

She swiped a tear from his cheek. “You’re safe.”

He let out a shaky breath. “I know…”

Yosano nodded, taking off the stethoscope from around her neck. It didn’t take long for her to take his vitals and as far as she was concerned, everything came back fine. She noted it on her clipboard. “I have to do some quick bloodwork now, okay? Then I’ll take the samples to the blood lab downtown to be analyzed.”

“Bloodwork? Why do you need blood samples…?”

“I need to test you for HIV. And they’ll need to see what drug was in your system.”

“O-okay.”

She tied a tourniquet around his arm, prodding his elbow for a vein. Then she readied the needle, noticing Kenji’s intense stare. “Don’t look at it, hun,” she said. “I know how you get and I don’t want you to faint.” Yosano waited for him to close his eyes. “Okay, you’re going to feel a slight pinch…”

When a slight hiss escaped, Kyouka squeezed his free hand.

“All done. Ah—don’t look still.”

“Why not?”

“Do you want to see viles of your own blood?”

He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “No.”

The next time she spoke, her voice was further away. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

Jun gave him a reassuring smile. “You’re doing great, buddy. Hang in there.”

Yosano returned to his side and handed her clipboard to Kyouka, along with a pen. “Are you okay with Kyouka helping me out with this part of the exam?”

Kenji nodded. “She’s your apprentice. I trust her.”

“I know, but she’s also your girlfriend. Are you comfortable with this?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’m going to do a forensic exam. Do you know what that means?” He shook his head. “I’m going to take swabs and samples to try and get the perpetrators DNA. I’ll be in contact with the police, they will evaluate the samples, and they will probably call you in to talk to them. Is that okay with you?”

Kenji looked at Jun beside him. “But I’m a boy.”

Junichiro blinked at him. “Mhmm. So what?”

“Will they believe me?”

Jun leant towards him. “I believe you.”

“But will anyone else?”

Yosano sighed, drawing his attention back to her. “Hun… with this evidence… there’s no way they won’t believe you.”

“I’ve learned that a lot of the time people don’t believe girls, but if I’m a boy… a teenage boy, and I’m supposed to want that stuff… there’s even less of a chance they’ll believe me.”

“But you didn’t want it,” Junichiro pointed out. “You said no, didn’t you? You told them to stop.”

“I didn’t get the chance. I could only tell them to let me go.”

“That still shows them that you didn’t want it.”

“But I didn’t say no…”

“Even if you didn’t verbally say no,” Kyouka added, “or say the word ‘no’ exactly, it still doesn’t make it okay. Sometimes people go along with it because they’re scared, or they feel like they have to. That they have no choice. Yes, by coercion or drugs don’t equal consent.”

“I didn’t want it but I didn’t have a choice…” he choked. “Even when I said to let go, they still kept going. They made it so that I couldn’t fight back…”

“Then it’s still rape. It’s still a crime.”

Yosano nodded. “Whether you’re a boy or a girl or non-binary or any other gender, rape is still rape, no matter how old you are. It’s still just as valid for a teenage boy then it would be if you were younger. Just because boys your age have the reputation of having their minds in the gutter, it still doesn’t make it okay.”

“But there’s also my ability…”

“You ate,” said Kyouka. “No one can dispute that. The restaurant staff are witnesses.”

“I guess so. I just… I don’t want to cause any more trouble than I already have for you all.”

Yosano smiled at him sadly. “You haven’t caused us any trouble, kiddo. It’s okay. We just want you to feel safe here. And we want to find out who did this to you and make sure that they’re punished.”

“That’s why you have to take notes about… this?”

“That’s part of the documentation, yes. If you’re not comfortable with any of this, though, then I won’t. Do you want to take this to the police?”

“Are you sure they’ll believe me?”

She nodded. “I’m positive.”

Kenji let out a long breath. “Then yes. Go ahead.”

“Okay. I’m going to start with your face. Hold still for me, okay?”

“Okay.”

With a camera and a swab, Yosano leant down towards his face. Golden eyes remained trained on her as she swabbed one of the marks on his neck and took pictures of the purple skin. “Kyouka—finger shaped bruises around the windpipe, a collection of hematomas with tooth punctures… here, take this swab.” She tilted Kenji’s head down. “Blood and swelling in the scalp on the right side, suggesting hair pulling… Look at me, Kenji.” When he turned to her, she lifted his chin with two fingers to see his face in the light. “Abrasions on the forehead and left cheek.” Gingerly, she pressed on his cheekbones. When he flinched, she removed her hands. “Sorry, Kenji-kun. Ecchymosis of the left eye. Dried blood from the nose but it doesn’t appear broken. Bruising on both cheekbones, one vertical and the other horizontal, probably from the hand over his mouth. Open your mouth for me, hun.” Shining a light on the inside of his mouth, she frowned, squinting at it. “Kenji, I’m going to press of the roof of your mouth. Tell me if it hurts.” Immediately upon pressing on it, a whine emitted from him. She hummed. “Damage to the soft palate. Kyouka, hand me a swab, please.”

“Does that mean what I think it means?” Junichiro asked from beside her.

“It means that he was right about something being in his mouth, so I’m going to swab it for DNA.” She handed the swab back to Kyouka and continued. “No broken teeth or tears anywhere.”

The pen in Kyouka’s hand scribbled notes furiously, her eyes barely leaving the page. “Is that it for his face?”

“Mhmm. I checked his ears but there’s no damage that I can see.”

“Okay.”

“Alright, Kenji,” said Yosano, stepping back momentarily. I need to look at your upper body. Your shoulders, chest, stomach, arms, and back. Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” She stepped forwards once more, slipping the gown off of one shoulder at a time as she examined him. “Slight bruising on the forearms—defense wounds. Finger-shaped bruises on the upper arms. Hematomas down the chest onto the stomach. Does your stomach hurt anywhere, Kenji?”

“I… I don’t know. Not inside at least.”

“That’s good. Just looks like you have some rug-burn or something across your stomach.”

“That’s where the one man picked me up.”

Yosano hummed. “Jot that down, please, Kyouka. Kenji, can you roll onto your stomach for me?” He nodded, rolling over as best he could without wincing. Yosano opened the back of the gown at the top to see his back. “Abrasions on the upper back and left shoulder. Nail shaped puncture marks and finger shaped bruises on his sides and hips.”

Kyouka let out a long breath, continuing with her notes. “Kenji, honey, I’m so sorry.”

Kenji said nothing, only allowed Yosano to continue with her examination. She was abnormally gentle with him—most of their previous visits being used to bring him back from the brink of death. But this was different. He was vulnerable and she was doing everything in her power to make him feel safe and comfortable. And it was more than appreciated.

“Nothing on the backs of the legs… but there is symmetrical bruising on the inner thighs. Kenji, can you roll back onto your back please?”

“Am I done?”

“No, sweetie, not yet. Almost, though.” A whine came from his throat and she pursed her lips. “Do you need a break?”

He shook his head. “I just want it to be over. I want to go home…”

“I know… We’re almost done. I know it’s uncomfortable and embarrassing. I know you’d rather be doing anything else… But this is necessary in order to help you. Okay?”

“Okay…”

“Kyouka—abrasions on both knees.” She stood straight, checking on her apprentice over her shoulder. After a minute, Kyouka looked up and nodded. Yosano nodded back. “Alright, Kenji-kun, we’re onto the last part… But this is going to be the least comfortable for you. I need to take a look at your pelvic region, and I don’t want to scare you, but I’m going to have to touch you. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay with this?”

“Yes…”

“Honey, look at me. Are you okay? You can tell me no if you’re not.”

His voice wavered as he spoke. “It’s fine. You can do it.”  

“Do you want to hold my hand?” Kenji’s eyes turned to Junichiro, who held a hand out to him. Kenji nodded, letting Jun take his shaking hand into his own. “I’m right here.”

Yosano smiled sadly. “Let me know if anything hurts.” Kenji shut his eyes as Yosano examined him, hating the way it felt, hating the way it reminded him of the men earlier that day. He squeezed Jun’s hand.

“Hey, remember that story you told me about Hanako?”

“Which one?”

“There’s more than one Hanako?”

“Which story, I meant.”

“Oh. The one where she chased your brothers around the field.”

“Which time?”

Jun raised a brow. “That’s happened more than once?”

Kenji raised a brow at him, doing his best to ignore the exam, but obviously failing.

“More than twice?”

“More than ten times.” Kenji scrunched up his face in discomfort, a whimper escaping involuntarily.

“Am I hurting you?”

“A little…”

“I’m sorry, hun. I’m trying to be gentle.”

“I know…”

Jun swiped his thumb over the back of Kenji’s hand, just as Kyouka had before. “You’re doing well, Kenji. Almost done.”

“I don’t like it…”

The sound of his voice sent a pang through Junichiro. He’d never heard him sound that way. So… hurt and scared and… upset. Small. “I know, Kenji. It’s almost over.”

“Last part, Kenji. I need you in the knee-chest position, please.”

“What’s that…?”

“Face the pillow on your hands and knees, and then drop your chest to the table.”

“No!”

Yosano’s eyes widened, taken aback by his outburst. “Wha—”

“No, please don’t make me do that! They—the—they—” He shook harder than he had the entire time, clenching his eyes shut, his breathing coming too quick.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Jun said, attempting to calm him down as he smoothed his hair once again. “Breathe, Kenji, it’s okay. You’re not there, you’re safe. You’re safe…”

“Pl-please don’t, don’t make me!”

“We won’t, right Yosano?”

“I-I can’t. I can’t!”

“Shh, Kenji, you’re safe. You’re safe, breathe…”

“It’s alright, Kenji,” Yosano interjected, finally over her initial shock. She guessed she should’ve expected that. “We can just do it like this. It’s okay… You’re alright…”

“I’m s-sorry…”

“You don’t need to apologize, Kenji-kun. It’s alright. I understand.”

He took a deep breath, trying to settle his breathing. “Continue.”

“Can you pull your knees to your chest for me?” He nodded, doing as she asked.

 “Back to Hanako chasing your brothers… Did she ever catch either of them?”

“She lifted Mitsue up in the air which her head and he landed on her back. Then she proceeded to chase Eiji around and Mitsue only egged her on.”

“That sounds entertaining to watch.”

“It was,” he said, wincing. “Until my dad yelled at me for not interfering. So, then I had to… prepare my strength… and go into the pasture to stop her.”

“How did you do that?” Kenji stared at him with wide eyes and Jun coughed, looking away. “How did you stop her, I mean.”

“I basically had to wrestle her.”

“I would pay to see you wrestle a cow.”

“I’ll take you up on—” Kenji cut himself off with a scream.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Kenji,” Yosano said in a rush. “I’m sorry, hun.”

“It’s okay,” he said, fighting back tears.

“Those bastards,” Kyouka muttered, her eyes narrowed.

Yosano nodded. “If I ever find them, they’re not gunna have a fun time.”  

Kenji continued to squirm, his eyes welling with tears. When one slipped down his cheek, Jun immediately swiped it away, then continued smoothing his hair. “You’re alright… Look at me. Don’t look at her, look at me.”

Kenji turned his head to the side to look at him, lips trembling. “Sorry.”

Junichiro shook his head. “Tell me more about your brothers.”

“Like—Like what?”

“How old are they? Eiji and Mitsue.”

“Well, I’m fifteen… so Eiji is 12. Mitsue—ow—is 9.”

“You have two other brothers, right?”

“Yeah, I—"

 Junichiro jumped with his own yelp as Kenji burst into tears, bringing both hands up to cover his mouth.

“Kenji, sweetie, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to hurt you,” Yosano promised.

He whimpered again, nodding through the silent sobs. He was so sick of crying.

“It’s alright,” Jun soothed, prying his hands away from his face. “You’re alright. You’re almost done.” 

“You’re almost done, Ken-chan…” That was Kyouka.

Kenji squeezed Jun’s hand, jaw quivering and eyes clenched up. “Is it over? Please tell me it’s over…”

“It’s over, honey,” said Yosano, standing. “It’s over. You did so well.”

Kenji stared up at the ceiling, unable to come up with something to say. Kyouka came into view then, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “It’s okay now.”

“Do you want me to clean you up now, Kenji?” Yosano asked. “I’ll wash you up and fix what I can. It won’t take long.”

He nodded. “Yes, please. I’m disgusting.”

“You’re not disgusting,” Kyouka reminded him. “What happened to you was disgusting.”

 

“No. I am.”

She shook her head. “No, babes. Those men are disgusting. It’s not you.”

Yosano wandered back over with a warm cloth. “Ready? This might help you feel better.”

“Please.”

“Of course.” She started to wipe him down with the warm water, cleaning the blood from his wounds along with the various other fluids left on his body. Soon the stickiness was gone, and stitches were given where they were due, the young boy stitched up and clean, finally. Yosano retreated for a brief moment, then came back with an ice pack. “Sit on this for a few minutes. It’ll be uncomfortable, but it will ease your pain. I’ll tell you when to take it off.”

Kenji pushed himself into a sitting position with a wince and sat on the ice pack, unable to look at her. “Thank you, Yosano-sensei.”

Yosano sat beside him on the table and slung an arm around his back. She pulled him close to her side, then pressed a gentle kiss to his head. “We love you. You’re safe here.”

Kenji nodded against her shoulder, leaning into the embrace. “I know.”

“I mean it. You’re safe here. And we’re going to find who did this to you.”

“We will?”

She rested her head against his, looking up at Junichiro and Kyouka. “We will. I promise.”

*

Junichiro and Kyouka volunteered to stay with Kenji that night. The young boy had remained in the infirmary the rest of the day and had been terrified to go home alone. Kunikida had driven him home in silence, not sure what to say to him. Junichiro had advised him to say nothing. So, nothing it was.

No sooner had Kenji unlocked his dorm door than he headed for the bathroom. Kyouka had barely entered the dorm, with Junichiro still taking off his shoes, when she heard the shower turn on. The two exchanged a sad look. The poor kid.

Kenji let the hot water run down his body, blond hair plastered to his face and neck. It washed over him like all the emotions of the day and he wasn’t sure which one he wanted to give in to. Did he want to cry? Or scream? Or punch the wall until his knuckles bled? Or maybe he just wanted to curl up and let himself disappear for a while. In the end that’s what he went with, sinking to the shower floor and burying his head between his knees, arms wrapped tightly around his legs. The steam fogged up the mirrors and seeped out under the door, catching Kyouka and Jun’s attention.  

Kyouka wandered over to the bathroom door and paused, her hand raised. Stealing herself, she rapped on the wood. “Kenji? Are you okay?”

No answer. She took a deep breath, then turned the doorknob, relieved when it gave and allowed her into the room. Was this an invasion of privacy? Yes… Did she have reason to be worried…? Also, yes. Kyouka approached the shower with tentative steps. “Kenji? Sweetie?”

Still no answer. She grabbed the towel that hung outside the shower and draped it over her arm, then tugged the shower curtain slightly to the side. In the corner, on the floor, under the steaming hot water sat her boyfriend, his skin red from the abuse doled out to it by the heat. She sighed, reaching in and turning off the water. “Ken-chan, that water was burning you.”

“It was burning them off of me,” he mumbled in response.

Kyouka was sure she felt her heart shatter. “Oh, Kenji…” She stepped half-into the shower so he could reach, holding the towel out in front of her while she looked the other way. He took it and wrapped it around his waist, not looking at her. Shakily, he stood, when Kyouka pulled him to his feet.

Jun knocked on the door, then stuck a hand in. Kyouka took the bundle of clothing and handed them to Kenji. He slipped them on, glad for the loose cotton. Then, gently, she pulled Kenji by the hand and out to the living room, grabbing his comb and towel on the way out. She directed him to the couch and guided him to sit.

“Here,” called Jun, who tossed an ice pack from his spot in the kitchen, where he was making dinner.

Kyouka nodded, then handed it to Kenji, who promptly sat on it. He still didn’t look at her. She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before bringing the towel up and laying it over his head. Humming while she worked, Kyouka towel dried his hair, then sat the towel down beside him on the couch, picking up the comb instead. She combed through his hair as gently as she could, trying not to hit any of the sore spots. She continued humming—one of their favourite songs. She knew he knew it, but he made no inclination that he did.

“Do you want to talk about what happened, Kenji?”

“No…”

“That’s okay. I just… I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m not.”

She sighed, setting the comb down on the towel. She bent down to look at him, cupping his cheeks. “Can I give you a kiss?”

“Mhmm.”

Tentatively, Kyouka pressed her lips to his, leaving them there for a short moment. She pulled back momentarily, but he pulled her down again, pressing his lips to hers with more force. Startled, she started to kiss him back, but stopped when she felt his tears sliding over the slim fingers that cupped his cheeks. She pulled away, staring into his eyes with the most love she could put into one look. “What is it?” She swiped her thumbs over his cheeks, wiping his tears away. “Talk to me…”

“I’m so sorry, Kyouka! I didn’t mean to cheat on you, I’m so sorry!”

“Oh no,” she kissed his head fiercely, then looked him straight in the eyes. “No, baby, it’s okay. It’s alright. You didn’t cheat on me, don’t even worry about that. I’m more worried about you. It’s you I’m worried about. And what those men did.”

“But I… I…”

She sat down on the couch beside him, pulling him to her. “Shh… no… It’s okay. Is that what you were worried about? Did you think I was mad?”

“Y-yeah!”

“Oh, honey, no. No no no.”

“I-I saw your face when I first walked in! I—you were mad!”

 

“I didn’t know what had happened then, Kenji, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. But then I saw you shaking, and I knew something wasn’t right. I knew you weren’t okay.”

“I’m still not okay,” he choked.

“I know…”

From the kitchen, Junichiro sighed as he watched the two of them. Kenji looked like a wreck and he’d never seen Kyouka so concerned. She was normally pretty stoic—not very emotional at all. Of course, he’d heard about times when she was from Atsushi, but it didn’t happen so often anymore. But this… this was uncharted territory that none of them quite knew how to handle, let alone Kenji himself.

He pondered what to do as he finished cooking their dinner. Should he say something or leave it alone? What would the rest of the agency say tomorrow? Should Kenji even be going to work tomorrow? How long should he take off? Not that he would… he’d probably have to make him. Would he have nightmares or develop PTSD? Would this happy, optimistic child turn into someone plagued with fear or guilt or shame? He couldn’t bear to think about it. But he continued to, right through the dinner which Kenji didn’t even touch, through the movie they watched afterward and up through the early hours of the morning, during which he and Kyouka sandwiched Kenji between them on the futon.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sleep—he couldn’t. His mind kept him awake, overly conscious of the even breathing of the young boy beside him. Every time he so much as twitched, Jun was alert. He didn’t mean to, he just… he didn’t want to fall asleep and have Kenji wake up, terrified. Logically, he knew that he’d wake one of them up and he’d be okay, but he wanted to be there when and if it happened. He knew that Kenji would be if the roles were reversed.

That line of thinking continued for a while, right up until the moment it happened. Kenji’s breath hitched in his sleep, followed by a bunch of mumbling. At first, it sounded like he was talking about a cow, but Jun quickly realized he was just talking about the beef he’d eaten that day for lunch. Just as he’d completed that thought, Kenji called out in his sleep, throwing his head from side to side. “Let me go! Let me go!!”

Jun watched him in horror, not ready for the scream that followed. It pierced the silence of the night, startling both him and Kyouka, who rolled over with wide eyes. She tried to shake him awake, which only made it worse. “No! NO! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!”

He screamed again, and the scream turned into a sob. Junichiro and Kyouka both called out to him, trying to pull him away from reliving his trauma. Kenji’s eyes flew open, and no sooner had he looked at Junichiro then the boy launched at him. Startled, Jun embraced him, holding him tightly as he sobbed into his chest.

Junichiro ran a hand up and down Kenji’s back, whispering to him. “Let it out, let it out, it’s okay… It’s alright Kenji-kun. You’re safe…”

“They-they had me again! They had had me in the in the alley again and I saw it and felt it and and and—” he cut himself off with another loud sob. They broke Jun’s heart to listen to and he tightened his hold on Kenji, who practically laid on his chest.

Kyouka stared at the pair with watering eyes, hating the way she could physically see the sobs wracking her boyfriend’s chest, watch him jolt and shake against Jun. She scooted over and rested a hand on his back. “Kenji, sweetie, it was just a dream. It was only a dream, you’re not there… They’re not here… You’re safe…”

He shuddered and gasped for air, choking on his cries. Jun turned on his side, so that Kenji was lying down between them once again. “Let it out, Kenji…”

Kyouka snuggled up to his back, wrapping her arms around him from behind. “It’s alright, babes, you’re safe. You’re safe with us. We love you. We’re right here.”

“We’ll always be right here,” Jun soothed, his fingers running through blond hair. “Always. We love you.”

Kenji slowly started to fall back asleep. The lull of Junichiro’s heartbeat and his fingers in his hair along with Kyouka’s protective arms around his waist and gentle kisses on his shoulder blades put him right to sleep.

Neither Kyouka nor Junichiro fell back asleep that night. They both stayed wide awake, wondering how on Earth they had found themselves in this position, and how they could possibly help Kenji heal from it. They didn’t know if they’d ever know the answer to that question, but they had to hope they would.

For now though, this was enough.

Notes:

Hi all. So, I hope this version was much better in terms of the language used and what was included vs what wasn't. I took out the more explicit/graphic pieces and replaced them with discussing Kenji's emotions instead, and how his friends were helping him to cope. Again, I am truthfully horrified that the first version came across as though I was trying to sexualize him. That was not my intent in any way. I see Kenji like a little brother in a way, and that's just all kinds of wrong. Sexualizing means to portray someone as a sexual object or to focus on things that embrace that part of them (such as skimpy clothing or suggestive poses in art and whatnot) or to evaluate based on their physical characteristics or sexiness or to say that their value comes from sex appeal/behviour, and that is not the point of this in any way whatsoever. The whole point was to show that nobody, no matter their age, gender, orientation, race, abilities, etc, should ever be seen as a sexual object or an object of any kind.

When I write I like to discuss topics like this, because not only does it open up a discussion but it allows some people to process their own experiences or feel like they are heard. I got a few comments like that on the first version and I hope that this version does not diminish that. Please, if you have experienced something like this, speak out or seek out some support. There are people that love you and places that are safe. It is not your fault, and I want you to know that I believe you.

I have had experience with sexual harassment, but never anything like this. However, through boat loads of consent training, crisis management training, experience with disclosures, and my own research, I hope to have painted a realistic picture. Of course, being that supernatural powers are involved, give it some leeway. Something like this may seem farfetched, but there are people every day who are drugged and raped, who are coerced into sex by their partners, who are threatened by someone in a position of power, who are beat into submission, etc, and no matter how it happens, it doesn't make it any less valid.

I know some people might have qualms about me using a younger character, but answer me this. Is it only adults who are harassed? Is it only once someone is an adult that they understand these concepts, know they exist, and experience them to varying degrees? No. Of course not. So many people are young when things like this happen to them and some don't even realize until years later what happened and feel so much guilt and shame. It is not shameful and it is not your fault. And this is why I used a younger character--not to make a sexual object out of them, but to discuss a societal issue. But of course, since Kenji is young, I kept out any parts that were really explicit. So please, don't come at me for this. If we can have youth discussing violence and drugs and everything else, we can have youth discussing sexual assault as we do in the real world in our schools and other settings. I can't even believe that I have to say this.

Anyway. If you've made it this far through the note, then thank you very much. I also want to say thank you to my friend @PolarChibi for reading and rereading this for me before I reposted it. I was going to just take it down but they reminded me of all the good it had done for some people (some who spoke up in the comments and some who spoke to me privately). Hence why I edited it instead of removing it. If you still have a problem with it, give me constructive feedback and I will re-evaluate. However, if you're just going to yell, don't bother commenting. I have recognized where I went wrong before and have done everything that I could see to do to fix it. Constructive feedback only, please.

Please let me know what you think about this new version if you give it a read!! Also, if you haven't yet, go check out the new BSD fic on my profile called "Fate Crumbles Down." It's about an earthquake hitting Yokohama and how the PM and ADA have to traverse the ruined city to get back to each other. There's a lot of focus on the minor characters, too, so if you like that then please check it out and let me know what you think!!

I hope to write some new one-shots soon. Until next time, guys! -Emma :)

Chapter 41: Breathe, Ougai (Mori and Fukuzawa Request)

Summary:

Written for @thatsalotofredbulldude 's friend! I hope you liked this, and I'm so sorry that it took so long. I apologize. School was kicking my ass.

Mori and Elise get into a heated fight and she runs off, sending Mori spiralling into a panic attack induced by memories from the war. When he finally stumbles back to the Port Mafia HQ, Fukuzawa finds him when he comes in for a meeting, hyperventilating on the floor.

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of death, guns, blood, panic attack.

“I said no.”

 

“But you always drag me to those stupid dress shops!”

 

Mori sighed, glancing down to the young girl pulling on his sleeve. “Elise, we don’t have time. I have to get organized for a meeting, you know that.”

 

“Why can’t you take ten minutes away from that? Do you think I want to spend hours shopping? No! But you make me anyway.”

 

“Knock it off,” he hissed, keeping his voice down to avoid drawing attention to himself. “I don’t have ten minutes.”

 

“You do, too. You always do when it comes to something you want.”

 

“It’s not that I don’t want to spoil you, Elise, dear. But I really don’t have time.”

 

“But you’d have time to look for me if I went missing, wouldn’t you?”

 

He narrowed his eyes at her smirk. “Don’t play this game.”

 

“It’s not a game, asshole.”

 

“Will you stop being like that?”

 

“You made me this way. Or did you forget?”

 

“Don’t—”

 

“To replace the little girl you drove mad. Because of those men that died. Don’t you remember?”

 

“Elise—”

 

“So will you do as I ask this time?”

 

“I really can’t today, Elise. Please,” he pleaded with her. “I need to get ready for this meeting.”

 

“Oh whatever! You’re never this hung up on a meeting!”

 

“If this meeting doesn’t work out—if I can’t get the cooperation of the Agency—we will not win this battle against the incoming organization. How many times do I have to explain this to you?”

 

Elise huffed, stomping her foot and tuning her head from him. “I don’t care. That’s not for another hour and a half.”

 

“We’re not going. You’re coming back with me.”

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

“You have to.”

 

“No, I don’t. I could just go by myself.”

 

He put a hand to his face, exasperated. “Elise, I can just summon you back.”

 

“Not if I get you too riled up. Then you can’t and I can refuse.”

 

“You wouldn’t!”

 

“I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again!”

 

“Someone… last time, you can’t!”

 

“Watch me!”

 

“Elise, please don’t—”

 

“So needy. So desperate. Shut up and let me go by myself.”

 

“You can’t—”

 

She turned on her heel. “Don’t expect me to be back anytime soon!”

 

“Elise—”

 

“Don’t go getting into any fights! You know how well that ended before!”

 

Mori stood in the middle of the sidewalk, glued to the spot, his mouth open as he watched her go. She wouldn’t refuse again, would she? She wouldn’t… She couldn’t. He blinked at her retreating figure momentarily, before taking after her. “Elise!”

 

Her giggle reached his ears, carried away by the wind. The red fabric of her dress swooped around the corner, her blond curls disappearing seconds later. The pattering of her shoes on the concrete became quieter and quieter, and when Mori rounded the corner, Elise was nowhere in sight.

 

Mori’s shoulders rose and fell with heavy breathing, his head swiveling side to side in search of a glimpse of her. The alley on the left, the street on its right, dead end after dead end… And still no sign of Elise. Not her hair, nor her dress, nor the purple glow that enveloped her when she activated Mori’s ability… nothing. He raised his hands to his hair, grabbing fistfuls near the front of his head. “Elise…”

 

Staring at the end of the alley he’d found himself in, Mori stood stock still except for the heaving of his chest. It wasn’t until a car backfired in a nearby parking lot that he moved, startled. He yelped, drawing a scalpel from his coat pocket and holding it up in front of wild eyes. When no threat immediately presented itself, he stepped back towards the opening of the alley, eyes trained on the dumpsters at the end. Not moving his gaze, he backed out onto the sidewalk, sliding the scalpel back into his pocket but still clutching it between white-knuckled fingers.

 

His feet dragged over the pavement, eyes tracing the sidewalks and storefronts in slow motion-or so it seemed to him. His vision lagged, the corners of his field of vision the same white as his lab coat. Two blocks away from the store she’d wanted? Or three? Maybe less maybe more. He couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t be sure of much when his mind whirled, back in the throes of the war, the last time Elise blatantly disobeyed him. The last time they’d fought with any kind of malice. Shortly after Yosano had been driven away. Soon before the death of a doctor, a colleague… a friend.

 

She wouldn’t.

 

The automatic doors slid open before him, shaky legs carrying him over the threshold. Was this even the right store? Wasn’t this where she’d said she wanted to go? Was she here? Would she come back if he did as she asked? Would she protect him once more?

 

Down one aisle and up another, Mori found no trace of the young girl. Had she beat him in and out? Had she not gotten there yet? Did she take a detour?

 

Had something happened to her?

 

Would something, once again, happen to him in consequence?

 

Closing his eyes, he focused all his remaining energy on summoning Elise back to him. A flicker of disobedience, and then nothing but a tug away from the grasp of his mind. The white corners of his vision closing in, he turned on his heel and headed out of the store. He paused, looking up at the store sign in contemplation. Would she have gone back to the HQ? That would be the only explanation if she hadn’t been kidnapped or killed…

 

“Are you okay, sir?”

 

The tug on his sleeve made him jump, his head whipping around to stare at the young blond woman before him. His eyes widened and he yanked away from her. “Get away from me! You can’t!”

 

She raised her brows. “I can’t what?”

 

“It’s dangerous! I have to go!”

 

Without another word, he left the young woman behind, staring after him in concern. He paid her no mind, not even realizing how manic his actions must have seemed to this perfectly normal civilian. She had no idea the torment circling in his head, nor the tangible piece that felt missing in his chest when Elise tugged his control away temporarily. It closed in, knotting itself to patch the hole and he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t speak…

 

Ignoring the stares he received on his walk back to HQ, Mori wrapped his lab coat tighter around his body, holding his arms close to his chest. Dread seeped into his veins, heavier and heavier the longer Elise disobeyed, the longer his energy remained sapped, like lead sitting on his chest. All his energy, consciousness, thoughts, it all seemed to drain to the same area, the lead attracting it and using it to fill the hole Elise had left in her wake. He couldn’t feel her anymore. She’d gone too far away, and he’d withdrawn too far for the connection to remain palpable. It didn’t hum in his veins as it normally did. Though nothing, in that moment, felt as it normally did.

 

As Mori ascended to his office at the top of the building, he only strayed further from his normal. The white clouding his vision had all but taken over, seeming to have spread due to the pallor of his lips and skin. He stumbled in the door, barely managing to shut it behind him, before he half-collapsed, his knees giving out beneath him. Mori sank to the floor, his back leaning against the wall, facing the closed bay windows in the dimness.

 

Darkness, though seemingly friendly to someone with mafia-black blood, was not his friend. Darkness, blackness, the paleness and clamminess of his skin… all he saw in it was his friend’s corpse. The lifeless brown eyes staring up at him, blood still seeping from the wounds in his back. Was he dying? Was that the draining feeling he’d felt? Was that the reason for the shallow breathing? The chills that shook his body despite the raging wave of heat that overtook him, threatening to make him lose his lunch? Was this how death had felt for his friend, dying to save him when Elise wouldn’t?

 

Desperate to tread water in the flood of terror in his mind, Mori didn’t notice the door open. A man in a green yukata stepped through the doorway, freezing in his tracks at the sight before him. Never once, in all their time of knowing each other, had Fukuzawa seen Mori less put together. He’d never seen him outside of his role as either a doctor or the head of the Port Mafia, as a normal person, and he’d certainly never seen nor expected to see him sprawled on the floor, shaking like a leaf and hyperventilating.

 

Drawing his brows together, Fukuzawa shut the door and stepped towards the man on the floor. Mori gasped and drew his knees close to his chest, wrapping his arms around the and burying his head. The shaking visibly worsened, as did the pace of his breathing. Fukuzawa’s eyes widened in alarm, taking a half-step back as a reflex.

 

For a brief moment, Fukuzawa pondered what to do. He could leave the man alone and wait outside… But something tugged at his heartstrings. He hated seeing people suffer—even Mori. It wasn’t as though he was completely clueless about such events, he’d seen Ranpo have the same symptoms before. Watched him shaking under his desk, unable to breathe, white in the face. He bit his lip, then crossed the few feet between them.

 

Fukuzawa knelt down in front of Mori. “Ougai,” he said, as softly as he could. The other man inhaled sharply, squeezing his knees. Fukuzawa reached out, gently placing a hand on the man’s upper arm. “Ougai. It’s Yukichi.” Mori does nothing. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t speak, he doesn’t do anything to even imply he knew what was going on. Fukuzawa squeezed his arm. “Can you look up at me?” A shudder ran through the other. “Look at me. I’m not here to hurt you.” And for once, it was completely true. There was no doubt in his mind, no matter what happened in the next few minutes, he would not harm him in any way. Not that he particularly wanted to any other time, but being the heads of two opposing organizations had its disadvantages.

 

Slowly, Mori raised his head, unfocused, watery eyes staring up at him. Fukuzawa fought the concern from his face, glad for the hand on Mori’s arm to keep him steady as he swayed to the side. With his free hand, he reached out and pushed hair from his forehead that had been stuck there with cold sweat, frowning at the state he was in. Though he was familiar with people having panic attacks, seeing Mori this way for the first time, to this extreme, was jarring.

 

Fukuzawa laid a hand on the side of Mori’s neck, his thumb resting on his cheekbone. “Breathe, Ougai.” Mori inhaled several times in an effort to take a breath, his whole-body shuddering. “Breathe… Deep breaths.”

 

“Can’t. Dead. Can’t.”

 

Fukuzawa raised his brows. “You can. I promise.”

 

“Dead. Fight. Can’t.”

 

He blinked at Mori, trying to piece together what had happened. A fight? Someone died? Who could have died to set off a reaction like this from someone like Mori? Fukuzawa puzzled over it, trying to coax Mori into breathing more normally as he rubbed his one arm reassuringly.

 

“Me. Got me. Because of me. Elise.”

 

“No one’s got you, Ougai. I promise.”

 

“Wanted me. Got him. Elise.”

 

“Breathe…”

 

“Who’s next? Someone’s next. Elise.”

 

Fukuzawa tightened his grip on Mori, giving him a slight jolt as he called his name once more. The man’s gaze lifted back to him, violet eyes coming into focus. “Y-you?”

 

“I’m right here. No one’s next. No one’s trying to get you.”

 

Mori’s chest heaved for air, eyes searching Fukuzawa’s face, welling with tears. “I…”

 

“Ougai. Breathe.”

 

Mori only continued to stare at him as if everything had just clicked into place. Like he’d just returned to reality and only now understood what was going on around him, which he quite possibly had. But it wasn’t until he heard the hitch in the man’s breathing, saw the trembling of his jaw and hands, that he realized the wall he’d broken through. Mori took a few heaving breaths, and then a sob tore from his throat and he slapped a hand over his mouth.

 

With pursed lips, Fukuzawa removed his hand and sat down on the floor, pulling Mori to him. Mori sobbed loudly into Fukuzawa’s shoulder, an instance neither of them ever expected to happen. But when the mad had been losing his mind, scared shitless of something Fukuzawa couldn’t comprehend, and then broke down in tears, how could he in good conscious leave this man he’d known for so long there to break on his own?

 

Fukuzawa adjusted his arms to wrap around the smaller man, staring at the floor a few feet away as he wondered what on earth any of this could possibly mean. But he wasn’t left to think for long, as voices began to echo in the hallway beyond the door.

 

“Boss!”

 

“Mori!”

 

Mori flinched, seemingly trying to make himself smaller in the man’s arms. Seconds later the door swung open, revealing Mori’s two favourite executives. Fukuzawa looked up into the two faces of Chuuya and Kouyou, who’d frozen in the doorway, eyes wide.

 

Chuuya blinked at the pair. “Boss?”

 

Mori turned his head away, crying harder, the sobs turning nearly silent. Fukuzawa rested a hand on the back of his head, hiding the rest of his face from their view. Then he leant down to speak in his ear. “Shh… It’s alright, Ougai. It’s just Chuuya and Kouyou.” He straightened, looking at the execs. “Is there something you two need?”

 

Chuuya cleared his throat. “We heard the boss crying from the hallway and didn’t know if something had happened.”

 

“What’s going on?” Kouyou asked.

 

Fukuzawa looked down at Mori, then back to them. “I’m not sure. All I could get was something about Elise, a fight, and someone dead?” Mori clutched at his shirt, gasping for air. Fukuzawa ran a hand over his hair as he had for Ranpo so many times I the past. “Breathe…”

 

Kouyou raised a brow. “What about Elise? I just saw her downstairs.”

 

“Go get her.”

 

“On it,” said Chuuya, already on his way out the door.

 

Kouyou crossed the space, sitting beside the pair on the floor. She laid a hand on Mori’s back, feeling him tremble. Pink eyes glanced up at Fukuzawa, who returned her look of worry. They sat in silence while they waited for Chuuya, aside from Fukuzawa periodically whispering to Mori or reminding him to breathe.

 

Relief washed over both Fukuzawa and Kouyou when they heard footsteps approaching the room. Chuuya emerged with Elise following right behind him. The young girl stopped just inside the door, eyes wide and eyebrows shooting into her hairline. “What happened?”

 

Fukuzawa shot her a look. “He had a panic attack. Would you happen to know anything about why?”

 

She pursed her lips, not quite understanding why he’d reacted so severely to their fight. But then her expression softened, and she swallowed thickly. “Keiji.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Keiji,” she repeated, approaching them as Fukuzawa tried to get Mori sitting upright. He swayed as he had before, and the man let him lean on him to keep him steady. Elise stopped in front of them, then crouched down to be closer to eye-level with Mori. “Rintarou…”

 

He stared up at her, choking on his tears. “Elise-chan?”

 

She quirked her head, cupping his cheek. “Mhmm. I’m right here.” He closed his eyes, a few silent sobs wracking his chest. “It’s not like that time. No one is hurt.”

 

Abruptly, Mori reached forwards and pulled Elise to him. She let him wrap his arms around her, resting her head against him as she listened to his choked words. “Please. I’m sorry. I don’t want someone like him to die because of me again, Elise, please.”

 

“I won’t let that happen, again, Rintarou,” she soothed. “I promise. It’s alright.”

 

“Okay…”

 

“I’m sorry. I only wanted to piss you off a little bit. I didn’t want to pull up something like this.”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

When he finally let her go, Mori was completely exhausted. He leaned his full weight back on Fukuzawa, who accepted him without complaint. The group sat their quietly as Mori’s breathing returned to normal and he regained his colour. They sat in silence, the only sounds their breathing and the rustling of Chuuya’s hair as Elise played with it.

 

Once he was sure Mori was back to normal, mostly, he looked to the execs and Elise. “Would you mind giving us a moment to talk alone, please?”

 

“Sure,” said Chuuya, letting Elise ride out on his shoulders, Kouyou shaking her head as she followed behind them.

 

The silence lingered for a moment after the door closed, and Fukuzawa looked down at Mori, closed eyes and tear-streaked face. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Better. Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

 

“I know,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t just leave you like that.”

 

Mori nodded slightly. “I’m grateful you didn’t, actually.”

 

Fukuzawa nodded despite Mori not being able to see him. “What happened to trigger this? If you don’t mind me asking.”

 

Mori contemplated that fir a moment. “I guess I’ll tell you, as you did have to try and decipher whatever gibberish came out of my mouth.” He ignored the other man’s chuckle. “I got into a fight with Elise downtown and she ran off, knowing if I got riled up or tired I couldn’t summon her back. But the last time we got into a bad fight and she purposefully disobeyed me that way, an enemy soldier went after me. A soldier that I’d become friends with, dove in front of me, taking the bullets in the back before they could reach me. The guy got taken out, but it was too late. Yosano-kun had already left and there was nothing I could do for him. He died right then and there. I can still see his face…”

 

“I’m sorry. The war was a very hard time.”

 

Mori nodded against him. “It definitely was. I don’t need the reminders like that, though. I could really go without them.”

 

“I’ve never seen you like that. Do these happen often?”

 

“I wouldn’t say often,” he sighed. “But enough. And despite having years to figure it out, I still don’t know what to do when they do happen.”

 

“Call me.”

 

“What?”

 

Fukuzawa froze. Had he really just said that? Where had the thought gone on that one? Out the window, apparently. He let out a long breath. “Call me next time you have one.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Positive. I have experience helping with them. Call me if you need me, Ougai.”

 

Mori opened his eyes, looking up at Fukuzawa. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

 

“Of course.” He paused, looking away from Mori and at the opposite wall. “What do you say? Get something to drink and then discuss what to do about this new organization?”

 

“If you get the sake while I go wash myself. Deal?”

 

Fukuzawa chuckled lightly. “Deal.”

Notes:

Hey all! I hope this was okay! It is unedited so I hope its alright, lol. Sorry I've been MIA, it was exam season and I was dying a little inside. But I am now home for winter break, so I will be hopefully able to get quite a few oneshots up and posted! Just a reminder that requests are closed right now, but commissions are open! If you're interested, send me a DM on instagram, @soukokous_shared_braincell. Until next time, guys! -Emma :)

Chapter 42: Partner Project (Secret Santa Gift for @BWight)

Summary:

Written for @BWight on discord from the BSDHSAU Secret Santa! I hope you like this!

In a high school AU, Chuuya and Atsushi are both in Shibusawa's music class. When he assigns partners for a project, they get placed together. However, Chuuya likes to do things the hard way, and Atsushi thinks it might be the death of him.

“Alright, alright, settle down!”

 

Rowdy students continued to goof off, tossing paper airplanes and chatting amongst themselves. A few turned to the front, however, most of them paid no attention to their teacher standing on the upper tier of the room, gazing down at them and all of their instruments.

 

Shibusawa pursed his lips. It was less than a week until winter break, what else did he expect? Shaking his head, he started down the steps. “Don’t make me hand out detentions this close to the break. No one wants a Saturday detention while the rest of the class is off with their friends and family.”

 

The class quieted to a series of whispers; eyes trained on the man’s white-hair swaying as he made his way to the front of the room. His back still turned, he picked up a blue marker and began writing on the whiteboard mounted on the classroom’s back wall. “Yes, that includes you, Nakahara-kun,” he sighed. “I can still hear you.”

 

The red-head sank down into his chair, leaning back to avoid the stares from his classmates. Some of them chuckled and he sent glares their way, daring them to try it again. Although, most of them were his friends, and he knew better than to think they wouldn’t. Because they would.

 

Shibusawa stepped away from the board, capping the marker and setting it down. Turning to face his students, the light caught his red eyes, slight amusement glinting in them. That was a feat, and Chuuya knew exactly what it meant. He was scouting new choir and band students and would set a project on them to do so.

 

Curious eyes took in the messy scrawl, some groaning and others whispering excitedly. Chuuya only raised his brows, glancing between the board and his teacher, who rifled through a stack of papers until he found the one he wanted. He straightened, pushing a braid over his shoulder, and cleared his throat.

 

“Judging by the countless sighs I just heard, I believe you’ve all read what I wrote on the board?” He raised his brows waiting for the unanimous yes that echoed around the room. “Yes, yes, I’m aware that many of you don’t want to perform in front of your classmates, but you must in order for this class to work.”

 

Clothes shifting behind Chuuya alerted him to someone raising their hand, and Shibusawa pointed to them. The boy behind him leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on the music stand. “Are you just trying to collect music students again?”

 

Shibusawa let out a long breath, before replying to him in a bored voice. “Are we going to go through this again, Dostoyevsky?”

 

“I hate to agree with him, sensei,” said Dazai from Chuuya’s right. “But he does have a point.”

 

Shibusawa turned his back to the class once more, ignoring the question and writing on the board once more. “I will be assigning you each a partner to complete the project is. Please pick a song to create a cover of. Change the lyrics slightly, and the style. Remember our theory lessons, work them into your adjustments, and for the sake of my limited remaining sanity, don’t argue.”

 

The students looked to each other skeptically, then down at their instruments. A blond boy at the front of the class coughed, his ponytail shifting on his back when he pulled his saxophone up onto his lap. “Sensei, how are we supposed to make covers of songs we know if we’re playing woodwinds or brass? We won’t be able to sing.”

 

“Don’t worry, Kunikida-kun,” he said without turning around. “I’m way ahead of you. Please be patient and I will tell you your partners in a minute.”

 

Chuuya glanced down at the guitar lying across his lap, running a fingertip over the fretboard. He’d probably be the one stuck singing, whoever he ended up partnered with. It wasn’t that he minded but being both small and musically inclined wouldn’t do him any favours when it came to avoiding the bloody knuckles of the third-years.

 

“Okay, partner assignments…” He trailed off, flipping through the stapled booklet. “Dostoyevsky and Dazai, Kunikida and Tachihara, Tanizaki and Miyazawa, Izumi and Akutagawa Gin, Yosano and Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Edogawa and Higuchi, Gogol and Ozaki, Poe and Alcott, Montgomery and Motojirou, Nakahara and Nakajima, and Twain and Steinbeck. Did I miss anyone?”

 

The class remained silent, looking to their friends. Chuuya looked to Dazai, who rolled his eyes. Chuuya laughed, knowing that while Dazai would suffer through the next few days, he would have no problem getting along with his partner.

 

“No? Excellent. You will have the next three class periods to work on this assignment and will be presenting on Friday.”

 

“But Friday’s the final day before winter break,” Ranpo protested from the back of the room.

 

Shibusawa eyed him. “And?”

 

“Shouldn’t it be a relaxing day? Like every other class?”

 

“And why would I do that when you will have a vacation right after? Tch.” Ranpo sank down in his seat with squinted eyes, glaring at his saxophone resting against his music stand, grumbling to himself. Shibusawa turned back to the rest of the class. “Off you go.”

 

Chuuya stood from his chair, sending a smirk over his shoulder at his friend’s pain. When Dazai narrowed his eyes at him with a shake of his head, Chuuya slid the guitar strap over his shoulder and crossed the room to where Atsushi sat, drumming his fingers on the edge of his keyboard.

 

Two-toned eyes glanced up at him as he approached, offering him a small smile. “Hey.”

 

“Hi. Ready for whatever this chaos turns out to be?”

 

Atsushi laughed, nodding. “Yeah. At least you know how to play your instrument.”

 

“You’ve been playing keyboard all term. I’ve heard you.”

 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Even before that, actually. I’m just no good.” When Chuuya quirked a brow at him, he continued. “I know the basics, but when it comes to altering a song, I’ll be no help whatsoever. I can only play pre-written music.”

 

“Lucky for you, I happen to be good at that.”

 

Chuuya couldn’t help but smile at the way the other boy’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

 

“Mhmm. So, do you have any songs in mind?”

 

Atsushi tapped a couple of keys, alternating between fingers as he thought it over. “How about something by Luck Life?”

 

“Not bad, Nakajima. Any preference?”

 

“I picked the band; you pick the song.”

 

“What’s your favourite?”

 

“No, no,” he insisted, waving his hands. “You’ll be the one singing, I guarantee it. Pick something you’ll be comfortable with.”

 

Chuuya relented, spinning a chair around and sitting down, leaning against the back and propping his guitar up on one knee. “How about Lily? I can sing it, it’s a bit more upbeat, and it would be pretty easy to alter, I think.”

 

Atsushi nodded enthusiastically. “That’s a good one.”

 

“Now, answer me question.”

 

“What question?”

 

“What’s your favourite?”

 

“Namae wo yobu yo.”

 

“Ah,’ Chuuya nodded. “That one’s good, too.”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“You know what?”

 

Atsushi quirked his head, watching the red-head stare at the ceiling out of the corner of his eye. “What?”

 

“We could probably combine the two.”

 

“Whoa whoa whoa, you’re way overestimating my abilities!”

 

“I don’t think I am.”

 

“One song is already a bit of a stretch, but two?!”

 

“You’ll be fine,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t doubt yourself so much. Leave the combining to me and focus on learning how to play it. Got it?”

 

“I guess so…”

 

“Listen.” Chuuya lowered his voice, his face softening. “If you really don’t want to, we don’t have to. But I think you can do it and it’ll be more fun.”

 

Atsushi’s shoulders were nearly at his ears, his body almost hiding behind the keyboard. “Are you sure?”

 

“I’m positive.”

 

“Okay. Then let’s give it a try.”

 

The grin returned and Chuuya looked over his shoulder for Shibusawa. “Sensei?”

 

The man raised his brows, searching for the student who’d called for him. Quickly picking him out, he strode over, looking down at the pair of them. “What’s the problem?”

 

“Oh!” Atsushi squeaked. “There’s no problem.”

 

“We wondered if we could alter the assignment slightly,” Chuuya interjected before Atsushi could continue his nervous rambling.

 

“And how would you like to do so?”

 

“Could we put two songs together and do the cover that way?”

 

The smallest of smiles appeared on Shibusawa’s face. At least, with this development, the next few classes wouldn’t be quite so tedious and boring. “I suppose so. But I can’t offer you any assistance, you boys are on your own.”

 

“That’s fine with me.”

 

“Is that fine with your partner?”

 

Chuuya glanced back at Atsushi, who stared back at him with wide eyes. He nodded to the side at their teacher, a gentle nudge to Atsushi, who nearly jumped out of his seat. “Oh! Yes! Yes, that’s fine with me.”

 

Shibusawa looked down his nose at him with skeptic, narrow eyes. “Then go ahead. Be ready to perform on Friday.”

 

“Yes, sensei,” they both replied, then turned back to each other.

 

Chuuya slipped his phone from his pocket and pulled up the guitar chords for Lily. Atsushi did the same for piano, the two of them sitting facing each other, trying to get the basic rhythm. Chuuya began to sing lightly under his breath and before long, so did Atsushi. The red-head smirked, listening to the unintentional harmony the other boy created with him. He stopped singing, only listening to Atsushi, who didn’t notice for several seconds after. Then he halted abruptly, staring intensely at the floor in horror. Chuuya chuckled.

 

“I’m sorry!”

 

“No, you’re good.” Atsushi sighed, misunderstanding him. “No, I mean you’re good. A good singer.”

 

“Oh no! No, no, no. No way!”

 

“Why not? If you’ve got a talent, why not show it off?”

 

If his eyes bugged any further out of his head, they would’ve fallen out. “Are you kidding me?”

 

“No.”

 

Atsushi shot him an incredulous look. “Ever heard of anxiety.”

 

“Of course, I have. But it’s not like people will laugh at you. You’re good.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Atsushi said, going back to his chords. “Tell that to my brain.”

 

“Oi, Atsushi’s brain, shut up and let him sing. I need a good grade.”

 

“A little cheeky, are you?”

 

“C’mon, have you met me?”

 

“You spend too much time with Dazai.”

 

Chuuya tilted his head back and laughed. “You’re right about that one. Now come on, we have to get this done.”

 

“You’re gunna make me sing, aren’t you?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“Dammit.”

 

“There’s no way out of it now that you’ve let me hear you,” Chuuya snickered. “It’s your own fault.”

 

“Fine. What part am I singing?”

 

“Intro. I’d rather to the chorus for Lily.”

 

“And then?”

 

“We’ll do Namae wo yobu yo for the second verse and chorus, so it’ll be the opposite there.”

 

“And after that? Back to Lily?”

 

Chuuya plucked a few chords, contemplative. “What if we mixed them for the bridge and final chorus?”

 

“How are we going to do that?”

 

Chuuya shrugged, nonchalant. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

 

“You’re giving me anxiety.”

 

“Relax. It’ll be fine.”

 

“You love making things harder than they need to be, don’t you, Chuuya?”

 

“Hmm? Why do you say that?”

 

“Well,” Atsushi started, then bit his lip as if wondering if it was smart to continue. “You are friends with Dazai and Akutagawa, which I know isn’t easy from personal experience.”

 

“What can I say?” Chuuya laughed, throwing a smile his way. “Go big or go home.”

Notes:

Hey all! So this was a gift but I do hope that everyone who did read this likes it. It's obviously a bit shorter than some of the other one-shots and a bit different than what I'd normally write, but I enjoyed writing it all the same. Gave me a hard time to think of the idea, though, haha.

Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 43: They Won't Hurt You Anymore (Kenji and Kyouka or Kenji/Kyouka)

Summary:

I wrote this while having a mental breakdown. Please don't mind any spelling/grammar errors and the like.

Kyouka notices Kenji acting strangely. But when she finds out that his parents are in town, things begin to click into place.

TRIGGER WARNING: child abuse, verbal abuse, mentions of physical abuse, panic attack (?)

Normal days at the office were hard to come by, but that was usually because of a case gone haywire or Dazai being, well… Dazai. However, normal aspects of every day were pretty common, Dazai would be lazy and Kunikida would yell at him, Ranpo would mow down snacks, Yosano would joke about needing patients to treat, nearly giving Tanizaki a heart attack in the process, and Atsushi would end up doing Dazai’s paperwork. The clerks would run around like chickens with their heads cut off to deliver methods, Naomi would torment her brother, Fukuzawa would work in his office, and Kyouka would sit nearly silently as she worked, listening to Kenji ramble about plants or cows or whatever he felt like on that particular day.

 

A few normal days in a row had passed… or so most of the Agency had thought, going about their daily tasks without much issue. Kyouka on the other hand noticed a change during her previous shifts, the blond boy sitting across from her setting her on edge with his abnormal quietness. He sat at his desk, typing away and checking reports, only speaking when answering the phone or directly spoken to. And though it made her skin crawl to see him so serious, no one else noticed a thing.

 

Was she imagining things?

 

As she sat at her desk, pen scrawling over a page in her notebook to take notes of an upcoming case file, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Her gut feelings had never let her down, and just looking at him she knew something wasn’t right. Maybe they hadn’t known each other long. Maybe she didn’t know too much about his personal life as of the present moment. But she knew him. And this was abnormal, even if he was tired or sick.

 

Glancing up through her bangs, she watched him for a moment. Golden eyes trained on his keyboard but not typing, fingers twitching where they rested against his desk. She could see the tension he held in his shoulders with the way they creeped up towards his ears, lips pressed into a thin line. And yet, when Kunikida called to him seconds after she looked away, Kenji was all smiles, laughing cheerfully at Dazai’s joke and agreeing to their requests enthusiastically.

 

Kyouka blinked down at her notebook, realizing she’d drawn a line down the page by mistake while lost in her thoughts. With a sigh, she ripped it out and started over on a blank sheet throwing the ruined one in the waste basket beside her desk.

 

“Kyouka-chan?”

 

“Hmm?” She glanced up, raising her brows as she searched for who’d called her name, quickly settling on Kunikida. “Yes, Kunikida-san?”

 

“Would you mind going with Kenji to gather some information on a case he’s been working on?”

 

“Sure.” She stood, closing her notebook and laptop and pushing her chair in. “Anything I need to know before we go?”

 

The man shook his head, blond ponytail flipping over his shoulder. “Kenji can fill you in on it all on the way.”

 

She nodded, then turned to Kenji, who stood near the door. “Ready to go?”

 

“Whenever you are!”

 

Kyouka pressed her lips into a line. There was that enthusiasm again. She crossed to him and followed him out the door, closing it behind her. They headed down the hallway in silent, neither of them saying a word until they exited the dimness into the sunlight of midday. She glanced at Kenji out of the corner of her eye. “So, what’s this case we’re working on?”

 

“Someone’s been stealing explosives, sending threatening notes to locals.”

 

“That’s not good.”

 

“Nope, but nothing we can’t handle!”

 

“So what do you need me to do?”

 

“You can take note of what they say, I guess.”

 

“Why did Kunikida send me too, if all he needed was you to go?”

 

Kenji shrugged. “I asked him if you could come with me.”

 

“Oh.” Kyouka blinked a few times at the ground, unable to think of anything else to say.

 

“Do you mind? You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

 

“No, no, it’s okay. I was bored of notes anyway.”

 

He smiled at her, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Oh! I also have a question for you, before we start asking everyone else questions.”

 

“Okay. Ask away.”

 

“My parents came to Yokohama for a few days to visit—”

 

“What about your sibings?”

 

“They’ll be perfectly happy to be staying with one of our neighbours, I’m sure. Anyway. They’re in town for another day or two. Do you want to come have dinner with us tonight?”

 

Kyouka clutched at the strap holding her phone around her neck, furrowing her brows. “Yeah, sure. But don’t you want to spend some time alone with your parents? You haven’t seen them in nearly a year now, Kenji-kun.”

 

He waved his hands dismissively, smiling once again. “You don’t have to come, it was just an offer.”

 

“Of course I’ll come, but—”

 

“Oh look, there’s our first stop!” He tugged on her hand, pulling her towards a small tea shop on the corner. “Let’s go!”

 

*

 

“Where are you going, Kyouka?”

 

She glanced over her shoulder Atsushi, stirring a pot on the stove. “Oh, sorry, Atsushi. I forgot to tell you I’m going to Kenji’s for dinner.”

 

“Kenji’s, eh?”

 

She rolled her eyes despite him not being able to see her. “Yeah, his parents are in town.”

 

“That’s a big step.”

 

“I’ll stick demon snow on you.”

 

He chuckled, setting the spoon down on the counter. “I thought he’d want to spend time with them alone? It has been what? Almost a year now?”

 

“That’s what I said, too, but he avoided the question.”

 

“Odd.”

 

She shrugged. “We were in the middle of a case.”

 

“Fair. Well, have fun! Tell him I say hello.”

 

Kyouka opened the door, sliding on her sandals. “I will.” Letting the door close behind her, she jogged down the stairs and passed the Tanizaki’s door to Kenji’s. She raised her fist to knock, but stopped short when she heard voices just beyond where she stood.

 

“Why would you invite someone over for dinner,” hissed a woman. “This is supposed to be time we get alone with you.”

 

“It’s my apartment.”

 

“And we’re your parents,” a man bellowed.

 

Kyouka raised her brows, eyes wide, listening to Kenji speak in the most monotone voice she’d ever heard him use. “I thought you’d like to meet one of my friends.”

 

“Why would we want to meet some girl you’ve happened to meet? Is she some sort of freak too?”

 

“Yes,” he seethed. “She’s an ability user, too. Just like me.”

 

“Then why,” the woman pressed on, “would we want to meet her? You’re enough trouble on your own.”

 

“You text her right now and tell her not to come.”

 

“I’m not going to do that.”

 

“Of course, you’re not. You just love to make it harder for us, don’t you?”

 

Unable to take another minute, Kyouka rapped on the door, doing her best to fight the shocked look from her face. Footsteps approached the door and it swung inwards, revealing Kenji, who stood in front of her with the same straight face she’d seen on him the past few days. “Hi, Kyouka. Come in.”

 

“Thank you for having me.” She stepped inside and removed her shoes, then looked forwards to the two other people standing inside.

 

“Of course. Kyouka, these are my parents. Mom, dad, this is my friend Kyouka.”

 

“Hello, sweetheart.” Kenji’s mother stepped forwards, smiling at her. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 

His father nodded in agreement. “It’s nice that our son’s been able to make friends here.”

 

“Of course he has,” she replied, smiling as wide as she could without it seeming forced. “I’d be shocked if he hadn’t!”

 

His father’s eyes narrowed for a split second, but she caught it well enough. “Well come in, dinner is almost ready.”

 

Kyouka nodded, crossing into the living room. Kenji patted the spot next to him on the couch and she joined him, brushing his shoulder. She nearly jumped when he flinched, though the gesture would have been difficult to spot if she hadn’t of been right next to him. He kept his eyes down, watching his fiddling fingers. “So, hat di you think of that case we worked on today?”

 

“it was interesting. I’ve never worked one like that before. I’m more on the execution side of the operation because I’m so quiet.” She laughed breathily, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “I guess that’s why they send you out all the time. You’re good at talking to people.”

 

“Huh,” his mom huffed in surprise. “I never would have guessed that. Tell us more, Kenji.”

 

“Oh it’s nothing, she’s just being nice.”

 

“No, I’m not. You’re—”

 

“I’m just one of the newest members is all. It’s my job.”

 

Kyouka bit her tongue, mind whirling as she tried to piece together what on earth was happening. This was not the boy she knew. Not at all. Not the same smile, the same energy, the same way of speaking… even the way he held himself was different. It was just… off. Like something had drained him.

 

“Well, I’d expect you to be getting a raise, soon,” his father chuckled. “Dragging you all the way out to the city for work.”

 

Kenji barked out a laugh, nodding. “Yeah, I’m sure I will. Did the timer just go off on the stove? I’ll go check.”

 

“I’ll help you,” Kyouka blurted, standing with him. His eyes widened, but he only waved her into the kitchen with him. Kenji picked up the lid on a pot, scowled at it, then replaced it a little too harshly. She watched him with concern as his fingers wrapped around the handle of the oven, knuckles turning white. Lowering her voice, she whispered, “Kenji? Is everything alright?”

 

“Yeah! Yeah, everything’s perfectly fine, why do you ask, Kyouka-chan?”

 

“Oh, I, uh… Just checking.”

 

He nodded quickly, then took the pot and moved it to a cool burner. “an you pass me a few bowls from the cupboard?”

 

She nodded, pondering what would come next.

 

Dinner went… smoothly. As far as anyone else was concerned. From the outside in it would have seemed like an ordinary family dinner. A few jokes dispersed through catching up on each other’s lives and asking a few too many questions about Kyouka, which she bluffed in order to seem more normal for Kenji’s sake. If it worked, she wasn’t quite sure. But she hoped it did.

 

A few times, when his father stood to get a drink or use the bathroom, she felt Kenji tense beside her, almost as if he held his breath until he was gone. He answered his mother’s questions with a half-smile, quickly deflecting them when he could. Yes or no answers, lots of nodding, fiddling with the strap of his hat… Kyouka became hyper-aware the longer the night went on. And although she was relieved when the night finally came to an end and Kenji could stop pretending to be hungry and picking at his beef udon, she also worried about him. What would happen once she left?

 

“It was nice to meet you, Kyouka-chan,” said Kenji’s father, standing from the table. “We best be getting ready for bed now, though. I’m sure you know Kenji won’t be awake for much longer and we’d like to spend some time with him before he falls asleep.

 

She nodded, gaze flicking to Kenji’s nervous swallow while he stared at the table. “It was nice to meet you, too. Goodnight, Kenji.”

 

“Well, see her off, Kenji,” his mother urged.

 

Nodding quickly, he stood and walked her to the door. “Thanks for coming, Kyouka-chan. I appreciate it.”

 

She tilted her head, her eyes sad. “Of course.” Then she pulled him into a hug, standing on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Text me if you need me, alright?”

 

“Yep.”

 

When she pulled away, she smiled at him, then waved to his parents. “Goodnight.”

 

The door closed behind her and she left immediately, unable to stay another moment and hear what they’d say to him. She couldn’t trust herself not to burst back in and say something. Instead she ran up the stairs, threw the door open and shut and marched straight passed Atsushi in the living room and flopped down on the futon.

 

“Kyouka? Are you alright? Did something happen?”

 

She could hear his footsteps approaching and rolled over, pulling the blanket over her head. “I’m fine, Atsushi. Just tired.”

 

“Okay…”

 

And the footsteps echoed as he retreated back down the hall. Kyouka let out a long breath, staring at the wall.

 

What was she going to do?

 

*

 

The next morning went much like any other. Kyouka and Atsushi got ready and ate breakfast together before heading to work. Their feet dragged over the cobblestones, yawning back and forth and telling each other to stop before doing it once again. Kyouka blamed Atsushi. He flicked her forehead in response.

 

They got to the Agency around just as Yosano entered the building, greeting them with a grunt and mumbling something about coffee. Kyouka nearly snorted, but instead went to the kitchenette and made one for her. Yosano perked up considerably after that, stealing a sweet from Ranpo’s candy stash to give her before he arrived. They vowed to never speak of it, to which Kunikida laughed, saying he’d find out, he’d probably counted them.

 

“I doubt it,” Tanizaki laughed, opening his laptop.

 

“Yeah,” agreed Yosano. “He’s way too lazy to do what?”

 

“What am I too lazy to do?” Dazai asked through a yawn.

 

“Pretty much anything,” grumbled Kunikida. Atsushi snickered, but hid it with his hand.

 

The door opened then, revealing Kenji. He shuffled across the room, raising a hand at the greetings he received, not once lifting his face. He sat down in front of Kyouka, immediately pulling out his laptop and opening it.

 

She watched him hunch over the keyboard, hair falling in his face. Kyouka took a deep breath before speaking. “Good morning, Ken-chan.” He only nodded in response, continuing typing. She frowned. “Kenji?” He raised his head slightly, looking up at her. Her mouth dropped open slightly when she saw how puffy his eyes were. “Did something happen last night?”

 

“No.”

 

“This morning?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then why are you upset?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“You’re not. And I’m sure this has something to do with your parents being in town.”

 

“Kenji, your parents are in town?”

 

The boy’s eyes widened and his shoulders creeped up at the sound of Fukuzawa’s voice behind him. He didn’t look at him. “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I’m going to go get a drink.”

 

“Kenji.”

 

He stopped midway out of his chair. “Yes, President?”

 

“May I speak with alone please?”

 

“He’s not in trouble is he?” Kyouka nearly whispered, guilt plastered on her face.

 

“No, he’s not in trouble,” Fukuzawa reassured her.

 

“Then… what…?” She nearly slapped a hand over her mouth from continuing to question him.

 

“Kenji’s parents have been explicitly told not to come visit him in Yokohama. And yet they have done so. And so, I wish to speak to him about…”

 

“I couldn’t stop them from coming,” Kenji said, his voice so uncharacteristically soft that a few other agency members turned to him with raised brows. “You know that, President.”

 

“I know, Kenji. I’d rather not imagine the consequences if you tried. Which is why I wish to check in and help find a solution. If you’ll come with me, please. We will talk in my office.”

 

He sot Kyouka a pleading look before turning to follow Fukuzawa. Kyouka blinked at his retreating figure, jaw slack. After a moment or two, she tore her eyes away from the door and went back to her work, pretending to focus on the case report she’d opened on her laptop.

 

Kenji returned before long, sitting wordlessly at his desk. He rested his head in his arms on the desk, hiding away from everyone else. Kyouka swore she saw his back shaking, but when she reached out and laid her hand on his he pulled away, a small gasp escaping him. He went back to work after a while, but he still said nothing. And this time, he wouldn’t even answer to her.

 

*

 

Kyouka spent a while curled up on the couch after work, flicking through a few magazines she’d stolen from the café when Lucy said they were out of date. She didn’t mind. It was still entertaining enough to keep her occupied. With Atsushi out with Tanizaki, the dorm was rather lonely.

 

In the middle of an article about recent fashion trends, which she didn’t really care about anyway if she was being honest, her phone buzzed on the cushion beside her. She glanced at it, and seeing Kenji’s name on the screen, set the magazine face-down on the table beside her. She picked up her phone, biting her lip.

 

Kenji: Can I come over?

 

Kenji: Please

 

Her heart leapt into her throat, threatening to choke her. Fingers flying over the keyboard, she replied, Of course. The door is open.

 

Kenji: Thank you…

 

She stood, switching between bouncing on her toes and pacing in anticipation. When the door swung open, she whipped around, eyes widening. “Kenji… you’re shaking.” She immediately went to him, resting her hands on his arms. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

 

He only shook his head, staring at the wall past her. Kenji sucked it a few sharp breaths, letting them shudder back out.

 

“Kenji-kun?”

 

His gaze turned to her, hands moving to clutch his elbows. “Everything.”

 

“What?”

 

“Everything is wrong…”

 

Her face softened and she tugged on his elbow, leading him to the couch. He sat own against the arm, bending at the waist. Kyouka sat beside him, watching him closely. “What happened?”

 

“Fukuzawa.”

 

“What do you mean, Kenji? Where are your parents?”

 

“Fukuzawa… he contacted them just after I got home through my phone…”

 

She pursed her lips. “How’d that go?”

 

“They were really mad… I thought my dad was going to hit me.”

 

“And did he?”

 

“No. But I still thought he would!”

 

She held her hands out in an attempt to deescalate. “it’s alright, I believe you. What did he want with them?”

 

“He wanted them to come to the Agency to talk to him.”

 

“And did they?”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“So, they’re not downstairs right now?”

 

“No.”

 

“Okay.” Kyouka let out a breath, scooting closer to him. “Take a deep breath. Relax. They’re not here. You’re with me. You know I won’t hurt you.”

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, clutching at his stomach. “It’s just an automatic reaction. I guess… I guess them being here to brought it back…”

 

She laid a hand on his back, rubbing small circles. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“I don’t want to dump it all on you. It’s fine. I just needed to get away for a few minutes.”

 

“Kenji?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You’re not alright.”

 

“I know…”

 

She smiled sadly. “I heard what your parents said just before I knocked the other night.”

 

He immediately tensed. “You did?”

 

She gently pushed his shoulders down, reminding him to relax. “I did. I’m really sorry you had to go through that.”

 

“It’s nothing. Really. I never see them, so it’s okay. I’m dealing with it.”

 

“That doesn’t make how you’re feeling right now any less intense.”

 

Kenji shrugged. “It’s stupid. I’m away from them normally now, so it shouldn’t bother me. Plus they were better with me the last few days.”

 

“It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling, Kenji.”

 

“It’s so stupid. They’re not here. They didn’t even do anything and I’m scared as hell…”

 

“They’re not going to hurt you. They’re not here. You’re safe.”

 

Kenji’s chin trembled and he closed his eyes. “It’s like I’m reverting to when I was at home. And if I explain it it’s going to sound like I’m crazy because it’s so subtle. It’s so dumb.”

 

“If it’s scaring you, then it’s not dumb.”

 

“I just… have you ever had someone angrily wash a dish at you? Breath in a certain way that sets you on edge? Just… just have a presence that makes you know you’re about to get yelled at or punished?”

 

“No… I can’t say that I have. I’m sorry.”

 

Kenji looked up at her, brows lowered. “I’m glad you haven’t. I’m messed up, Kyouka. I really am. This is why I was more than happy to move here. To be away from them. And I know there’s no threat right now but it just feels so imminent. Like I’ll be struck at any moment. And it sets me on edge. There are days I just can’t sit still and it just won’t leave me alone. DO you know how that feels? They’re thousands of kilometres away and still have this power over me and I hate it! I hate every single second of it!”

 

“I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

 

“I must. I have to. Nothing else makes any sense.”

 

The strain in his voice made her chest ache. “I promise you, you have never done anything to deserve this.”

 

“They’re going to be so mad when they get back, Kyouka,” he stated, shaking harder. “They’re gunna be so angry. They always think I’m doing something just to spite them or get in their way or or or… “ He shuddered, then continued speaking, his voice rising and becoming more strained the longer he went on. “It’s always been that way and it will never change. Nothing is ever an accident or forgotten or anything unless it’s on their end and I can’t escape the loop of it! It never ends! All I’ve ever done is cause them problems and even though they tell me all the time, they don’t need to! I know. I’ve known since I was fie-years-old, Kyouka! They will never let me forget how much of a problem I am. The only thing that maybe wasn’t a problem was that they could take their anger out on me and smack me around because it wouldn’t hurt me! But all I’ve ever done is cause them problems and I hate myself for it! That’s all I’m good for after all! Embarassing them and causing problems and purposefully stressing them out and being a burden. That’s exactly what it is. That’s why they had four more kids, because they didn’t want me. They only kept me around to be a punching bag and I know that. I know.

 

“What do they think that does to a person? Do they even realize how messed up they’ve made me? Do they know how many times I’ve had panic attacks because of them? Do they realize that I act so different now because it’s my only way to cope with everything they’ve done to me? Do they??”

 

Chest heaving, Kenji stared at Kyouka, wild, watering eyes searching her face, desperate for the answers she could never give him. Her voice broke as she spoke, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder after he’d turned to face her. “Kenji, I’m so sorry… I don’t know…”

 

“I just can’t believe… any of this is real… I thought I finally got away but here they are. I’m sure they will hit me when they get back. I’m sure it will be just like when I was back at home and everything was my fault. No privacy, no spending time alone, no seeing friends… why? Because I’d talk about my parents and the one time I tried to say something they spent forever beating me because they knew I could take it. Physically I could take it, but what about mentally? Huh?? It’s so stupid to be scared of something that can’t hurt you, I know… but I am. I am still scared of them. Both of them. But that’s my fault, too, isn’t it?? That’s my fault, and the crops not doing well is my fault, and one of my brothers nearly dying because of something I don’t even understand is my fault because I didn’t do enough, that’s my fault too! I spent years thinking I almost killed my brother, Kyouka! Years! Thinking that I killed my baby brother. And the wort part is that I believed it! I believed every single word. Until Fuukzawa found me and brought me here and you guys showed me so much love but that’s all gone now that’s all gone theyre going to pull me back home with them because they can and it will be just like it was before and I and I and I… I….”

 

Kyouka pulled Kenji into her embrace as a sob tore from his throat, the tears coursing down his cheeks. “It’s okay… it’s alright… you’re not going back there, Kenji. They won’t get to touch you.”

 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, burying his face in her neck. “I’m so sorry!”

 

“Shh… it’s alright, Kenji. It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

 

“I’m so confused and scared! I don’t know what’s real and what’s not real and they know they’ve done it! They know I don’t know and they use it against me over and over again to confuse me more! Telling me it didn’t happen or they actually said this and god, I’m so sorry, Kyouka, I’m so sorry!”

 

She rocked the hug side to side, rubbing his back gently. The screaming pitch of his voice killed her, her own eyes watering at his immense amount of mental pain. “It’s alright, It’s alright… Fukuzawa won’t let you go back there. I promise. It’s alright, Kenji.”

 

He clutched at her shirt, the force of his sobs and shaking jolting her as well.

 

Kyouka pulled him with her to lay down on the couch, sandwhiching her between the back of the couch and her body. She kept her arms wraped around her, one smoothing his hair. “Shh… breathe, Kenji… I won’t let them hurt you, okay? I’m right here. They won’t get to touch you. I promise.”

 

“I can’t do it again, Kyouka.” Kenji’s strained voice was barely audible, but she’d heard him say it in her ear.

 

“I know, Ken-chan… I know. You won’t have to, alright?”

 

“This is so stu-stupi-id.”

 

“It’s okay to cry, Kenji. You’re hurt and scared. Let it out.”

 

He sniffed, pressing his face further into the crook of her neck. “I’m sorry.”

 

“You don’t need to apologize.”

 

“Yes, I do. For freaking out on you.”

 

“It’s alright. I’d rather you tell me and get it all of your chest.”

 

He nodded slightly, sniffing. “Thank you…”

 

“I’m always here for you, Kenji.”

 

“I know…”

 

“I’m serious. You won’t have to do that again. Fukuzawa won’t let them anywhere near you now.”

 

“Okay…”

 

“I mean it.”

 

“Okay…”

 

She let out a long breath. “Look at me, Kenji.” He turned his head up to look at her, the splotchiness of his face and the water brightening his golden eyes broke her heart. She swiped his tears away with her thumb, frowning at the tear tracks. “You’re safe now. You’re safe with me, I promise. You can stay here as long as you need.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

She nodded. “I’m positive.”

 

He gave her a watery smile, then rested his head on the inside of her shoulder. She tightened her hold on him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head in spite of herself. “We love you. I love you. We’ll take care of you. You’re safe here with us. With me.”

 

“Safe… I need that.”

 

They both laid there silently for a while, content in the safety of each other’s arms. Kenji eventually fell asleep, his breathing evening out and the shaking stopping. She only smoothed his hair, running her fingertips through the blond locks.

 

Atsushi came in a while later with Tanizaki, who both stopped in the doorway, sad smiles adorning their faces. “He’s okay now?” Atsushi whispered.

 

She nodded.

 

“Fukuzawa dealt with his parents,” Tanizaki added. “They won’t be allowed anywhere near him. Ever again. He’s fighting for custody of him.”

 

Kyouka couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. Surely, Fukuzawa would win the case and have custody of Kenji, legally, until he was 20. She couldn’t wait to tell him when he woke up, knowing that he’d be both ecstatic and relieved. But for now, she’d let him sleep. He was both physically and mentally exhausted, after all.

 

With a smile on her face and Kenji in her arms, Kyouka drifted off to sleep, reassured that Kenji would finally be safe.

Notes:

Hey all,

Sorry for this shitty oneshot haha. I hope that it wasn't too terrible. I'm out of it right now and am only writing this to cope with my brain so... yeah. That's that. Leave comments below.
Until next time, guys. -Em

Chapter 44: Dazai's Back (Chuuya and Kouyou)

Summary:

This is unedited, rip.

Chuuya is thrown for a loop with the news that Dazai's back.

TRIGGER WARNING: Breakdown (?) Panic attack (?) I don't exactly know what to label it as to be honest, I'm sorry. Mentions of Dazai's self-harm.

Wind whipped his hair from his face like dancing flames, their fluttering touches a hint of what was to come. As abruptly as they started they eased, a blast of warm air hitting him in the face as he entered the airport. After such a long flight, curled up in the same position, it was nice to stretch his legs.

 

Rolling wheels over tiles, reuniting families, overhead announcements… the nises blended together and filled his ears as he headed for the front entrance. He’d done these trips enough times to do it on autopilot, not paying attention to the people passing him or the direction in which he headed. Tugging his suitcase over the tiles to carpet and carpet to concrete, the automatic doors slid open and he emerged onto the sidewalk, glancing up at the black car idling at the curb.

 

He opened the back door wordlessly, lifted the suitcase up and onto the seat, and then shut the door again. Pulling the front door open he ducked into the passenger seat, stopping when he caught sight of the other man’s face. “Why does it look like you have bad news to tell me?”

 

“How was your trip, Chuuya-san?”

 

He shut the door and clicked his seatbelt into place, glancing at the other man out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t delay with small-talk, Akutagawa-kun. Just spit it out.”

 

Pulling out of the parking lot, Akutagawa glanced at Chuuya out of the corner of his eye. “If I wasn’t prepared, you sure won’t be.”

 

“It can’t be that bad.”

 

“Dazai’s back.” The colour drained from Chuuya’s face and he clutched at his seatbelt in silence. “Chuuya-san?”

 

“What do you mean by he’s back?” Chuuya breathed.

 

“I mean that Kyouka captured him.”

 

“He’s at headquarters?”

 

Akutagawa nodded, switching on his turn signal. “Yes. He’s shackled to the wall.”

 

“Have you seen him yet?”

 

Akutagawa clenched his jaw, huffing a laugh out his nose. “Yeah. I punched him. Twice.”

 

Chuuya swallowed hard. “Is he different?”

 

“I’m not sure. He acts like it, but it’s probably just a façade.”

 

“Why did you punch him?”

 

“He taunted me. And then said that his new apprentice is superior to me in every way.”

 

Chuuya looked over at him, watching Akutagawa fight to keep a straight face. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s to be expected from Dazai-san.”

 

Chuuya nodded, turning to look out the window. His voice grew quieter the more he spoke. “Where’s he been all this time?”

 

“He’s working for the Armed Detective Agency.”

 

He nodded in silence. “Has he got a new partner?”

 

“Kunikida Doppo.”

 

“Is he gifted?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And his apprentice?”

 

“Nakajima Atsushi. The were-tiger.”

 

Chuuya furrowed his brows. “The were-tiger? Really?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Has, uh… has anyone else gone to see him?”

 

Akutagawa shook his head, watching Chuuya’s trembling chin out of the corner of his eye. “Are you okay, Chuuya-san?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“I am the only one who’s seen him, only because my subordinate is the one who found him. Mori said anyone else had to wait for you, if you chose to see him.”

 

“Why would I want to see that shithead?”

 

“He was your partner.”

 

“So? That was four years ago.”

 

Akutagawa gave him a look as they sat at a red light. “He hurt you.”

 

“He hurt you, too.”

 

“Chuuya.”

 

The stern tone caught the red-head’s attention and he met Akuatagwa’s eyes. Willing his shaking hands to still and his eyes not to water, he stared right back. “I’ll go see him. But he’s not gunna like what comes from it.”

 

“You don’t have to.”

 

Why couldn’t his thoughts stop whirling for one minute? One second? “I know.”

 

Akutagawa let out a long breath. “Are you sure you’re ready to see him again, Chuuya-san?”

 

“I might not get another chance.”

 

Akutagawa pursed his lips, turning back to watch the road.

 

*

 

Chuuya paced the foyer of the HQ, head spinning in sync with the tumbling of his stomach. Why was he back? What would he say? Did he even remember him? Does he know what he did to him? That he hurt him? Does he even care?

 

Of course not. If he’d cared, he would’ve told him he was leaving. He would’ve told him why. Would have given him something. Something more than a bomb under his car and the tattered remains of his jacket. No note, no call, no text, no nothing.

 

He didn’t even get to say goodbye.

 

Just a call from Akutagawa. And Chuuya, just returning from his first away mission, rushed to Dazai’s apartment, finding the door unlocked. He remembers throwing it open, the stench of blood filling his nose as he reached the bathroom, bloody bandages and a razor littering the floor. Remembers the shards of the bathroom mirror crunching under his feet, tripping over the whirlwind of clothes strewn across the apartment, the creaking of the bedroom door revealing a room that hadn’t changed since he’d last seen it, with the exception of the master key sitting alone in the middle of the futon. The taste of salt filling his mouth and blurred vision, stumbling footsteps and ignored calls of his name, the pounding of his fist on someone’s front door, and then warm arms around him, a voice soothing his broken cries.

 

Chuuya sucked in a breath, glancing at the door at the end of the hallway. That man had hurt him. Had ruined him. And everyone knew it but him. He had ripped safety and comfort from him without a warning, the small, scared teenage boy in him emerging for the first time in a long time. His best friend, his partner, had left him in the dust without a care in the world. He left him broken. And nothing could fix the crack it left in his heart.

 

A buzzing against his thigh startled him from his thoughts, one shaky hand retrieving it from his pocket. He slid his thumb across the screen and lifted his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

 

“Chuuya! You haven’t gone in to see Dazai yet, have you?”

 

“No, Kouyou,” he sighed. “I’m still working up the nerve.”

 

“Lad, you don’t have to do this to yourself. Come up here and have a drink and calm down.”

 

“I am calm,” he lied.

 

“No, hun, you’re not. You’re hurting and angry and scared. You’re not ready to see Dazai.”

 

“Kouyou, I have to,” he said, pleading with her to understand. “This might be the last chance I ever get. I have to see him.”

 

“What are you going to do? Fight him? Yell at him? Chuuya, you’re not thinking.”

 

“I don’t care,” he shouted, catching the attention of some workers nearby. “I can’t not see him after all this time. He left without a trace, Kouyou. H-he was just gone!”

 

“I know, lad, I remember that night.” He let out a shuddering breath and she sighed. “Breathe, Chuuya.”

 

“I… Why…?”

 

“I don’t know, hun. I don’t know. Take some deep breaths.”

 

“I-I’m shaking.”

 

“You’re scared.”

 

“I am. I have no idea what I’m walking into or what he’ll say or what I’ll say… He can’t know, though. He can’t.”

 

“Be angry. Show him that bottled up anger.”

 

A tremor ran through his body and he tensed his muscles to stay steady. “Huh?”

 

“Be angry. How dare he leave without saying anything? How dare he hurt you and not care? He should pay for it, right? Remember what you used to say to me?”

 

“Right.”

 

“Breathe.”

 

“He left and he hurt me and I’m angry about it.”

 

“You were angry about it, Chuuya. You still are. It’s just masked by pain right now.”

 

“I know.”

 

“My door will be open, lad. Come see me after if you need to.”

 

Taking a deep breath Chuuya closed his eyes. “Thank you, Kouyou.”

 

*

 

The ground blurred beneath his feet as Chuuya left the room, leaving Dazai behind. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. Kouyou’s direction had worked. Anger worked. But why didn’t he feel any better? Any lighter? Isn’t that was closure is supposed to do? Isn’t it supposed to help you heal?

 

If it is, then why was his chest so impossibly tight? What was the lump in his throat and the intense stinging behind his eyes? Why did everything hurt?

 

Chest heaving with every breath he took, Chuuya strode down the halls with trembling legs and clenched fists. He couldn’t tell what he felt anymore, just that it was intense and unpleasant. It brought back so many memories, good and bad, and the rush inside his head felt like the tumbling of debris in an earthquake—everything unsteady and ready to break at any moment. A dam with a crack in it and the rattling of train tracks under your feet in a tunnel with no escape. A funnel cloud moments from touchdown, swirling and howling as it reaches the lowest point, a crashing storm that takes out everything in its path, leaving everything obliterated.

 

Breathing became harder the further he got from the room, his pace quickening to a jog. Seething, he rounded the final corner, begging his legs to hold him up for a few more minutes.

 

The door bashed against the wall when he flung it open, bouncing back hard enough to close on its own. Kouyou watched him from the spot on her couch, jaw dropping slightly at the state of him. Wild eyed and shaking, she knew what was coming. “Chuuya?”

 

“I need a drink.”

 

“Chuuya, how about you come sit over here with me, lad?”

 

“I need a drink first.”

 

With a sigh, she waited for him to walk over, tipping back a bottle of wine. Nearly slamming it on the table he dropped down beside her, chest heaving. “That bastard. That utter shitbag. He comes back here and has the audacity to act like we’re friends? Friends? After everything he did?”

 

“I’m sorry, Chuuya.”

 

“Pitting me between a rock and a hard place and making it so that I’d be suspected of helping him escape. I could’ve killed him, Kouyou! I could’ve killed him!”

 

“No you couldn’t have.”

 

“I could’ve! I nearly did! I should’ve that bastard. That scheming, careless piece of shit.”

 

“Chuuya—”

 

“I cant believe him, Kouyou. Coming here just to piss me off, as if he hasn’t done enough already! As if he didn’t hurt me enough, and now he comes back and acts as if nothing is wrong! I—I—I—”

 

“Slow down.”

 

He tipped the bottle back again before continuing. “I could’ve gone in there and told him the truth and he still wouldn’t have cared! I could’ve told him how hurt I was when he left. How lost I was and how long I grieved for someone that was still alive.” He tipped it back again, gasping for breath. “He—he was my safe place! Doesn’t he get that? How does he not realize how much trust I put in him? How does he not realize how much pain he caused me? How many tears and hangovers and sleepless nights? How many nights I woke up and reached for him out of fear and he wasn’t there.”

 

“Chuu—”

 

“How dare he come in here and not even apologize?” Chuuya’s voice broke and he stared Kouyou right in the eyes, shaking his head. “How could he?”

 

“I don’t know, hun.”

 

“And then… and then he just acts like there’s nothing wrong. Like we weren’t best friends and we didn’t care about each other at all. Just partners. Was that all I was to him? Was that it for all that time? Was it?” Chuuya stared at his lap, jaw trembling and hands repeatedly clenching and unclenching. “He never cared, did he? And I was too stupid to see it. I fell for it and now he’s laughing at me from his shiny new job and amazing new coworkers and and and…”

 

“Come here, Chuuya.”

 

“Don’t,” he choked. “Don’t… I can’t…”

 

“I’m so sorry, Chuuya.”

 

He clenched his eyes shut, willing the dam not to break, the structures to stay standing, the funnel to never touch the ground. He hiccoughed and gasped between his words. “He—he—how… How could he?”

 

In the end, all the effort went to waste as the tears slipped out from under his closed eyelids, the sobs bubbling up loud and hard, unable to hold them back. Kouyou took his small figure in her arms, wrapping him up tight. With one hand, she removed the hat from on top of his head, placed it on the couch beside him and smoothed him hair. “Shh… I know… I know…”

 

“It hurts so bad,” he sobbed. “It’s too much.”

 

“I know, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”

 

“Please make it stop!”

 

Kouyou clenched her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry along with him. She hadn’t seen Chuuya this distraught is a long time. Not since Dazai left. And before that… she can’t remember a time when it was this bad. Never had she seen him shake so violently, crying so loudly it could have been screaming as waves of broken sobs wracked his small body.

 

How could anyone expect him to react differently? Finally mostly healed and then tearing the wound back open by being thrown right back into the lion’s cage. Of course it would be overwhelming. Of course it would cause it all to come rushing back, flood his mind like a tsunami reaching shore, disorienting him and sending him spiraling. Of course it would be too much for him. Because Chuuya loved Dazai. So how could it not be?

 

“I’m sorry, Chuuya, I can’t…”

 

“He abandoned me and and and used me, just like everyone else I’ve ever trusted!”

 

“Shh…” A few tears slipped down her cheeks despite her efforts, hugging Chuuya as tightly as she could. ”I’m right here, sweetheart. I’m here.”

 

“I needed him,” he choked.

 

She nodded against his head, which rested in the crook of her neck. “I know, honey.”

 

“And he—didn’t—care.”

 

“Breathe…”

 

“And now—he’s—he’s back.”

 

“Breathe, Chuuya.”

 

“I can’t. He’s—he’s back and I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t.”

 

“You can do what, sweetie?” Kouyou asked, smoothing his hair.

 

“I can’t do it again!”

 

“You don’t have to, Chuu. You don’t ever have to see him again if you don’t want to.”

 

“I still need him, Kouyou!”

 

Rubbing his back gently, she sighed. “We’ll figure it out, Chuuya. But we don’t have to do it all right now. Give yourself some time to process.”

 

He sniffed repeatedly, hugging her tighter. “It’s too much—t-too much too-oo fast, I can-n’t.”

 

“That’s alright, lad. That’s alright.”

 

“He broke my heart… Just when I was finally okay…” Chuuya gasped for air multiple times before he could take a proper breath.

 

“Breathe, honey,” she soothed, then pressed a kiss to his head. “It will be alright. I promise you.”

 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

 

“I wouldn’t expect you too when you’ve just been thrown in the deep end.”

 

He nodded slightly, whispering, “I’m sorry, Kouyou.”

 

“No, no, don’t be,” she said in a rush, smoothing his har “Don’t be.”

 

“I don’t understand anything right now. Not why he’s back. Not what the hell emotion this is. Not anything… And I hate it.”

 

“It’s confusing and that’s okay. But don’t feel bad. I’m always here for you, lad you know that.”

 

“It just—” He sniffed. “It just came out of left field.”

 

“Not really,” she admitted. “I know you love him, honey. I would’ve been shocked if you hadn’t been upset.”

 

“I don’t cry.”

 

She chuckled lightly, still rubbing his back. “Yes, you do. Just behind closed doors.” He huffed and she smiled sadly. “You cry if you need to. Let it out. And I’m here to listen.”

 

“Thank you…”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

He turned his head to rest it on her shoulder.

 

“Chuuya?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you, too, Ane-san.”

 

She gave him a squeeze, thankful that he’d calmed down despite the few tears that still escaped under blond lashes. “Now, how about you tell me about your trip?”

 

“I will… but I think I need a nap.”

 

“How about you stay here tonight?”

 

A ghost of a smile appeared on Chuuya’s lips. “That works, too.”

Notes:

It's after 6 am. What am I doing with my life.

I might edit this tomorrow. Or today...? Whatever. I hope you enjoyed this. I had Chuuya feels and needed to write the angst. SO here it is in all its (nonexistent) glory. Leave your thoughts/comments below.

Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 45: Do You Remember Who I Used to Be? (Dazai, Ango, and CHuuya)

Summary:

Written for someone but I forgot your user I am so so sorry. I'm also sorry that this took so long. I had it planned and then kept changing it so I really hope that this lives up to your expectations! :)

While on a mission with the ADA, Ango runs into a problem. A large problem. When he and Dazai get thrown by an explosion and Dazai loses part of his memory, how will he break the bad news to him without breaking his heart?

TRIGGER WARNING: Blood, guns, mental breakdown/panic attack (?)

The slamming of the car door reverberated off the stone mouth of the mine, bouncing off the walls and dissipating further inside. Two figures appeared, backlit by the intense sunlight, a white halo around a cyan bun pinned up on the head on a woman who walked beside a bespectacled man that Dazai knew all too well.  He plastered the fakest of smiles on his face, stepping towards them with open arms.

 

“Ango! How nice it is to see you again.”

 

“No need to pretend we’re on good terms, Dazai,” he said curtly, waving him off. “We’re here on business, as I’m sure you know.”

 

“Of course, it was me who contacted you after all.”

 

A nod and a few steps later, Ango arrived before the rest of the agency, the woman quickly stepping up to his side. He glanced around at the rest of them pushing up his glasses. “This is my colleague, Tsujimura Mizuki. She’ll be assisting us with this case.”

 

A series of nods and hellos greeted them, followed by Kunikida clearing his throat. “How do you want to go about this? We had someone map the layout for us before we got here. There seems to be three main channels to take, all flowing downwards and towards the back end of the mine. He couldn’t locate the exact coordinates of the control room we’re looking for, but it will be at the end of one of the three.”

 

“I presume the culprit has staked out in the control room?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Ango nodded, tapping his chin with his index finger. “Let’s spit up. Three groups.”

 

“Alright,” said Kunikida, surveying the group. “Yosano, Tanizaki, Kenji, you’re group one. “Kyouka, Atsushi, and Tsujimura, if you don’t mind?”

 

“No, of course not,” she replied, a quiet smile on her face.

 

“And that would leave myself, Dazai, and you, Ango.”

 

“Perfect. Group one, you take the left channel, Tsujimura, lead your group down the right channel. We’ll take the middle.”

 

Tsujimura nodded. “I’ll report back if we come across anything.”

 

“Be careful,” Kunikida called after her. “There may be traps set out. Keep your guard up.”

 

“Got it.”

 

Once the two other groups had left down their respective channels, Kunikida motioned for Dazai and Ango to follow him, all three of them drawing their guns. The skidding of their feet and the skipping of pebbles across the ground echoed in the profound silence, the glances between Ango and Dazai missed visibly by Kunikida, but impossible to overlook with their pulpable tension.

 

At first he attempted to ignore their obvious contempt, making sure to scope the area as thoroughly as possible, but the quiet quickly became too heavy for even Kunikida to bare. With a long sigh and obvious reluctance to ask a question that could likely spark an argument, he voiced it anyway. “What’s the deal with you two?”

 

“Nothing for you to worry about, Kunikida-kun,” said Dazai, feigning disinterest.

 

“Tell that to the tension I could cut with a knife,” he huffed. “You guys obviously have history, and we have time. So, what am I missing here?”

 

“Well—”

 

“Don’t mind him, Ango, he can’t stand being out of the loop. The tension might be impeding on his ideal, but you wouldn’t want an argument interrupting your schedule, would you?”

 

“Knock it off, Dazai. Quit it with the excuses.”

 

“I’ll tell him if you won’t,” Ango stated, his voice as monotone as he could force it to be. “It’s only fair for him to know if he keeps getting stuck with the two of us.”

 

“if you insist.”

 

With a roll of his eyes that lasted slightly longer than necessary, he started on the briefest version he could give. “Dazai and I worked in the Port Mafia together before we both left. One of our mutual friends, Oda was involved in a skirmish with an opposing organization after his kids were killed by a car bomb.”

 

“You worked for the Port Mafia?”

 

“I did, yes. I was undercover for the government. But then Mori asked me to go undercover for an organization called mimic. Mimic’s leader had the same ability as Oda, and went searching for him, as he was the only one to give him the relief of death. After finding out I was undercover, they came to Yokohama and found Oda, who refused to fight the leader. I’d been abducted and held hostage at the time, and Mori sent Oda to look for me. Once he found me, however, he was poisoned and I was rescued by the government.”

“Bet you were laughing all the way home,” mumbled Dazai.

 

“I wasn’t. I regretted it, but I did what had to be done for my own safety. I went to the bar that the three of us frequented the next night, but left quickly, as Dazai and Oda wanted nothing to do with me and Dazai probably would have killed me had I not left.

 

“When Oda refused to kill Mimic’s leader, he set a trap. His kids… they were taken from their home, the owner of the restaurant downstairs being killed, and then trapped in a van in the parking lot. As I’ve been told… He watched as the bomb detonated and was thrown across the parking lot before he could get to them.”

 

“As you’ve been told, “Dazai scoffed, shaking his head. “I was the one that was there. He was a wreck. It sent him on a suicide mission. He wouldn’t listen to reason.”

 

“Would you?” Ango shot back. “If it had been him and I and Chuuya locked in that van and blown sky high? You would have done the same thing.”

 

“I never said I wouldn’t.”

 

“Either way,” Kunkida interjected. “What happened to him?”

 

“Do you want to finish Dazai? I wasn’t there for the rest.”

 

“Fine.” Dazai paused for a moment as they continued down the narrow passage in the dim light. He took a deep breath, licking his lips subconsciously. “I was called to see Mori. And while I was in his office, I asked for him to allow me to send in my men to help him. He refused, and it was then I realized it was a part of his plan all along. He kept me there as long as he could, gunas trained on my every movement. By the time I was able to get to Oda it was too late. I heard the final gunshots as I entered the building, but when I got into the room he’d already… he'd already collapsed. There was nothing I could do. He just bled out. Right then and there. And his final wish was for me to change sides. I deserted that night.”

 

Silence hung heavy in the air, Kunikida blinking repeatedly, processing the information. Slowy, he began to put together a coherent sentence. “I’m… really sorry that happened to your friend. Is that the grave you’re always visiting, Dazai?”

 

“Yes.” His voice had barely been a whisper.

 

“I can’t apologize anymore than I already have, Osamu,” said Ango, keeping his eyes forward.

 

“Don’t call me that! And it doesn’t change the fact that you lead them here. You got him killed.”

 

“Mori set that plan in motion. I was just a pawn, you know that. I couldn’t very well refuse him, could I?”

 

“I had three friends, Ango. Three. And I lost all three of them in one night.”

 

“If you would have list—”

 

“No! It doesn’t change anything. You’re a traitor. Oda’s dead. And I left Chuuya behind without so much as a note!”

 

“I thought you hated Chuuya,” Kunikida voiced before he’d realized what he said.

 

“I have to now. I don’t have a choice.”

 

Kunikida furrowed his brows. Why? So he could keep up his emotionless façade? So he wouldn’t be tempted to go back? What? The sudden influx of information made his head spin. Not only had these two men once been good friends, but they had a third friend member who kept them together, who’s death pitted them against each other and set Dazai on a completely different path. Who was he before? Who was he now?

 

“What else do I have to do?” Ango asked after a moment.

 

“There’s nothing you can do. What’s done is done. I can’t forgive you.”

 

“Mori wanted you gone. He wanted to hurt you and push you out. You have to know that.”

 

“Of course I do!” Dazai snapped, whipping his head around to glare at Ango, the fury and hurt in his eyes the most either of them had seen in those brown pools for a long time. “And it worked, didn’t it? Not that anyone cares how I feel about anything. It doesn’t fucking matter, Ango, so drop it. You can’t bring him back. Maybe if you’d done a better job at being undercover they wouldn’t have found Oda. Or maybe you leaked the information? Was that part of Mori’s sinister plan, too? Huh?”

 

“Dazai—”

 

“Some friend you are. Or were. Even back then.”

 

When Dazai turned away Ango watched him for a moment longer. He opened his mouth, but when no words came forth, he pressed them into a thin line, shaking his head slowly. His grip on his gun tightened, squeezing it enough for indentations to form against his fingers.

 

“Wait,” said Kunikida, stopping abruptly, his eyes focused intently on the ground. “Did you hear that?”

 

“Hear what?” Dazai asked, disinterested.

 

“Movement. Footsteps from behind us.”

 

“You think the guy brought in backup?”

 

Kunikida glanced at Ango over his shoulder. “Yeah, I think he—” Kunikida’s eyes widened in the split-second it took for the bullet to pierce his chest, the gunshot a late announcement of its arrival.

 

Dazai’s eyes widened in horror at the same instant that Ango whirled around and lodged a bullet in the man’s skull. “Kunikida!”

 

“Go,” he rasped, staring up at the blurry figure of his partner above him “There will be more.”

 

“I—”

 

“Go.”

 

“I can’t—”

 

Roughly, Ango yanked on Dazai’s arm, dragging him around the corner and out of sight. Dazai looked over his shoulder as they ran down the path, his eyes wide and bulging. “That didn’t… that—”

 

“Give me your phone.”

 

“What?”

 

“Give me your phone!”

 

Dazai fumbled through his coat pockets for his phone, then handed it to Ango, who flipped it open and scrolled through his contacts. He put the phone to his ear, begging for the ringing to end and the voice on the other end to crackle over the line. “Yosano, it’s urgent. Kunikida got shot in the centre channel and if you don’t get to him in the next few minutes it’s going to be too late. Dazai and I had to leave, there’s more coming. We’ll fend them off, but you need to get here now.”

 

After a quick affirmation from the doctor, Ango flipped the phone shut and shoved it back at Dazai. He slipped it into his pocket, watching behind them for shadows or other movement. Dazai tugged Ango back into an alcove, the both of them crouching down at the corner.

 

The pounding footsteps of at least ten men thundered down the cavern, muffled voices and the shifting of rocks underfoot alerting the two agents of their position. As their shadows approached on the wall across from them, Ango and Dazai both raised their guns, ready to shoot as soon as they were in range.

 

Staying true to that thought process, two men dropped immediately upon turning the corner, the rest startling at the sudden deaths of their comrades. Having given their position away, Ango and Dazai slowly crept away from the corner, backing up and shooting as they went until the final man collapsed with the furious bullet from the barrel of Dazai’s gun. Seething, the two of them swept the hall once more, then turned to continue on. However, the culprit had had one final idea in mind to stop his attackers, and Ango’s foot caught the trip wire.

 

The suffocation of dirt and shrapnel-esque feel of jagged stones against bare skin overtook their consciousness as their sight and hearing were stripped from them temporarily, only returning to Ango after his back hit the back wall, knocking the wind form his lungs. Spluttering and gasping for air, his bleeding hands scrabbled for his glasses, his sight returning warped and splintered by the cracked glass.

 

Through the settling dust he searched he darkness, begging his eyes to adjust to the black void surrounding him. “Dazai?”

 

Finding himself lucky, Ango retrieved his phone from his breast pocket and turned on the flashlight. Across from where he knelt on the ground sat a pile of rocks from ground to ceiling, the rocks that had fallen in the explosion five times as big as his head and probably ten tomes as heavy. He shook his head in disbelief, casting the beam around until it landed on a figure to his right.

 

Slumped against the wall sat Dazai, coated head to toe in dirt and dust, his whole body seeming white except for the trickles of blood on miscellaneous parts of his body. Ango supposed he looked the same and found it to be true upon glancing down at his body. Upon a closer look, ango realized the man lay unconscious, his head tilted back against the rocks.

 

Chewing his lip, Ango input his phone pin and scrolled through his contacts. He had no one from the agency other than Kunikida and Dazai… Tsujimura. He could call Tsujimura. He lifted the phone to his ear, crossing his fingers for reception. It hadn’t been great before when he called Yosano from Dazai’s phone, but now it would surely be even worse, trapped in the dead end of a mine after an explosion.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Oh, thank god,” Ango breathed. “Can you hear me?”

 

“You’re kinda faint, but I can mostly make out your voice.”

 

“Perfect. Put me on the phone with one of the Agency kids, it’s urgent.”

 

Wordlessly, Tsujimura handed the phone over, the exchanging of hands crackling over the line. “It’s Atsushi. What’s wrong, Ango-san?”

 

“We need the kid with the insane strength down here as soon as possible.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

The hint of panic in his voice caused Ango to cringe. “Dazai and I got caught in an explosion and are stuck in a dead end. We need him to lift the boulders.”

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“I think so. Dazai’s unconscious.”

 

“Shit,” Atsushi muttered. He shifted the phone away from his mouth and spoke to the other girl with him, his voice faint over the line. “Kyouka, call Kenji and tell him to go to the end of the middle channel. They need his help immediately. Ango-san, where’s Kunikida?”

 

He cringed again. “He, uh… he was shot, but he should be being treated by Yosano right now, don’t worry,” he let out in a rush.  

 

“Should be?”

 

“We had to go, we were ambushed.”

 

Atsushi sighed on the other line. “Okay, okay, um… we think we’ve found the control room so we’re going to head in momentarily. We’ll get down there as soon as we can.”

 

“Perfect. Thanks, Atsushi-kun.”

 

“Of course. Here’s Tsujimura-san.”

 

“Hey, Ango, hang in there.”

 

“Like I have a choice,” he sighed. “I’ll see you soon. Stay safe. Good luck.”

 

“Thank you.” And with that, she was gone and the line crackled to a close. Ango tipped his head back, eyes closed, and then shuffled over to Dazai.

 

Hooking his arms under Dazai’s he pulled him upright, leaning his back against the rock wall. The man didn’t even stir and Ango began chewing on his lip once more. Studying his head in the light, he found a spot of blood on the back of his head, matting the brown curls to his head. “Fuck.”

 

Another wound near his temple caught his attention and Ango brought his sleeve up to wipe the crimson trail off his face, blinking at the peace on his face that he’d rarely seen when they’d previously known each other. If only it could be present more often.

 

Relenting, Ango sat back against the wall beside Dazai, resting his head against it. He lost himself in a typhoon of what if’s and if onlies, pondering what could have or should have been. Stirring him from his thoughts came a groan from beside him followed by a round of coughing and a feeble voice. “Where are we?”

 

“Stuck in the back of the mine. I hit a trip wire.”

 

“Figures,” said Dazai, squinting as Ango turned the light towards him.

 

“How’s your head feeling.”

 

“Let’s not talk about it.” He looked at the floor, then turned to Ango with knitted brows. “Ango? Why are you here?”

 

“We’re trying to capture a criminal…” He answered, warily.

 

“You?”

 

“Yes…”

 

Dazai blinked repeatedly, his stare skeptic. “That’s not your job, though. We’ve never worked a job together. You’re on intel.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“It’s usually me on missions like this. Unless you gave me a silver oracle and I just don’t remember because I hit my head.”

 

The colour drained from Ango’s face, the dark of his eyes suddenly miniscule compared to the vast expanse of stark white. It rivalled the pallor of his skin, his face bobbing slightly as he swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “What did you just say?”

 

“I asked if I gave you a silver oracle. You know, the paper you’d give an exec if you needed help. Not that I’d make you give me one, but you know what I mean.”

 

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes searching Dazai’s face in the dimness. “That’s what I thought you said.”

 

“Why are you whispering? Is someone watching us? Man, I’m really out of it. How hard did I hit my head?”

 

“Pretty hard,” he gulped.

 

“Why so nervous, Ango-kun,” Dazai teased. “Is this your first infiltration mission, hmm?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“Ah, don’t worry. You’ve got the leading exec on your side. You’ll be fine.”

 

He licked his lips, settling his gaze on the ground. But will you?

 

Rustling reached his ears as Dazai started patting his pockets down. “Where’s my phone,” he muttered, more to himself then to Ango. “I need to call Chuuya.”

 

“Ch-chuuya?”

 

Dazai raised a brow at his startled tone. “Yeah? I mean, I know you two aren’t on the best of terms but he is my partner. He’s gotta be around here somewhere. He can get us out.”

 

“He’s actually not on this mission with us right now,” he blurted. “I’ve already called someone else while you were asleep, they should be here any—”

 

Tumbling rocks crashing to the ground interrupted their conversation, bright light hitting their unsuspecting eyes. As Ango blinked away the dancing spots he caught ight of a head of blond hair in a window of space. “Don’t worry Ango-san, Dazai-san! I’ll have you out in a jiff!”

 

Ango let out a sigh of relief, but Dazai only stared at the kid skeptically. “Who’s that?”

 

Ango’s heart skipped a beat. “He came to let us out.” Dazai only nodded skeptically. Ango pushed himself to his feet and crossed to the continually widening opening. “Thanks, kid. Is Kunikida here?”

 

A bloodstained but very alive Kunikida stepped into view, nodding at him. “Are you two alright?”

 

“I am but…” He glanced back at Dazai, then returned his gaze to Kunikida. “Dazai’s not.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Arghh.”

 

“Careful,” Ango hissed, turning back to Dazai, who’d tried to stand of his own volition. He helped Dazai to his feet, holding an arm over his shoulder and another around his scrawny waist. It concerned him, but he pushed the thought away for the time being. They had more pressing matters. The two of them returned to the finished opening, slipping through together.

 

Yosano stepped forwards with a scowl. “I should take a look at his head.”

 

“Uh, no,” Dazai said, leaning away from her with a mix of disgust and fear. Her brows shot int her hairline. He’d never looked at her with fear in his eyes before.

 

Ango pursed his lips, shuting his eyes for a moment, listening as Kunikida said, “What’s his problem?”

 

“What’s my problem?” Dazai asked incredulously. “Speak for yourself, buddy!”

 

Ango opened his eyes in time to see Kunikida jerk his head back, lowering his brows over narrowed eyes. Hazel eyes turned to Ango. “Uh, what the hell happened to him?”

 

“I’ll tell you on the way out. Did anyone get the guy?”

 

“We did,” Tsujimura confirmed. “The police just took over from us. He’s in custody.”

 

“So, we’re free to leave then. Perfect.”

 

“The police?” Dazai turned to Ango. “Why are the police involved.”

 

He cringed. “That’s not important. I’ll explain later.”

 

Assisting Dazai on his shaky legs, Ango, Tsujimura, and the Agency headed back up the centre channel towards the outside. They walked I silence for a few minutes, before Kunikida finally turned to him. “So, what’s going on?”

 

“I’d like to know, too,” said Dazai. “Who are you people? Where’s Chuuya? Where are the rest of my bandages? Why am I wearing these clothes?”

 

“Who are we?” Kunikida spluttered.

 

“Chuuya-san?” Atsushi asked, a puzzling but worried look on his face.

 

“The rest of your bandages,” Tanizaki said in disbelief. “There are more?”

 

Dazai glanced around at them all. “What? Ango-kun… is there something you’re not telling me? I know I hit my head pretty hard but I’d rather not be left in the dark.”

 

“Dazai… how old are you?”

 

He gave him a look, and said slowly, as if it were obvious, “Seventeen. The same age I was yesterday. And the day before that.”

 

The man sighed, long and low, trying to avoid the wide eyes of the agency around him. “Dazai-kun… you’re twenty-two. You’re not in the Mafia anymore.”

 

He raised a brow and then burst out laughing. “Okay, okay, you’re funny Ango. Now lay it on me. What am I missing?” But Ango said nothing, only stared him in the eyes as they continued up the path. Slowly, Dazai’s smile morphed into an empty frown. “Stop that. Stop joking with me. I just had a breakthrough with Akutagawa last week. Chuuya and I spent last night on his couch with a box of pizza and a bottle of his expensive wine. Two nights ago, you drove me home when I got drunk at Lupin with you and Oda.”

 

At the mention of Oda’s name, the group collectively silenced, the only exception being Ango’s sharp, pained intake of breath. He shook his head slowly, biting his lip as if to stop himself from crying. “Dazai-kun… I’m not lying to you.”

 

“That’s… that’s not possible. Just last night…”

 

“You weren’t with Chuuya last night, Dazai. You haven’t spent the night with Chuuya in a long time.”

 

Dazai shook his head adamantly. “No, no. This is some kind of sick joke, Ango. Stop. I’ve gotta… can you pass me my phone?”

 

“Why?”

 

“Let me call Chuuya.”

 

“You can’t.”

 

“Of course, I can. He’s my partner.”

 

“He’s not your partner anymore, Dazai. He’s not. You left and he didn’t.”

 

Dazai stopped and stared, the rest of the Agency halting in their tracks. “You’re telling me that for some reason, I left the Mafia and Chuuya didn’t follow me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He dropped his gaze, his voice taking a tone none of them had ever heard from him. “Chibi didn’t follow me…?”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“What happened? Why… why did I leave?”

 

Ango turned his head away. “I’ll explain as we walk.”

 

Dazai remained quiet for a few minutes, mulling the situation over in his head. A few times Ango heard him mumble Chuuya’s name and his heart clenched. Eventually, Dazai spoke up once more. “Are you still in the Mafia?”

 

“No. I work for the government.”

 

“So, you tricked me?”

 

“I only did what I had to do,” he said, his voice taking a pleading tone. “I didn’t lie about our friendship or anything like that to you and Oda. That… I meant every word.”

 

Dazai seemed to think about that for a moment. “Okay. And what about Oda? Is he still in the Mafia?”

 

Ango could only nod, turning his face away forcing himself not to cry. “As for why you left… Mori made a plan to get rid of you… So now you’re in the light. And you’ve definitely changed… you’re on the good side now, Dazai-kun.”

 

As he finished speaking, the group stepped out of the mouth of the mine and into the sunlight, the dust that covered them even more apparent under the warm rays. But thought the sun’s heat seeped into Ango’s skin, his blood ran cold, as he’s sure Dazai’s did too, judging by the looks of him. His hands curled into tight fists, his face pale and eyes frantically searching the ground on which he walked.

 

“Sit him down,” Yosano instructed. “Not only does he have a head injury but all of that is a lot to take in at once.”

 

Ango nodded, maneuvering Dazai to sit against the outside wall. The rest of the agency backed away to give them space, watching the scene unfold with eyes full of disbelief. But for Ango, it was all too real. His former friend had reverted to his previous self with no recollection of his best friend’s death and deserting his partner, the life he once knew gone for the second time. And thee he stood, witnessing the carefully constructed walls crumble down to the earth below.

 

“Can you help me get my phone?”

 

“Why?”

 

“I’m going to call Oda.”

“No… Dazai… you can’t do that.”

 

“Why?”

 

“You just can’t right now.”

 

“Then Chuuya. Let me call Chuuya.”

 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

 

“He’ll answer, I know he will. Even if I’ve done something to piss him off, he’ll answer, he will. I know he will.”

 

Ango shook his head, lips pressed together tightly. “I’m sorry.”

 

Slowly, Dazai grew quiet, and the moment Ango dreaded had come. Wide, teary brown eyes rose to meet his. “Ango… what was the plan to get rid of me?”

 

Chin trembling, Ango knelt in front of Dazai and looked him in the eyes. He swallowed thickly, and then spoke in a choked voice. “Mori set up a plan to hurt you and make you desert the Mafia. And um… he… Oda’s dead…”

 

Dazai shook his head. “Help me find my phone.”

 

Tears spilled down Ango’s cheeks, his breath hitching. “I’m sorry.”

 

“No… you—you can’t tell me that Chuuya hates me and Oda’s dead and you’re the only one left… you… you can’t be…”

 

“No. No, you have the Agency now. They’re your family. They love you.”

 

Dazai shook his head more vigorously, covering his ears with his hands and closing his eyes. “No. No no no, this-this can’t be happening. This can’t be hap-happening.” In his desperation, both Chuuya and Oda’s names tumbled from the man’s lips, like a plea, a cry for help.

 

Wiping the tears from his face, Ango looked over his shoulder and motioned for Kunikida to come closer. Kunikida crossed to him, watching Dazai with sad eyes. He leant down and whispered to Ango. “Yosano says she thinks it might be dissociative amnesia. He probably saw both Oda and Chuuya in me when I got shot and thought I was dead.”

 

Ango nodded without looking at him, sniffing. “Probably. Um… can you call Chuuya?”

 

“Is that a good idea?”

 

“Please just do it… If you tell him Dazai needs him, he’ll come. I’m sure of it. I was never as close with Dazai as him and Oda and I’ve never seen him like this… but I’m almost positive Chuuya has. I’m doing my best, but I don’t think it’s me he needs.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Oh, and… ask Atsushi to call Akutagawa. Him and Gin should come, too. The rest of the Agency can leave.”

 

Kunikida nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Yeah I can do that.”

 

After walking away, Kunikida passed the message along to Atsushi and then stepped away from the group, pulling out his phone. He flipped through his contacts, then dialed Chuuya’s number. He answered almost immediately. “What is it? I’m pretty sure I don’t owe you any favours.”

 

“Dazai needs you.”

 

At first, the only response he received was the shattering of a glass. And then, after a few seconds of silence… “Oh… okay, um… where… where are you?”

 

Letting out a breath of relief, Kunikida’s face relaxed some. “The abandoned mine at the north end of the city. Front entrance.”

 

The rumbling of an engine carried over the line, followed by, “What happened? Is he okay?”

 

“Not exactly.”

 

“What’s going on?”

 

Kunikida couldn’t help but smile some at the poorly concealed worry in the man’s voice. “Dazai doesn’t remember the last five years. At all.”

 

“Oh, so he needs me needs me.”

 

“Yes. He’s… kinda freaking out.”

 

“Does he know about Oda?”

 

“He just found out.”

 

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

 

A few feet away, Atsushi waited from Akutagawa to pick up the phone. The ringing stopped and a cough rang over the line. “This better be about work, Jinko, or I will skin you alive.”

 

“It’s about Dazai.”

 

His hostile tone dropped immediately. “What is it?”

 

“He’s got some kind of amnesia. Thinks he’s still in the Mafia. You and Gin need to get here, now.”

 

“Where are you?”

 

“The North mine.

 

The line went dead and Atsushi fought the urge to role his eyes.

 

Still kneeling by Dazai, Ango watches him at a loss. What was he supposed to do when Dazai clutched and pulled at his hair and his bandages, breathing harshly and repeatedly asking for Chuuya? Not that he was aware he was asking for him, as Ango figured he probably had no idea of his surroundings at the current moment, but he still had no clue how to handle the situation. Emotions were not his strong suit, and as much as he hated watching Dazai suffer, he couldn’t do anything about it. And his chest ached. But he was saved pretty quickly by the squealing of tires and a door being thrown closed.

 

“Dazai!”

 

Dazai startled with a gasp, raising his head, eyes widening in disbelief. “Chibi?”

 

Immediately engulfed by Chuuya, Dazai shut his eyes, allowing himself to be brought into a tight hold. “Breathe…”

 

“You came?”

 

His eyes falling shut, Chuuya nodded. “Of course I did.”

 

“I left and you didn’t come with me, but you came anyways, Chibi…”

 

Chuuya only pulled him closer, their chests pressed together with Dazai’s head turned into his neck. “It’s alright… Breathe…” He soothed. “I’ll always be here when you need me.”

 

Chuuya raised his gaze to Ango, mouthing, ‘What do we do?’

 

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “Yosano said it might be a specific kind of amnesia. But it could also just be retrograde amnesia. I’m not sure.”

 

“Will he get his memory back?”

 

“I don’t—”

 

Chuuya became distracted, turning his attention back to Dazai when he felt his back shaking. Initially confused, it wasn’t until he heard the little hiccups that he realized Dazai was crying. He tilted his head to look at him. “Osamu?”

 

“Oda’s gone…”

 

The pang that hit him in the chest made him round his shoulders, as if the feeling of his heart breaking were actually a physical impact in his chest. But perhaps it was. He held him closer, whispering, “I know… I know… I’m so sorry, Osamu…”

 

Dazai only continued to cry, shaking in Chuuya’s arm, his tears sliding down his neck. Chuuya leant his head against Dazai’s, looking up at Ango, who had tears streaming down his face as well. As silent as he tried to keep them though, Chuuya could still distinguish his hiccups from Dazai’s, and as much as he disliked Ango, he felt for them both.

 

A sob bubbled up and Chuuya found himself running his fingers through the tangles in Dazai’s hair. “Shh…”

 

“O-oda’s gone, he-he’s gone and and and you you were go-on and it’s all too much it’s too much, what’s happening?”

 

“Shh shh shh, it’s okay, it’s alright, I’ve got you…” He rubbed Dazai’s back in hopes of calming him and reminding him of his presence. “I’m right here, it’s alright…”

 

Ango laid a hand on Dazai’s back, sniffing around hitching breaths. “I miss him, too, buddy… I’m so sorry…”

 

The rest of the Agency, having backed away, couldn’t hear what was being said. However, that didn’t stop it from hurting them as they watched, hearts breaking at the pain and confusion coursing through their friend. It was clear to them then just how close to, and just how important Oda, Ango, and Chuuya were to Dazai. And thought he’d never admit it, at least before, they helped keep him together. They saw how much Oda meant to him and Ango, and how close he and Chuuya really were. That they loved each other, whether platonically or not they couldn’t be sure, but either way… it was palpable. Dazai’s past life and persona had come to life before their eyes and It was then, for the first time, that they realized how much pain Dazai must have been in when that had all been ripped away…

 

Another car pulled into the parking lot, two people jumping out of the car and jogging over. Both Akutagawa’s held worried looks, calling out Dazai’s name.

 

The man’s head shot up, red, puffy eyes searching them as if they’d disappear before his eyes. “Aku-kun? Gin-chan?”

 

“Yes, it’s us,” said Akutagawa, while Gin nodded. “We’re really here.”

 

“How… how did you…?”

 

“Atsushi called me and told me what happened,” said Akutagawa, ignoring Atsushi’s shock at him using his first name.

 

Dazai nodded, swallowing hard. “Thank you.  And, um, who’s Atsushi?”

 

He tugged the boy’s arm and Atsushi stumbled up to Akutagawa. “He’s your new apprentice. And we’re partners. You set us up that way.”

 

Atsushi nodded. “Hi, Dazai-san. You and Akutagawa are in contact again.”

 

“We are?” Dazai leaned back to look at Chuuya. “Are we?”

 

Chuuya nodded. “We are. As of recently. But I’m not your partner.”

 

“Who is?”

 

Without turning away from him, Chuuya called, “Kunikida?”

 

The blond man stepped forward, giving Dazai and reassuring smile. “Hey, Dazai-kun.”

 

“Hi…” He paused, looking around at the Agency, face burning at the realization they’d all been watching. He looked at Chuuya. “Where do I live now?”

 

“You live at the Agency dorms.” Dazai only nodded, resting his head back on Chuuya’s shoulder, his face in his neck once more. He immediately started to play with Dazai’s hair again, twirling pieces around his finger and then smoothing it. “For right now… can I stay with you instead?”

 

Overcome by an overwhelming surge of love, his breathing became suspended for a single moment. It came back in a rush as he nodded, an intense need to protect and take care of the man in his arms burning under his skin. He never wanted to lose him again. “Of course, you can. As long as you want, or at least until your memories come back.”

 

Dazai’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. “What if I don’t like what comes back? What if we fought or you hated me or something?”

 

The fear in his voice hurt Chuuya on a deep level. He glanced up at Ango, who gulped, watching Dazai with wide eyes. Chuuya turned back to him, rubbing his back once more. “I don’t care, because I’m not leaving you and I’m not letting you leave me again…”

 

“You didn’t follow me…”

 

“I didn’t know where to find you, Osamu… I was out of the country until the night I found out you were gone…”

 

“I’m sorry…”

 

“It’s alright…. It’s alright…” Chuuya turned and pressed a gentle kiss to Dazai’s head.

 

“I’ll come check on you every day until you get your memories back,” Ango reassured him.

 

“You’re going to stop coming to see me after that?”

 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Trust me. You won’t want me around after that.”

 

Dazai hummed for a moment. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll change my mind.”

 

Slowly at first and then all at once, a beaming smile spread across Ango’s face. Chuuya couldn’t help but smile. Then he looked down at Dazai and spoke to him again. “I think it’s time to get you home. You need some rest.”

 

Dazai nodded, trying to squirm out of Chuuya’s hold to stand up.

 

“No, no,” Chuuya protested, picking Dazai up as he was. “You are not walking right now. Come on.”

 

“I can walk, Chibi,” he mumbled.

 

Chuuya couldn’t help the chuckle he let out. “Not until you’re more physically stable. We need to have Doctor Yosano look at your head.”

 

Dazai raised his head fast enough t make himself dizzy. “No!”

 

“Hey, it’s alright… she’s not like Mori. Mori hurt her, too.”

 

He stared at Chuuya for a moment but then, satisfied with that answer for the time being, let Chuuya help him into the passenger seat. The agency watched from afar, glad that Chuuya had gotten there so quickly and that Ango had been there in the first place. Despite their constant bickering, as Chuuya and Dazai pulled away, they al couldn’t help but smile, knowing that Dazai was in good hands. Chuuya loved him.

 

As did Ango. He stood next to Tsujimura, swiping at his eyes and watching the car pull away. She rested a hand on his back for comfort. He nodded at her with a sad smile of appreciation, but his mind was elsewhere.

 

On Dazai. On Oda. On Lupin. On the many nights they spent laughing and talking together. Of the immense guilt, self-hatred and pain he’d felt after finding out about Oda’s death.

 

And yet he found himself hopeful that maybe, just maybe, Dazai would change his mind after all.  

Notes:

Hey all! I'm actually really proud of this one, lol, so I hope that you guys all like it. Let me know your thoughts and comments, as always. I stayed up all night to write this haha, it is now after 8 am whoops.... Anyways, until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 46: Loopy (Atsushi/Akutagawa Fluff)

Summary:

For a change of pace, here's some fluff!

Atsushi just got his winsdom teeth out, and Dazai called Akutagawa to come see his boyfriend, who's hopped up on anaesthesia and pain meds.

With a steady arm around the boy’s slim waist, Dazai escorted him out of the office and down the hallway. Though he stumbled and swayed on his feet, he never fell, and Dazai was grateful for not having to carry him to the car. Not that Atsushi was heavy, but because he’d rather not have to do more work than he needed to.

 

Deciding to take the elevator down to the ground floor instead, he elbowed a button and let the doors slide closed. A slight tug on his sleeve distracted him and he glanced over at his apprentice, his face swollen. “Dazai-san?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Where are we going?”

 

Dazai chuckled, adjusting his grip. “We’re going home, Atsushi-kun.”

 

Atsushi blinked at him slowly, tilting his head. “Can I sleep?”

 

“Of course,” he said, tugging the boy out of the elevator and out the front door towards the parking lot. “Just wait until we get in the car, okay?”

 

“M’kay.”

 

Dazai watched him, amused at how mellow he’d become. It was a new sight, seeing as Atsushi was always anxious and strung-out. When he made it to the car, he opened the back door and helped Atsushi into the seat before getting into the passenger seat beside Kunikida. He spoke to Dazai as he checked over his shoulder, backing out of the space. “How’d it go?”

 

“Textbook, apparently. This one’s an easy patient.”

 

“Yeah, well, we’ll see how he is the next couple days.”

 

Dazai waved a hand, then returned to the message he’d been typing on his phone. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. Especially once he sees Akutagawa-kun.”

 

“Ryuu?” Atsushi hummed.

 

“Yes, Atsushi. He’s coming to see you after we get back.”

 

Atsushi tried to smile, but his lips didn’t cooperate, and he frowned, squinting at himself in the rear-view mirror. Kunikida let out a low chuckle as he checked said mirror, shaking his head at the kid. This would be interesting.

 

*

 

Having seen the two climbing the stairs out the window, Kyouka appeared in the open doorway by the time they’d reached the top. She watched Atsushi’s lopsided grin appear when he saw her, immediately pulling her into a hug when he entered the dorm.

 

“Kyouka-chan!”

 

She eyed Dazai around Atsushi, who only shrugged with a smirk. She pulled back from Atsushi, resting her hands on his shoulders. “I’m happy to see you, too. Do you want to go sit down?” He nodded and she took him to the couch by the hand, patting the spot next to her. He sank down to sit, leaning back against the cushion, practically sinking into it. Atsushi poked his cheek repeatedly, trying and failing to scowl. Kyouka gently smacked his hand away. “Don’t poke at it.”

 

“Why not? It feels funny.”

 

“It’s going to feel funny until the freezing wears off. And then it’s going to hurt.”

 

“But I don’t want it to hurt.”

 

She took a minute, keeping her mouth shut so she wouldn’t laugh. “I don’t want it to hurt you either, but you just had your wisdom teeth pulled out. It’s going to be sore and swollen.”

 

“Oh,” he said, seeming to think about it, and then nodding enthusiastically. “Okay!”

 

Kyouka eyed him and then glanced up at Dazai as he came back in the room with a few ice packs and a roll of bandages. “Alright, Atsushi-kun. It’s time for some ice.” In response, Atsushi opened his mouth, causing Dazai to laugh. “No, no. Ice packs.”

 

“Oh.” He almost looked disappointed.

 

Shaking his head fondly, Dazai stepped up to him and pressed toe ice packs to the sides of his jaw. “Can you hold these still for me?”

 

Atsushi nodded and Dazai gave him a look. “Sorry.”

 

He wrapped the bandages from the top of his head to under his chin, securing the ice in place. “There. We’re gunna leave it on for a while. I’ll tell you when to take it off.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“You can nod now.”

 

Atsushi tried to smile once again, but it appeared more as a grimace. “When’s Ryuu coming?”

 

“He should be here in about half an hour.”

 

Atsushi visibly perked up at that, sitting up straighter. Beside him, Kyouka turned on the Tv and started to flip through channels, putting on a generic sitcom for the time being. Atsushi turned to the screen, the not particularly following the blobs on the screen or the cacophony of voices and laugh track, but it kept his attention even with unfocused eyes. Eventually, though, it lulled him to sleep, curling up against the arm of the couch.

 

Akutagawa arrived not long later, conversing with Dazai as he removed his shoes and scanned the dorm for Atsushi. Spotting a mess of grey hair beside a grinning Kyouka, he followed Dazai in, watching as the man sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor. Kyouka slid from the couch and scooted over near Dazai, lying on the carpet and watching the pair.

 

Akutagawa sat down beside Atsushi, simply watching him for a minute, his lips slightly parted. Then he placed a hand on the boy’s side, his voice softer than the other two had heard before. “Jinko.”

 

Dazai nearly snorted at that. Despite the fact they were in a relationship, that stupid nickname had stuck and turned into a term of endearment. Judging by Kyouka’s eyeroll, she thought the same thing.

 

“Hmm?” Atsushi hummed as his eyes fluttered open, tilting his head as he blinked to clear his vision.

 

“Jinko.”

 

A slow, slightly less lopsided smile spread over his face. “Ryuu.”

 

A ghost of a smile quirked the man’s lips. “Who else?”

 

“Mmm… Dunno.”

 

Akutagawa shook his head in amusement. “You’re still loopy, huh?” Atsushi only laughed at that. It started like a hiccup and quickly turned to pull out giggling. Akutagawa raised his brows. “What’s so funny?”

 

“I dunno.”

 

He pursed his lips and nodded, watching his boyfriend laugh at nothing in particular. Shooting a look at Dazai, he mouthed, ‘What the fuck?’ Dazai merely shrugged, then waved his hands in a ‘go’ motion. Rolling his eyes, he returned his attention to Atsushi, taking both of his hands. “Atsushi.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Do you want to go back to sleep?”

 

He started to shake his head, and then turned to Dazai, laughing as he grinned. “Sorry.”

 

Dazai laughed at Kyouka’s facepalm, shaking his head at Atsushi. “You can move your head now Atsushi.”

 

“Oh,” he chuckled. “Right.” He looked back at Akutagawa, then leaned forwards and wrapped his arms around his neck.

 

His eyes widened as he opened his arms to accept Atsushi, who probably didn’t realize he’d dropped his full weight on him. “What are you doing?”

 

Atsushi hummed contentedly, mumbling into his ear. “Love you.”

 

“I love you, too. Now do you want to go back to sleep?” He nodded, tucking his head in his boyfriend’s neck as far as the ice packs would allow. Akutagawa hissed at the temperature pressed flush to his bare neck but said nothing about it. Instead, he looped his arms around Atsushi and pulled him down with him onto the couch so they could lie down, cramping neither of their necks.

 

“Aww,” Kyouka teased, earning a glare from Akutagawa and a laugh from Dazai.

 

Dazai reached for the remote on the table and tossed it to Kyouka. “Here. Why don’t you pick a movie or something to watch. Well,” he looked to Akutagawa, “if you can see it passed Atsushi’s head.”

 

“I’m fine. Put on what you want.”

 

“Suit yourself,” said Kyouka, putting on a show that was all too familiar to him. When he groaned dramatically, she turned to him. “What?”

 

“Not you too.”

 

“Not me what?”

 

He sighed. “Gin watches that show, too. I swear, I can’t escape it.”

 

Kyouka shrugged. “She has good taste.”

 

Akutagawa rolled his eyes and returned his attention to Atsushi as he squirmed in his embrace. “Am I not comfortable?”

 

He scowled, turning his head for the millionth time. “Can’t breathe.”

 

“Here,” said Akutagawa, removing the boy’s head from his neck. “Lie on my chest instead.”

 

“M’kay.”

 

Atsushi let out a long, happy sigh, something closer to a smile spreading on the part of his face not obstructed by icepacks. Akutagawa ran a hand through his hair. “Better?”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“Good.”

 

Atsushi turned to look up at him with quizzical eyes. “Why did you come here? What about work?”

 

“I finished early.”

 

He narrowed his eyes. “But it’s early.”

 

“Atsushi, what time do you think it is?”

 

“Uh… noon?”

 

Akutagawa shook his head, brushing an eyelash from Atsushi’s cheek. “It’s after four o’clock.”

 

“It can’t be, though.”

 

“It can be, though.”

 

“Don’t be mean,” he whined. “Ryuu.”

 

The man chuckled, staring down at Atsushi with a soft gaze. “What?”

 

“Don’t be mean.”

 

“I’m just stating the facts.”

 

Atsushi turned his head away, pouting. “Still mean.”

 

“Come on, that wasn’t mean. “

 

“It was funny, though,” Dazai interjected.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Don’t get used to it.”

 

Akutagawa scowled at him, then turned to Atsushi, running his hand through his hair again. “Come on, Atsu, I wasn’t being mean. You’ve seen me be mean.” Slowly, he could feel Atsushi jolting against his chest and his eyes widened. “Hey… Atsushi…” But when the boy turned his head to look at him, he realized it was laughter, not tears. “What?”

 

“You’re soft.”

 

“I’m what?”

 

“You’re soft.”

 

“I’m not—” He turned to the other two sitting on the floor. “Did he just call me fat?”

 

“I don’t know how he could,” said Kyouka, not looking away from her show.

 

“I’m pretty sure you’re smaller than he is,” said Dazai, watching Atsushi’s rampant giggling.

 

“Noooo,” Atsushi nearly sang. “I mean you’re soft.” He poked his chest with his finger. “There’s a heart in there, now.”

 

Akutagawa merely blinked at him. “There always has been.”

 

“It was small.”

 

“Who am I, the Grinch?”

 

“Heh, yeah.”

 

He shook his head, holding Atsushi tighter. “You’re so loopy.”

 

“And you so love me.”

 

Though a blush rose in his cheeks at Dazai and Kyouka witnessing this side of him, he wasn’t one to deny Atsushi the proper response especially when he wouldn’t understand if he didn’t. “Yes. I love you.”

 

He hummed in delight, then pushed himself closer to his boyfriend’s face. “Ryuu?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Can I have a kiss?”

 

Acutely aware of Dazai and Kyouka’s amused stares, he did his best not to stutter. He’d never kissed Atsushi in front of them before. Or, in front of anyone, really. “Atsushi…”

 

“Pleaaaaassseee.”

 

“I don’t want to hurt you. You’re awful swollen.”

 

“You won’t,” he insisted.

 

Inwardly sighing at how adamant he was, he relented. “Okay, okay. Just one.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Akutagawa leaned in and gently pressed a feather-light kiss to his lips, smiling as he pulled away. “There.” Atsushi immediately laid back down on his chest, letting out a long breath as he allowed his eyes to fall closed once more. Akutagawa threaded his fingers through grey hair, careful not to pull any as he watched his boyfriend relax in his hold. “Go to sleep, Atsushi. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“I promise.”

 

Within a few minutes, Atsushi lied asleep in Akutagawa’s arms, the other watching him with tangible love in his eyes. He shut his eyes, letting his one hand run through Atsushi’s hair, the other one holding him tightly. Lost in his thoughts, he tuned out Kyouka’s show and her and Dazai’s banter about how cute the two of them were as a couple. He’d briefly caught something about how happy Atsushi had been to see him, but it had quickly become lost in the floating, disjointed thoughts of his subconscious.

 

He was unaware of how he laid there, or at what point a blanket had been draped over the two of them, but he didn’t really mind. He rested in a state between awake and asleep, aware of Atsushi’s even breathing and periodic murmurs in his sleep, when he’d nuzzle his head into his chest and sigh before settling down again. He also wasn’t sure when the hand on his hair had stopped its ministrations, but that wasn’t a big deal. Atsushi didn’t seem to mind.

 

Satisfied that his boyfriend was happy and asleep, he finally let go of his own half-aware state, confident that they’d sleep peacefully for a while longer. And with that thought he dropped away from the surface, drifting off into a dreamless abyss of sleep as well.

Notes:

Hey all! I had a lot of fun writing this. It was nice to write something happy for a change. I've also been feeling better mentally since my medication dose was changed, so that's a plus! I got my wisdom teeth out in June, back when I posted the second chapter of this collection, which also happened to be Shin Soukokou. Not fluff, though. Pretty much pure angst. And it was terrible, even for being loopy af. So... there's that. But I don't want to delete the first two because I like being able to see my progress and improvement as a writer. Well, at least, I hope there has been, lol.

Anyways, I hope that you enjoyed this short fluffy fic.

Go follow @soukokous_shared_braincell on instagram for BSD memes, headcanons, drawings, drabbles, etc. Or just to chat, my dms are always open!

Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 47: Typhoon Troubles (ADA and PM Ensemble)

Summary:

Written for @PolarChibi. Thanks for being so patient with this, aha. I know that it took me literal months. And I know that it's also soooo far from the original request, but we did talk about it so I hope that you like it!!

A typhoon is heading for Yokohama. Originally thought to be low-grade, the ADA quickly find themselves evacuating to a storm shelter in their prefecture to wait out the storm. And who else would they meet there other than the Port Mafia?

Good, lighthearted crack and fluff with a bit of angst.

Grey clouds hung heavy in the sky, overtly dull in the usually vibrant city. They rolled over the horizon and filled the area like paint filling a tray, coating the area in a gloomy atmosphere that set nearly the entire population on edge. The driving rains spattered the agency windows, howling wind rattling the windows, its whistling making the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end.

 

While it was not uncommon for typhoons to hit Yokohama, it was rare to get one of this calibre. Originally forecast as non-threatening, the storm only picked up intensity, and the older members were under the impression that they may need to evacuate come the next few hours. Though they said nothing to the younger ones, Dazai and Kunikida would often do their best to see through the sheet of water flowing over the windowpane and then back to each other with the same tight-lipped stare. Yosano nodded along in silence, wordlessly continuing her paperwork.

 

Atsushi and Kyouka seemed unbothered by the weather, simply asking Junichiro to give them a ride back to the dorms when they were excused early to wait out the storm. The other boy had agreed of course, but the tension he held insinuated that he had other ideas for how the rest of the day would unfold. And sure enough, as the group chatted amongst themselves, the clerks milling around with files and more than enough paperwork, Junichiro cleared his throat and half-turned in his chair to face Kunikida.

 

“Kunikida-san?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“The prefecture has been warned that we might have to evacuate because of the storm.”

 

“That bad hmm?”

 

“Apparently the storm surge is already over the high tide mark—it’s flooding the port road.”

 

He grunted. “Lovely.”

 

“Evacuate?” Kenji asked, eyes shifting back and forth between Jun and Kunikida. “Where would we go? How would we get there?”

 

“The evacuation centre,” Kyouka said flatly, not looking up from her computer.

 

“Where is the evacuation centre here?” Atsushi puzzled, furrowing his brows.

 

“The high school a couple blocks from the dorms,” Kunikida replied, checking the news update for himself. “You’re right, Jun. They’re telling us to be ready to evacuate if need be.”

 

“So much work,” Dazai whined, putting his feet up on the desk.

 

Kunikida shoved them off. “Would you rather d—don’t answer that.” Dazai only snickered.

 

“Should we go then?” Jun asked.

 

“Someone’s antsy.”

 

“Shut up, Yosano.”

 

“Meh.”

 

Kunikida nodded, closing his laptop. “Yeah, we better. Let me double check with—”

 

“There will be no need.” Fukuzawa stood in the doorway, his face cast in shadow from the dimness of the hallway. “All of you head home. The weather will be getting worse before we know it.”

 

“Thank you, sir.”

 

“Your safety is my top priority.”

 

The group watched Fukuzawa retreat to his office, presumably to pack his own things, the door shutting behind him. Kunikida rubbed his temples, then pushed himself to his feet. “Who still needs a ride back to the dorms?”

 

“I do,” snickered Dazai.

 

“Of course you do.”

 

“C’mon, Kunikida-kun, you can’t be sick of me already.”

 

“I was sick of you before we even met, Dazai.”

 

“Well, that’s just rude.”

 

Atsushi side-eyed his mentor with a raised brow, laughing to himself as he packed up his things. “Kenji-kun?”

 

“Mhmm?”

 

“Are you coming with us or going with Kunikida-san?”

 

“Whoever has room.”

 

“You should go with Kunikida then,” Jun decided.

 

“Okay.”

 

“I need a ride as well,” piped up Ranpo, pulling a lollipop from between his lips.

 

“I thought you were coming with me!”

 

“Ne, Yosano, don’t be offended. I just don’t trust you to drive in the rain.”

 

“Fine then,” said Yosano, clearly offended. “Walk.”

 

“Don’t be like that.” Yosano gave him a pointed look, and then crossed to the door, heels clacking over the tiles. When she pulled the door open, he stood, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “No, wait for me! Akiko!”

 

Atsushi laughed harder as he watched the detective run faster than he’d ever seen him. Or, well… at all. “Jun, ready to go?”

 

“Yep! Let’s go.”

 

*

 

The rain seemed louder against the thin walls of the agency dorms. Atsushi hummed to drown it out as he skirted around the tiny apartment, grabbing the items he’d need for the night and next morning. A change of clothes, toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant, a flashlight, bottled water, wipes, and a handful of granola bars later, he zipped up his backpack and slung it over one shoulder.

 

“Kyouka?”

 

A thud came from the next room, followed by a soft, “Ow.”

 

Lowering his brows, Atsushi rounded the corner, finding Kyouka halfway in the bathroom cabinet. He snorted as she looked at him with a hand to her forehead. “Why are you rifling through the cabinet?” She held up a handful of tampons. “Oof.”

 

“Yeah. Oof.”

 

As she removed herself from the cabinet, Atsushi checked his phone, seeing no alerts. “Are you almost done?”

 

“I would’ve been if you hadn’t given me a goose-egg.”

 

“Well, that was your own fault.”

 

She rolled her eyes, zipping up her own bag. “Funny.”

 

“I thought so.”

 

A rapping on the door caused them both to turn and glance towards it. Kyouka raised a brow and Atsushi headed to open it without question. “It’s probably just Dazai.”

 

Or not.

 

Kenji stood on the other side of the door, shoulders rounded so that he appeared smaller than usual. Atsushi blinked at him. “What’s wrong, Kenji?”

 

The boy rubbed one arm, glancing up at Atsushi through his bangs, the words not coming out. Kyouka stepped past Atsushi and grasped Kenji’s arm, pulling him inside without question. As she passed Atsushi, she glanced up at him and he barely caught her tight-lipped whisper. “He’s probably scared.”

 

Realization dawned on his face. Kenji was from the northern islands where they hardly ever got typhoons. Not only that but he was away from his family when he was likely experiencing one for the first time, and that had to be a scary experience for a kid his age. Not that Atsushi was much older, but he’d been through his fair share of storms.

 

He sat down in the chair beside the couch, leaving it for the other two. He scrolled through his phone aimlessly, switching between Instagram, tiktok, and texting Junichiro. In the background, Kyouka’s questions to Kenji about his hometown reached his ears, but he didn’t really pay attention. She was just trying to distract him from the thrumming rain with stories from Ihatov. It seemed to work for the time being, and the young boy either didn’t notice her hand on his knee or didn’t care. Either way, he shot Kyouka a few knowing glances, supressing his laughter when she subtly shook her head at him.

 

As the squalls increased in frequency, Atsushi couldn’t stop himself from checking the news for any information. As his eyes scanned over the new bulletin at the top of the screen, a J-alert tone burst from all three of their speakers and he fumbled his phone. When he picked it up form the ground and checked the screen for cracks (luckily finding none) he turned to Kenji and Kyouka. Kenji stared at where the phone had fallen, eyes nearly bugging from his head.

 

Kyouka squeezed his knee. “It’s alright, Ken-chan. We just have to head to the shelter now, that’s all.”

 

“O-okay.”

 

Another knock on the door caught their attention and Atsushi stood. “Okay, it’s got to be Dazai this time.”

 

“Watch it be Junichiro.”

 

“Shut up, Kyouka.”

 

She chuckled as he opened the door to reveal the visitor, which actually was Dazai that time. “I’m assuming you got the alert?”

 

Atsushi nodded. “Yeah, I nearly smashed my phone.”

 

“Fantastic. I hope there’s no cracks because Kunikida won’t be happy otherwise.”

 

“Nah, it’s fine. Let’s go.”

 

Kyouka ushered Kenji out the door to stand with Dazai as Atsushi locked the door. Dazai watched as Kenji gulped, staring over the vacant lot towards the ocean, and dropped a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright. We’ll be fine.” Kenji glanced up at him over his shoulder with scared eyes and gave a stiff nod.

 

The group jogged down the stairs to the concrete slab in front of the other dorms, where Junichiro, Naomi, and Haruno stood waiting. Dazai stopped, glancing from Haruno to her car and back. “Haruno? Why did you come over here instead of going to the school?”

 

She quirked a brow. “How did you think you were all going to get there?”

 

“Squish into one car, I suppose.”

 

“My tiny ass car can’t hold that many people,” said Jun.

 

“It could, it just shouldn’t.”

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”

 

“I’m illegal.”

 

Jun gave him an incredulous look before shaking his head. “Alright, pile in, let’s go.”

 

“Here, Dazai,” said Haruno, tossing Dazai her keys. “I’ll go with him and Naomi. You take the kids.”

 

“Oi,” Atsushi interjected.

 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea—”

 

“It’s fine, Junichiro,” said Dazai, though his smile seemed to only raise more suspicion.

 

“Okay…”

 

Dazai hopped into the driver’s seat and Atsushi slid in beside him, immediately buckling his seatbelt He wasn’t sure why Jun was so wary, but he wasn’t about to find out by being thrown through the windshield. Once Kenji and Kyouka buckled up, Dazai put the car in drive and reversed while watching out the back window. So far, so good.

 

That was, until the hit the actual road. Dazai had a tendency to drift towards the centre line and his corners were too sharp. As was his braking. At one particular instance where he swerved and then abruptly halted, Atsushi found the dashboard nearly lodged in his ribcage. He spluttered, whipping his head over to look at Dazai. “Are you trying to kill us?”

 

“No.”

 

“I don’t think we need a quadruple suicide.”

 

“Who wants that?”

 

“You’re a terrible driver!”

 

Dazai shrugged. “Whoops.”

 

Atsushi ran a hand over his face. “We would’ve been better off with Kyouka driving.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“I’m not sorry!”

 

“You should be.”

 

After hydroplaning for a moment, Atsushi gripped the handle above his head, glaring at Dazai. “You’re more dangerous to our lives than this damn typhoon!”

 

“Shut up,” Dazai laughed. “It’s the weather.”

 

“Like hell it is!”

 

Dazai only laughed some more.

 

*

 

After waiting in the registration line for a good half hour, the seven of them were each given a bag and ushered into the gymnasium. Kenji opened the bag and peered inside, tilting his head. “What is all this?”

 

“Probably the usual,” shrugged Dazai.

 

“The usual?”

 

“Yeah. Water, crackers, rice, sheets, blankets…”

 

“Oh.”

 

“We will be sleeping on the floor,” Kyouka reminded, walking beside him.

 

“I know, I just didn’t expect to be given anything.”

 

“Well, we do have to eat.”

 

“Well, you do.”

 

“So do you.”

 

He turned his head. “I should probably be able to use my ability in case it gets bad and I have to lift debris or anything.”

 

“When’s the last time you ate?” He said nothing. She opened the pack of crackers and handed him one. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

 

He took it from her and nibbled on it. “Thanks.”

 

“How about the back corner,” offered Jun, pointing to a mostly vacant area.

 

“Good enough for me,” said Dazai, heading for the open space.

 

They all followed him over and set their bags down, pulling out their sheets. Atsushi, Dazai, Junichiro and Naomi set up in a line with their backs to the rest of the gym, while Kenji and Kyouka sat across from them with their backs to the wall. Haruno laid out her sheet just to the side of Naomi. They hadn’t been sitting long before a familiar voice called out to them.

 

“I see you all made it in one piece.”

 

“Barely,” Atsushi muttered. “Does Dazai even have a licence?”

 

“Somehow,” Kunikida grumbled, setting his bag down beside Kyouka, Ranpo and Yosano setting up beside him.

 

“I’m not that bad.”

 

“You almost hit a dog,” Kyouka deadpanned.

 

“Serves it right.”

 

Her jaw dropped and Kenji’s eyes widened. Atsushi and Jun only shook their heads. Kunikida scowled. “I think you’re the dog.”

 

“Case in point.”

 

“I should’ve known.”

 

“You should’ve,” Ranpo chided, pulling a snack from his bag.

 

“Oh stop,” Yosano scolded, though she chuckled along with him.

 

“Where’s Fukuzawa-sensei?” Atsushi asked. “Everyone else is here.”

 

“He lives further into the prefecture,” Kunikida replied, jotting something down in his notebook. “He’ll be at a different evacuation centre.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“I was just on the border,” said Haruno. “And he lives a few minutes further than I do.”

 

Atsushi nodded. Over her shoulder he watched the line of people coming in the door, surprised to recognize a drenched lady heading towards them. As she approached, Atsushi raised his brows, wondering why she’d even bother interacting with them. “Higuchi?”

 

She pushed bangs from her face where they stuck to her forehead, giving them an exhausted smile. “Hi. Is it okay if I set up over here? I don’t know anyone else.”

 

Everyone else watched the interaction with confusion, but no malice. They were allied, after all. And her superior was Atsushi’s partner. He shrugged. “Yeah, why not?”

 

Relief washed over her face and her shoulders relaxed. “Thanks. I don’t know if anyone else from our organization will be here.”

 

Atsushi watched as she passed them and set her bag down a few feet to the side of Kenji. “I’m sure there will be a few.”

 

“Probably.”

 

“Higuchi?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Did you walk here?”

 

She sighed, ringing out her hair. “Yes. My car got a flat on my way home from a job. Hit some debris on the port road.”

 

“I thought that was flooded?” Kunikida asked, concern creasing his brow.

 

“It is. In sections. I got out of there in time, though, luckily.”

 

“That’s good. Flood waters are dangerous.”

 

She hummed in agreement, and then her eyes lit up. “Chuuya-san!”

 

Beside Atsushi, Dazai perked up considerably. But when Chuuya caught sight of him he only groaned. “Why’d you have to set up with this lot?”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because Dazai.”

 

She shrugged. “I happen to like Dazai.”

 

Though she was obviously razzing him, Chuuya took the bait. “How can anyone like that mackerel? Walking waste of bandages.”

 

She covered her laugh with her hand, looking away. “Whatever you say, Chuuya-san.”

 

“I do say, thank you.”

 

“Okay.”

 

He rolled his eyes at her, then set down his things between her and Kenji, sitting down. When the usually jovial boy beside him didn’t greet him, however, he narrowed his eyes. “You alright, kid?”

 

Kenji startled, eyes widening at suddenly being addressed. “Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”

 

“You’re not from around here, right?” Kenji shook his head. “Is this your first typhoon?” He nodded, staring straight ahead. Chuuya smiled. “It’ll be fine. This happens once in a while, which is why this building is reinforced. We’re safe here.”

 

Kenji glanced up at him. “Really?”

 

“Really.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Chuuya smiled wider, then glanced up. “Hello, Akutagawa-kun. Gin-chan.”

 

Gin smiled, her face for once free of its usual white mask. Instead, her face was bare and her hair down, though she still wore her work clothes. She sat down a few feet from Atsushi, patting the spot between her and Atsushi and looking up at her brother. Akutagawa grumbled, but relented, sinking down and sitting between them.

 

“Hey,” said Atsushi.

 

Akutagawa gave him a look. “Jinko.”

 

“Oh, come on. Quit it with that nickname already.”

 

“What else would I call you?”

 

“How about my name?”

 

“Meh.” He shrugged, then opened his bag and pulled out a blanket. Atsushi rolled his eyes, then decided to watch as Tachihara joined then, plopping down against the side wall, between Higuchi and Gin. Some of them greeted him, but many were already caught up in their own conversations.

 

As the storm worsened outside, Atsushi glanced around, trying to tune in to each conversation in turn. Kunikida and Dazai seemed to be discussion their next case, subtly poking fun at each other. Atsushi smiled. Despite all their bickering, they were good friends.

 

With a rumble of thunder, Yosano lifted her arm, not even fazed by Ranpo’s flinch. He curled into her and she continued their conversation as if nothing had happened. He figured that perhaps to her, nothing was out of the ordinary. They’d been friends for a long time, Ranpo and Yosano. Of course, if anyone was going to make Ranpo feel safe besides Fukuzawa, it would be her.

 

Haruno and Naomi giggled at the end of the sort of circle they had made—maybe a squashed oval? Atsushi chuckled at their own inability to recreate basic geometry, but quickly let the thought go. He was more interested in whatever they seemed to be gossiping about, but when he caught Jun’s warning eyes and shaking head he dropped it.

 

The thunder worsened, rolling for thirty seconds or more each time it was present. With each one, Ranpo seemed to curl further into Yosano, as if he were trying to hide. He’d stopped responding to her, and so she’d turned next to her to talk across Kunikida to Kyouka. Kyouka had recently taken up being an apprentice of sorts to Yosano, and the doctor seemed adamant about introducing her to all her gruesome ways as soon as possible. Across from her, Atsushi saw Jun cringe and turn away, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

 

Higuchi and Tachi seemed to be comparing movies to their respective novels and Atsushi raised his brows. He hadn’t taken either of them for avid readers. But the more his listened, the more he realized that Tachi was the movie buff and Higuchi the bookworm, and they jokingly bickered over which version of Stephen King’s The Green Mile was better. He could’ve contributed and said he’d enjoyed the book better, but he thought better of interrupting their conversation.

 

As the thrumming of the rain turned to whipping sheets and the rumbling thunder to roars, the other people in the gymnasium grew more antsy. Children shrieked and cried, people complained and many seemed to be aimlessly pacing the floor. Atsushi, half engaged in a conversation with Junichiro from behind Dazai, watched the rest of the group. Chuuya had Kenji engaged in a story about cows, trying to distract him. It worked well enough, but with each lightning bolt or violent squall the young boy flinched, elbowing Chuuya in the ribs and then profusely apologizing. Chuuya told him it was alright every time and continued listening intently, calming the boy’s nerves.

 

Atsushi turned back to Jun mid-sentence, raising his brows at the crease in Jun’s. “You good there?”

 

“Me? Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, and then laughed it off, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“Yeah, alright man. Sure,” Atsushi chuckled, and then continued where they’d left off.

 

Visible through a window near the top of the wall, a fork of lightning hit the ground not too far away, the roar of the thunder rattling the building in the same instant. Their sense of sight was wiped from existence for the span of time it took people to realize what had happened, children’s cries and startled shrieks echoing from around the building. Shafts of light from flashlights and phones sifted through the darkness, revealing clenched shut eyes and terrified faces.

 

Ranpo visibly shook as he clutched at Yosano. The doctor smoothed his hair and held him tight, speaking words that no one but Ranpo could hear. Beside him, Gin had turned her face into her brother’s shoulder. He had an arm wrapped around her, whispering to her as she cried. Atsushi pulled his head back in astonishment. Every time he’d come into contact with Gin, she’d seemed so fearless and intimidating. To think that she was as human as he was, with fears and vulnerability—it grounded him further into reality. If she was human, so was her brother.

 

As the lights had gone out, Atsushi had been sure some of the screams had come from around him. He was 99% sure Naomi and Haruno had both screamed, Jun had yelped and Kenji had flinched, some sort of choked noise escaping as he tried to push his back further into the wall than was clearly possible.

 

Beside him, Chuuya lifted an arm and slung it around Kenji’s shoulders. To the man’s surprise, the small boy leaned into the embrace, shrinking away from the rest of the room as far as he could. Chuuya’s face softened further. “It’s okay, Kenji-kun. Don’t worry.”

 

“It’s not the dark that bothers me.” Kenji’s voice came out soft, so uncharacteristic for hi that a few of the others turned to listen to their conversation as well. “I’m used to that at home, having no electricity. But this is my first typhoon, and I’ve never seen a storm this bad, and I’m away from my parents…”

 

“Well you’re safe with us, okay? I promise.”

 

Kenji nodded, turning to rest his head on the inside of Chuuya’s shoulder. Chuuya pursed his lips, glancing down at the mess of blond hair on his chest, his eyes shining with the same look someone would have seeing a small child or a puppy for the first time. His chest swelled wit warmth and he had the urge to protect this small boy, regardless of the fact that they worked for rival organizations and we not in any way related. This child was his brother now, he had decided.

 

Dazai smirked at the sight, tilting his head with a raised brow. Chuuya narrow his eyes at him as if to say, ‘shut up’ and then rubbed Kenji’s side as the boy hugged him tighter out of fear. But he quickly became distracted, looking down to his left where Kyouka had just taken his hand. She swiped her thumb over his knuckles in a soothing manner and smiled at him. He smiled back.

 

Atsushi refrained from shooting her a look.

 

He himself then found an arm around him, which belonged to none other than Dazai. He let himself be drawn to Dazai’s side and glanced up at him to the best of his ability. Dazai smiled. “You told me once that you’re scared of the dark because of what it meant at the orphanage.”

 

“You remembered that?”

 

“Of course, I did.”

 

Atsushi smiled to himself, warmth seeping through him. Though he wasn’t particularly worried in this circumstance, he was thankful that Dazai had paid attention and reached out when he thought he was uncomfortable. He really was trying to do better with him than he had been with his previous apprentice. Two-toned eyes glanced to his partner on his left, smoothing his sister’s hair as they talked, completely unaware of Atsushi’s situation.

 

He'd have to treat Akutagawa the way Dazai should have. With kindness. It was only fair, after all.

 

*

 

“What kind of question is that?” Dazai laughed, turning his palms up.

 

“Answer the question,” Yosano responded. “Come on.”

 

“I’d rather wear the fairy wings, of course! Who’d walk around wearing a leprechaun hat?”

 

“I would,” Chuuya interjected.

 

“Yeah, but you’re already a leprechaun.” The group burst out laughing as Dazai hummed, trying to think of a question. “Tachihara, would you rather go a year without eyelashes or a year without eyebrows?”

 

“Let me consult Akutagawa on this.”

 

“I will hurt you.”

 

“I’ll take the eyelashes,” he decided. “The eyebrows seem to trigger hostility.”

 

“You bastard.”

 

Tachi laughed. “Tanizaki, would you rather be stuck in an elevator full of high school kids that won’t shut up or one full of judgemental middle-aged men?”

 

Jun stared at the ground. “Well, those are two of my worst nightmares comes true.” The group snickered. “I’d have to go with the high schoolers, at least I wouldn’t have to talk to them and I’d just blend in.”

 

“You could just use light snow,” Atsushi pointed out.

 

“No, that’s cheating!” Yosano cried.

 

“Fine, fine, geez.”

 

Jun laughed at Atsushi, then tapped his chin as he glanced around the lopsided circle. “Chuuya-san! Would you rather be born without knees or born without elbows?”

 

“How would that even work?”

 

“Straight arms or straight legs?”

 

“But nothing about me is straight!”

 

“Yes, we know. Just pick one.”

 

Chuuya rolled his eyes. “No elbows and no, I’m not explaining why. Kunikida, would you rather have telepathy or telekinesis?”

 

“Telekenesis.”

 

“That was fast.”

 

“I could drop something on Dazai’s head when he’s lazing around without even moving.”

 

“Okay, fair enough.”

 

“Hey!”

 

Kunikida shrugged at Dazai, grinning. “Kenji-kun, would you rather have to write out everything you say or only speak in rhymes?”

 

Kenji side-eyed him with a chuckle. “Uh… Ryhmes. I don’t think I could work on the farm if I had to write out everything I said.”

 

“That’s true.”

 

“Hmm… Atsushi-san! Would you rather come back as a bird or a fish?”

 

Atsushi tilted his head back and forth in contemplation. “Probably a bird. I can already swim but I can’t fly on my own. Now…” He paused, unable to think of another question. “Is there another game we can play?”

 

‘How about never have I ever,” proposed Yosano.

 

“Sounds good to me. What do you guys think?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll play,” said Higuchi.

 

“Me too,” Dazai agreed.

 

“Cool, I’ll start. If you’re not playing, just don’t put your fingers up. Alright… hands up.” Yosano watched as most of the group put their hands up, displaying ten fingers. “Never have I ever… done a handstand on one hand.”

 

“Really?” Chuuya asked, rolling his eyes as he put a finger down. Kyouka put a finger down as well.

 

Yosano laughed, shaking her head. “I can’t believe I got you with hat. Your turn Haruno.”

 

She nodded, squinting at the group as she thought. “Never have I ever been stuck in an elevator.”

 

“Oh come on.” Naomi put a finger down, as did Jun. “You know I get stuck in that elevator at least once a week.” Kunikida, Ranpo, and Yosano also put a finger down.

 

“I know.”

 

“You’re the worst. Never have I ever been drunk.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes. Now put down a finger.”

 

Haruno huffed, putting down a finger. Dazai, Chuuya, Kunikida, Yosano, and Higuchi also put down a finger.

 

Jun hummed as he wracked his brain for something, smirking when he settled on something. “Never have I ever laughed so har I pissed myself.”

 

“I hate you so much.” He laughed as he watched Atsushi put a finger down, shaking his head at him with narrowed eyes.

 

Dazai cleared his throat. “Never have I ever been so drunk I forgot my own name.”

 

“That was on time!”

 

“It still counts, Chibi.”

 

“Fuck you.” The group laughed as Chuuya put another finger down, and was the only one to do so.

Atsushi look Jun straight in the eyes as he answered. “Never have I ever broken something in a store and then walked away.”

 

“What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just walk up to someone and tell them!”

 

“Why? You had the money?”

“Because what would they think?”

 

Atsushi facepalmed. “Just put your finger down.” Jun groaned.

 

Akutagawa side-eyed the two of them. “Never have I ever pierced anything.”

 

Gin glared up at him from where her head still rested on him and put down a finger. “Rude.”

 

He shrugged. “Figured I’d get quite a few with that one.” Higuchi, Yosano, Naomi, Haruno, Junichiro, and Tachihara put a finger down as well.

 

“Fine then. Never have I ever had a goth phase.”

 

“Fuck off.” He put a finger down, then looked around at everyone else. “Come on! None of you did?” They all shook their heads. He turned to Junichiro. “How about you? The earrings and, well, you know?”

 

Jun lifted a brow. “No?”

 

“God dammit.”

 

Tachihara shook his head with a laugh. “Never have I ever farted in an elevator and left.”

 

Dazai and Higuchi put a finger down. Yosano pursed her lips. “That’s disgusting.”

 

Higuchi shrugged, thinking of something she hadn’t done. “Never have I ever purposefully made fun of somebody.” A chorus of groans reached her ears as everyone except for Kenji put a finger down. She turned to him and grinned. “Kenji-kun, you’re precious.”

 

He beamed. “Thank you!”

 

Chuuya smiled as he watched him, noticing he hadn’t put a finger down yet. “Never have I ever milked a cow.”

 

The boy’s face fell as he put down a finger, then looked up at him with big eyes. “That was mean, Chuuya-san.”

 

“Sorry, kid. I had to get ya with something.”

 

Kenji pouted, but perked up again a moment later when he decided on his own statement. “Never have I ever killed someone.”

 

“We’re in public,” hissed Kunikida, putting a finger down. Everyone else put a finger down, except for Haruno, Naomi, and Junichiro. And Ranpo, but he wasn’t playing, his head still tucked against Yosano.

 

Kyouka was silent for a moment, surveying each other player. “Never have I ever beat someone up but not killed them.”

 

“We’re in public,” Kunikida hissed again, putting down another finger. Yosano, Junichiro, Dazai, Atsushi, Tachihara, Chuuya, and Kenji put a finger down.

 

Atsushi glanced to his partner next to him. “The two of you definitely have.”

 

Akutagawa shook his head. “Gin and I have never been in a fist fight. Gin’s an assassin, not a fighter. And I’ve never seen a point in dragging out the kill.”

 

“We’re so going to get reported,” groaned Kunikida, dragging a hand down his face. “Never have I ever crashed a car.”

 

Dazai shook his head slowly, staring the man down. “So mean, Kunikida-kun.” Kyouka, Higuchi, and Chuuya put a finger down.

 

“I think it’s safe to say that Kenji’s gunna win this game,” said Yosano, leaning forward to look at the small boy. “Don’t ever change, hun.”

 

“I won’t!”

 

“Good.”

 

He beamed at her, but startled when his phone rang at full blast. His eyes scanned the caller ID with wide-eyes but he didn’t recognize the number. Kenji swiped his thumb across the screen and held the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

 

“Kenji? Oh, thank god! I wasn’t sure if we’d be able to get through!”

 

“Mom? Dad?” Kenji scrambled to his feet, jogging away from the rest of the group.

 

“Hi honey,” the woman said. “It’s just me. Dad stayed home with your brothers.”

 

“How did you… We don’t have phones at home!”

 

“I was able to get over to the next town. They have a phone in their general store.”

 

“I didn’t even know you had my cell phone number.”

 

“Of course, I do, Kenji. I made sure in case something happened I had a quick way to contact you.”

 

“I’m glad…”

 

“Are you alright, sweetheart? We heard there’s a big storm coming.”

 

Kenji took a deep breath, glancing up and out the nearest window at the whipping rain. “The typhoon is bad—we had to go to evacuation centres.”

 

“Oh no! Who are you with? Are you safe?”

 

“I came with my friends from the Agency and we met with some other friends at the shelter. They’re taking good care of me.”

 

His mother let out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad to hear that. Are you sure you’re okay—your voice is shaking.”

 

“I miss you, Mom.”

 

“I miss you, too, sweetie. It’s nice to hear your voice.”

 

He nodded, chin trembling. “Mhmm.”

 

“Oh, honey, don’t cry… It’s alright.”

 

A few tears fell down his face. “I’m scared. I wish you were here.”

 

“I wish that too. But I can’t be right now, I’m sorry, Kenji.”

 

“I know… It’s okay.”

 

“If you’re at a shelter, then you’re perfectly safe. It’s okay.”

 

He tried to speak, but at first only a choked noise came out. He settled on just saying, “Okay.”

 

“I know, hun… I know. It’s alright. You’re safe. You’re gunna be just fine.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“You’ll see us soon, alright? You can come home for a few days once this is all over.”

 

“U—uh huh.”

 

“Okay. Okay…”

 

“Mom…”

 

“Shh, sweetheart, you’re alright… I’m right here.”

 

Kenji nodded despite knowing she couldn’t see him. He turned closer to the wall to hide his face, knowing that Kyouka, Chuuya, and Junichiro were all watching him. He hiccoughed a few times, then tried to settle his breathing, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Tell everyone I say hi.”

 

“I will. Don’t worry.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Do you want me to stay a while longer? I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

 

“No,” he sniffed. “No, it’s alright. You should go home before it gets dark. And too windy.”

 

“Okay. I love you so much, sweetheart.”

 

“I love you, too, Mom.”

 

“Come home soon, alright? We’ll be waiting.”

 

He sniffed again. “I will.”

 

“Okay. Goodnight, Kenji.”

 

“Night, Mom.”

 

She ended the call and a few more tears fell down his face. As the screen went black he swiped them away and shoved the phone in his pocket, turning and heading back to the group. Many pairs of eyes followed him back to his spot, where he sat down between Chuuya and Kyouka.

 

The executive watched him silently as he swiped his face, bangs hiding his red eyes. Frowning, Chuuya lifted his arm once more and pulled the boy to him, hugging him tightly. “Hey… it’s alright, kid.” Kenji leaned against him, nodding.

 

From his other side, Kyouka took his hand once more, interlacing their fingers and repeating the same calming motions as before with her thumb. He turned his head to give her a small smile, finding her staring straight back. He couldn’t help the heat that rose in his face despite all of the other emotions flooding through him.

 

“Hey,” said Higuchi, breaking the relative silence of their immediate group. “How about we play a different game? Cheer the kid up a bit, make him laugh.”

 

“Like what?” Kenji mumbled, watching her with curious eyes.

 

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Does anybody have something in mind?”

 

“Oh, me!”

 

“Yeah Tachi?”

 

“I figured some of us would be here so I brought Cards Against Humanity.”

 

“Who thinks to bring that?” Yosano asked.

 

“Are you gunna complain?”

 

She rolled her eyes, but a grin still played on her face. “No.”

 

“Should Kenji and Kyouka really be playing that game?” Kunikida asked with a cringe.

 

“Eh, they’ll be fine.” Tachi waved a hand dismissively. “Who wants to play?”

 

“Me!”

 

“I figured you would, Higuchi.”

 

“I’ll play!” Atsushi chimed in.

 

“Me too,” said Junichrio.

 

“I guess I will as well,” said Akutagawa.

 

“What do you say, Chuuya?” Tachi asked.

 

“Yeah, why not?”

 

“I’ll play, too,” said Dazai.

 

“Sweet. Anyone else?” Everyone else shook their heads. Kunikida wanted no part of the foolery, Gin seemed content to nap on her brother’s shoulder, Naomi and Haruno were chatting away, and Yosano didn’t want to bug Ranpo. “Alright. Let me get some cards shuffled and dealt.”

 

With the cards dealt and the game explained to Kenji and Kyouka, Tachihara picked up a black card and read it aloud. “My vagina’s angry. My vagina’s furious and it needs to talk. It needs to talk about blank.”

 

Higuchi, Atsushi and Chuuya snickered at their cards. Jun glanced around at them with narrowed eyes. “Laughing before you even give in your card is never a good thing.”

 

“Well at least some of them will be funny.” Tachi took the cards from everyone and shuffled them in his hand before reading out the responses. “My vagina’s angry. My vagina’s furious and it needs to talk. It needs to talk about seeing grandma naked, blowing my boyfriend so hard he shits, raising three kids on minimum wage, Donald J Trump, an unwanted pregnancy, Quinoa, rubbing my clit w a handgun, and a vagina that beatboxes when its horny.

 

Atsushi stared at the floor after the last card was read. “Why would it be angry about that?”

 

“Would you like to have music coming out of your vagina at work, Atsushi?” Higuchi asked.

 

“I don’t have one.”

 

“Well trust me, you wouldn’t.”

 

“Alright, alright.”

 

Tachi went back through the cards, chuckling. “I’ll have to go with an unwanted pregnancy.”

 

“Hell yeah,” Atsushi cheered. “That was mine.”

 

Tachi handed the card over, then turned to Higuchi, who picked up the next black card. “Live from universal studios, its America’s favourite game show ‘blank or blank?’ Put the card you want read first on the bottom.”

 

Kyouka’s eyes widened as she looked through her hand. “Oh god.”

 

Kenji glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “What?”

 

She handed two cards to Higuchi, then sat back against the wall. “You’re about to find out.”

 

“Alright.” Higuchi adjusted the cards to ensure she had the right pairs, then began reading them. “Live from universal studios, its America’s favourite game show, ‘blank or blank?’ So… doing bad stuff or sex w animals, pooping in the potty or old ppl smell, solving problems with violence or critical thinking, the Kardashians or academy award winner Meryl Streep, a sad hand job or anal beads, forced sterilisation or a racist boomerang that only comes back if you’re white, thrusting and grunting or a poop emergency, and cultural appropriation or violating the Geneva convention.”

 

“A poop emergency?” Dazai asked through his laughter. “What?”

 

“What are anal beads?”

 

“Nobody answer that,” said Yosano.

 

“Forced steriliza—geez! How about no?!”

 

“Relax, Chuuya, it’s not happening to you.”

 

“Still!”

 

“I like solving problems with violence,” Higuchi decided.

 

“Hand it over,” said Tachi.

 

“Kyouka, which one was yours?” Kenji asked.

 

“Forced sterilization or a racist boomerang.”

 

“Which one were you cringing at?”

 

“Both.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Chuuya picked up a card. “Instead of coal Santa now gives the bad children blank.” After a quick round of cards being handed to him, he read the responses. “China, Jews gypsies and homosexuals, Gandhi, rap music, voter suppression, an AR-15 assault rifle, a family of raccoons, or a big hole.”

 

“Just casually gives them a whole country,” said Jun.

 

“How do you give a hole?” Akutagawa asked.

 

“Easy—” Dazai began before being cut off by Chuuya yelling at him.

 

“Who doesn’t want an entire family of raccoons?” Kenji asked. Kyouka only shook her head.

 

“Who’s was Ghandi?” Tachi raised his hand. “Of course it was. Here.”

 

“Alright!”

 

“Is it my turn now?”

 

“Yes, Kenji.”

 

He picked up a black card and read it to the group. “Sweetheart, you and your sister excel in different ways. She’s got her violin, and you’ve got blank.” The cards practically flew at him. “You’ve got… Quaking like a duck in lieu of a cogent argument, overthrowing the democratically elected government of Chile, taking a dump, having sex with a man and then eating his head, eating three sleeves of chips ahoy, curly fries so good you quit ISIS, pulling a sick shit-covered raccoon out of the toilet and nursing it back to health or Yo stinky ass?”

 

“Again with the raccoons!” Dazai threw his hands up.

 

“It was the best I had, okay?” Higuchi cried.

 

“I don’t think there are curly fries that good,” said Kyouka.

 

Atsushi gaped at her. “Have you ever even had curly fries?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Having sex with a man and then eating his head.” Akutagawa held his hand out silently, a small smirk on his lips. Kenji handed it to him, then turned to his left. “Your turn, Kyouka-chan!”

 

“Then the princess kissed the frog, and all of a sudden the frog was blank! Kenji, I don’t know what card you have but please stop laughing.” That only made him laugh harder. “All of the sudden the frog was… getting pegged, blossoming into a beautiful young woman, having 30 sons named Chad, doing crimes, getting tanned jacked and juicy, twisting my cock and balls into a balloon poodle, dis bitch or Melania trump.”

 

Atsushi crossed his legs reflexively. “Ah! Sympathy dick pain!”

 

“Sorry, man,” laughed Jun.

 

“Gah!”

 

“Getting tanned, jacked, and what now?” Chuuya asked.

 

“Juicy.”

 

“Shut it, Dazai.”

 

“The chad one,” said Kyouka.

 

Tachi held out his hand and Gin shook her head. “Tachi, you are a Chad.”

 

“How?”

 

“A stupid name for a stupid guy.”

 

“So rude.”

 

“I thought mine would win,” said Kenji, fake pouting.

 

“Which one?” Kyouka asked.

 

“Getting pegged.”

 

Dazai spit out his water, causing Atsushi and Junichiro to burst out laughing. Then Jun leant forward and picked up a black card. “I’ve got rhythm, I’ve got music, I’ve got blank. Who could ask for anything more?”

 

“Me.”

 

“Shut up, Atsushi.”

 

“No.”

 

“Alright… I’ve got… puppies, the hustle, antidepressants, God, a hoard of Vikings, side boob, this kid I found, two shitty kids and a garbage husband.”

 

“This kid I found,” laughed Kunikida. “That sounds like the President.”

 

“Pretty much,” said Yosano. “Ranpo, me, Kenji…”

 

“Two shitty kids and a garbage husband wins.”

 

“Hand it over,” said Dazai. Jun rolled his eyes.

 

“Are you trying to tell me something, Dazai?” Chuuya accused.

 

Dazai shot him a shit eating grin. “Of course not, Chibi.” He picked up a black card. “What is George w. Bush thinking about right now?”

 

“He’s dead,” stated Akutagawa. “So nothing.”

 

“Just play the damn game.”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Okay, so apparently George W. Bush is thinking about… Becoming a blueberry, one of those blow jobs I’ve been hearing so much about, Nicolas Cage, dominating a man by peeing on his eldest son, whomsoever let the dogs out, having anuses for eyes, science, and the best, deepest quotes from the Dark Knight.”

 

“Who uses proper grammar anymore?” Tachi joked.

 

“I do.”

 

“Besides you, Akutagawa.”

 

“I can’t unsee that,” said Kenji, staring into space.

 

“Through your anus eyes?” Jun teased.

 

“Stoppppp.”

 

“Peeing on the eldest son,” said Dazai, holding up the card.

 

“That’s mine, Dazai-san.”

 

Dazai didn’t even look at Akutagawa as he handed it to him, instead turning to Atsushi. “Your turn Atsushi-kun.”

 

“What’s that smell?”

 

“Oh no,” Higuchi laughed. “This one never ends well!”

 

“It really doesn’t,” agreed Tachi.

 

“Well then, let’s see what smells… Apparently that smell is… The sweet forbidden meat of the monkey, 45 mins of finger blasting, farting a huge shit out of my pussy, queefing, murder, some crackerass motherfucker, Jason the teen mayor, or my bright pink fuckhole.”

 

“Who the fuck is Jason and why is he the mayor?”

 

“Shut up, Higuchi.”

 

“Yes, Senpai.”

 

“That was rude.”

 

“Says the crackerass motherfucker.”

 

“Hey!” Chuuya glared at him. “That was uncalled for.”

 

“First a leprechaun and now a crackerass motherfucker?” Dazai clutched at his sides. “What’s next?”

 

“A fist in your stupid face.”

 

“Yeah okay, CHibi.”

 

“Who put murder?”

 

“Me,” said Jun, reaching for the card.

 

“What does murder even smell like?”

 

He shrugged. “Ask one of them, I’m sure they know.”

 

“Pfft.”

 

Akutagawa rolled his eyes and reached for a card. “What never fails to live up a party?” The cards came quick and he shuffled them. “My abusive boyfriend who really isn’t so bad once you get to know him, Schindler’s list, kissing grandma on her forehead and turning off her life support, my daughter fucking my boyfriend, ejaculating at the apex of a cartwheel, death, respecting women, or anal.”

 

“Inspecting women?”

 

“No, Tachi! Respecting women!”

 

“Don’t get so offended Higuchi, I Only misheard.”

 

“You’re so stupid.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“Who killed gramdma?” Jun demanded. “No one kills grandma!”

 

“I did bitch!”

 

“You really are stupid.”

 

“Oi!”

 

“I choose death.”

 

“Hand it over,” said Kyouka.

 

“That’s dark,” whispered Kenji.

 

“Like my soul.” When his eyes widened she smiled at him. “I’m just joking Ken-chan.”

 

“Back to me!” Tachi picked up his second black card and read it aloud. “Blank is a slippery slope that leads to blank. First card on the bottom, remember.” After collecting all of the cards he laughed as he read them to the group. “Sluts whores and bitches to wet dreams, all u can eat shrimp for $8.99 to film roles for actresses over 40, a snapping turtle biting the tip of your penis to panic and confusion, straight blazing 24/7 to an M Night Shyamalan plot twist, getting fingered to announcing that I’m about to cum, saying I love u to it being too late to stop having sex w a horse, holding the proper political beliefs of my time to attract a mate to good clean Christian comedy, and Chinese people to a black friend.”

 

“Was the horse one you, Atsushi?”

 

“Kyouka??”

 

“I was just checking.”

 

“Isn’t the fingering one kind of obvious?” Higuchi asked.

 

“That’s the point,” Atsushi answered.

 

“The snapping turtle one,” announced Tachi. Jun held his hand out for the card.

 

“Dude, stop with the injured dicks!”

 

“I won, didn’t I?”

 

“Oh, stop.”

 

Higuchi picked up at card while shaking her head at the two of them. “War! What is it good for?”

 

“Good question,” mused Dazai. Atsushi side-eyed him, concerned.

 

“War! What is it good for? Content. Uh… Well, I mean… yeah… Throwing grapes at a man until he loses touch with reality.” She glanced at Chuuya.

 

“How’d you possibly know that was me?”

 

“I just knew. Women’s suffrage, going an entire day without masturbating, serfdom, country music legend Toby Keith, the rhythms of Africa, hating Jews… That one has to be Dazai.”

 

“Aw, come on!”

 

“Andddd Soukoku is out,” teased Yosano.

 

“I still think content is the best one,” said Higuchi.

 

“Hey I won one!” Kenji cried, beaming.

 

“Yes, you did.” She smiled back and handed him the card.

 

“TSA guidelines now prohibit blank on airplanes,” said Chuuya, reading off a card. He collected the cards quickly and ran through the responses. “Trees, consensual non-productive incest, tap dancing like there’s no tomorrow, raptor attacks, being on fire, Black people, awesome pictures of planets and stuff, doin it in the butt.”

 

“I don’t think anyone purposefully sets themselves on fire…”

 

“Speak for yourself Atsushi.”

 

“Jun??”

 

“How the fuck would you even get a tree of a plane?” Kunikida asked, raising his head from his book.

 

“Magic.”

 

Kunikida lowered his head again, shaking his head at Dazai. Chuuya laughed. “Raptor attacks.”

 

“That was mine,” said Akutagawa. The group laughed as he took the card.

 

“Because raptor attacks are so common,” joked Atsushi.

 

“Common enough to get banned,” Akutagawa shot back, giving him a look. Atsushi mocked him, much to the group’s amusement.

Chuuya looked down beside him at Kenji, a smile spreading across his face at the laughter bubbling up from the blond. His eyes lit up as he laughed, listening intently to the jabs from the rest of his friends. Atsushi, Akutagawa, Junichiro, and Tachihara had begun bickering over raptors and the small boy revelled in the chaos surrounding him. It had caused him to temporarily forget about the howling winds, the voices of his friends drowning it out.

 

The warmth spread in his chest once more. He wasn’t sure he’d ever understand his need to protect this child, but he wasn’t going to question it. For now, the kid was happy, and that was what mattered.

 

*

 

The rest of the night passed quickly enough. The group had been able to play the rest of their card game normally instead of under flashlights once the generators had finally kicked in. Apparently there had been an issue with the circuit, but a few staff members had been able to get it up and running.

 

The card game continued for a good hour, Chuuya and Junichiro eventually tying for first place at the end. After reading for a while, Kunikida had set his book aside and entertained some kid nearby. Their parents had been grateful when he’d taken their fussy toddlers off their hands for a few minutes to give them a reprieve, and he’d been more than happy to do so.

 

Ranpo and Gin perked up once the lights had come back on, straightening up and joining in the conversations around them. Although Yosano never removed her arm from around Ranpo’s back, she bickered with him as they normally would.

 

Naomi and Haruno eventually got bored enough to start braiding each other’s hair, coaxing Gin and Kyouka into joining in. And eventually, after much prodding, they managed to get Chuuya to give in, too. Kenji joined after Kyouka had asked him to, letting her goof off and braid the side parts of his bangs that brushed his cheeks. He watched her fingers move in awe, running his fingertips oer the finished product repeatedly after, causing her to giggle.

 

Around ten pm many people had settled down and started trying to sleep. Mainly kids and older adults, but a few bored teens had tried to as well. Kyouka, try as she may, couldn’t convince Kenji to eat dinner. He insisted he needed to be able to use his ability, still frightened of the outcome of the storm. She gave in around 11 and instead asked him to lay down and chat with her until they fell asleep. He agreed and they exchanged stories for a good hour, Kyouka holding his hand as they faced each other, all groggy smiles and hushed laughter. Kenji fell asleep before she did, but she never let go of his hand.

 

Atsushi and Junichiro had stayed up talking until 1 am, neither of them able to sleep. Dazai had interjected his thoughts now and then, though he mainly read until he fell asleep. By the time the two of them laid down to sleep, most of the gymnasium was out. A few people milled around, unable to sleep, but there was a comfortable silence. Except for the storm outside—it would have been hard not to hear the rain and wind of the typhoon mere feet away from them.

 

Atsushi dozed on and off for a few hours, but eventually became fed up of tossing and turning and pulled out his phone to play a game. Laying on his left side, he did his best to not get fed up at subway surfers and prayed that he’d finally be tired enough to sleep. Thoroughly annoyed at his own circadian rhythm he was about to put in his headphones when a gasp caught his attention. It was quickly followed by a sob, which was stifled mere seconds later.

 

Lowering his brows in concern, he did his best to locate the sound. It definitely had come from the way he was facing. Atsushi raised his phone, and in the dim light could see Akutagawa’s back shaking with silent sobs. As though being tugged forward, Atsushi made to slide towards him, but stopped himself. The man would surely push him away, wouldn’t he?

 

Though, he’d comforted Gin earlier, and now she wasn’t awake to return the favour. And besides… they were partners now. They needed to learn to be vulnerable around each other if they were to work seamlessly. He knew that Dazai and Chuuya ha come to that conclusion when they’d worked together—had even seen the way Dazai hung on to Chuuya after he used corruption. Surely just checking on Akutagawa would be alright… right?

 

Stealing himself, Atsushi slid the mere foot that separated them, laying a gentle hand on the man’s side. “Akutagawa?” He froze under his touch. “It’s okay, it’s just me. It’s Atsushi. Are you alright?”

 

Akutagawa opened his mouth to speak, but only a choked cry came out. Atsushi waited a moment until he saw the slow shake of his partner’s head. He rubbed his side with a sigh. “What’s wrong?”

 

It took Akutagawa a minute to settle himself enough to answer. “It was just a nightmare…”

 

“You’re safe…”

 

“I know.”

 

“Hey, you don’t have to have your guard up with me. Everyone’s asleep. It’s alright.” The man’s shoulder shook harder and Atsushi let out a breath, sliding to curl right up against his partner’s back and slinging an arm over his waist. “Is this okay?” He nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“It’s not complicated,” he sniffed. “Gin and I had a bad experience with a typhoon when we were first orphaned and living on the street. There’s not really anywhere to go in the slums…” He brought a hand up to wipe his face, then brought both arms close to his chest, against Atsushi’s hand. “This just brought the memories back. That’s why Gin was so upset earlier.”

 

“I’m really sorry that happened to you.” Akutagawa shrugged. “Do you want to talk about it or just leave it alone?”

 

Another hiccup-cry slipped out. “No.”

 

Atsushi pulled him closer. “Shh… that’s okay, it’s alright…”

 

“Why, w-why are you doing this?”

 

“I hate seeing people upset or in pain. Especially people that I care about.”

 

“Yeah right,” he scoffed. “You don’t care about me.”

 

“I’ve grown to, so shut up.”

 

“Likewise.”

 

“Does this mean you’ll call me by my name now?”

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

Atsushi rolled his eyes yet hugged him tighter. “Of course not.”

 

A comfortable silence passed between them for a few moments, Atsushi holding Akutagawa as he got himself calmed down. It took a while, with the wind squals deciding then was a good time to pick up and be particularly violent. It made Akutagawa shake and Atsushi cupped his hand over the man’s ear, preventing him from hearing the noise. He didn’t lift his hand until the wind died down slightly and his partner had stopped quaking.

 

“Akutagwa?”

 

“Hmm…?”

 

“Is it true that Dazai and Chuuya used to be very close? They’d help each other like this? I’ve seen it once, but have you…?”

 

He nodded. “I have. Many times. They were very close when Dazai-san was in the Port Mafia.”

 

“They were?”

 

“Yes. I saw Dazai comforting Chuuya quite a few times, actually. When some of his friends were murdered, and a lot after he used corruption.”

 

“I’ve only seen Dazai hang onto him after. I’ve never seen Chuuya-san actually use it.”

“I have to admit… it’s rather frightening. It basically breaks him for a while. Both physically and mentally—he’s very vulnerable. It makes him sick and weak and he’s very emotional after. Chuuya-san doesn’t like having to use corruption—it scares him.”

 

“He told you that?”

 

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Chuuya-san is scared of himself.” Atsushi thought about that for a moment, contemplating. Until Akutagawa spoke again. “Also, I didn’t tell you that. So don’t go repeating it or I’ll skin you.”

 

He chuckled in spite of himself. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

 

“Speaking of Dazai-san and Chuuya-san, have you seen them tonight? I got a good look at one point when you were asleep.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Take a look.”

 

Atsushi propped himself up on his elbow and squinted through the darkness. Ranpo was sleeping on Yosano and Kenji and Kyouka laid with their faces inches apart, still holding hands. He grinned. But then he noticed that Chuuya was no longer beside Kenji and narrowed his eyes. When he turned and looked at Dazai, Chuuya was there with him. The red-head laid curled up with his head on Dazai’s chest, and it was in that moment that Atsushi really noticed how small Chuuya was in Dazai’s arms.

 

He turned to lay back down, wrapping his arm back around Akutagawa. “Do they love each other?”

 

“Yeah,” Akutagawa chuckled. “Yeah, Jinko. I think they do. I think they always have.”

 

A smile spread across Atsushi’s face as he got comfortable, cuddling up closer to Akutagawa.

 

“You don’t need to stay.”

 

Atsushi’s smile fell. “What if I want to?”

 

“Well, then… I suppose that’s allowed.”

 

Satisfied, he pulled Akutagawa against his chest. “Goodnight, Ryuunosuke.”

 

The other man paused, and then, “Goodnight, Atsushi.”

 

The storm mostly forgotten, the two closed their eyes. Akutagawa fell asleep quickly, his shaking only mere tremors at that point. And by the time Atsushi fell asleep minutes later, thy had nearly subsided completely.

 

Atsushi fell asleep with a smile on his face, happy with the closeness he felt with Akutagawa, the love between Dazai and Chuuya, Kyouka’s budding romance, and that finally he was able to slip into the abyss of sleep.

Notes:

Hey all! SO I hope that you all enjoyed this onshot. I'm so sorry for the spelling errors. it's 5am and I just wanted to get this posted, haha. This was supposed to end the next morning, but I felt that where I ended it was the right place to stop. The next morning would have just consisted of the group heading back to the dorms. Only a few blocks away and down to the port was flooded, but luckily the dorms escaped the worst of the damage. Chuuya went back with them to help them clean up the debris in the lot and patch up the broken windows and stuff. Nothing too severe. A happy ending either way. Sorry to cut that out, as I'm pretty sure that was the original request, wasn't it? I don't even know anymore, I just remember giving this idea and you were all for it, Avi, so i hope that you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Leave your thoughts.comments below as always!

Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 48: Flickers (Junichiro/Atsushi)--Edited

Summary:

Hey all, I am reposting this chapter. It has been heavily edited because I hated it so here is my second go at it. I hope that this version is better, so please let me know.

TRIGGER WARNING: Blood, violence.

Moonlight filtered in through the sheer curtains of the hotel window, illuminating strips of the white duvet. The room sat still like a freezeframe, one open suitcase on one side of the bed and another on the desk chair which had stopped spinning hours before. The screen of a laptop on the desk and the silver hairpin lying beside it glinted in the soft glow, seeming as though someone had just pressed paused on the scene. The granola bar wrapper had just been dropped beside the pin, the dry swim trunks just tossed towards the pillow.

 

But it had been hours since the two boys had occupied the room of the Tokyo hotel. They, along with the rest of the Agency, had gone out on an urgent call around dusk. Ranpo had figured out the culprit’s true identity and it would be harder than they expected to defeat them—an all-hands-on-deck type situation. Forgetting their evening plans for a swim and a walk downtown, the two had geared up and left the room behind without a second thought.

 

The fight wasn’t pleasant. The bloodshed on both sides took a toll, Yosano having to heal a few of them more than once in order to cut the enemy down. A trail of alleys and warehouses packed with bombs didn’t make for the best of circumstances, especially when the enemy had the high ground. Kunikida was shot within the first thirty seconds, Dazai having to drag him behind a dumpster for Yosano to heal him in time.

 

Kenji had been next, a series of explosives strategically placed close to any heavy objects in the area he could think to weaponize. Kyouka’s shriek had been drowned out by the deafening, machine-gun like sounds from each detonation. When she went after him, she received a slash across the back from an invisible blade, dropping his limp body that seemed to be more blood than flesh. Kunikida sent Junichiro out to hide them with his ability, but as Fyodor had done once before, his ability was abated and the ginger stood completely exposed, the same blade slashing him across the neck.

 

He watched in agony as a pool of crimson expanded around the two young teens mere feet from him, the life draining from their eyes. He reached for them, stretched as far as he could, but the more he moved the quicker he bled. The world was static and he just a flicker, ready to disappear as his illusions always did in the end. Everything he made always crumbled and fell through his fingers, everything he did as meaningless as the flickering green images he imposed on the world. The same as the strength he conveyed to the others. It wasn’t real. Was anything about him really? Or was his ability one never-ending taunt from the universe? In the end, he too would crumble to ashes, leaving without a trace of his meaningless life. Did it mean anything at all? Did he?

 

As far as he could see, he was useless without the emerald illusions. How ironic it seemed. What the Agency wanted most was what he despised—invisibility, temporality, meaningless intrusions… The one thing that made him useful was what that taunted him in the darkness of two am when no one could see the anguish on his face. Lies. Masks. Portrayals. All of which hid the truth—that he was as useless and fragile as the digital images he produced, and though he was wanted for them, he was about as solid and competent as they were.

He’d lay in his futon and stare at the ceiling, petrified in his own mind, doing his damndest to ignore the overwhelming pressure in his chest. His demons followed in his wake no matter where he went. And though the others could see a physical manifestation when he let them, it didn’t feel like a solid being. It was a void that stalked his every move. The colour of summer grass, dollar bills, and beautiful eyes, and yet he wanted nothing to do with it. His saving grace or his downfall? He couldn’t tell you which.

 

Atsushi’s voice registered in his daze, the scream of his name barely passing through the cotton balls that seemed to be stuck in his ears. Though he couldn’t feel his body, he was somehow aware of being held, his head bouncing off of someone’s chest.

 

“Yosano’s gunna fix you up. Hang in there, Jun.”

 

It was Atsushi that caried him, his tiger form giving him immunity to the enemy’s advances and protecting Jun at the same time, the strong arms hanging onto him as he had to Kenji and Kyouka both mere moments before. An image flashed in his mind of a similar situation, when Atsushi had carried him back to the Agency after they’d been attacked by Higuchi and Akutagawa. Dazai had taken Naomi when Atsushi insisted on carrying him himself, and fuzzy memories of concerned two-toned eyes staring down at him blurred together with all of the times he’d seen his beautiful eyes since.

 

 Jun tried to respond, instead registering a gurgling sound and warm liquid trailing down his chin.

 

“Don’t talk. Just stay with me.”

 

As much as he wanted to open his eyes, he found that he couldn’t distinguish one muscle from another, his whole body numb but also on fire. Nothing and everything, his brain not computing to his body. But Atsushi had him. And if Atsushi had him, that meant he was safe. He meant safety. And so he stopped struggling to speak, to open his eyes, to even understand what was happening to him. He simply let it slip by, the gunfire and screams in the background ambience to the blur of white and black spots playing behind his eyelids.

 

Jun’s body hit the ground a moment later, the edges of small rocks digging into the bare skin of his back. Soft lips pressed to his forehead with a whispered reassurance to be back soon. Then Atsushi smoothed Jun’s hair back, rose to his feet, and headed back out to retrieve a bloody Dazai. Seconds later Yosano was on him, the familiar fluttering of wings setting his body on fire.

 

His eyes opened on their own accord as he sat up with a gasp. Reflexively, one hand flew to his neck, feeling for the wound that no longer existed. The examined the sticky substance coating the entire right side of his body, watching the pool of his blood mix with that of the others. Kyouka pulled her dagger from her obi a few feet from him and disappeared into the shadows, leaving her boyfriend behind. Kenji still laid on the pavement, his sobs filling Jun’s ears and he curled his shoulders in, the noise causing his chest physical pain.

 

He should have saved them. And yet he couldn’t. He was faulty and incomplete, like the illusions. Without true meaning or purpose, without the true competence needed for someone to be considered worthy of effort. Worthy of life.

 

And yet, within two minutes, he was shoved back down the alley with Kunikida, instructed to hide the both of them with Light Snow. And again, he failed to do so, blocked by some invisible force. Resorting to physical fighting was never his forte. Sure, he could pull a few punches or work a blade if he must, but the gun in his hand routinely missed its target, the knife easily snatched away, used to stab through Kunikida’s ribs instead before being turned on him once again.

 

And so the cycle continued, over and over and over. The slash across his chest. A blade stuck in Kyouka’s shoulder. Dazai’s pained screams, the blood dribbling from his mouth mingling with his tears from the pain of the staff that impaled him. Kunikida laid out on the concrete wailing with the searing heat of the explosive that took his left leg. Over and over, Atsushi and Yosano came to their aid. Over and over, Jun couldn’t help his friends escape with his ability.

 

But finally, the Agency reached a point where there was no more blood to be spilled. With Kenji mostly healed, he’d been able to physically overpower the gifted. Despite their ability to remotely control any weapons in the area, he couldn’t stop his last breath from leaving his lungs from the force of Kenji’s fingers around his throat.

 

They all reeked of blood as they piled into the car, the crimson liquid coating faces and nails, stuck in their scalps and smeared across glasses and blades. The only one who seemed to escape the deadly injuries was Atsushi, somehow lucky enough to avoid the blows that even dealt Kenji a death sentence.

 

Greatful that Ranpo had stayed in the car, Kunikida took off down the road to the hotel. He bickered with Dazai most of the way, ignoring Ranpo’s adamant requests for McDonalds. Yosano only cuffed him over the head, talking with Kyouka as she checked over the blond boy who clung to her. She hadn’t been surprised, it had been the first time the kid had ever killed someone, and to do it face-to-face the way he had must have been traumatizing. Realizing this, everyone else seemed to try and distract him with conversation, which worked well enough.

 

Though the car ride had ben chatty, Jun had been quiet. He sat in the back seat with Atsushi, staring at his lap and picking the blood from beneath his fingernails. Atsushi took his hand and he’d wrestled away, whispering, “I’m dirty.”

 

Atsushi watched him out of the corner of his eye but said nothing, dropping the subject. He continued adding to the group’s conversation, but repeatedly glanced to Jun next to him, brows drawn in concern.

 

*

 

Once Kunikida and Dazai’s room door had shut behind them, Atsushi and Junichiro were the last two in the hallway. They finished the ten feet to their room, Atsushi swiping the card to let them in. He flicked the lights on and toed off his shoes, letting Junichiro follow him in and shut the door.

 

Atsushi loosened the tie around his neck and tossed in onto the bed with his swim trunks from before, then began unbuttoning his shredded dress shirt. “That fight was a lot more intense than I thought it would be.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Are you okay? Sore?”

 

Jun shrugged, untying his shoes. “I’m fine. About normal for being sliced up.”

 

“You got it pretty bad tonight, though.”

 

“Yeah, I guess.”

 

Atsushi crossed the space to him, cupping his face and studying it. Then he leaned in and pecked his lips. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Juni?” Atsushi asked, stroking the boy’s cheekbone with his thumb. “You were awfully quiet in the car.”

 

“I’m just tired. I want to sleep.”

 

“Well, you can’t sleep in that.”

 

He chuckled humourlessly. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to separate shirt from skin.”

 

Atsushi frowned, then pried the collar of Jun’s shirt from his skin, tugging at it gingerly until it came free. Tilting his boyfriend’s head to the side, he studied the faint scar from the slash to his neck, then moved his gaze to the tear in the fabric across his chest. There, too, he had to pry the shirt away from his skin, without much success. “Let me help you get these clothes off.”

 

Jun nodded and followed him into the bathroom, the fluorescent lights making the wounds appear worse than they had in the dimness of the alley. He stood in front of the counter, watching Atsushi’s gentle hands pull his shirt away from his body and up over his head. The black tank top he wore underneath was no better and he had to stop himself from hissing when his skin got snagged by the tackiness of the blood as he pulled that one off, too. He watched Atsushi’s eyes study his face and then move up to his head, reaching for the silver pin in his hair. He’d only worn one that day, which made it easier for Atsushi to pull out, but it still felt as though he was yanking on him.

 

“Sorry, babe, your hair’s all matted with blood.”

 

“It’s okay, I’ll just wash it out.”

 

“No, no, I mean, matted. Like your whole scalp is covered in it…. Did you hit your head or something?”

 

“I… don’t remember. I know I was laying in blood a few times.”

 

Atsushi pursed his lips as he looked at him, then turned and bent over the bathtub. He turned the tap on and held his hand underneath it, only removing it once steam began to rise from the water.

 

“What are you doing, Atsu?”

 

He turned back to Junichrio and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Let me clean you up.”

 

“Y-you don’t have to!”

 

“I know that. But I want to. You got really hurt tonight, I want to help you. It will be easier for me to get the blood out anyway.”

 

“Okay…”

 

A smile quirked Atsushi’s lips as Jun pulled off the rest of his clothes (which luckily weren’t pasted to him by blood) and stepped into the bath, sinking down into the steaming water. He sighed, eyes falling shut as the warmth spread through his body, relaxing his muscles. Atsushi hummed and knelt down by the side of the tub. Producing one of the cups from under the sink, he dunked it in the tub and poured it over his boyfriend’s head. He dumped a few more cup fulls before setting it down on the edge of the tub and digging his fingers into the ginger hair. He did his best to ignore the red coating his hands, stripping the unwelcome liquid from the strands. “Your shoulders are so tense. Relax, babes. We’re safe now.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Don’t be,” he chuckled. “Lean back and let me take care of you, alright?”

 

“Mhmm.” Jun cursed at himself inwardly as he slid down a bit, his shoulder blades hitting the edge of the tub as Atsushi returned his attention to his hair. If only he could understand himself. His purpose. If only he could tell what reason he was here for. Because as far as he could tell he was as finicky and faltering as the illusions, easily crumbling, useless for anything but hiding or projecting, and anything but worth it. If only anything about his life, about him made any sense in his own head. But once again, it didn’t work in his favour. It never did, he realized, as Atsushi massaged shampoo into his hair. The illusions might hide his incompetence, but they meant as many bad things as they did good. What was true and what wasn’t he couldn’t tell anymore. Physical or not, the mask he hid behind crumbled when he needed it strong and stayed strong when he crumbled. It helped and hindered, but in the end, it only confused him. Like drowning when everyone else was swimming, or not grasping the simplest concept that everyone else understood.

 

“What are you so deep in thought about?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

Atsushi chuckled. “Or were you just falling asleep?”

 

“No. But I could. I love it when you play with my hair.”

 

He leaned forward and kissed Jun’s temple. “I know you do. That’s why I always do it.”

 

Jun hummed contentedly, hoping that was enough to throw Atsushi off his trail. He didn’t need to be fussed over. He was already taking care of him as it was.

 

Atsushi spent at least half an hour scrubbing the blood from Junichiro’s hair and then another ten from his body. The feeling of gentle hands gliding over scarred skin was nothing out of the ordinary and he relished in it. But over and over his thoughts tugged him away from enjoying it, and before he knew it Atsushi was draining the tub and holding out a fluffy towel.

 

He stood and stepped out of the tub, letting Atsushi wrap him up with the towel and dry his hair with another. The more Atsushi took care of him, the more he struggled to keep a straight face. Why would he put so much effort into him? Why did he care so much for someone so worthless? What had that mask tricked him into?

 

“I’m going to take a shower, now, but I’ll be out in a bit.”

 

He nodded with vacant eyes, leaving the room without even looking up at Atsushi. Instead he changed into pyjama pants and sat down in the desk chair in front of the mirror. Pulling the comb from the bag he’d just shifted to the floor; he brushed the other hairpin and granola bar wrapper out of the way and ran the teeth through his hair. It snagged a few times, where Atsushi had accidentally created knots trying to rid it of his own (and everyone else’s) blood. But within two minutes his bangs hung in his face, dripping periodically onto the wood below.

 

In a daze, with the shower drowning out any other noise, Jun climbed into bed and pulled the blankets up to his shoulders. He stared straight up without really seeing, scenes from that night playing on the white ceiling. He closed his eyes, but there they continued as ghosts of his ability, mocking him. A frustrated noise came from his throat, but it didn’t register over the ringing in his ears and the flowing water from the next room.

 

Flickering. Drowning. Struggling. It took over his brain, and for what was probably the fifth time that night, he wasn’t sure of what went on around him. Whether he laid there for a minute or an hour he didn’t know, but his brain lagged and spun at the same time, a dizzy, nauseous contempt clawing at his stomach and chest. And he let it. Because what else was he supposed to do about it?

 

At some point Atsushi emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, a trail of steam following him out. He slipped on a t-shirt and pyjama pants and combed his towel-dried hair, too exhausted to bother really drying it. He quickly realized that Jun had done the same thing as he approached the bed, unsure of whether the boy was awake or asleep. But when he didn’t stir at the dip of the mattress, he assumed he was asleep.

 

Semi-aware of Atsushi’s presence, he fought back the emotions tearing through him, forcing his chin to stop trembling until Atsushi had turned the other way. Warm lips kissed his forehead, the warm skin brushing his own with the whispered, “I love you”. Then Atsushi flipped over on his side with his back to him, settling in to sleep.

 

Jun released the muscles in his face, allowing it face to twitch and his eyes to water freely. Atsushi couldn’t see him anyway. But he could hear him still, and so he fought back the cries that threatened to pull from his throat.

 

Why did he love him so much when he was worth nothing? If he could do nothing right? If he was just a liability? He was useless without his ability. And that was all the Agency wanted him for after-all. Without it, he’d be back on the streets or hiding in a closet at his parent’s house to avoid a beating. He was nothing, just as his illusions were, in reality, nothing. They were him and he was them—one in the same. Fake. Temporary.

 

Temporary as his parents’ love. As his friendships from school. As his time at the Agency would be if he didn’t smarten up. And as his relationship with Atsushi would be once the other boy finally clued in and kicked him to the curb. No one would want a flickering image. Pestering and annoying, in and out, unsure whether what’s there is what’s real, or if it’s really what’s on the other side peeking through. Like radio interference or markers bleeding through paper.

 

Hot tears fell down his face and he brought a hand to his mouth, hoping to muffle any sound. Jun rolled onto his side and curled in on himself, hoping to hold it together just a while longer. Control the confusion and self-hatred that clawed at him, demanding to be felt and make itself known. As if it didn’t hurt him enough when it laid in the depths of his mind of a good day.

 

Flickering. Crumbling. Fading away. From nothing to nothing—just as it always had been. Making something out of the ability while the ability made nothing out of him. Stripped him of everything he thought he knew… or perhaps it was just making him realize that his true potential truly was zero after all.

 

That everything was fake. He is strength wasn’t real. The agency didn’t need him. His ability made him valuable, not himself as a person. Atsushi shouldn’t love him. And why should he, if he couldn’t even love himself? What right did he have to love such a worthless being anyways, if he could even call himself that in the first place.

 

Slowly, the trembling of his body turned into shakes, the silent sobs to choked ones.

 

In his groggy state, Atsushi didn’t recognize the noise at first. He furrowed his brows and brushed it off the first time, readjusting his head on his pillow. But when he heard it again, and then a third time, he decided to really listen. It wasn’t until he heard the little hiccups that he realized what was happening. And as soon as he realized that Jun was crying, he flipped over and switched on the lamp over the bed, leaning over him.

 

Sure enough, his boyfriend laid with his back to him, his whole body shaking like a leaf. Tears coursed down his face, flooding from clenched eyes, falling into his mouth as he choked and gasped for air and tried to keep himself quiet. Atsushi’s eyes widened and he reached out, laying a hand on the boy’s side. “Jun, baby, what’s wrong?”

 

He gasped, doing his best to muffle his cries. “Atsushi?”

 

“Yeah, it’s only me. What’s wrong?”

 

“I didn’t know you were awake.”

 

“I didn’t know you were either… If I had I would have said something before. We could’ve talked or… Why are you crying, hun?”

 

Junichiro shook his head, pressing his hand harder against his mouth. “Y-you don’t need to, need to worry about me! Focus on what, what matters!”

 

“But you do matter.”

 

“No! No, I-I’m useless. Why do you put so much eff-effort into making me happy? Why do you even love someone like me?”

 

Atsushi rubbed his side. “You’re not useless, Jun.”

 

“I am! There’s nothing, nothing meaningful about me! I-I’m faulty and incompetent and and and,” he gasped for air, voice breaking as he continued. “And I’m falling apart. I’m useless and flickering and just broken.”

 

A pang of guilt and sadness hit Atsushi in the chest at Jun’s words. How had he not realized something was wrong before today? How long had he felt like this? He reached out, holding out his arms for him. “Jun, sweetie, come here. Roll over.”

 

“You… I…”

 

“I’m here, Jun. Hey… Breathe…”

 

As Jun rolled towards him, Atsushi pulled him into his arms. Jun sobbed into his chest, the force of them shaking his body. Atsushi held him tight and he jolted and gasped for air. “Shh, baby, it’s alright…”

 

“I-I don’t understand! Nothing makes any sense! What am I even doing here, Atsushi?”

 

“Doing where?”

 

“A-anywhere At the Agency? In Yokohama? Alive?”

 

“No, no, don’t say that, Jun. Don’t say that.”

 

“Why?” Jun all but screamed. “I don’t understand! I’m just like my ability, Atsushi! Don’t you see it?”

 

Atsushi rubbed his back. “I do… but I don’t think that’s a bad thing. Look at the similarities from my point of view. You protect people, you can be there in an instant if someone needs you, you’re helpful, you’re interesting. You do have a meaning, Jun. You’re not useless.”

 

“But the only thing about me that gives me meaning is Light Snow. And I don’t like how it makes me feel so… so worthless! But with-without it, I am nothing. No one would want me. I still wouldn’t want me.”

 

“I would want you.”

 

His breaths stuttered. “Why?”

 

“Breathe for me, sweetie. I need you to take a deep breath… Good. There we go…” Atsushi brought a hand up to play with his hair, hoping to calm him down. “Because you are more than just your ability. I fell in love with you for you, not for it.”

 

“But it hides everything about me. Without it I’m incompetent. I can’t fight or protect people. I’m weak. I’m timid. I’m broken, Atsushi. I’m broken. I-I’m not okay, and everyone thinks I am because I know how to hold up an illusion. But they’re fake and I’m fake and and and—”

 

“Shh… Jun, it’s alright. Breathe. You’re not weak and you’re not incompetent. You’re… you’re so sweet and you’re funny and you’re just… you’re you. And I love you for that.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Jun’s head. “I love you, Jun. You’re not broken, babes. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

 

“Then why does it feel like there is?”

 

Atsushi continued to rub his back as he talked him down. “Because you’ve been through a lot. Your parents abused you, your friends from school abandoned you when they found out, you spent a while on the streets, you’ve had hard missions here and you get sliced up a lot… But none of that means that there is something wrong with you or that you’re faulty. You are whole and important and so worth every ounce of effort and every amount of time that I spend with you. Alright?”

 

Jun sniffed, his face buried in Atsushi’s chest. “I-I don’t know… I’m so sorry… Please don’t be mad at me.”

 

“I’m not mad at you at all. But I am curious. What brought this one all of the sudden, hmm?”

 

“I couldn’t save anybody today. Our friends kept getting hurt and there was nothing that I could do about it without my ability. As much as I hate it, I’m reliant on it.” He hiccoughed, a particularly violent tremor running through him. Atsushi held him tighter. “They used my knife to stab Kunikida.”

 

“That’s not your fault, that was just their ability at work.”

 

“I know… but I still felt guilty. And then you were treating me so nicely after so many of the things that went wrong were my fault… and I already feel so awful about my incompetence all the time and insecure about why you’re even with my in the first place and…”

 

“You were overwhelmed?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“Did you want me to not be nice to you? I don’t think I could have yelled at you. We don’t do that, Jun.”

 

“No, I know that. And I did want it. I… I wanted to be held and and to tell you about what I was feeling but I was scared that you really would leave and I was disgusted with myself for wanting it so badly and… and I just… I’m just so confused… about so many things. It… It feels like I’m drowning in it.”

 

Atsushi pressed a kiss to his head once more. “I’m sorry that you’re hurting.”

 

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

 

“That’s not true.” He paused, running his fingers through slick hair. “I’m here for you, you know. If you need to talk. Or a hug. Or really anything. Please don’t hide your pain from me, Junichiro.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“I promise.”

 

“Good.” They sat in silence for a few minutes, Atsushi listening to Jun’s sniffles as his cries died down. “I’m not going to leave you because of something like that, eh? Everyone needs to be held, everyone needs to feel like their loved. Needs reassurance. Hell, you just helped me through a breakdown a few day ago when a case when wrong. And you made sure I knew you loved me without a second thought.”

 

“Yeah, but that’s you. Not me.”

 

Atsushi rolled them both over so that Jun’s head laid on his chest as he held him tight. “It doesn’t matter. As much as you might wonder why I love you, I wonder the same things about myself. I don’t want you to be perfect, and I don’t expect it, just like you don’t expect it from me.”

 

“I guess so.”

 

“Hey, you don’t mind my lopsided bangs or the fact that I’m extremely stubborn. And I don’t mind that you can be shy or that you’re not the best fighter in the Agency. It’s okay. There’s a lot that I love about you, and that everyone else does, too. Your ability doesn’t define you.”

 

“You don’t think so?”

 

“Is Kyouka a merciless killer? Would you expect Kenji to be strong all the time? Is Yosano really as sadistic as she leads everyone to think?”

 

“No… I guess not.”

 

“See… Jun, you’re not incomplete or weak or broken. You’re just still figuring things out, just like me. Just like everyone else. And you’re going to get through this. I know you will.”

 

“You really believe in me that much?” Jun asked with a sniff.

 

“I really do.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I’m really sorry that you’re hurting, baby. But you don’t have to do all of this alone. I’m right here with you. Whatever you need.”

 

“Can you please hold me for a while longer?”

 

“Of course, Jun.” Atsushi switched off the lamp, pulled the blankets tighter around them and then adjusted his arms so that he could run his hand over Jun’s bare back. “You know that nothing that happened today was your fault, right?”

 

“It feels like it was,” he mumbled into his chest.

 

“But it wasn’t. I promise. You can’t help if they have something to block your ability. That would be like saying it was your fault if Dazai had a hold of you.”

 

“I guess so…”

 

“There was nothing you could do. And Kenji and Kyouka are okay. Forgive yourself, babes. You’re only hurting yourself more by holding onto it. We both know that.” Jun nodded, humming his agreement, ending it with a yawn. “How about we try to sleep?” Another nod.

 

The two of them laid in silence, with Jun’s head tucked under Atsushi’s chin. Slowly, the tension he held in his body melted away, content for his chance to be held instead of the other way around. It was true they switched back and forth, but it was typically Atsushi who voiced his want for it. But this time, as his tears dried, he let the beating of Atsushi’s heart and his rhythmic breathing lull him to sleep.

 

With the last ounce of consciousness he held onto, he managed to whisper. “I love you, Atsushi. So much.”

 

At first, he thought that the words he’d spoken had been lost to the blackness beyond. But then he shifted, letting him know that he was still awake and that he had heard him.

 

Atsushi tilted Jun’s head up and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “I love you, too. More than you will ever know.”

Notes:

Hello! So... this is the edited version. I'm so sorry if there is still spelling mistakes and whatnot, but I did my best. I was more focused on content and making it sound less like shit, so... Anyway. lease let me know what you thought!

Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 49: Potential New Fic--Read the Author's Note pls!

Summary:

Hey everyone! I have a quick favour to ask of you. No obligation of course, but it would mean a lot to my younger sister if you could give this a read. She's debating posting her first fanfiction ever and it's BSD. Specifically, SKK. I know there's a lot of SKK shippers so please come out of the woodwork for like five minutes, haha. This is the first bit of what she's written and she'd like to know if anyone would want to read more before she writes it.

Essentially, the story follows a series of letters back and forth between Dazai and Chuuya after Dazai left the Port Mafia. It's their first contact in four years. The first part is the letter and the first-person piece is from Daai's point of view. I never really write in first person, so it was interesting for me to read this in her style! I enjoyed it, but she and I both would love to hear your thoughts!

Side note, I have heavily edited (basically rewritten) oneshots number 1 and 48 so if you'd like, please go give them a read and let me know your thoughts. Alright, thats all.

I won't leave an end note, but if you do decide to leave some comments or feedback, please address it to Abbey, as she will be the one reading them.

Thanks so much! -Em :)

     Hello old friend. I wondered when I'd see you again. It’s been 6 years and I'll never forget your face, your fire red hair, how your short frame fit perfectly in my arms like we were two puzzle pieces... destined to be together. I'm sorry for leaving, please know that it was never you I meant to leave. I had to go and I couldn't tell you where I was going, I couldn't contact you. I restarted my life the way he told me to. I had to be better for him. I hope you know that I never wanted to leave you alone, I wanted to bring you with me but I knew you'd never leave, your life was there. I'm sorry my friend, it hurt me to leave you, I wish I could've stayed, but I needed to do what he told me to, I needed to be on the good side, help people. Don't worry, I never really left, I've watched over you. I know you cried when I left, I know it took you weeks to return back to work and months to heal from the pain me leaving caused you. I never wanted to hurt you. All I've ever wanted to do was protect you. You were my whole world and I've missed you so much. I wanted to call, text, email, leave you a message... but I could never find the right thing to say. Everything always seemed like it wasn't enough... like it would make you more mad at me than you already were. But when I saw you the other day in the cafe I realized I had to write to you. The pain that was etched on your face broke my heart, I hate myself for hurting you, even more than I already do. I was never truly gone dear, I was always in your heart, I know that. We'll meet again one day my love, and when that day comes... it'll be like I was never really gone. I love you, never forget that Chuuya.

 

    I put down the pen, fold the paper, and slip the letter into the envelope. I never thought I would write to him after so long but I couldn't hold back any longer, he had to understand, he had to know why. Oda told me to be on the good side... I had to do it for him. 

 

I stand up from my seat at my desk and walk towards the door. How am I going to do this? What happens after this? What if he sees me? These thoughts and worries rampage through my brain like a hurricane, dangerous and uncontrollable. Chuuya was my partner, in every sense of the word. He was my partner for jobs at the Port Mafia, he was my confidant, my friend, and undeniably my first and probably my only love. He was my everything... and I left him like he was nothing, slipping away into the night and going underground for years. I haven't seen him since. He tried to seem brave in front of his peers when he saw me at the Cafe today, but I know him better than anybody. His heart was shattering right in front of my eyes... and I did nothing. I walked out as quickly as I came and never turned back.

    

    As I walk out the door of my dorm I am met with a familiar face, my apprentice Atsushi. He sprints down the hall screaming followed by a laughing Kyouka, the Armed Detective Agency's newest member. Those two share a dorm and are basically brother and sister at this point. Knowing Atsushi he probably made a comment about her liking Kenji, another one of our members; the sweetest and most innocent kid I've ever met... causing her to chase him until he gives in and buys her food as an apology. I continue on my way and walk down to the train station, purchase a ticket and hop on the train that'll take me closest to the Port Mafia 

building. My head spins as I wait for the train to get to my stop, thinking of all the possible scenarios that could play out. He could write me back angry or possibly missing me; he could see me and lose his shit at me or see me and hug me until we have no choice but to let go; or he could throw out my letter entirely after reading it. There are so many possible ways this could go. Some good, some bad, and some catastrophic. 

 

The train announcing which stop is next draws me out of my thoughts and back to reality--my stop was next. The train slows into the station and pulls to a stop, I pull myself to my feet, walk off the train and out of the station looking at the familiar surroundings. I haven't been back to the Port Mafia building since I left all those years ago. My body stiffens as I walk towards the door to the building and pull the door open as quietly as I can, trying to hide myself from prying eyes. I creep into the elevator and choose the button for Chuuya's floor, hoping he hasn't switched rooms since I left. The doors slide open and I am face to face with a low-level member of the Port Mafia. He excuses himself and glides by me into the elevator. I take a swift step forward onto the floor that I once knew so well. Walking down the brightly lit corridor I stop, turning towards the door that used to always be open, now closed. Pulling the letter out of my trench coat pocket I realize that I never decided how I would do this. Do I knock, leave it outside of his door and run? Do I leave it stuck in the door? Do I leave it on the ground and hope he sees it? I am suddenly pulled out of my thoughts by a door opening, his door. Shit. I look up and a pair of ocean blue eyes meet mine.

    

    "Dazai."

Chapter 50: Space to Breathe (Dazai and Kunikida)

Summary:

Written for someone, but I can't find the username of the person who requested this story! I'm very sorry, but if you see this, I hope that you enjoy it!

Dazai struggles to pay attention due to the memories that flood his head. Not knowing of this internal struggle, Kunikida is getting incredibly fed up with his laziness. When the fight between them goes a little to far, will Kunikida be able to repair his partner's broken trust?

TW: mentions of Dazai's suicide attempts.

The hustle and bustle of the Armed Detective Agency office was calming to Dazai’s busy mind. Through waves of intrusive thoughts and spirals of what-ifs, the constant motion of those around him gave him a way out. Interacting with them, acting aloof and goofing off with other members gave him a disguise and yet another distraction. The ways he sought to avoid dealing with himself, if only for a little while. To put space between himself and the thoughts and trauma of his past. Because when he sat still, the only parts moving being his fingers over the keyboard during a mundane task, it gave his mind free reign to wander wherever it pleased. And often what pleased his conscious was the many ways in which to mentally torture him.

 

Memories of Oda and Ango before all hell broke loose. Training with Akutagawa, his methods both abusive and demeaning to a child who hadn’t deserved it. Chuuya coiling bandages around his arms, scolding him for being so careless—when beyond the hard exterior was an incredibly worried friend. He could see it in his eyes.

 

Shooting one person, shooting two, shooting three. Three hundred or more. Blood, guts, vomit. His or someone else’s he wasn’t sure. The memories flooded him but they could be foggy and vague, teasing him like a flame licking at kindling. And if he got set off, no telling when the fire would be extinguished. It could be hours or it could be days before his brain shut off again for a temporary reprieve and that would allow him to be even less productive than usual.

 

As for his usual, it sincerely bothered his partner to no end. Kunikida spent most of his waking hours poring over his work. And yet there sat Dazai with his feet up on the desk across from him, bantering with Ranpo while sliding his work across to Atsushi. The kid scowled and slid the work back to his desk, but he rarely chided him in front of the others. Kunikida wished that he would. He couldn’t be alone in his annoyance with Dazai’s lackadaisical attitude.

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Daziai. Sure, he’d say so to the others, but he knew (and hopefully they did too) that he didn’t really mean that. He just irked him in the ways that they differed, which were quite various. But he didn’t truly wish ill-will on Dazai—he always had his back when it came down to it. He always came through and found a way. And he would be deeply saddened if one day a suicide attempt actually worked.

 

What bothered him the most was that Dazai was smart. He could keep up with Ranpo in conversation most times and his means of thinking often blew right over his head. The man was incredibly intelligent and yet it went to waste with the balls of paper he tossed at Tanizaki and the ramen packets he stole from Atsushi. The rest of them put up with him because that’s just how he was, how they knew him. He had his moments, but the rest of the time he slacked off and no one cared because if they needed him, he’d be there.

 

But for Kunikida, that was unacceptable. A man with such potential shouldn’t waste it by bickering with him, flirting with the café waitress, or asking Kenji about the bizarre specifics of his village. Those paper balls and eraser bits flying across the space between them should be intelligent conversation and case discussion. It frustrated him to no end, being unable to understand why Dazai did absolutely nothing during his time at the office.

 

Spinning in his chair, Dazai picked at the eraser on the end of his pencil. “What’s the matter, Atsushi-kun?”

 

The boy side-eyed him from where he typed up a report. “That’s my pencil.”

 

“Is it?”

 

“You know it is, Dazai-san.”

 

“Oh, well in that case…” He tossed the pencil onto Atsushi’s desk and opened desk drawer, pulling out a handful of paperclips. He clucked his tongue as he linked them together one by one.

 

The subtle scratch of metal on metal grinded Kunikida’s eardrums and he clenched his jaw, typing faster to drown out the noise.

 

“Here, Kyouka-chan.”

 

The young girl beside Kunikida glanced up. “Hmm?”

 

“Would you like a paper-clip necklace?”

 

She quirked her head at Dazai, but accepted his odd gift nonetheless. Small fingers pinched the loop of metal and held it up, scrutinizing it. “It might work better as a weapon in the office.”

 

“I suppose it would hurt if you were to get whipped with it,” he agreed. Atsushi and Kunikida both gave him an incredulous look.

 

“Why are you encouraging this, Dazai-san?” Tanizaki asked, passing their bank of desks.

 

“It’s entertaining.”

 

The boy only shook his head and sat back down to resume his work. Kyouka turned her attention back to Dazai. “Thank you for the… interesting gift, Dazai-san.”

 

He grinned, leaning back in his chair. “You’re welcome.”

 

Kyouka hopped up from here chair and crossed the room. “Look, Kenji-kun!”

 

Dazai smirked as he leaned forward once more, reaching across to Kunikida’s desk to snatch a pen. He smacked the bandaged hand away. “Get your own pen.”

 

“But I don’t have any, Kunikida-kunnnn.”

 

“How? You had paperclips!”

“No, he didn’t,” muttered Atsushi. “Those were mine, too.”

 

“That’s even worse.”

 

Dazai shrugged, going once more for the pen. “Eh, I’ll just continue collecting my supplies.”

 

“Your lack of supplies goes hand in hand with your lack of work,” Kunikida huffed.

 

“I do plenty of work when I need to.”

 

“Will you stop with the pen!” He snatched the pen away and stuffed it into his desk drawer. “That’s the problem, Dazai. You only do work when you absolutely have to.”

 

“Why would I any other time? Everything gets done without my input and there never seems to be a problem.”

 

“Because you pawn it off on Atsushi!”

 

“Please don’t bring me into this—”

 

“He does all of your work and sometimes Tanizaki helps him! It’s either them or me and I’m sick of it!”

 

“Come on, Kunikida, it’s not that big of a deal. I always come through when you need me.”

 

Kunikida shot him a pinched look. “But we need you more than just in crisis. The agency deals with smaller scale cases 99% of the time and you expect us to do it ourselves!”

 

“That’s not true. I go out on cases all the time.”

 

“But it’s like pulling teeth! You never show any effort—you have zero initiative. Things would run so much smoother around here if you just did your damn work!”

 

Dazai looked down, tapping his fingers on the desk. “It’s not for lack of trying.”

 

“Don’t give me that. You hardly ever make an effort.”

 

Dazai crossed his arms over his chest. “Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

 

“Well how could I see these supposed attempts when you’re either never at work or never at your desk? Could you do your job for one day? Would that kill you?”

 

“My brain maybe,” he muttered.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Nothing. I just didn’t think you’d start pushing your ideals on everyone else.”

 

“I’m not. But I think you should do your work and help out.”

 

“I’m not you, Kunikida! I can’t work the way you do!”

 

“Why not? What is wrong with you?”

 

Dazai jerked his head back. “A lot apparently.”

 

“Clearly.”

 

“Anything else you have to say to me,” he bit.

 

“I—I think that’s enough,” said Tanizaki, trying to break up their argument.

 

“It’s not even close to enough,” bellowed Kunikida, standing. He leaned forward, bracing himself on his desk. “It’s not going to be enough until this half-ass bonehead gets his shit together.”

 

“Calm down, Kunikida,” Yosano interjected. “We can talk about this later.”

 

“No. No this needs to be said now.”

 

“You’re so impatient,” said Dazai, who stood from his chair. “Things need to be done on your time and the way you think they should be done. I don’t work that way!”

 

“You don’t work at all!”

 

“Oh fuck you. Of all things to say—”

 

“Your presence in this office is a complete waste! You—Where are you going?”

 

The whole office turned their attention to Dazai, who’d shoved his chair in and headed for the door. “Away from here.”

 

“Dazai-san,” Atsushi called, but it was no use. The door slammed on his way out.

 

The attention of the office turned back to Kunikida, a moment of silence engulfing the room. It dragged on as Kunikida watched the space Dazai had vacated, seeming frozen in time.

 

Ranpo was the first to speak, his piercing glare aimed directly at the blond man. “That was really insensitive, Kunikida.”

 

Kunikida stuffed his hands in his pockets, not making eye contact. “It was true that he needs to stop being so lazy.”

 

“But to call him a waste…” Tanizaki trailed off.

 

“If someone called me that, I’d be upset, too,” said Kenji. Kyouka nodded beside him.

 

“He didn’t let me finish my sentence.”

 

“If you’d taken it the way he’d taken it, I would’ve cut you off, too,” said Ranpo. “He’s right when he says he doesn’t work the way you do.”

 

“But—”

 

“And that he’s trying.”

 

Kunikida blinked at the ground, the turned to face Ranpo. “How can that be? All he does is sit there and mess around or fuck off to God knows where.”

 

“Maybe you can focus on your work, but he can’t, mainly due to circumstances beyond his control. Focusing actually just makes it worse because he ends up focusing on the wrong things. Chatting and goofing off are his way of coping.”

 

“He told you that?”

 

Ranpo turned back around in his desk chair. “He didn’t need to.”

 

Kunikida furrowed his brows. “But what’s so distracting to him?”

 

A small voice spoke up behind him, thin fingers still clutching the paperclip necklace. “Dazai-san came from the Mafia, too. It’s rough there.”

 

He let out a long breath as he sat down, spinning to face the girl who sat on the edge of Kenji’s desk. “Can you elaborate?”

 

“I’m not sure it’s my place to say,” she began, eyes on the ground. “But he was an executive. He has a history there. I’m sure he’s seen and done a lot of things he’d rather not have. The memories don’t just go away…” She looked up as Kenji reached out and squeezed her hand, and she looked up at Kunikida. “You know that grave he’s always visiting?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That man died unnecessarily. From what I’ve learned it was a ploy specifically to hurt Dazai and drive him out.”

 

Kunikida’s jaw dropped. “You’re serious?” She nodded solemnly. He ran a hand through his hair. “Damn. I really messed up, didn’t I?”

 

“I hate to say so, Kunikida-san,” Atsushi mumbled. “But I think you really hurt him.”

 

“I—I’ve just never seen him… hurt.”

 

“Doesn’t mean the pain isn’t there,” said Yosano.

 

“He’s not going to just spill to you,” Ranpo added.

 

“Shit.” He ran a hand down his face. “I’ll have to talk to him when he comes back.”

 

*

 

Dazai crossed the city despite the driving rain. Hands stuffed in his pockets he let the water drip down his face and neck from where it plastered his hair to his skin, an uncomfortable tightness in the back of his throat. Though his eyes stung with repressed tears he refused to let them fall, clenching his jaw the longer he walked.

 

He passed through the cemetery gate and headed straight for the tree he was accustomed to sitting under, the water seeping through his pants as he knelt in front of the headstone. With the tip of his index finger he traces the letters. S. Oda.

 

“I don’t know what to do, Oda,” he breathed. “I keep messing up with the agency, especially my new partner. And I can’t afford to after how badly I messed up with Chuuya. He’s hurt and Kunikida wants nothing to do with me and I… and I…”

 

Dazai took a deep breath, pulling the Lupin token from his pocket and turning it over in his hand. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I need your guidance more than ever, Odasaku.” He ignored the cracking of his voice, squeezing the pendant.

 

The rain continued to drench him, a chilling numbness taking over his limbs. It was oddly comforting, like Oda was hugging him. How much he craved it at that moment…

 

Dazai dropped his head, supressing a small sob. “I don’t know how to function. I don’t know how to be a good man.”

 

It was then and only then that he allowed his tears to flow.

 

*

 

Dazai never returned to the office that day, leaving Kunikida on edge. He’d assumed he’d return after lunch, or at least by the end of the day to retrieve his things. When five o’clock rolled around and Dazai was no where to be found, Kunikida stayed a while longer in case he came after work, assuming no one was there.

 

The clock hit six. Then seven. At seven-thirty, Kunikida sighed and stood, scooping up Dazai’s belongings with his own. The walk back to the dorms was unpleasant, his umbrella inverting several times in the whipping winds. His mind continually wandered, wondering where on Earth his partner could have gone in this weather. Hopefully he’d just gone home and stayed home.

 

Unfortunately for Kunikida, no one answered the door when he knocked on Dazai’s dorm. The lights were off from what he could tell and no sound came from the inside. Shoulders sagging, he headed back to his own dorm, shutting the door behind him. As he shucked his rain-soaked clothes he glanced around the dorm, which had several picture frames on every flat surface. Each one held a photograph of various agency members from different functions or just someone goofing off.

 

Atsushi and Tanizaki chatting at Uzumaki. Ranpo and Yosano in the office, both of them making walrus tusks with the sticks from their lollipops. Kyouka on Kenji’s shoulders simply because they felt like it. The group of them at Kyouka’s welcome party. The original four, consisting of himself, Ranpo, Yosano, and Fukuzawa. And then one of himself and Dazai. He couldn’t remember when it had been taken or where they were, but he was rather fond of the photo. Dazai had his arm slung around him, showing a peace-sign, while they both smiled at the camera.

 

Kunikida turned away from the pictures and sat on his futon. What had he done?

 

Dazai had clearly suffered a lot more than he let on, of course he had! He’d spent years in the Port Mafia. And Kyouka had said so herself, those memories don’t leave you. And if the things about his friend were true—if it had really been a set-up—then of course Dazai’d be in pain. Of course he’d be distracted. Of course he would use those methods to cope and to mask. Because it was easier that way.

 

Kunikida groaned, bringing his hands to his face as he laid back on the blankets. He’d been a hard-ass—and this wasn’t the first time. Dazai really was trying and he’d completely dismissed his efforts. He’d never even thought about it from his partner’s point of view, and he should have!

 

The rest of the night dragged on, periodic knocks on Dazai’s door interspersed between his circling thoughts. And every time the door remained closed, whether or not the man was home remaining a mystery. Eventually, Kunikida gave in, falling into a restless sleep frequented by fragments Dazai, over and over and over again.

 

*

 

The next morning produced more of the same. Kunikida sat at his desk bright and early, watching the other agency members trickle in. He greeted Yosano, receiving only a scowl due to her lack of coffee. He smiled at Kenji, the young boy bouncing over to the windowsill to grab his small watering can for his plants. Tanizaki and Naomi bid him good morning upon their arrival. And Atsushi greeted him while trying to avoid being sucked into Kyouka’s conversation with Ranpo.

 

All morning he waited, wondering where Dazai had gotten to. Did he sleep in? Was he blowing off work? Did something happen to him? Knots built up in his stomach the longer the bandaged detective didn’t show up, getting to the point where Kunikida genuinely thought he might be sick. Luckily for him, just as he thought he’d actually have to go to the bathroom, the door swung open.

 

Dazai strode into the office with the same goofy demeanour as always. The mask was back and it seemed as though Dazai had no memory of the tension from the previous day. He plopped down beside Atsushi, leaning across him to pluck his pencil with half an eraser.

 

“Dazai-san,” Atsushi whined, shooting him a look. Kyouka hid a giggle behind her hand.

 

“I have to finish with this eraser,” said Dazai, tutting it against his apprentice’s head.

 

Atsushi flinched. “Is that really necessary?”

 

“Of course it’s necessary!”

 

With a groan, Atsushi turned back to his work. That one was immediately followed by another groan as Dazai slid more papers onto his desk. He tilted his head , eyes closed. “Junichiro, I need your help.”

 

Kyouka laughed again as Tanizaki answered, “Coming.”

 

Kunikida watched Dazai interact with everyone just as he normally would. Passing his work to Atsushi. Playing mind games with Ranpo. Bickering with Yosano. Asking Kenji about his plants and cows and various other things. He acted normal towards everyone. Everyone but him.

 

He barely spoke to him all morning. Barely more than a hello or simple answers. He wasn’t hostile in any sense of the word. More cautious than anything else. It set him on edge. He was overly aware of the tingling in his fingers, an itch that needed to be scratch in a place he couldn’t reach. The discomfort in his stomach returned. This couldn’t continue.

 

The next time Dazai was up and about the office, Kunikida tracked his movements. On the way back, he stood and snatched Dazai’s wrist in the process. The man jumped, trying to pull away, but Kunikida’s grip was steel.

 

“Wha—”

 

“Just come with me. Please.”

 

“Okay?”

 

While the rest of the office watched them in bewilderment, Kunikida tugged Dazai behind him until they reached one of the reception booths. He stood barely an arm’s length from Dazai and dropped his arm, which Dazai brought to his chest, covering it protectively with his other hand.

 

“Is there something you need from me, Kunikida?”

 

“No. No, I just…” He ran a hand through his hair, finding it difficult to make eye contact. “I wanted to apologize for my behaviour yesterday.”

 

“You don’t—”

 

“Please, just let me get this out.”

 

Dazai searched his face, saw the plea in his eyes. “Okay.”

 

“I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. It was unnecessary for me to get that angry with you, especially without even listening to what you had to say. And then the rest of them talked some sense into me and I… I felt so guilty. I’d never considered how you felt and what could be bothering you… I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay. I mean, you were right. I am a waste.”

 

“No. You’re not. I didn’t get to finish what I was saying yesterday with that. I don’t think you’re a waste, not at all. What I meant was that you are so incredibly smart, it would be absurd not to use it. You have so much potential here and you don’t use it. Why?”

 

Dazai averted his eyes. “I don’t have the energy or the focus. There’s too much in my head to think about when I’m focusing on something mundane like paperwork.”

 

“And that’s why you don’t do it? It’s not laziness it a way of coping?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“With your memories from the Port Mafia?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And with the death of your friend…”

 

“Oda.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Dazai raised his eyes. “His name was Oda.”

 

Kunikida nodded. “I heard his death was…”

 

“A ploy? Yes. It was. And it worked.”

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

Dazai shrugged, looking away. “Don’t be. Not your fault.”

 

“No, but the things I said are my fault. And if you’re dealing with all of this, if you’re struggling, and I just dismissed all of it… that was so insensitive of me.”

 

“Yeah, well…”

 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Dazai,” said Kunikida, placing both hands on the man’s shoulders. “And I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

“It’s not fine. Look at me.” He paused, waiting until brown eyes rose to meet his. There was pain held there, beyond the slight water in them, deep within. “I’m sorry for hurting you. And I’m here, if you need anything.”

 

Dazai swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

 

Kunikida drew Dazai towards him, wrapping him up in a hug. Dazai stiffened at first, but then relaxed in his arms. Without pulling away, Kunikida spoke in his ear. “I don’t know what you’ve gone through, Dazai, but the Agency is here for you. You don’t have to fight these thoughts all on your own.”

 

“I’ve always had to before. It’s hard to break such an ingrained habit.”

 

Kunikida pulled back, holding Dazai at an arm’s length. “Well, you don’t have to tell me everything. Or even anything if you don’t want to. But you have my support. And I’ll… I’ll try to be a bit more lenient with you. Give you some work that’s as likely to allow those memories space to breathe.”

 

“Thank you. That’s all I need. That’s all this has been. The goofing off and everything.”

 

“What? Space to breathe?”

 

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes. It was a way to put distance between myself and them, just for a little while. Because when I’m at home by myself.”

 

Kunikida pursed his lips and nodded. “I understand.”

 

“You don’t. But I know what you mean.”

 

“Well, then, I’ll do my best. To understand. And to be that for you.”

 

“Be what?”

 

Kunikida smiled, squeezing Dazai’s shoulder. “Your space to breathe.”

Notes:

Hello hello! I'm back! I just finished the semester from hell and am now home for the summer. Sorry for disappearing, haha. I'm going back to taking requests, so leave any that you have from down below, and if I've missed yours or as only taking commissions at the time, please let me know!!

I hope to start updating more often now, but I will be working so please bare with me!! Let me know your thoughts down below as always!

REQUESTS: OPEN

Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 51: Too Much (RanPoe)

Summary:

This was requested but I couldn't find the username of the person who requested it, I'm so sorry! I hope you like it anyway!

Ranpo, alone in his apartment after a weekend workday, can't shake all of the stimulation around him. Too bright, too loud, too hot. Plus, being the anniversary of his parent's deaths, his awareness slowly slips away as he breaks down in tears. Who knows how long it would have continued if someone had not come to help him calm down.

*I did a lot of research on this and talked to a few people who have experience with sensory overload, so please don't come for me. I did my best.

TW: sensory overload/sensory meltdown, slight description of murder, blood

A sunny Saturday in Yokohama is not the kind of day you’d expect yourself to break down. It’s not the kind of day notorious for bringing about negative emotions. But combining sensory overload from your surroundings and a specific trigger, the type of day really doesn’t matter that much—you could still find yourself on the floor with little recollection for where you are or what happened.

 

As someone prone to feeling sensory overload, Ranpo tried his best not to involve himself in situations full of distracting stimuli. But his first-floor apartment in the centre of Yokohama didn’t exactly provide the best space for that, especially on summer days full of screaming kids and unwavering heat. The grassy lot at the back of the building was full of tenants and their children, playing games, singing and chattering, unaware of the volume they used which could be heard even with all of the windows closed.

 

With the lights off to abate the heat, the sunlight still bathed every surface in the small apartment in its warmth, reflecting more than enough light. It hit his eyes after bouncing off of various surfaces, the beams coming through slats of the blinds or the oddly-shaped windows above the door which remained uncovered.

 

Ranpo sat on the small couch in his apartment, curled up against the arm with a bag of chips. He tried to focus on the television, the movie playing on the large flatscreen a few of the Agency members had pitched in for him for his birthday. The people flew across the screen, jumping over obstacles with guns drawn—some kind of fight scene. But where and why he wasn’t sure, he couldn’t even remember what had happened mere moments before. The people outside distracted him. The lights were too bright.

 

He’d only wanted to distract himself from the day’s events—they’d already been enough to deal with on a day that was typically upsetting to begin with. It may have been twelve years, but the day your parents die never really leaves your memory. Especially when you had to watch as they were killed.

 

Breaking and entering wasn’t too common in the country-side, especially in the village that Ranpo grew up in. Everyone was friendly and the community was tight-knit—or so they’d all thought. Even at fourteen, Ranpo had sensed something was off with one of the men in his village, but no one else believed him. Not even his parents, who also had an unnatural degree of intelligence. Their trust in the man had blinded them and had ultimately resulted in their deaths.

 

Hiding under the stairs while your dad was shot and your mom had her head bashed repeatedly against a concrete slab was already traumatic, but having the guy spot you and tie you up only for his blood to end up all over you when the police shot him definitely made it worse. He didn’t cry often as a kid, but that night he’d been inconsolable. The screaming and gunshots were too loud, the lights from the police cars and their flashlights flashed behind his eyelids even with them clenched shut and the slick, warm blood covering his face and upper body caused him to scrub his skin raw to get it off before he threw up. Too much. It had just been too much.

 

Ranpo shifted in his spot on the couch, bringing his legs up closer to his body. The case he’d solved that day hadn’t been a pleasant one, especially due to his circumstances. He’d avoided talking to the newly orphaned girl as long as he could, but the police questioning eventually needed it. So he’d sat in the interrogation room beside Minoura, only half-paying attention as the girl answered his questions. The other half of his brain had been more preoccupied by his childhood self sitting in the girl’s spot, relaying all the information he knew. He might not be fantastic with others’ emotions, but he recognized the one on that girl’s face the way he’d recognized it on himself in the mirror. Grief. Pure, heart-wrenching pain. It made his chest ache.

 

The chase on the screen had temporarily ended, the men sitting in a back-alley smoking cigarettes. They sat mostly still while Ranpo shifted and then shifted again. He pulled at his collar, twisted the sleeves of his shirt. It scratched at his chest in a way that it normally wouldn’t and his tie, though it hung loosely around his neck, suffocated him. He tugged on it repeatedly, tossing the chips to the side and yanking it off over his head as soon as was possible, throwing it down on the couch beside him.

 

Green eyes glanced around the room, darting back and forth and back and forth. Abruptly, he stood, hurrying from the room and into his bedroom, throwing open the closet door. Hangers tumbled to the floor as he yanked new clothes into his arms, a cotton t-shirt and joggers. He couldn’t get them on fast enough, nearly ripping buttons off his dress shirt in the process. But he didn’t care, Yosano could sew it, and all he wanted was a change of texture. It had been too scratchy, too tight, too restricting. Too hot. The cotton wasn’t perfect either, it was still irritating, but it was loose and cooler than what he’d worn to work.

 

Heading back into the living room, Ranpo was acutely aware of the carpet beneath his feet. The way the pile creeped between his toes with every step and stuck into the crevice between them and the ball of his foot. He scrunched his toes to avoid it, shuffling across the room towards the blinds. He tried to tighten them twice, then three times, but to no avail. The light still pierced his eyes and the sound still came through despite his attempts to close the window tighter as well. Kids screamed outside, their shrill voices bouncing off the walls of the building. Balls thudded against the wall at steady intervals, a rhythmic non-stop game.

 

Ranpo cringed and backed away from the window until he hit the couch, stumbling back over the arm and crushing the remainder of his chips. He cursed, rolling onto the ground and retrieving the bag which had spilled. Miniscule pieces of chips stuck into the fabric of the couch no matter how many times he tried to brush them off. Even when he got back in his previous spot, the crumbs poked his feet and lower legs where he’d rolled up is pants. They scratched and poked at his skin until he shoved himself to the ground in frustration, pushing himself to the middle of the living room to avoid their spiky feel.

 

Pulling his knees to his chest, Ranpo did his best to ignore the outside stimulation. The beams of light across his face that resembled flashlights and the echoing of the ball on the wall which sounded more and more like a gunshot each time. Too bright. Too loud. Too bright.

 

The movement on the screen caught his attention. It cut back and forth between different groups of people, running, jumping, sliding—all of them with guns drawn and bullets flying. What show was this? Why was he watching it? Why were the shooting? Why shooting? Why guns? Why?

 

Too fast. It moved too fast. Too fast, too loud. Bullets. Running. On the wall. On the wall. Bullets. Flashlights. Flashlights in his eyes. Screaming—shrill, prolonged noises. Shrieks, yelps, thuds and more thuds. Sunshine. Sun beams. Flashlight beams. Gunshots.

 

Ranpo pressed his hands over his ears, bringing his knees impossibly closer to his chest. Even while staring intently at the ground, the flashing from the tv and the sun intermingled, giving the sensation of the police flashlights in the middle of the night. He couldn’t differentiate the two anymore, couldn’t tell what time it was anymore. For all he knew, it was the middle of the night and those were flashlight beams.

 

More flashes came from the tv and he began to shake. First only jolting in his legs but quickly turning to full body tremors, his chest hitching as he fell further and further from surface awareness. Though he’d clamped his hands over his ears, it didn’t stop all of the noise from reaching him. Muffled screaming and gunshots from the tv poked through his thin shield and his awareness completely capsized.

 

Ranpo barely noticed he was crying, even when he began to choke on his own tears. He sobbed and spluttered, unaware that the screaming he heard was his own cries. The warmth on his cheeks was blood and not tears. The tightness in his chest was from ropes and not from the lack of oxygen and sheer terror pulsing through his veins. He no longer sat in his own living room but floated between one place and another, overwhelmed by the sensory overload. By the overstimulation and inability to process what occurred around him. From the memory of his trauma. Too much. It was all too much.

 

He heard everything and felt everything. The emotions flooding him pulled him down, down, down, until the everything became a nothing that was so overpowering he didn’t know if he breathed at all. Until the hands landed on his shoulders.

 

Ranpo curled further in on himself in an effort to escape to sudden touch, though the person didn’t let go. His head was radio static, unable to comprehend anything that happened to him or around him. There was pressure on his shoulders and then on his upper arms instead. Someone spoke to him, a deep voice rumbling close to him, though he didn’t know what they said or why they were there.

 

Who was it? Why were they there? Why, why, why.

 

His breathing picked up as he tried to comprehend through the fog in his brain, choking out stuttered nonsense to whoever was there in the room with him. It needed to stop. They needed to make it stop.

 

Then the hands moved again, the strong grip removed from his arms and replaced with a gentle touch on his sides. He jerked at the unexpected, though not unwelcome, touch, causing his hands to slide off his ears for only a moment. But the single moment was enough for him to hear what the person had to say.

 

It was his name. And the voice—that voice was one he could recognize anywhere. It was effortless to place, perhaps the only thing he could gather from the million waves of thoughts crashing through his brain.

 

In that moment he leaned into the gentle touch and threw his arms around the other person, burying his face in their neck. The long hair helped shade his face, preventing him from seeing the tv and his one ear remained covered from the way his head was tilted. The strong grip returned, this time wrapping Ranpo up in his arms, squeezing him tight.

 

Poe sighed as Ranpo realized who he was, allowing him to pull him to his chest. No sooner had he let himself inside with the spare key than he’d heard the gut-wrenching sobs emitted by his boyfriend. He hadn’t had to check the calendar—he knew what day it was. Knew he’d worked a tough case at work. And knew, as he was privy to Ranpo’s triggers, that he’d likely been sent into a sensory meltdown. It wasn’t a good combination and wasn’t an easy situation to deal with, but it wasn’t his first time finding Ranpo this way. Crying in the middle of the floor, shaking and trying to hide from a reality that was too loud, too bright, too much.

 

Poe adjusted his feet underneath him and lifted Ranpo into his arms as he stood. In response, Ranpo wrapped his legs around Poe’s torso, clinging to him like a lifeline. But in his current state, Poe was Ranpo’s link to reality. His tangible, living, breathing connection to bring him back. Of course, he would eventually return to his senses alone, but that was much scarier and took a lot longer than the spoken words and deep pressure Poe could give him.

 

Poe sat on the edge of Ranpo’s bed, facing him away from the window. He adjusted his grip, moving Ranpo from his neck to where the man pressed his face into his chest. Poe smoothed his hair with one hand, listening to his near screams. “Shh… I’ve got you.”

 

Poe tightened his grip on his boyfriend as he sobbed his throat raw, sure that his neighbours could probably hear him through the paper-thin walls. But at the moment he couldn’t care less what they thought—he just wanted to calm Ranpo down. Wanted him to feel safe and comfortable. But it wouldn’t come easy.

 

Shifting his weight, he managed to swing them around so that Ranpo laid on top of him on the bed. Poe laid flat on his back with Ranpo’s head on his chest but quickly found that he couldn’t put enough pressure on him that way. He hauled Ranpo up further until his head rested nearly on his cheek, tears leaking onto his neck and down onto his collar bone. “I’ve got you, Ranpo. You’re safe… you’re not there…”

 

Ranpo’s breathing stuttered, ending in a whimper. Poe’s heart clenched at the noise and he turned to kiss Ranpo’s head. He pushed his face closer to Poe in response, wordlessly asking him to hold him tighter, keep him close. Poe didn’t plan to let go anytime soon and showed as much by pressing another kiss to his head, smoothing his hair in the process.

 

He knew Ranpo responded well to pressure and skin on skin contact, the effect bringing him closer to awareness and calming him down. Many people in the situation couldn’t stand being touched, but Ranpo was one of the very few Poe knew that needed the touch to ground him. He was more than happy to oblige, finding it easier to pull him out of that dark place this way. Careful not to move Ranpo to much, Poe tugged at his own shirt until it came untucked and he pulled it up as far as he could, then did the same to Ranpo’s loose fitting t-shirt.

 

Ranpo shifted further onto Poe’s chest as soon as he felt his skin, hauling in a deep breath. Poe smiled slightly, running a gentle hand down his back. “That’s it… Just like that.”

 

Ranpo shuddered against him and Poe wrapped his arms around him again, holding him as tight to his body as was possible. The pressure and the warmth of his skin had a calming effect, permeating the fog in his boyfriend’s head and letting him know he was safe. He was safe and Poe wasn’t going anywhere until he was okay again.

 

“You’re safe, Ranpo. I’m here, nobody can hurt you. Nobody is hurt. Just breathe…”

 

His shakes subsided to trembles, letting Poe know that what he was doing was working. He let out a sigh of relief—hearing the sobs and feeling the violent jolts against him broke his heart every time. It didn’t happen often, but when it did it felt like a sucker punch to the gut to watch Ranpo crumble into a terrified, anguished mess. He couldn’t control it and had first been incredibly embarrassed, but Poe never said a word. He silently pulled him to his chest and whispered reassurances until he calmed down, never once chiding at him or putting him down for something he had no power over. It simply was, just as his sometimes-debilitating social anxiety got the better of him. The support went both ways, and that day it was his turn to hold Ranpo until he came back to reality and breathed evenly again. Until his cheeks dried and he laid on his chest, fast asleep.

 

Poe loosened his grip the tiniest bit, testing the waters. When he received no negative reaction, he brought a hand up to Ranpo’s head where it rested in the crook of his neck. He smoothed the black strands away from his face to soothe him, thankful that his sobs had quieted to hiccoughs. He was coming back. Calming down.

 

The two laid in silence for a few minutes, Poe’s free hand covering Ranpo’s uncovered ear to block out the muffled noises form outside. They weren’t nearly as loud in the bedroom, but he didn’t want it to set Ranpo off again. At least the light wasn’t getting to him anymore. Slowly, Ranpo’s breathing evened out, only stuttering once in a while. His breath tickled Poe’s neck but he didn’t move, keeping still until Ranpo moved first.

 

With fingers running through Ranpo’s hair, Poe turned his head to look at him. “Ranpo? Can you hear me?” A brief pause, and then the slightest nod. A smile quirked Poe’s lip. “Are you feeling better now?” Another nod. “Good,” he said, then pressed another kiss to his forehead. “We can stay like this as long as you want. We have all the time in the world, so take as long as you need.”

 

In response, Ranpo pushed his face further into the crook of Poe’s neck. Poe let out a breathy laugh. “Ranpo?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I love you.”

 

Ranpo hummed. “I love you, too.”

Notes:

Hello hello! I hope that you all enjoyed this entry! I had quite a hard time writing it but I'm glad that I kept going until the end. I've been having a lot of issues with focus and brain fog recently and I'm not sure whats going on. it happened a lot during the school year too and it's really getting on my nerves. Anyway, please let me know your thoughts/comments/requests below! More requests coming soon!

Thanks for reading! until next time, guys! -Emma :)

Chapter 52: Brain Fog (KyouKen)

Summary:

Kenji gets overwhelmed by the subtle cues of anger he used to witness as a child mixed with the million thoughts making it hard for him to process anything.

I wrote this because I was having a bit of a breakdown so... yeah. I'm so sorry I keep projecting onto this poor baby (and Jun). Poor both of them honestly. They don't deserve this.

TW: mentions of self-harm, child abuse

Despite the noise in the office, Kenji heard nothing but a buzzing in his ears. Sitting stiff in his chair, back to most of the room, he kept his eyes trained on the computer screen in front of him. Lines of text scrolled past his unmoving eyes, remaining unread despite having gone over the page several times. He wouldn’t remember the case file for the next day’s case and his current report wouldn’t get done. Despite how hard he tried, his whirling thoughts prevented any work from actually getting done.

 

It was barely afternoon and yet the agency had already had a busy day. Most of it went by in a blur for Kenji. He remembered the clacking on the train they’d taken across the city, the hallways of the childcare centre they’d been investigating, the discomfort in his chest the longer their trip went on. So much yet so little at the same time. He’d barely retained any information on the actual case, despite being the one who protected the children by acting as a shield.

 

Specifics evaded him as he reread the page another time. An ability user had disguised themselves as a childcare worker for their own benefit, but that was all he could recall. Even then, he wasn’t sure if that was altogether right. Other cases floated around in his mind and intermingled, making him want to bash his head against the desk to clear his thoughts enough to think for one minute.

 

Every minute Kenji sat at his desk made him want to go home even more. What was the point in him being there anyway if he couldn’t focus on a single damn thing. Coherent thoughts were few and far between, mainly simple commands. Yosano’s walking past you, don’t move. Kunikida’s breathing is off, don’t provoke him. Kyouka is smiling at you, smile back.

 

Despite having barely more than tv static playing in his brain, the subtle ques of those around him still made it through unscathed. Movement too close to him or too fast, the change in tone of someone’s speech, the twitch of an eye or change in breathing… he knew them all too well. Which on days like that one hindered more than they helped. When you are overly aware of everything around you and yet your brain can’t process your own thoughts, the frustration that comes with it can be overwhelming.

 

And it wasn’t just that, either. That his brain couldn’t compute it all at once. More than anything his body was on edge, stiff and unmoving except for the subtle way he angled away from people who passed him or ducked his head when eyes were directed his way. The atmosphere was off—it had been for days. Difficult cases, especially ones involving children, tended to do that.

 

Kunikida was more agitated and emotional when kids were involved. Atsushi became protective and Fukuzawa was on their backs more than he normally would be. All in all, the whole agency was under a good amount of stress for cases like that, and despite it being finally solved after a week of work, it didn’t ease the tension in the room. And it didn’t ease Kenji’s discomfort either. The foggy memories or the nagging thoughts. Every step his way, every raise in volume made him flinch, pulling his elbows closer to his body on instinct.

He’d done his best on the case, giving his body up to essentially be a blockade against whatever the ability user threw at him. Of course, it didn’t hurt him too badly, but that wasn’t the point. Something doesn’t have to physically hurt you to leave a scar or to agitate a previous wound. Yet somehow, no one really clued into that when it came to him. The happy go-lucky kid was always happy in their books and nothing bothered him. Except that wasn’t right. That assumption was wrong on so many levels.

 

He was still human after-all. He had a past just like everyone else. Yet no one had wondered why he’d been brought to Yokohama in the first place. He wasn’t looking for a job and he wasn’t an orphan, so why pull him away from the life he was living? Honestly, he was surprised no one had directly asked him yet. Especially the people he was closest with. Even in that moment one sat across from him and the other at his side, and neither of them noticed the twitching of his arms and legs. The extreme quiet that had taken over him.

 

Perhaps they thought nothing of it. After all, they didn’t know how he’d been treated back home. Didn’t know about the passive-aggressive tactics constantly used or that he’d developed a keen eye for facial expressions or ear for tone for reasons of survival in his own home. And that wasn’t their fault, he had never told them. Never brought it up or even hinted. SO how could he fault them for that? He supposed he’d merely hoped someone would catch on, especially in the past week. The tensions was getting to him, like a cord being pulled taught until it snapped—and he didn’t know how much more he could take until he hit his breaking point. It was never a fun feeling, but since being away from home and not having to constantly deal with it, it had been easier. But now, being thrown back into that environment of constant vigilance due to an unfortunate case, he was right back on the farm. Watching every move and always having one ear listening to those around him. It was too much for his brain to take—he knew that. But he couldn’t stop. Not until his body forced him too. And god, did he hope that time never came. Panic attacks were never fun, especially when you’re all by yourself. By yourself, because who in the house would care enough to check on him anyway? He’d always have to hide them there in fear of being found out and triggered just for the sake of it. Go figure.

 

The end of the day inched closer and still Kenji had made almost zero progress on his case file. Even as the others started to pack up he sat still, reading and rereading but not retaining anything. He couldn’t think straight at all. It was all too much to deal with at once.

 

Kunikida’s walking stiff. Don’t set him off.

 

Atsushi’s upset about the case. Don’t say anything to him.

 

Dazai’s got that glint in his eyes again. Stay away if you don’t want to get smacked.

 

Slowly, Kenji rose to his feet, shutting his laptop. He pulled his bag onto the desk chair and slid the laptop inside along with a folder of files he still needed to go through, then tugged on the zipper.

 

“Kenji?”

 

He flinched at the roughness of the man’s voice. Shit, he’s mad at me. “Yes, Kunikida-san?”

 

The man raised a brow at him. “Did you finish those reports?”

 

“No, I’m sorry. I’ll have them done for tomorrow.”

 

“Good. I need them to finish my piece of the work.”

 

“Right,” he blurted. Why can’t I do this right? “Got it.”

 

Kunikida watched him as he turned on his heel and left, having to force himself not to run. Running on auto-pilot, he’d made it out of the building and onto the sidewalk before he’d even processed having left. Had Kunikida said something to him? Had anybody else? Why am I like this all the time?

 

He continued down the road with choppy movements, almost running into an intersection because he was too in his own thoughts. Maybe I should’ve just let that car hit me. I can’t do shit right anyway.

 

The cool breeze blew his hair back and filled his ears with more noise. Wind, cars, chatter on the street. And still his mind whirled with an incomprehensible list of thoughts that he could barely separate from one another. Just when he thought he’d pinpointed one it slipped away with all of the others. It was infuriating. Focus, dammit! You’re not even working right now.

 

A hand landed on his shoulder and he whirled around with a yelp, nearly hitting the girl in the face in the process. “Whoa, Kenji-kun! It’s only me.”

 

Dammit, dammit, dammit. “I’m so sorry, Kyouka.”

 

She offered him a reassuring smile, but all it did was set him on edge. Was there something that she wanted? Did she really mean that?

 

Kyouka fell into step beside him. “You left the office awful fast, are you okay?”

 

He blinked. “Sorry, what did you say?”

 

“I asked if you’re okay.”

 

“Oh. Sorry, I was just caught up in a train of thought, I didn’t mean to leave without you.” He paused for a moment, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his overalls to hide the shaking. “But, yes, I’m fine.”

 

“Oh. You’ve just seemed off the last few days. And this case wasn’t easy, especially on you.”

 

He tried to laugh, but it came out more like a bark. “It’s not the first time I’ve been target practice, don’t worry about me.”

 

She drew her brows together. “What?”

 

I know that look. He waved a hand, turning to avoid looking her in the eyes. “Did you finish your report?”

 

“Yeah. You didn’t though, I heard.”

 

Kenji stiffened, nails digging into his palms. “It won’t take me much longer, I swear.”

 

“Do you want some help? I’m not busy tonight.”

 

“I, uh…” No one can know I’m this incompetent. “No, that’s okay, Kyouka. Maybe we’ll hang out once I’m done, though?”

 

“Sure.” She smiled again, but he couldn’t help but feel she was disappointed. Not again. He couldn’t keep letting people down.

 

They walked the rest of the way home in silence, side by side, but he felt more alone than ever. He could’ve said something. Should’ve said something. But he didn’t and that was his own fault. He felt her eyes on him, her presence keeping him tense, but he was still lonely. Everyone thought they knew him, yet no one knew him as well as they thought they did. Kyouka was by far the closest because he let her be, but she still didn’t know everything. Even if telling her everything could be beneficial to him.

 

Even though he wanted her around. Wanted her presence when he was having a bad day. Because she made him feel better, she was his girlfriend for a reason, after all. He knew that if he asked her to listen, she’d be all ears. She’d offer a hug and do what she could to make him feel better. But it would be wasted on him, her effort. He didn’t deserve it for constantly being a pain in the ass. Maybe if he could do things right and act like some sort of ‘normal’ person, could pass as one, then it wouldn’t be. But he knew that was impossible. It was him they were talking about.

 

When they reached the dorms, Kyouka grabbed his arm as he headed for his door. He spun to face her, doing his best to keep the gasp from escaping. “What is it, Kyouka?”

 

She took his hand that had been pulled from his pocket, frowning at the way it trebled between hers. “Are you really okay, Kenji?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“You know you don’t have to lie to me, right? If something’s wrong, you can tell me. Even if you think it’s stupid.”

 

“I’m okay.”

 

She nodded, dropping his hand and going on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Okay. Well, if you need something, I’m always here. Remember that.”

 

Shit, she knew. She really did know. Kenji forced himself to smile. “Thanks, Kyouka. I’ll see you later.”

 

“See you.”

 

He watched as she jogged up the stairs, listening for the sound of her door closing before he turned back to his. Turning the keys in the lock he let himself in and flipped on the light as he toed off his shoes. He dropped his bag to the floor beside his shoes, then stepped up onto the hardwood, crossing the floor without another thought.

 

Ten minutes later, Kenji realized he was standing at the kitchen counter, water still running over his hands. He scowled at it, then shut the water off and shook his head. Of course it did nothing, but he’d had to hope it would help. His mind spun. What was he doing? What was he supposed to be doing?

 

So many thoughts swirled around that he couldn’t keep them straight—it was overwhelming. Kenji clamped his hands to the sides of his head as if to hold his thoughts still, clenching his eyes shut. That didn’t help. They just spun behind his eyelids instead of purely in his head. More room for them to roam and make a mess of his sanity.

 

With an aggravated huff, he retrieved his bag from the front door and sat down at the small table. When he pulled it out a rush of anxiety coursed through his body. He couldn’t get it done then and he surely wouldn’t get it done now. But Kunikida was counting on him. He had to finish it.

 

His fingers flew over the keys as he forced his brain to spit out a jumble of words. It only made him more upset—the words probably didn’t make any sense. Was this comprehendible or was it simply a bunch of overload-induced garble? He didn’t know, despite being the one that wrote it. The letters began to jumble before his eyes, and he blinked hard to force them back. Sentences flooded into other sentences and although there was punctuation his brain didn’t process it. How could anyone else understand his work of he barely could?

 

Man, Kunikida was going to kill him.

 

As if summoned by that that, his phone buzzed in his pocket He pulled it out and read the message that lit up the screen.

 

Kunikida: I’m going to need everyone to work overtime tomorrow.

 

Dazai: how about no

 

Atsushi: I think I need a break, Kunikida-san

 

Kunikida: you can have a break when this is done. No slacking off.

 

Kenji set the phone down, the screen still lit up. He tried to go back to his work as the conversation continued, but his hands trembled over the keyboard, making it hard to make the proper keystrokes. He brought his hands closer to his body instead, clutching his elbows.

 

Yosano: why do you need us to work overtime anyway?

 

Kunikida: the culprit wasn’t working alone. And there’s more children involved. Apparently, they weren’t discovered to be being abused at the centre at first because they were in another group and it was more passive-aggressive than anything else. But they have bit hit before and the man’s ability does pose a threat to them and the rest of the centre.

 

Junichiro: That’s awful

 

Kunikida: that’s why I need Kenji’s report so quickly. It’s urgent.

 

A wave of heat flooded through him; the heaviness of his head lightened enough that it made him dizzy. If only he could think he could work with it, but the light-headedness didn’t make the fog go away completely.

 

Kunikida: Kenji. Your report is needed ASAP. Get in in tonight.

 

Kenji’s chest hitched with uneven breaths as he stared at the screen. No. No no no no. I’ll never get it in on time. This is all going to go sideways because of me.

 

His breathing got faster the more he thought about it, hands in his hair, mind whirling. He could barely focus on the bare minimum at that moment, how was he supposed to get this done? He should’ve taken Kyouka’s offer. This case as more important than his dignity anyway. He should’ve let her come over and help.

 

Kyouka. His breathing shuddered, another wave of heed washing over him. Kyouka. The only coherent thought in his head was her name. The rest was all a scrambled mess. Nothing made sense. Nothing was put together. It was all just fragments. And yet, when he picked up his phone, his hands seemed to know exactly what to do. He opened their conversation and sent the first thing that came to his mind.

 

I really need you right now.

 

Her reply was almost instant. I’ll be right there.

 

True to her word, she was walking in the door less than a minute later, eyes scanning the small dorm. It didn’t take her long to spot Kenji, sitting with his elbows on the table and head in his hands, breathing harsh while his legs jolted against the table legs. Her mouth fell open a bit and she knelt down next to him, one hand on his back.

 

“Kenji, what’s going on?”

 

“Need. You.”

 

“Okay, honey. I’m right here.” He nodded breathlessly and she bit her lip. “Is this because of the chat? Because of work?”

 

He gave her something between a nod and a shake of the head, an incoherent noise accompanying it.

 

“Something outside of work?”

 

He clenched his eyes shut, shaking his head before pausing and tilting it side to side.

 

She rubbed his back in response to his shaky breaths. “Breathe…”

 

“’M sorry.”

 

“Why are you sorry?”

 

“Messed up.”

 

“What did you mess up?”

 

“That. This.” He shuddered. “All of it.”

 

Kyouka furrowed her brows, adjusting her position so she could see his face. “All of what?”

 

“Just—just everything!”

 

“I’m sorry, Kenji, I really don’t understand…”

 

“I-I’ve messed up all of it, all the time! And now everyone is mad like they always were at ho—ome and I can see it in their faces and and in their voices and it’s my fault we’re behind and the guy’s hurting kids and now I can’t save other kids like me because of myself!”

 

“What do you mean because of yourself?”

 

“I—I—I can’t think straight! I can’t even think at all! Nothing makes any sense and I can’t process anything so I just sit there and don’t start anything because there’s just too much in my brain at once! And then Kunikida was frustrated and Atsushi was upset and Fukuzawa was popping up all over the place and and and then I left you at the office without thinking because Kunikida found out my report wasn’t done because I couldn’t think right and I just… I just…”

 

“Woah, woah,” said Kyouka, looking him in the eyes as his chest hitched. From that and the tone of his voice, it was inevitable that he was going to cry. “Kunikida isn’t mad at you, Kenji-kun. He’s just frustrated at this whole situation, that’s all.”

 

“Then why… why did he look at me like that? And why did he sound like that?”

 

“Like what?”

 

His eyes widened and he tugged at his hair. “You didn’t notice? You couldn’t tell how he felt by those things? His tone changed. And he sits behind me and his breathing changed, I heard it! And I knew he was mad. So I kept moving away when he came passed my desk and I…”

 

“Why would you know that stuff?”

 

Tears welled in his eyes. “Because I had to know! At home my parents were like this all the time. If I didn’t notice it would always end up badly. I could tell the moment they walked into the room if they were gunna use me in the fields for target practice or if I had their permission to speak or not. And it—its not normally like that here but all week—”

 

“All week its been tense like that. Right?”

 

He nodded vigorously, choking on his own breaths. “And I can’t handle it when it lasts this long its like being back home again its too much! It’s just too much! Please, I just want it to stop please make it stop! I need to make it stop!”

 

“Kenji…” She rubbed his upper arms, watching the first tears slide down his face.

 

“P-please! I don’t want to have to keep finding ways to clear my head I just want to be like everybody else! But it gets—it gets to be so—o mu—uch that I want to bash my head off of the off of the wall or dig a knife into my arms—s to make it stop just for a minute!” He choked back a sob once, but wasn’t successful the second time. “Just for a minute, please.”

 

Kyouka took Kenji in her arms, holding him tight. “I’m sorry you’re going through this, Kenji.”

 

His sobs grew louder as he let go of the last restraints he had. She was here now. He’d let her in. “It hurts, Kyouka, it hurts so bad! I don’t ever know what to do, they’ve made me so confused about, about everything!”

 

“Let it out…”

 

“Nothing was ever right and nothing was ever good enough. I was never good enough and I didn’t know why! No matter wha—at I did it was never, never enough. And I don’t know what to do anymore I don’t want to let anyone else down.”

 

“You haven’t let us down,” she said, rubbing his back. “You haven’t let us down.”

 

“But I let them down and its gunna transfer here eventually, too! It will! I don’t know how but it always seems to follow me so I’m sure it will. I’ll end up being just as incompetent here and I was there and I’ll just continue to feel like this fa—failure of a human being because I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Kyouka, what’s so wrong with me? I don’t, I don’t understa—and, I don’t, I—I—I—”

 

“Hey… hey, hey, hey, breathe… Breathe, Kenji.”

 

He sucked in a sharp breath, shuddering on the exhale. “I’m so sorry…”

 

“No, don’t be,” she said, smoothing his hair. “Don’t be. It’s alright.”

 

He hiccoughed, then pushed his face further into her neck. “I’m so scared and overwhelmed and my parents aren’t even here…”

 

“I’m not surprised, what with what they seemed to do to you. They hit you?”

 

“Sometimes. Do it for hours when my ability was active and other times for not as long.” He sniffed. “To scare me, I think…”

 

“Probably. I’m so sorry that happened to you, babe.”

 

“I—It’s not your faul—lt.”

 

“Just breathe… take some deep breaths for me, okay?”

 

“Okay…”

 

“Have you had panic attacks before?” He nodded. “A lot?”

 

“At home, yes.”

 

“Not here?”

 

“Not so much. But sometimes.”

 

Kyouka pressed a kiss to his forehead and then pulled back, cupping his face. Kenji stared back at her, his eyes red and puffy and his face tear-streaked. “I love you, you know.”

 

He sniffed again. “I know.”

 

“I want you to really know that. Because you’re hurting. And your parents should have never done that to you.”

 

“Okay…”

 

She pursed her lips at the way his voice croaked, then swiped the last of hos tears away with her thumbs. “I mean that. I love you. And you’re important to me. To all of us. Never once have you let us down and you’re not incompetent. You’re not a failure. You were just overwhelmed.”

 

“Back home it was the same thing. I could never get my homework done or focus on the stuff happening at home because there was always this pressure and this tense atmosphere. It was so scary, Kyouka, I could just never think straight. Someone was always mad at me for something and usually I didn’t even know what.”

 

“So know you feel like you deserve it?” He nodded. Kyouka looked down as she set her hands in her lap. “Before you said that you wanted to bash your head off of a wall?”

 

“I’ve done it a few times,” he admitted, looking the other way.

 

“And, the knife in your arm? Have you been cutting yourself, Kenji?”

 

He looked up at her, gulped, and then pulled up his sleeves. Usually they covered halfway down his forearm, and when he pulled them up, a mix of red and white slashes marked both of them. Not too many, but enough to make Kyouka tear up. She took his hands. “Please don’t hurt yourself, baby.”

 

“It’s not that easy,” Kenji mumbled. “I… I do it when I get so overwhelmed that I feel like I need to jump out of my own skin. And doing that is like letting out some of that energy, that feeling. They’re not deep and I don’t do it often.”

 

“I’d rather you not do it at all…”

 

“I’m sorry…”

 

“No, no, please don’t apologize for this.” She looked back down at the marks on his arms and then back up to his face. “I’m sorry that you’re in pain. How long has it been since you did this?”

 

“I dunno,” he shrugged, pursing his lips. “A few weeks? Maybe a month?”

 

“Did you feel like doing it today?”

 

He nodded. “And I probably would have if I hadn’t texted you.”

 

“I’m glad that you did. Thank you for telling me about this.”

 

“Thank you for coming as quickly as you did.”

 

“You said you needed me,” she said, brushing hair out of his eyes.

 

“I did.”

 

They sat in silence for a moment while Kyouka brushed her thumbs over Kenji’s knuckles. “Do you think we can stretch that month into two?”

 

“Maybe…”

 

“Tell me when you feel like hurting yourself again, please. Because I know that it won’t just stop.”

 

Kenji nodded. “I will…”

 

“I think you should talk to Dr. Yosano about this.”

 

Kenji froze, staring at her with frigid eyes. “I…”

 

“I’ll go with you, if you want. You won’t have to do this alone. She needs to know both about the cuts and about your parents.”

 

He watched her for a minute and then dropped his gaze. “Yes, I guess you’re right.”

 

“Tomorrow?”

 

“You promise that you will go with me?”

 

“Of course. I promise.”

 

A smile quirked his lips. “Thank you.”

 

“There’s no need to thank me. Now, how about I help you finish this report, hmm?”

 

He nodded. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

 

She waved him off, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Anytime.”

 

He smiled then. “Oh, and Kyouka?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I love you, too.”

Notes:

Helloooo. I hope that this wasn't complete and utter garbage. it's like 4 am, my brain is as foggy as Kenji's, and I don;t know if any of this even makes sense. I hope that it does at least make some sense but who fucking knows. Anyways, I have a job orientation at 9am so I need to go. I just needed to write this to calm myself down so... um... yeah. Sorry that I keep writing about Kenji, I hope its not annoying. He's my comfort character so I guess I just feel most comfortable writing about him. Anyway. Leave your thoughts/comments/requests down below. More requests are coming. Until next time, guys. -Emma :)

Chapter 53: The Teachings of Trauma (Atsushi and Akutagawa)

Summary:

Hello! Sorry that it has been so long, the ADHD has not bene very helpful. Anyway, this was requested, but I cannot find the username of the person who requested this. If you're reading this, I'm so sorry. I hope that you like this oneshot!!

With new findings on a previously closed case, Atsushi gets sent reeling back into thoughts of his trauma.

TRIGGER WARNING: Panic attack, self-harm (no actual self-harm, but very very close)

Atsushi flipped through stacks of paper, double and triple checking their completion status, dates, and signatures. One stapled report after another, he shuffled through them, chewing on his lip as his eyes scanned the lines of print. Twenty reports, thirty reports, thirty-five…

 

He paused, staring out the window past Dazai’s empty desk. He never bothered to ask the others where Dazai was anymore—they’d be no help. Always thought he was off with a woman or trying to kill himself again, and yet, no one seemed worried. Of course, Dazai had obviously yet to succeed, but Atsushi couldn’t help but wonder what if he did? Would the rest of the Agency care? Because they sure didn’t seem to when it was brought up.

 

He couldn’t see them not caring. Both Tanizaki and Kenji were openly caring people, and so were Kunikida and Yosano when that first layer was peeled back. Ranpo and Dazai were friends and Dazai was a sort of mentor to Kyouka. He couldn’t see any of them not caring. And yet… not a single one of them stopped him and asked him not too. And he meant something to them. He was important. A partner, a mentor, a friend…

 

But what was Atsushi? He’d only been there a few months—he lacked that relationship with the others. If something had happened to him… if he died… would they care? Surely not. Not even his family had cared enough to keep him. And if no one cared enough to stop Dazai, no one would miss him if he died. Showed how valuable he was…

 

“Atsushi?”

 

“Hmm?” Atsushi’s head whipped up, blinking at Kunikida. “Sorry, I got caught up in my thoughts, did you say something?”

 

“I have a new task for you.”

 

“Kunikida-san, I’m still not done Dazai’s reports.”

 

He waved a hand. “Leave them, we’ll get them done eventually. Here.”

 

Atsushi took the manilla folder from Kunikida and scrutinized it. The date, the signature, the completion status. All already finished. “But Kunikida-san, this case report has already been finalized.”

 

“We thought so, but it turns out there’s been new information uncovered and it needs to be looked into again.”

 

“I see. Not to be rude, but why me? Surely this would be something for Ranpo-san to look at? Or Tanizaki-san?”

 

Kunikida bobbed his head in agreement. “I would ask Tanizaki to do it, but he and Kenji are out on a case right now.”

 

“Then Ranpo?”

 

“I believe the one to work on this case should be you. After all, you and Tanizaki-kun worked this case together. I’m sure you’ll remember it.”

 

“Tanizaki and I have worked many cases together, I doubt it will all come flooding back. But I can sure give it a try.” He sighed and began clearing space on his desk for the folder.

 

“Atsushi?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“If you can’t finish it, leave it for Tanizaki. And don’t worry about waiting for him, I know you have your own case to work on with Akutagawa later.”

 

Atsushi squinted at the man. “Okay. Thanks.”

 

Kunikida went back to his work, leaving Atsushi to look through the folder on his own. Wondering what had caused Kunikida to say that, he pulled the papers from the envelope, setting them down and reaching into his desk drawer for a highlighter. He pulled off the cap and slipped it on the other end, twiddling it between his fingers as he went back to the report. Something about it seemed familiar. It had only been a few months ago and the case had been closed, stating that it hadn’t been a murder, only pedestrian hit by a truck. Why did that sound so familiar, he wondered, flipping the page of the stapled report.

 

The highlighter fell to the desk from Atsushi’s limp hand. Two-toned eyes widened at the sight of the orphanage headmaster staring up at him with that ever-present scrutinizing expression. It was as if all of the air left his lungs at the sight of his abuser and he had to force himself to blink, to take a deep breath, to look away. But even once he’d flipped the page, the image flashed before him as if he was still looking at it. Blinking it away didn’t do much, for the image still lingered in his head much like they headmaster’s presence always did. As he had told Akutagawa, the headmaster would always be there inside of his head. And this only intensified that feeling.

 

Atsushi flipped more pages, searching for the new information. Contrary to what he’d told Kunikida, it had all come flooding back. The blood surrounding his body, the flower shop, the gun… Tanizaki trying to comfort him, calling after him, Dazai’s words, Akutagawa’s free pass. All of it. It would be hard for him not to remember one of the most mentally taxing days of his life. Never before had he felt so conflicted and never again did he want to feel that way. But he realized over the course of the following hour, that it was inevitable. What with the prior abuse, the reason he’d been in Yokohama, and the new found evidence that suggested murder, it was all too much.

 

That day, Tanizaki had told Atsushi the headmaster had sold a pistol to pay for flowers to give Atsushi. He had come to congratulate him, but lost the newspaper he had been using to track him down, ending in him being hit by a truck. At the time it had seemed an unfortunate accident, but upon new criminal records being dredged up on the truck driver, the police weren’t so sure. From the organization he was a part of, The Park, it seemed as though that truck driver was supposed to be targeting the headmaster due to his ties to Atsushi.

 

Atsushi chewed his bottom lip. The Park… that was the organization they’d thought they took out right after he and Akutagawa fought Francis on the Moby Dick. Where Kenji had ripped off the gigantic door and Yosano had repeatedly tortured the guy with a chainsaw. They hated the Armed Detective Agency and likely wanted revenge…

 

Atsushi flipped the page again, startling at what he found. It was sheet of personal information about him. His birthday, blood type, the names of his parents, the date he’d been accepted into the orphanage and the date he was kicked out… Everything he could think of was there. He set the page down, staring at the desk absently. So it was true… they targeted him for his ties to Atsushi. They didn’t even care that the man had seemed to hate him for 18 years. As soon as he took an interest they killed him.

 

Atsushi took a deep breath, trying to calm his breathing. It was happening again—people getting hurt because of him. That monster, Fyodor, had wanted some book that supposedly had to do with him and it had gotten all of his friends hurt. Kunikida lost his hands, Akutagawa was nearly killed, Kenji was repeatedly stabbed, Dazai ended up in jail, Tanizaki was threatened with Naomi and had to try and take care of himself and Kenji, and Yosano was nearly executed. And that wasn’t even all of it! Gin nearly lost her brother, Tachihara was blinded, and that poor innocent girl, Aya, had almost died too! All because of some book that he didn’t even understand how he was connected to. And even before that, with Shibusawa…

 

His breathing stuttered. It was happening again. It happened again. No one was safe if they associated themselves with him. Not even the man who hurt him as a child was safe! Because he stopped hurting him.

 

This is what happens when I’m not hurt… Everyone else gets hurt.

 

So I need to hurt. I deserve to hurt.

 

Atsushi clenched his fists, hoping to make them stop shaking. But they only shook harder and he put them in his lap instead, screaming at himself internally, why? Why did he have to be a burden on the people around him? Why did he have to be this… this abomination wrapped in human skin?

 

He was thrown away by his parents in a trash bag. Beat up and bruised and tortured by the headmaster. Bullied by the other kids. Thrown out of the only home he’d ever had, despite how horrible it had been. Because of this wretched ability he’d been cursed with. Because of this inherently evil connection he seemed to have that cast harm on others.

 

He clenched his eyes shut, focusing on his breathing. Not now.  This couldn’t happen now, right before a mission.

 

And yet, his breathing didn’t improve. The shaking worsened. The thoughts that jumbled together in his brain pressed against his skull, against his eyes, forcing the thoughts and images to flood his mind. Images of carnage, of bloodshed. Of Akutagawa’s slashed throat. Of Kunikida’s bandaged stumps. The sound of Kenji’s screams from nightmares. Of Tanizaki trying to calm him down. Of Yosano shouting to different people, trying to help the unjured in the best she could. All because of him.

 

That was why they wouldn’t care if he died. That was why they would be relieved. Because the pain would no longer fall on them but on him. And they could stand back and laugh and wait for his miserable life to finally come to an end. The way it should. The way it was meant to. The pain, the blood, the screaming should all be his. He shouldn’t have to see Akutagawa bleed, see Kenji cry, or see Kunikida panic. Because Akutagawa shouldn’t have been injured, because it hurt to see Kenji’s tears, and because Kunikida was already stressed and overworked as it was. None of them deserved what they got, and it hurt him to think about it. To see it, to hear it, all of it. And that was a sign for what was needed. What he needed to do.

 

Atsushi could hear his heartbeat in his ears, could practically feel the blood pumping through his body and it itched. His skin itched. Everything was too much, too loud, too close, too claustrophobic. Claustrophobic in his own body that just didn’t feel right. His chest was heavy with heartache and pain, tears welling behind his eyes as he wished to jump out of his own skin and sink into the floor. Atsushi pulled his desk drawer open and rifled around inside of it, producing a box-cutter and shoving it into a pocket with one trembling hand as he stood from his chair.

 

No one so much as glanced in his direction. Not Naomi, sitting at the bank of desks across from him. Not Ranpo, munching on chips while reading the newspaper, not Yosano as he passed by the infirmary on shaking legs. Not even Kunikida who only nodded at him as he came out of the bathroom and Atsushi was going in. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or upset, but the thought was quickly drowned out by the others, screaming at him to hurry up and get to it. Hide, Freak. You don’t want them to know what you’re doing, it will only hurt them more.

 

Atsushi brought a hand to his mouth to stifle a cry, using his other hand to check the stalls for anyone else’ presence. Once he reached the end he opened pulled open the door to the biggest stall at the end and nearly collapsed once he’d locked the door. He cringed at the jolt to his knees as they hit the tiles, but reminded himself he needed it. No… he wanted it.

 

He wanted to hurt. Wanted the pain. After so many years of suffering and thinking he didn’t want it… he’d finally realized the truth. That he did want it. Because if he wasn’t the recipient, others would be, and he couldn’t have that. They may have been done with him, but he cared about them all too much to let them continue hurting.

 

A hiccough escaped Atsushi’s throat as he pulled the box-cutter from his pocket, the blade shaking against his skin as he held it to one bare wrist.

 

You’re worthless. Do it.

 

*

Akutagawa rolled his eyes as he trudged up the Agency’s dim stairwell. Another case with the Jinko, another day full of frustration. He’d never admit that Atsushi had grown on him considerably, but that didn’t stop him from annoying the fuck out of him. Of course, Atsushi had visited him in the hospital when he’d nearly died, which had left him more at ease than annoyed. He was actually grateful for his presence when he was at his weak point, and it had actually made him happy to hear that the Jinko was glad he wasn’t dead.

 

That being said, their first mission back they’d gone straight back to bickering, but that was the usual for them, he supposed. They, in their own ways, had shown they cared about each other. He rolled his eyes again as he pulled open the door to the hallway to the agency—he was growing soft towards him. Disgusting.

 

Akutagawa checked his watch. Five minutes early. He scanned the area and spotted the men’s bathroom door, deciding that he might as well use the washroom before heading out on a case that could take God-knows-how-long. He stuffed his hands back in his pockets and continued down the hall, shouldering the door open before stopping as the door closed silently behind him. He wasn’t alone, and the other guy sounded like he was crying. Akutagawa furrowed his brows, stepping further into the room as quietly as he could, trying to figure out who it was out of his own curiosity.

 

At first he wondered if perhaps it was Dazai-san, but as he got a bit closer he realized the person wasn’t wearing tan pants, which ruled out both Dazai and the grumpy guy with the glasses. Perhaps the blond boy, or he red-headed boy that Atsushi was friends with? No, they were wearing black shoes. Black boots if he was exact. Akutagawa stopped, frozen in place one stall down. Those were Atsushi’s boots. It was Atsushi that was crying.

 

Akutagawa blinked in shock. Out of all of the shit he’d put the guy through or seen him go through, he’d never seen him shed a tear. But here he was, crying on the bathroom floor. He couldn’t help wondering what had made him so emotional, but quickly decided that he would leave him alone and come back later. Surely he’d be done in a minute. But the words that tumbled from Atsushi’s mouth at that same moment in a rush of anguish made him change his mind.

 

“You deserve pain. Just do it.”

 

Akutagawa whirled around, staring at the small portion of Atsushi that he could see under the stall wall. What had he said? Just do it? Do what?

 

“It’s all—my fault—anyway. Fuck. I need to just, just do it!”

 

Akutagawa quickly decided that he didn’t care if his assumption was right or wrong—it sounded like Atsushi was trying to hurt himself. His chest tightened into knots—he couldn’t let him do that. He just couldn’t.

 

Summoning Rashoumon, he pulled the door open and dropped to his knees, taking the shaking razor between his fingers and pulling at away. Atsushi was too out of it that he didn’t realize who was there at first, he only fought back to pull the box-cutter back towards him. “No, no no no, give it back!”

 

“No, Jinko. I’m not going to let you do that.”

 

With a gasp, Atsushi snapped back to reality, staring up at his partner. “Akutagawa—how? I—”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” he stated, swatting Atsushi’s hand away. “I’m not going to let you harm yourself like that.”

 

Atsushi, with tears still falling down his face, turned to look the other way. He shook, but Akutagawa couldn’t tell if it was from being upset or being angry. “Why? Why won’t you let me? I-I deserve it anyway! It’s going to come to everybody else if I don’t take it myself, I need to take it, I-I-I want, want to ta—ake it.”

 

“No.”

 

“I-I mean I even got beat as a child because I deserved it. All of the suffering was my own fault anyway so why, why should it sto—op now? It shouldn’t stop, it can’t stop. Everyone else will get hurt.”

 

“Nobody else is going to get hurt, Jinko.”

 

“They will! That’s why I was punished, because I’m a problem and I deserved it! They just wanted to get rid of me before I became a bigger problem but I couldn’t even do that right!”

 

Akutagawa stayed in place as Atsushi shuddered, his torso moving with his laboured breaths. He watched more tears fall into the boy’s lap and into his aggravating uneven bangs. “The reason that you were beat as a child is because that man was an awful human being.”

 

“Y-you don’t understand! I want—I need—it to hurt, please!”

 

“No,” said Akutagawa, shifting to place the box-cuter behind him on the floor, out of his partner’s reach. He placed a hand on Atsushi’s back, worried by the harshness of his breathing. “Now breathe before you pass out.”

 

“I can’t. I can’t, I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe,” he sobbed, pulling his knees to his chest. “It’s all I can think about and it won’t leave me alone! Why won’t it leave me alone??”

 

Knowing he needed to calm Atsushi down before he was sick or passed out, Akutagawa scooted closer to him and slipped an arm around his back. To his surprise, Atsushi curled in towards him, crying into his right shoulder. He froze, staring down at the head of white hair under his chin. Slowly, he relaxed into the embrace, allowing his hand to rest on the boy’s side. He rubbed up and down in long, repetitive motions, hoping to calm him down.

 

A louder cry came from Atsushi followed by a few quick gasps for air. Akutagawa let out a long breath. “Breathe, Atsushi.”

 

Akutagawa didn’t say much else for the remainder of the time they sat there. He didn’t need to. He knew that Atsushi would calm down in a few minutes and he’d be able to talk to him rationally—besides, he seemed to respond to his method just fine. He just needed somebody to be there with him and that was all, no talking necessary.

 

After a while, Atsushi sniffed and spoke without raising his head. “Why did you stay? Why didn’t you make fun of me for freaking out like that?”

 

“There was nothing to laugh about. You were seriously going to harm yourself and I didn’t want that.”

 

“Why do you even care?” Atsushi mumbled, his voice muffled by his partner’s coat.

 

Akutagawa took Atsushi’s left arm, the one the razor had previously hovered over. It still remained scar-free. “Because I don’t want to see those same marks on your arms that I’ve seen on Dazai-san’s. On Chuuya-san’s. On mine.”

 

Atsushi raised his head to look his partner in the eyes. “You’ve self-harmed?”

 

“When things had been particularly bad for me, yes, Jinko. I did.”

 

Atsushi swiped at his eyes with the back of his hands. “Chuuya has done it, too?”

 

“Yes. Although, I don’t think he knows that I know. He was pretty drunk the night that I saw them. So don’t say anything to him or I will skin you.”

 

“Got it.”

 

“You weren’t surprised about Dazai-san?”

 

Atsushi shook his head with a sniff, sitting back from Akutagawa. “Sad, but not surprised. I figured that’s what was under his bandages.”

 

“That’s exactly what’s under his bandages. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

 

“Nope.” Atsushi paused, fixing his tie. “Do you think he will ever tell me about them?”

 

“He’s closer with you than he was with me, so I’m sure that he will. But he didn’t exactly tell me, I sort of found out by accident.”

 

“Accident?”

 

“I’ll tell you another day. We have a case to be on.”

 

“Oh shit! What time is it?”

 

“We’re late.”

 

“Crap, I’m so sorry,” said Atsushi, stumbling to his feet. “Man, I—”

 

“Don’t worry about it.”

 

“What?”

 

Akutagawa half-smiled. “I know what it’s like. Don’t worry about it.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes. But don’t expect a free pass next time you’re late.”

 

“Of course not,” said Atsushi, splashing water in his face at the sink. “Fuck, I totally look like I was crying.”

 

“Well, yeah.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Akutagawa rolled his eyes. “You look fine, plus it’s windy outside, no one will know the difference.”

 

“If you’re sure,” he said, patting his face dry with paper towel.

 

“Atsushi?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I was serious, you know?”

 

He dropped his arms and watched him for a moment. “I know.”

 

“I don’t want to see those marks on your arms. I will check in with you.”

 

“Why? I mean, this was a one-time thing and I’m… I’m just your annoying partner.”

 

“Annoying partner or not, you’re still my partner. And partner’s look after each other. Right?”

 

“Yeah. I guess they do.”

 

“Good. Alright, now let’s go.”

 

Atsushi fell into step beside him once they reached the hallway. “So… will you continue to lose my first name now?”

 

“What?”

 

“You called me Atsushi.”

 

“Sorry, it won’t happen again, Jinko.”

 

Atsushi rolled his eyes. “Goddamn it.”

 

“You really thought that would change things?”

 

“No, but it was worth a shot.”

 

“You truly are hopeless, Jinko.”

 

The sounds of jeers and laughter followed the two down the hall and out onto the street, echoing behind them as they went. The two walked to their destination together, with a new mutual understanding solidifying their relationship. And although they wouldn’t talk about it again, it always lurked in the backs of their minds.

 

Atsushi felt the same way he had a billion times. And Atsushi… well… maybe there was somebody who cared about him after all. And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t deserve all of that pain.

Notes:

Hellooooo! I hope that you all enjoyed this oneshot! I have a few things to say. First, a question. There is going to be a Tragedy--Part 4 (remember the one where i tortured Kenji whoops--). Should I create another post on my profile that's just that story (edited of course) because it is multiple parts. It will still stay here, but I think it would make sense to put it by itself as well.

Second... you guys the groupchat fic has given me Kenji brainrot and I'm so sorry. I have so many one-shot ideas but I haven't been writing them because I don't want to be annoying. Like... I need other characters to write ahah... But other characters are hard, too, so like, help. Anyway. If you want more Kenji oneshots say I. Or just comment, whatever you want. I just don;t want to be annoying with posting the same character all the time, which is why I haven't posted for a while.

Okay okay that's all for now. Until next time, guys!! -Em :)

Chapter 54: Agree to Disagree (Kenji, Kyouka, Atsushi, and Junichiro--High School AU)

Summary:

Hey guys! So this is a bit different than what I normally post here. I actually wrote this back in April during my exams for a final portfolio for a creative writing class. I had to write a piece of realism with first-person perspective (which I never write, yikes). Anyway, I wrote it as a fanfic, just with changed names. So I went back edited the piece and changed the names to their respective BSD characters that they were originally based off of. I hope that you enjoy this no ability, high school AU!

I’ve never had much experience with social interaction—growing up in an orphanage tends to do that to people. But, ending up an extremely lucky seventeen-year-old, I was given the opportunity when my family adopted me; plucked me from the pits of hell and placed me lovingly into a house of eight other foster children.

 

Some had clearly been there longer than others, and by that I mean Ranpo, Doppo, and Akiko. They’ve been with Mr. Fukuzawa for at least five years longer than me, and in Ranpo’s case, I think about ten. I don’t know much about him, but he seems a bit off. Well, actually, everyone here seems a bit off. I guess I probably do, too. But again, with my lack of interaction, I wouldn’t know.

I walked the school hallways with my best friend Junichiro, who also lived with Mr. Fukuzawa. He’d been there a year longer than I had, taken from his family along with his younger sister, Naomi, by CPS. They’d gone to the same school the entire time, so I’d like to call them lucky. He’d likely argue with me, so I didn’t bring it up. But the more I watched him talk, the more I wondered about the nuances I noticed that he didn’t. The aspects of social life, of friends, of bullies… of school in general. Are my short few months of high school experience the same as everyone else here?

 

My thoughts had drifted, but Junichiro was talking again, and I did my best to zone in and listen. “I’m worried about Kenji. He’s only been here a bit longer than you, Atsushi, and he’s just… different. Not in a bad way, of course, he’s such a sweet kid. But ninth graders are mean—nowhere near as bad as seniors—but still mean.”

 

“They are?”

 

He looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “Of course they are. Haven’t you noticed?”

 

I shook my head. “No. I noticed other things, though.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“The way people’s voices change when they pretend to like you. Or how people insult their friends and they don’t get offended.”

 

“Well, yeah. Of course they do.”

 

“And the athletic kids get an odd amount of people intimidated by them when they’re just like everyone else. And the nice people get picked on for being nice.”

 

Junichiro sighed. “That’s why I’m so worried about Kenji. He’s too nice. And the kid’s gunna get trampled.”

 

“Don’t you think he’ll be okay as long as Kyouka’s around?”

 

He shook his head with a scowl. “No. A guy being protected by a girl?”

 

“What’s wrong with that?”

 

“Guys are supposed to be all tough and not care. We’re the ones supposed to protect the girls.”

 

“Why? I’d be much more intimidated by Kyouka then by Kenji.”

 

“That’s the problem.” Junichiro sighed, stopping to face his locker. I leaned against the one next to his, listening to him explain. “Kyouka’s more intimidating and she’s a girl. But it should be the other way around.”

 

“It should?”

 

“Well, no, it shouldn’t. But that’s how we’re raised.”

 

“I wasn’t.”

 

“Yes, well, you were raised to think everyone was above you and you’d amount to nothing.”

 

I flinched. “You didn’t have to go there.”

 

“It’s true though. It’s probably why your interpretation is so different than mine.”

 

I tilted my head, chewing my bottom lip. “Then why is Kenji’s so different?”

 

“Mr. Fukuzawa swiped him from a town up north. Super secluded. They had their own little culture up there, so he’s pretty clueless.”

 

“I wouldn’t say he’s clueless… He just prefers honesty and genuine kindness to fighting and sarcasm.”

 

Junichiro gave me a look. “That’s not normal.”

 

“It’s not?”

 

“No!”

 

I adjusted my books in my arms, wondering how there could be so many different interpretations. “Okay, then what about Kyouka? Her circumstances are off, too, right?”

 

He nodded, kicking his locker shut. Was it necessary to slam it? “After her parents died, a friend of Mr. Fukuzawa’s took her in. She hasn’t been the same since. But she went to school before, so she knows what I know. What most people do.”

 

“Do most people, though?”

 

“I’d think—”

 

We both started when a scream echoed off the walls, along with the thud of someone’s body against the lockers. Whirling around, it was obvious who’d been pinned to the wall—Kenji. His blond hair stuck out against the grey metal of the lockers; the smile normally painted on his face nowhere to be found. Junichiro sighed beside me, then tugged my wrist to move through the crowd.

 

Elbows hit my ribs, my shoulders, the books in my arms—how Junichiro managed to do this so easily was beyond me. But I must’ve held him back, because before he could reach the front, a short girl in a red dress appeared before the crowd.

 

I’d recognize Kyouka anywhere. Her silent demeanour was so loud, and the way she held herself set me on edge; at least when she was agitated. The calm fury that burned in her eyes told me all I needed to know.

 

“Leave him alone.”

 

She didn’t need to say anything else for the two boys that held Kenji up to release his shirt. He dropped to the floor, head bashing the lockers on the way down.

 

Jaden and I stopped at the opening of the group, ignoring the return to normalcy of the crowd around us. We waited patiently, watching Kyouka hold a hand out to Kenji. He took it without hesitation, burying his face in her shoulder to hide his tears. The thickness of his voice gave it away, though. “Why does everyone hate me?”

 

Everyone hated him?

 

“Because they’re stupid and take nice people like you for granted,” Kyouka replied, moving a hand to rest on the back of his head.

 

Was that really why?

 

I didn’t get time to ponder the answer because Junichiro tugged on my arm again. He rested a hand on Kenji’s back, watching honey brown eyes gaze up at him. “Don’t listen to them. They just want to break you down.”

 

“Your happiness scares them. They don’t understand you,” said Kyouka. “So they want to get rid of it.”

 

I couldn’t tell if they were lying to make him feel better or if they were serious. Even though I wanted to understand, there was too many angles. Too many ways to look at it. Why did people act this way? Why do Junichiro and Kyouka have outlooks that are so similar but so different? Why were people scared of others’ happiness? It just didn’t make sense.

 

Kenji’s voice brought me back. “It doesn’t make it hurt less.”

 

Kyouka swiped a tear from his freckled cheek. “Will it hurt you less if I hurt them?”

 

“Please don’t do that,” he sniffed.

 

“She’s not going to,” Junichiro insisted, shooting her a look. “Right?”

 

“Right.”

 

She definitely didn’t mean that, but I don’t blame her. I kind of want to hurt them, too.

 

“Come on,” said Junichiro, looking over the three of us. “Let’s get Atsushi to his locker to grab his lunch, and we can eat outside.”

 

I nodded, watching as Kenji pulled away and swiped at his eyes and Kyouka stood in silence. Small group, big personalities. I doubted I’d ever understand.

 

But that’s okay. I had the best teachers in the world to help me out.

 

 

Notes:

Hello hello! So, what did you guys think? I never write in first person, but I've been thinking about giving it a try a bit more just for soe variation. Anyway, I'm going to post a few more of these pieces that I wrote for that portfolio (hopefully it's not annoying haha). A lot of them are actually KyouKen and a JuniAtsu because I was in a brainrot aha. Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 55: Tainted with Sorrow (Kenji & Junichiro & Chuuya)

Summary:

Written for @PolarChibi! Sorry that this took so ridiculously long, Avi, but I hope that you like it anyway!

Post-current manga arc, Tanizaki and Kenji are sent on an infiltration mission that takes a wrong turn. With Kenji left alone, unsure if Tanizaki is alive or dead, he starts to spiral into a panic. Luckily, with the Port Mafia and ADA working together, Chuuya finds him in the nick of time.

TRIGGER WARNING: blood, violence, panic attack.

Kenji had never held a gun before. Had never really liked the thought of how quickly and needlessly it could take someone’s life. But now, feeling his fingers wrap around the cool metal of the grip, index finger curled around just behind the trigger, he knew for sure that he hated it. Despite being a member of the Armed Detective Agency, where most members held and used guns often, he decided to avoid their use at all costs.

 

The weight in his hands as he crept around corner after corner weighed on his brain instead of his body. The mission may have sounded simple in the briefing that morning, but as soon as Kunikida placed the weapon in his hands, a warning bell went off in his head. Yet again, he would be asked too much of. Yet again, a fourteen-year-old boy would be put in the face of danger, fighting for his life. And after what he endured with the Hunting Dogs, Kunikida wanted to be sure nothing like that would ever happen to him again.

 

What a false sense of security guns gave people. It didn’t matter what weapon you held if someone else got to you first. Aimed first. Took the shot first. And if it wasn’t him, Kenji was scared that it would be his partner. The boy who’d chosen him as a younger brother. Who’d taken care of him when he’d started to crack and break in that abandoned village before being saved by Mori. If something happened to him…

 

Kenji took a deep breath, adjusting his grip which had slipped from his sweaty hands. He couldn’t think about that right now. He had a job to do.

 

“Kenji-kun?”

 

Golden eyes raised to look at Tanizaki, who stood about ten feet ahead of him. He raised his brows in acknowledgement.

 

“What exactly did Kunikida-san have us looking for again?”

 

Kenji glanced both ways at the intersection of the hallway before jogging to catch up to Tanizaki. “A control panel. He wants us to use this USB key Katai gave him to corrupt all of their files.”

 

“Gotcha.”

 

“Remind me again why you aren’t using Light Snow to hide us?” Tanizaki tipped his head back, indicating a device somewhere behind him. Kenji squinted down the hallway, searching the walls and ceiling. He came across a circular white disk that lay nearly flush to the ceiling. “Is that a censor?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“How do they keep making those things?”

 

“Beats me,” said Tanizaki, facing forward again. He motioned for Kenji to follow him and they resumed their journey through the facility. “But whoever first made one had to know more about me than I do.”

 

“That’s a little creepy, don’t you think?”

 

“Nothing surprises me anymore. Best not to let it get to you.”

 

Kenji nodded to himself, a sad smile quirking his lips. He’d used to have that mindset. But it had go to him. What happened with the Hunting Dogs… It was something he would never forget. And although he’d been able to shake off most incidents in the past, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do that anymore. Perhaps, he wondered, watching ginger hair peak out around the red hood of a sweater, that would be Tanizaki’s job now.

 

“And what happens if they find us?”

 

“This place is pretty abandoned. Not many people from the organization seem to work here, from what Ranpo gathered.”

 

“But what if they do? We’d be easily outnumbered, and if I use my ability in such a dilapidated building, it’ll kill us.”

 

“That’s what the gun is for.”

 

Kenji’s eyes widened slightly. There had been no emotion in his voice as he said that, as if it was just par for the course for him. Of course, he supposed it was by now, for Tanizaki. For Kunikida and Dazai as well. Hell, even Atsushi and Kyouka had resorted to using guns on occasion. At this point, and he was sure Yosano had, too. Ranpo even kept one for his own protection, having no other way to protect himself from the agency’s enemies.

 

Kyouka, although technically younger than him, was trusted with higher grade tasks and weapons than he was. Multiple times, he’d overheard himself referred to as the ‘baby’ of the agency. Hell, he was fourteen years old, he was no young child. But in their eyes, in the darkness that clouded the souls of the others, he was a baby. Young, pure, and innocent. Untainted. Until their last big fight. Their last big confrontation where they’d been mistaken for terrorists. And now they treated him differently. As if he’d grown up. But he knew it wasn’t that.

 

He was tainted now, just like all of them. That was the switch that flipped. He’d been sliced, stabbed, blown up, and tortured. Seen and done things no fourteen-year-old should ever have to.

 

Kenji’s fingers shook around the gun despite there being no obvious threat anywhere around him. He couldn’t hold himself together the way he used to before, with that seamless mask that never cracked or showed an inkling of unease. But that mask had been ripped from him as suddenly as the switch had flipped. It was all so new, so sudden, so… overwhelming. He wasn’t some naive little kid anymore. And the magnitude of this mission, this weapon, this situation... it all proved it. And he couldn’t mess it up. Because if he did… he’d have to use the gun. And if he used the gun… someone was either dead or someone else was about to die.

 

He couldn’t take any more death.

 

“Kenji-kun,” Tanizaki whisper-yelled, snapping Kenji from his daze. “Over here!”

 

He narrowed his eyes, slipping through another intersection unnoticed. “What is it?”

 

“Look at that sign up there, around the corner.”

 

Kenji peered around him to the left, straining to read the faded script sticking out from the wall. “A lab?”

 

“Not just any lab,” he grinned. “A computer lab. It probably has all of their important documents in it.”

 

“And probably digital files of them all, too!”

 

“Jackpot!”

 

“You make it sound like we’re looting the place, Junichiro.”

 

“Well, we sort of are. But isn’t it fun to pretend to be the bad guys sometimes? Makes work more fun, doesn’t it?”

 

Kenji smiled in spite of himself. Same old Tanizaki, always trying to make work more fun ever since the day he trained him. Took him out on his first mission, a simple intelligence gathering gig. Even then, Tanizaki had tried to turn it into a game for him. What he would do without him… he wasn’t sure. Even though the other boy would never admit it he knew that he’d been a lifeline for Kenji when he’d first moved to Yokohama. Teaching him how to use money, how to take the train, how to use his laptop—just about everything. They spent every minute of every day together practically, not just because Kenji was new, but because they genuinely liked having each other’s company. They were family, brothers, by choice.

 

Tanizaki startled Kenji from his thoughts as he jerked his gun up in front of him and spun around the corner. He tried to muffle his yelp, but failed, the sound echoing off the tiled walls. He slapped a hand to his mouth, making eye contact with Tanizaki, who’s gaze was both alarmed and questioning. He held a finger to his lips, but it was too late. Their presence had been announced, signalled by the shuffling of multiple pairs of feet nearby.

 

A hand snatched Kenji’s wrist and he found himself stumbling down the hallway after Tanizaki. He was fast, but Tanizaki’s speed and longer legs had him flailing to keep his feet on the ground as their pursuers closed in on their location. Without warning, Kenji hit the ground in a dark room. He cringed as box corners dug into his spine.

 

Kenji blinked rapidly, eyes straining through the darkness to find his partner. Standing merely a foot from him, Tanizaki seemed to be leaning against a door. “Junichi—”

 

“Shh!”

 

He tried to make out the boy’s expression, but he could barely make out the outlines of objects, let alone details. So he sat in silence, staring at the crack in the door that was barely the width of a fingernail. Its light became blocked once, then twice, as people walked by outside. How many there were was undetermined. Could be two or it could be two rows of four…

 

After a moment of no movement from outside the room, Kenji turned his eyes back to Tanizaki. “I thought Ranpo said hardly anyone worked here?”

 

“So did I.”

 

“That seemed like people to me.”

 

“Yeah, it—did you hear that?”

 

“Hear what?”

 

Tanizaki paused, leaning his ear against the door.

 

“Hear what? I haven’t heard a single—”

 

“Shh!” Tanizaki covered Kenji’s mouth with a hand. They stood stock still, breathing as quietly as they could. But it wasn’t quiet enough.

 

The door to the storage closet opened and the boys came tumbling out as men grabbed fistfuls of their clothes and hair. Dragged across the floor and thrown against the walls, the two heaved air into their lungs when they got the briefest of chances. A fist to the nose gave Kenji the chance to sit up and get his bearings for a second before a boot slammed into his chest and knocked the wind out of him.

 

He wheezed, vision going blurry. I’m going to die here… aren’t I?

 

Another boot whacked him in the jaw, sending his head into the wall again. Tanizaki’s voice reached him despite his disorientation. Strangled and pained, he was still able to understand him. “Kenji! Your gun!”

 

Ice shot through his veins. The gun was the last thing he wanted to use. Nevertheless, he reached for it as he was told, fighting off the men’s feet and hands as much as he could. If he used his ability, if he couldn’t control his strength, they would all die. And so, in the only other option, he pulled the gun out and aimed it at the giant blur of man above him. But his hands shook. They shook so bad he couldn’t hold the gun straight. His chin trembled, making it hard to speak. “I can’t…”

 

Tanizaki’s scream only made things worse. He couldn’t save him. He couldn’t help him. It may have been hard to speak, but he could still think. We’re both going to die here, aren’t we?

 

And it’s going to be my fault.

 

“I’m so sorry, Junichiro,” Kenji wheezed.

 

And then a boot hit his face at the same time a gunshot rang out, and everything went black.

 

*

 

“Hey! Hey, kid!”

 

With a dull throbbing in his skull, Kenji focused on the voice that woke him. It was one that he couldn’t place at first, but he also didn’t know where he was or what happened. He forced his eyes open, blinking heavy eyelids to clear his vision.

 

“Kenji?”

 

The two people before him became one, fiery red hair falling into the face of the man leaning over him. “Chuuya-san?” he croaked.

 

“Yeah, it’s me. What happened?”

 

Kenji tilted his head with narrowed eyes. “Hmm?”

 

“What happened to you? You’re bleeding. And where’s Tanizaki?”

 

Absently, Kenji reached up to the epicentre of the radiating pain in his head, flinching when his fingertips hit an open wound, coming away slick with fresh blood. He brought them in front of his face and touched his fingers together, staring at them with out of focus eyes before snapping to attention.

 

“Shit!”

 

“Woah, woah!” Chuuya pushed Kenji back to the ground as he tried to sit up.

 

He fought back, growing more frantic as Chuuya’s ability stopped him from moving. “I remember! I remem—they killed him! They killed him!”

 

“Lay back down, Kenji, you’re hurt.”

 

“They killed him, Chuuya!”

 

Chuuya cringed at the crack in his voice, desperate for him to understand. “You’re not thinking straight, kid. What makes you think they killed Tanizaki? And who’s they?”

 

Kenji searched is face, taking a few deep breaths before continuing. “We got ambushed by a few of the workers. Well… I think they were workers, but I didn’t get a good look.”

 

“They did this to you?”

 

“Yes. But I only remember being hit and kicked, not whatever happened to my head…”

 

“Here, let me help you sit up so I can take a look.”

 

Kenji nodded, then cringed. Even such a small motion hurt, and now that he’d calmed down a bit, his head throbbed and burned as if someone stuck hot pokers into his temples. He squeezed his eyes shut as Chuuya helped him sit against the wall, holding back the pained noises that threatened to escape his throat. Squinted gold eyes watched Chuuya’s face as he took his face in his hands and tilted it, raising both brows at whatever he saw.

 

“You’re one lucky kid.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“Any normal person would’ve been killed by a blow like that.” Noticing Kenji’s creased brows, he elaborated. “They hit you straight in the temple with a blunt object. Maybe a pipe or the butt of a rifle? Either way, it’s bleeding like a stuck pig, you’re lucky the artery wasn’t damaged.”

 

“Right.”

 

Chuuya watched him for a minute—his glossy eyes and pale complexion. “Are you feeling okay, kid?”

 

Kenji forced his eyes open when his eyelids drooped. “Mhmm.”

 

“We should get you to Dr. Yosano.”

 

“No!”

 

Chuuya brought his head back abruptly. “Kenji, you’re—”

 

“I don’t care. The last thing I heard was a gunshot. My friend might be dead.”

 

“You might be dead, too, if we don’t get you to Yosano.”

 

Kenji waved a hand, then tried to get to his feet, swaying on jelly-like legs. “Injuries like this don’t kill me. I’ll be fine. But Taniza—”

 

“I get it. At least let me help you.”

 

He nodded, allowing Chuuya to help him stand without leaning against the wall. He brought a hand to his mouth, swallowing down the bile that threatened to escape while his vision swam. A moment later, he walked on his own, following a trail of blood droplets down the hallway.

 

“Thank you for helping me,” Kenji murmured after a while.

 

“No need. Our organizations are supposed to be helping each other.”

 

“I know. You’re just very kind.”

 

Chuuya gazed down at Kenji out of the corner of his eye, an amused smile growing on his face. This kid was saying that he was kind? Him? An executive of the Port Mafia? He shook his head. Kenji would always be a mystery to him. How he stayed so positive and kept such an optimistic attitude. Saw the good in everyone. He almost laughed.

 

Chuuya cut himself off. Watching Kenji the past half-hour had been more than enough to clue him in that something was different. Perhaps he still saw the good in everyone… but that optimism, that happiness, was tainted with sorrow. He remembered what the kid was like before. Happy go lucky, chatty and excitable. He held himself with confidence and a glow seemed to radiate from him, pure happiness and warmth meeting everybody around him. But now… he lacked that same energy. The same air of child-like innocence. And yet he was the same age—physically at least.

 

Mentally… he’d aged so much in only a few short months. And Chuuya shivered at the thought of what else the kid must have gone through for the difference to be that noticeable so quickly.

 

Kenji glanced at him when a shiver ran through his body. “Are you cold? Tanizaki leant me his sweater earlier—you can borrow it if you want.”

 

“No, no, you keep it.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah. I was just thinking about how creepy this place is, that’s all.”

 

Kenji faced forward again, nodding at the wall at the far end of the hallway. “It is, isn’t it? I much prefer the wide-open spaces of the fields.”

 

“That sounds nice. Brighter, too.”

 

“Yes, the sun makes it even better.” There was the smile, for an instant. And then it faded again. “The dark didn’t used to bother me so much.”

 

“Well, in here I wouldn’t say it’s dark. More dim.”

 

“Maybe that’s it,” Kenji mused.

 

Chuuya smiled sadly, knowing exactly where that newfound unease had come from. The Port Mafia’s safe house wasn’t exactly a bright, welcoming place. Neither were their escape tunnels. And judging from what Mori had told him, both Kenji and Tanizaki had been instructed not to leave the house they were in in the abandoned village. No wonder the lack of sunlight caused him some anxiety.

 

He nearly walked into the boy’s back. “K-Kenji? Why’d you stop?”

 

“Look, Chuuya-san. The blood trail… It gets thicker here.”

 

“Hmm.” He looked over at Kenji, who set his jaw. “I’m sure he’s okay.”

 

“The gunshot—”

 

“It could have been his gun. Or they could have missed. Or hit him somewhere non-fatal.”

 

“You’re right. He could be perfectly fine.”

 

Chuuya gently pushed on his back. “Let’s keep going.”

 

“Okay.”

 

They continued down the hallway, through the never-ending maze of halls that all looked the same as the last. One after another, they followed the blood trail. One minute after the next, Chuuya watched Kenji slowly lose his grip. Watched as his hands clenched and unclenched. As he forced himself to slow his breathing, only to do the same thing again two minutes later. He frowned—what was he going to do if this got much worse? He didn’t know Kenji well. It wasn’t like the old days with Dazai.

 

“Who knows how far they could’ve gone,” whispered Kenji, off in his own little world. “I have no way of knowing how long I was unconscious.”

 

“Not that long, I’m sure.”

 

“We’ll never know for sure. And that… That scares me.”

 

“I’m sure he’s fine, Kenji-kun.”

 

Hands balled into fists; Kenji stared at the floor. “But if he’s not, it’s my fault.”

 

“No. Don’t think that way, kid. Let’s keep going.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Chuuya peaked around another corner. “What were you two down here for anyway?”

 

“Oh, that’s right!” Kenji reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver flash drive. “We had to find their base of operations in the building and install the virus Katai put on this key. That way their files would all be corrupted.”

 

“So, you need a lab?”

 

“Yes. And we’d found one, but just before we got to it, they got to us.”

 

“Well, that’s unfortunate. Let’s see… I passed by here earlier in the day, and if I’m remembering right, there should be another lab up ahead.”

 

“Really?”

 

The hope on his face sent a pang through Chuuya. “Yes. I’ve been doing rounds here periodically today. One other building nearby, too.”

 

“Lead the way then! I trust you.”

 

Chuuya pursed his lips, starting down the hall on the right. They walked in silence once again, Kenji falling into step beside him. He held a strained expression of calm as they walked, almost walking into Chuuya twice as he zoned out, his glassy eyes seeming further and further away.

 

He stopped Kenji with a gentle hand, who jerked from his thoughts with a startled noise. He slapped a hand to his mouth, eyes becoming impossibly wide as he whipped his head back and forth.

 

“What is it?”

 

Kenji only checked their surroundings again before tugging him into the room and drawing the shade on the door. He kept the lights out, causing Chuuya to stumble over to him, only able to tell where he was by the computer booting up in the corner. He watched the blue screen flick to an internet browser, and then to a local hard-drive, before Kenji stopped. He sat back in the chair, gazing at the screen with a defeated look, the USB clattering to the floor as his arm fell limp at his side.

 

Chuuya stepped up beside him and handed him the fallen drive. “What’s the matter?”

 

“I don’t know how to do this.”

 

“Do what?”

 

He didn’t answer at first, only stared at the screen. “How to corrupt the files. That was supposed to be Tanizaki’s job.”

 

Kenji’s voice was so quiet, Chuuya wasn’t sure he’d heard him correctly at first. Not until Kenji dropped his head and shook it, a shaky breath escaping him. Chuuya dropped a hand on his shoulder, maneuvering him out of the way so that he could have full access to the computer. “No worries, kid. I can do that for you.”

 

A long silence followed. “Thanks…”

 

Chuuya nodded in response, even though he knew Kenji probably wasn’t even looking at him. It barely took him any time to insert the virus into the system, and one by one the files were taken over. Chuuya hummed in satisfaction before bringing up a new tab. He wasn’t a tech genius but he knew enough to get what he needed. And what he needed at that moment was to keep Kenji calm. And in order to do that, he needed to locate Tanizaki.

 

Eight security cameras were online, their screens each showing an empty hallway or junction. With Kenji still not paying attention, he rewound the camera recordings by forty minutes. At first there was nothing, and then a blond boy appeared in one frame, collapsed on the floor, a puddle of blood beneath his head. Chuuya chewed his bottom lip, rewinding further. There.

 

The same frame was full of people. Kenji and Tanizaki, as well as four giant men. They could’ve been body builders for the looks of them though he doubted it, in this line of work. But they sure were goons.

 

He fast-forwarded the recording, watching as a gun went off. One of the men had aimed at Tanizaki, and the agony on the boy’s face told him the shot hadn’t missed. The question was, where had they hit him? Another gunshot. Kenji stirred in the frame, Tanizaki called out, and then a pipe came down on the blond boy’s tmple. Tanizaki called out again. A man moved in front of the camera as another shot was fired, and the next time he saw Tanizaki, the boy’s limp body was being dragged from the scene, blood trailing behind him. Chuuya watched the different cameras as they moved hallway to hallway. They hadn’t been too far away when Chuuya showed up in the frame with Kenji, but enough that they wouldn’t be able to hear each other.

 

The trail got thicker once Tanizaki had started to resist and they’d shot him again. More blood—a wider trail. Just a hallway ahead of where the were in the lab. More blood and more blood… and then it stopped abruptly, a crimson puddle lying still on the hallway floor. It was smeared in some places and footprints sat in others, but the trail continued no farther. But there was no body. No proof of life or death.

 

Chuuya shook his head, sitting back in the chair. He furrowed his brows at a sound reaching his ears, only looking back once he realized it was Kenji’s breathing. The young boy watched the screen with wide, wet eyes, his chest rising and falling at quick, staggered intervals.

 

“Hey,” he started, holding his hands in mid-air in front of him. “Kenji? Kenji, look at me.”

 

The same far away eyes as before greeted him, only this time they’d welled with tears. “This is my fault.”

 

“No.”

 

“It’s my fault,” he said again, voice choke with tears. Hid whole body shook then, not just his hands or arms. It sent Chuuya back to his days supporting Dazai during similar episodes.

 

Gentle hands rested on Kenji’s arms as Chuuya looked him right in the eyes. “It’s not your fault.”

 

“But it is. Oh my god, Junichiro is dead because of me.”

 

“Kenji-kun, how could that possibly be your fault?”

 

“I—I wasn’t paying attention and when he startled e I called out and they, they heard me, Chuuya! They—ey heard me!”

 

“Kenji—”

 

The young boy put his head in his hands, tugging at his hair. “Oh my god, he’s dead because of me! What am I gunna do? What do I do? What am I gunna do?”

 

“Breathe. That’s what you’re going to do.”

 

“All because I wouldn’t use my stu—pid gun. I—I’m so stupid and and weak! This, this wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for me!”

“Kenji, you need to breathe.”

 

“Where could he be? How, how am I going to find him?”

 

“Hey. Look at me, kiddo. Look at me.”

 

With Chuuya’s direction, Kenji looked up at him, not bothering to wipe off the tears that slid down his face. He sniffed, trying and failing to get a handle on his breathing. Chuuya took his face in his hands, forcing him to keep looking at him. “Breathe. Take a deep breath for me. He’s gunna be fine. We’re all gunna be fine.”

 

The tears came faster and Chuuya dropped his hands, opting to hug the boy instead. Kenji buried his face in Chuuya’s neck. “How—am I—gunna—find—him?”

 

“We’ll scour this place until we do kid,” said Chuuya in the softest voice he could muster. “We won’t stop until we find him. I promise.”

 

“Find who?”

 

Kenji nearly jumped out of his seat at the sudden voice. In his panic, he hadn’t heard the door open. And yet, there stood the boy that had caused him so much worry. Beaten and bleeding, but very much alive.

 

Kenji was up and out of his seat before Chuuya had fully registered what had happened. In about three steps Kenji had crossed the room and jumped at Tanizaki, throwing his arms around him as he sobbed into his chest. Taken aback, Tanizaki rested a hand on the back of the boys head.

 

“I thought—I’d—gotten you—killed,” Kenji sobbed.

 

“No,” he replied, smiling sadly as he looked down at the head of blond hair. “No, Kenji-kun, I’m alright.”

 

“I’m—so—sorry.”

 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry for not coming back for you sooner. I… I thought you were dead.”

 

“Me?” Kenji sniffed, not looking up.

 

“Mhmm. After those guys hit you with that pipe… The amount of blood, and you didn’t move…” He looked down at Kenji’s head, gingerly prying some hair away from the wound. “They hit you pretty good, kiddo.”

 

He shrugged. “I don’t care. Chuuya-san tried to make me see Dr. Yosano, but I said I needed to find you first.”

“Being stubborn was he?” Tanizaki asked Chuuya.

 

“Just a bit.”

 

“He’s gotten good at that.”

 

Chuuya chuckled in spite of himself. “Sure has. I wonder where he learned that from.”

 

Tanizaki grinned. “I have no idea. But we should finish what we came here for.” Kenji didn’t move. “Kenji-kun?”

 

“Leave him be,” said Chuuya, turning to pull the flash drive from the computer. “I finished it for you already.”

 

“Oh! Thanks, Chuuya-san. I owe you one. Well, maybe two.”

 

Chuuya looked to Kenji with his head still buried. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes. He’s lucky I like him.”

 

With a chuckle, Tanizaki smoothed the hair on the back of Kenji’s head. “Kenji.” He still didn’t move. He moved the hand around the pull Kenji’s face back from his chest. “Kenji-kun?”

 

The boy opened one glassy eye. “Hmm?”

 

Tanizaki swiped a tear from his cheek. “Are you okay?”

 

“Mmm.”

 

He pursed his lips. “Chuuya-san, could I ask you for one more favour?”

 

“Yeah, shoot.”

 

“Help me get Kenji to Dr. Yosano.”

 

“Out of it for real now, huh?”

 

“Yeah. He was so focused on finding you the adrenaline must’ve kicked in.”

 

“It must’ve.”

 

A red glow enveloped Chuuya and Tanizaki helped maneuver the small boy onto his back. Kenji put up little protest, barely awake enough to know what was going on, if he did at all. A head injury and a panic attack were enough to do that on their own, let alone together.

 

They walked in silence for a while, not wanting to wake the boy sleeping on Chuuya’s back. But as they got closer to their destination, Kenji stirred, eyes fluttering as he groaned in pain.

 

“You okay up there, Kenji-kun?”

 

“Tnzaki?”

 

“Yeah it’s me, kiddo.”

 

“Y’okay?”

 

“Yeah, I’m alright.”

 

“Safe?”

 

“Yeah, I’m safe, Kenji.”

 

“M’kay.”

 

“Go back to sleep,” whispered Chuuya. “It’s okay now.”

 

Kenji nodded, whimpered half-way through, and then shut his eyes completely. And despite the jostling from being on Chuuya’s back, both the exhaustion from panic and satisfaction of his friends safety weighed on him, and sleep pulled him under once again.

Notes:

Hello hello!! I hope that you all liked this one-shot. I'm so sorry the updates to this story are so slow, I've been mega busy recently. I have created a writing twitter as well, if you would like to check that out. It is @emms_corner_ . Let me know what you thought of this one-shot, as always! Until next time, guys! -Em :)

Chapter 56: We Love You, Dazai -- Part 2

Summary:

Hello hello! I'm not dead! Just busy haha. I had ideas for Kenji oneshots bc comfort character, duh, but I promised myself I wouldn't post another one for him until I posted this one so... here it is in all of its... glory? This piece has taken me months so I hope that it was maybe worth the wait? Also sorry kenji and Tanizaki's pieces were a bit longer than the others? I mean it was kinda supposed to be different feels for each piece but like... I'm also biased and write those two a lot more so it came easier to me? Idk. Anyway, here is the second piece to "We Love You, Dazai," which was oneshot number 6! Everyone at the ADA was thrown into Dazai's past memories and forced to watch as he relived it. When they came back to the present, the group comforted him and told him they loved him regardless, and offered to support him in any way they could. So... here is the continuation of that! Enjoy!

TRIGGER WARNING: self-harm, blood, mentions of child abuse, mentions of death, mentions of suicide attempts.

“We love you, Dazai.”

 

That’s what they’d said that day when all his walls had come crumbling down. When a vengeful woman with a cruel ability had thrown them all into his past, forcing not just him, but the rest of the agency to live through his past mistakes. His trauma and his bleak adolescence. All of it, right before their eyes. Beaten by his father, traumatized seeing his mother moments after being murdered by her own husband, hurting himself and running off only to attempt to take his own life with a slit across his throat. And it didn’t end there. Then there was Mori, and Chuuya, and Oda. Mori saving him, then putting him to work, then watching as he dulled and suffered some more, even plotting his best-friend’s death. Chuuya, spewing blood down his back as he carried him to safety, body wrecked from corruption. Kicking a gun from his hands and then rushing into the bathroom to find Dazai, inconsolable as he tried to scrub someone else’s blood from his hands. Oda, dying in his arms. His final wishes. His final words.

 

All of it.

 

He’d broken down when a single word crossed Kunikida’s lips upon returning to the present. All he’d had to say was his name and it was enough to trigger the unending torrent of tears that coursed down his face, choking his voice and making it hard to breathe. He’d shook and trembled, nearly screamed from the way his chest burned, as though it would incinerate him from the inside out. He’d cried for Oda, for losing his best friend. For Chuuya, for all the things he never got to say, for all the times he’d almost been too late. For leaving him behind like he was nothing. For the child he used to be, bloody and beaten and hopeless, ready to take his own life before his life had even begun. Thirteen—such a tender age. And yet… so much had already happened. And it had only gotten worse.

 

The Agency had been fantastic. They held him and rubbed his back, coaxed him to breathe when the task that should be so simple felt too gargantuan to even consider. They talked to him in soft voices, all the words that he needed to hear. Both in the past and in the present. As if they knew what he thought about himself without a single word ever leaving him. But they didn’t need to hear him say it directly. They still heard him through the screaming pitch of his cries and the ungodly pain they’d witness mere moments before. They were there for him when he needed it the most.

 

“We love you, Dazai.”

 

They promised to be there for him from then on. All of them offered their support in one way or another. And he’d gone weeks without saying a word. Without taking them up on their offers, without showing another ounce of emotion, without anything. But now, when the emotions bubbled up inside him and threatened to overflow, he knew he couldn’t put up the act much longer. He wouldn’t be able to keep it all inside again.

 

And now he didn’t have to.

 

*

 

Night was always the worst time of day for Dazai. Ever since he was a child and had to listen to his parents fight at midnight. The screams from his mother as his father struck her were bad enough, but the silence mocked him. He had no family. He had nowhere to run. Not anymore.

 

He’d lost his family. And then he’d lost his second one. He could no longer call Oda at one am, hiding behind the guise of some ridiculous dream he’d had just to hear his voice. Just to be distracted for a little while. He couldn’t text Ango to annoy him at eleven pm when he knew the man would be sleeping, only to receive an angry facetime and then a forty-minute conversation. Couldn’t call the Akutagawas under the excuse of prepping Ryuunosuke for a mission or giving Gin instructions for the next day. Lost the ability to call Chuuya in the dead of night, silent tears on his face as he waited for the other to answer. For him to talk to him about anything and everything until he fell asleep, the demons at rest. Or for him to suddenly show up at his door, enter without a word, and then pull him into bed and hold him until morning.

 

The demons sang and taunted, dancing around his brain in tap shoes and heavy chains. They didn’t rest for a single moment, not even under the influence of alcohol or God knows what else he found on the streets. Not anymore. He couldn’t waste himself away with such ease now. He was forced to sit with them and their churning waves, drowning him in the undertow and leaving him spiraling with self-hatred and the desire to end his own life. It never ended.

 

Dazai laid on his futon, chin trembling as he stared at the ceiling in the pitch black. The only light in the room was the dim glow of the moon sifting through his curtains, and even then it only illuminated the tears that welled in his eyes. He couldn’t stay there, feeling as though someone sat on his diaphragm, trying to crush his lungs and abolish his sins. He had to do something. But what?

 

On autopilot, Dazai sat up and stared at the wall with eyes that were both vacant and packed with emotion. He rose to his feet and left the room, not even bothering to slide the door closed behind him. Through the dark he went, reaching for the doorknob without having to even look for it. The tiny dorm was engraved in his head the way he could recognize his friend’s voices anywhere. It was second nature to him. Like the nature to run at the sound of his father’s voice or the way he relaxed at the sound of Chuuya’s drowsy mumblings.

 

Within seconds of exiting his dorm he’d entered another, closing the door behind him with such a careful touch you’d think he was walking on eggshells. His bare feet pattered over the hardwood floor and he sat down on the single sofa, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. The swirling continued, but at least then he wasn’t alone, even if the two inhabitants of the apartment were sound asleep. They’d been leaving their door open for him, and though he feared they’d stop when he hadn’t used it, they’d been intuitive enough to know he would eventually. When he needed it most but didn’t have the words to ask for it.

 

Dazai took a deep breath, counting as he let it out. Back in and back out again. Each breath grew more troublesome than the previous one, shuddering almost in unison with the rigorous pace of his racing thoughts.

 

Driven by intuition, Atsushi slid open the closet door, pursing his lips as he did so and praying that it didn’t squeak. Kyouka remained asleep for the time being and he got to his feet, tiptoeing around her and slipping through the bedroom door. He was only a step into the kitchen when he turned and peered out into the living room, intuition driving his actions. Just as he had thought, Dazai sat on the couch in the dark, hunched over.

 

In silence, Atsushi wandered over to the couch and sat down next to his mentor. The man shook at a constant pace, heaving in rickety breath after rickety breath. Atsushi laid a hand on his back and started rubbing circles into it. Dazai jumped a little, but he didn’t move. He let the simple touch remain in contact with him, grateful in a way he was unable to show in his present state.

 

The two of them sat together without saying a word for what felt like an hour. They didn’t need to. Atsushi knew exactly why Dazai was there, knew enough about him to decipher what he needed. And Dazai, despite his muddled thoughts, knew that Atsushi would not judge him or ridicule him. He would give his support and let him process by himself, only talking if he started to himself. It was simple but effective. Why hadn’t he done this sooner?

 

Because you were scared.

 

The little voice in his head, however annoying it was, was right. Scared of what exactly, he didn’t know. So many things. Rejection. Failure. Emotion. Life. Death. Being trapped in this world where he sometimes felt to be in between the two… The list could go on. And yet he seemed like a man with little fear. Numb in every sense of the word unless it was lust or humour. But to anyone who looked a little deeper, the whole spectrum of emotion was right there in his eyes. An endless sea of deep brown hatred and longing for something to fill the void in his chest.

 

“Atsushi?”

 

“Yes, Dazai?”

 

“How do you avoid it? The nights like this.”

 

Atsushi remained quiet for a moment, mulling it over. His hand still trailed up and down Dazai’s back, lines instead of their previous circles. “I don’t.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I don’t avoid it. I can’t. I just… feel it. And it’s hard but keeping it inside is harder.”

 

“You don’t feel guilty about it? Showing it, I mean.”

 

“I used to. Now though… Not so much. Sometimes it happens when I’m alone. But sometimes I’m with Kyouka or you or Tanizaki, and you’re all so supportive. I don’t feel guilty about it anymore. You can’t keep it in forever or you’ll explode.”

 

“I just, sometimes I feel like I don’t have the right to feel the things I’m feeling. It’s partially what my dad drilled into my head, but the other parts of it are like… repenting for my sins. I can’t feel this way because it’s my own fault and I don’t have the right to be sad. I don’t have the right to cry or be scared anymore, if I ever did.”

 

“That’s not true, Dazai-san.”

 

Dazai looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “It’s not? Are you sure?”

 

“I am.”

 

“He’s right.” Both boys looked up at the sound of a soft female voice in the room. In the doorway stood Kyouka, her pink pajama pants dragging on the floor around her feet. “You would never say that to me, would you, Dazai-san?”

 

“Well, no. I wouldn’t.”

 

“Then why would you be so cruel to yourself?”

 

Dazai looked away, hand fiddling with the bandages on his left palm. “I… You saw what happened. What I did, Kyouka.”

 

“And you know what I did.”

 

“It’s different.”

 

“Not in any way that matters. We come from the same place.”

 

Oh Kyouka, always the voice of reason. Despite her age, she had wisdom beyond her years. The price of growing up too fast, too young. Dazai knew that feeling all too well.

 

“I suppose so.”

 

She sat down on the other side of him and wrapped her small arms around his abdomen. “If you can be kind to me, then you can also be kind to yourself.”

 

Within moments, she was back asleep, her head lying on Dazai’s lap. Atsushi stayed awake for a while longer, still sitting with Dazai in the quiet you can only find in the stillness of 4am. It was peaceful in their small corner of Yokohama. For once there were no sirens and no shouting from the neighbouring plaza. There was barley even any car noise from the street beside the dorms, as if the world knew that silence was needed for the trio to fall into a peaceful sleep.

 

Despite his reeling, the pain in his chest had softened, the weight lifting just the slightest amount. That was enough for him for now—he couldn’t ask for much more than that. Beggars can’t be choosers. And if he was begging for peace, then he was given it in the form of two adolescents that loved him with their entire hearts. They didn’t need to say it. He already knew from their actions alone.

 

*

 

“I figured you would show up tonight,” is the first thing Ranpo said when he opened the door.

 

Dazai raised his brows at the other man, dressed in cotton pajamas and slippers, his hair wild from sleep. Ranpo stepped aside without another word, letting him into his small Yokohama apartment only a block from the agency dorms. Though the lights were off in the rest of the rooms, a tv flickered from the bedroom and the single light above the kitchen counter was dimmed, a soft glow illuminating several inconspicuous items.

 

Dazai followed Ranpo inside once he’d closed the door, stopping when Ranpo pulled out a stool for him at the counter. The hard wood was strangely a nice change to the futon he’d spent the past six hours tossing and turning on, as startling to his system as the cool autumn air. In contrast to the silence between the two men came the wrinkling of a paper bag and the flopping of flour into a bowl. Dazai peered into the bowl and then at the other items in front of him. Eggs, milk, butter, brown sugar, chocolate chips…

 

“Sweets always help me feel better,” was the second thing Ranpo said, as he cracked an egg on the countertop and watched the slimy substance slide into the bowl.

 

The stark yellow in the centre of the flour looked like an egg itself. That is, until he cracked another beside it. Then it looked how Dazai felt, blank, as if watching his life go by without being able to do anything about it. Just two eyes and no mouth. No voice to speak and no body to move. But he had moved. From his dorm to Ranpo’s apartment. There was a tiled floor under his feet. Fake granite tapped under his fingernails. The breeze came in the window and fluttered his hair. He was utterly present, but some days the flood of emotions made it not seem so.

 

Ranpo tapped the area in front of Dazai’s fingers with a wooden spoon, causing brown eyes to gaze up at him, startled out of a daze. He pushed the bowl towards Dazai, watching intently as he sat up straighter, staring down at it and then back and forth between the unmixed ingredients and the spoon. In his haze, it took a moment to compute, but soon enough the spoon wedged its way into the flour and brown sugar, crushing a chocolate chip in the process.

 

As he mixed the wet in with the dry, the work it gave his arm drew his attention to his body instead of his mind. The crank of his wrist to push the spoon through the stubborn bits, the scraping of missed chocolates into the rest of the batch, the pressure he put on it to ensure it mixed evenly… The unmistakable, sickly-sweet scent of unbaked cookie dough filled his nose and he found himself swiping two fingers through the batter before Ranpo could stop him.

 

With a chuckle, Ranpo swatted at his hand. Not that he didn’t want to eat it himself, but Fukuzawa had drilled it into his head enough times not to eat it raw. He didn’t always listen of course, but with Dazai there to witness his midnight food crimes, he wasn’t taking any chances. But he let him get away with it. What harm was there in that?

 

Two metal spoons clanged as they fell onto the counter, one in front of Ranpo and the other in front of Dazai. For a few minutes, only one spoon scooped the dough into cookie-ish shapes on a baking sheet. But then came the second spoon, slower but still steady, scooping and setting, scooping and setting, until they were scraping at the edges of the bowl to make a full-size cookie.

 

Dazai sat back on his stool, spoon on the counter in front of him as Ranpo pushed the baking sheet into the oven. Then, without saying a word, he crossed the apartment to the miniscule living area and flicked on the tv. Ranpo lowered himself onto the couch, legs tucked under him in one corner, silently offering Dazai the other side.

 

Dazai took it, mirroring Ranpo’s posture and then pulling a pillow into his lap. He wrapped his arms around it, eyes trained on the tv as different channels flicked past. Eventually the blur of the titles he didn’t try to read stopped and his eyes focused on a black and white scene, set in a courthouse in the 1950s. And old detective show. Of course.

 

Dazai didn’t complain. He watched the show with growing attentiveness, allowing his brain to pick apart the case and wander away from his demons, just for a little while. Finally, a distraction stimulating enough to pull him away from himself—separate him from what he believes himself to be. A monster. A fraud. A failure.

 

But there, in his friend’s living room at 4 am, with the low hum of the flickering tv and the wafting smell of chocolate chip cookies… he was none of those things. They were distant. Instead, he was a friend. A colleague. Someone worth caring about. Even in the smallest, most unconventional ways.

 

Ranpo got up halfway into the show and wandered back over with two plates of steaming, falling-apart-in-your-hand soft cookies. He handed one of them to Dazai with a soft smile, watching as he took it and stared down at the creation they’d made together. He might not remember every minute of it, having been in and out of coherence, but it was certainly a gesture he wouldn’t forget any time soon.

 

The taste of chocolate and brown sugar exploded across his tongue, not able to take another bite fast enough. Despite the heat coming off them, Dazai shoveled them down, not realizing that it was the first thing he had eaten that day. When Dazai turned to grab a tissue to wipe his hands, Ranpo slipped two more onto his plate along with the last one he’d had left. Dazai ate them all.

 

It was nearly five am when they finished the cookies. Or at least, when Ranpo had finished his and looked away from the tv on a commercial. Beside him on the couch, Dazai had curled around the pillow he’d previously held in his lap. His head rested on the arm, even breaths leaving his mouth as he fell deeper into sleep.

 

“Goodnight, Dazai-kun,” was the last thing Ranpo said as he covered him with a plush blanket and ruffled his hair.

 

*

 

Tanizaki’s eyelids drooped as he held his phone in front of his face, the angle changes flashing in quick succession. Curses and laughter drilled his ears through his headphones and he held back a chuckle, not wanting to wake Naomi in the futon next to him. Though she slept with her back to him, and had for nearly two hours already, he didn’t want to risk waking her up. Instead, he pulled the blanket up over his face and turned up the volume.

 

In hindsight, it was good that he pulled the blanket over his head, seeing as the ringer on his phone went off just after he did. His eyes traveled to the top of the screen, brows raising as he realized it was Dazai’s name. Touching the banner at the top of the screen, he opened his conversation with Dazai and chewed the inside of his cheek.

 

Dazai: Hey. Are you still up by chance?

 

It was true he tended to be a night owl, always up another hour or two or three after the rest of his colleagues. Except, of course, for Dazai, who would be up at stupid-o-clock in the morning any day of the week.

 

I am. Why?

 

Tanizaki hesitated before going back to his video. Dazai had his read receipts off so he couldn’t tell if he’d seen his message. Another minute passed of the let’s play he watched on YouTube before the message banner reappeared at the top of his screen.

 

Dazai: No reason in particular. What are you up to?

 

Tanizaki took a deep breath before pushing himself into a sitting position against the wall, scratching his head. Dazai never messaged him this late at night. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He had, but it had always been on bad nights. Not that he’d ever known that was why until recently. They would talk at the office during the day or over messages after work about miscellaneous things, but a random message at 2 am was never a good thing.

 

Not much, can’t sleep. Same for you?

 

Dazai: You could say that

 

He chewed on his lip. Dazai really wasn’t going to give and come right out with it, was he? Not without being asked directly. Wanna do something?

 

Dazai: Like what?

 

Go for a drive? It’s peaceful this time of night.

 

Dazai typed and backspaced, typed and backspaced several times before the answer finally sent. Sure, if you’re up for it.

 

Meet me outside in five mins.

 

Taking the notepad from beside his bed, Tanizaki wrote a quick note to Naomi in case she woke up, then pushed himself to his feet. He swiped his keys from the counter near the mirror, toed on his converse, and then slipped out the door.

 

Dazai stood beside Tanizaki’s car, head down and staring at his twiddling thumbs. He didn’t move right away when the sounds of the doors unlocking reached his ears, not until Tanizaki had reached him. “Hi.”

 

“Good evening,” said Tanizaki with a hint of humour. He pulled his door open and sank down into the driver’s seat. As Dazai got in he adjusted it, at first confused why the seat was so close to the wheel until he remembered taking Kenji driving the night before. No one was out this late, or early, especially on the backroads he’d taught him on. And that’s exactly where he was going to take Dazai, he decided, adjusting his mirrors. Damn it, why was Kenji so short?

 

“Any place in mind?” Dazai asked, looking out the window as Tanizaki leaned around the seat to back out.

 

“Not in particular. Do you have any place you want to drive to or through or anything?”

 

“No.”

 

“Well, alright then. We’ll see where we end up.”

 

Dazai only nodded, still looking out the window. The radio played faintly, a gentle volume that went nicely with the silence outside of their little bubble. It continued for a while, playing a few softer songs and then a few louder ones, generic pop and rock songs. Neither of them changed the station, and it took Tanizaki a few minutes to realize that though he knew Dazai wasn’t listening to it, he wasn’t either.

 

Dazai flinched when the music suddenly became inaudible, Tanizaki having turned down the volume as far as it would go. He said nothing though, so Dazai went back to looking out the window, leaning his head against the cool glass. He let his temple bounce against the firm surface as the uneven pavement of the backroads took over, wondering if it would erase some of his memories if it happened enough. Instead, he received a question that brought more back.

 

“Were you having a bad night, Dazai-san?”

 

“It’s that easy to see though me, huh?” Dazai answered, speaking so slowly it was noticeable.

 

“Not particularly.” Yes, it was. At least now, it was. Now that the mask had dropped. “You just seem distracted.”

 

“A little bit.”

 

“Is that what was keeping you up?”

 

“That’s always what keeps me up, Junichiro.”

 

His tone held no venom, no bite whatsoever, but Tanizaki still felt the sting in his chest like he was in trouble for something. Instead, he’d only sounded tired. No, tired wasn’t the right word. Maybe there was no correct word for it. Not physically tired necessarily, but the type of physically tired that comes from being emotionally tired and used and spent. When you’ve given everything you have for far too long. Which is exactly what he’d done, Tanizaki realized with abrupt certainty. That mask he’d held up for so long would have taken so much restraint, so much self-control to hold up day after day after day. And now he was in the car with him, showing him all of this vulnerability. That was the word, the descriptor. He was vulnerable here.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“About what?”

 

“Any of it? All of it?” He let out a long breath. He wasn’t good at this. Not that it was anything new, he’d done it for Atsushi and Kenji a thousand times, but this was Dazai. Goofy, aloof, manic Dazai. Intelligent, unreachable, unfeeling Dazai. But that wasn’t true anymore. This Dazai had feelings and emotions just like any other human being. He was still intelligent and funny yes, but he was also in pain and suffering from the demons inside of his head. And Tanizaki could only imagine how many of them resided in there. What million forms they could take on. “Whatever comes to mind. Vent.”

 

“No, no. You don’t need all of that on your plate.”

 

He glanced at Dazai out of the corner of his eye, slightly turning his head, just enough that Dazai might notice his attempt at sincere eye contact. “I mean it. I don’t mind at all. I’m pretty quiet, so I’ve gotten good at listening.”

 

“It’s just—I—I don’t—” Dazai cut himself off, staring at his lap. “I feel bad that you have to listen to all of my bullshit.”

 

“You have nothing to feel bad about. I’d seriously love to listen.” And it was true. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know Dazai. And if that would help him feel better, to talk or vent or just work through a problem, then that was even better. Whatever would be most helpful to him. “We’ve never really talked about anything that serious. I’d like to know you better, like Atsushi or Kunikida.”

 

“They don’t know me that well, either.”

 

“They could.”

 

“I suppose…”

 

Tanizaki checked over his shoulder again as he turned a corner, his turn signal clicking in the silence between them. Once he’d settled them in the left lane once more, he continued their conversation. “What’s wrong with letting people get to know you?”

 

“Because once they know you, they always leave.”

 

Startled by his response, Tanizaki almost swerved. “What do you mean?”

 

“Once I get something that I want, it leaves. It always leaves.”

 

“So, that means that you want to be known then?”

 

“Who doesn’t?” It was almost a whisper. “But last time I got close to somebody, it killed them.”

 

Tanizaki drew his eyebrows together, blinking rapidly as he stared down the road in front of them. He wracked his brain, wandering back through the memories of Dazai’s they’d gone through for what he might mean. And then a man with reddish brown hair popped into his head, lying in Dazai’s arms as blood pooled around them. “You mean your friend Oda, right?”

 

A strangled sound came from Dazai then and he cleared his throat in an attempt to cover it up.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to upset you.”

 

“It’s fine. Sometimes I just forget you all… saw that.” He turned his head, hair falling in his face. “Well, I don’t really forget. Sometimes other things just take over my brain instead. But it haunts me that you all saw that. I sometimes wish you’d all forget. But I also know that it’s a good thing you know.”

 

“I don’t think I could forget, Dazai-san.”

 

“Drop the -san, will you? It feels too formal right now.” He’d tried to joke, but Tanizaki heard the thickness in his voice. It had come out flat and hollow instead of humorous.

 

“Alright, Dazai.”

 

“But of all the memories, those ones of Oda…”

 

“What about them?”

 

“I don’t know. I feel like it’s something nobody else should get to see. Nobody knew him better than me, and it seemed like he wanted it that way. But then he wanted to know me in return, ad when I finally relented, just a little bit, he got killed.”

 

“You don’t really blame yourself for that, do you?” There was silence between them. “You do, don’t you?”

 

Dazai only stared at his lap. “Like I said. Whenever I get something I want, it leaves. Intentionally or not, everything I’ve ever had and anyone I’ve ever loved has left me.”

 

A heavy weight came down on Tanizaki’s chest. He looked back and forth between Dazai and the road in his periphery before stealing himself and pulling over to the side of the road, the gravel shoulder jostling them both. He set the car into park and turned to Dazai who looked up at him, startled.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Talking to you. And listening. Whichever one you need me to do.”

 

“But I—”

 

“What happened to your friend was not your fault.”

 

“It was.”

 

“It wasn’t. It couldn’t have been. You weren’t even there when he got shot.”

 

He looked down. “I couldn’t stop him, though. I tried to talk him out of going there, to that awful place. But he went anyway. Because of the orphans and because of Mimic and because of me.”

 

Tanizaki froze. He didn’t know about any of those things. But something inside told him that he didn’t need to, because there was no way that man’s death had anything to do with Dazai’s hand. “I don’t believe that. The part about it being you, I mean.”

 

“But I do.”

 

“Why? Why do you believe that it’s your fault?”

 

Dazai’s head flew up, wild eyes staring right back at him. “Because Mori did it to get rid of me!”

 

“Wha—”

 

“I know he wanted the gifted business permit, but there was more to it than just that. He planned it all in order to throw me out of the Mafia. Because he was scared of me! Because I’m a monster. You’ve all seen me, Tanizaki! You’ve all seen what I’m capable of.”

 

“But we’ve all also seen what you said to Oda the night that he died. We saw the promise that you made.”

 

Dazai put his head down again, hair falling in his face. Though he faced Tanizaki now, he couldn’t see anything other than his unruly brown hair. “And look how that’s turned out.”

 

Tanizaki paused, trying to pick his statement apart. “What do you mean?”

 

“I’m failing him now. I always have been.” His voice was thick with tears, which was probably why he’d put his head down, hair in his eyes to hide his expression. But the tear that dropped down into his lap was a dead give-away, as was the little hiccough that he wasn’t able to suppress, though he tried. “I failed.”

 

It was as if something had taken Tanizaki’s heart and squeezed it—just as it had been that day, watching Dazai crumble apart right in front of the whole ADA. But now the only one that was here with Dazai was him.

 

He leant forward and wrapped his arms around Dazai’s shoulders, pulling him towards him. Dazai let him, resting his forehead on the boy’s shoulder, nearly silent sobs wracking his chest. Tanizaki sighed, one of his hands sitting on Dazai’s upper back, fingers splayed over his tan coat with a gentle pressure. He watched their silhouette in the window, the pain in his own eyes reflected by the blinking four-ways.

 

An hour later they pulled into the cemetery parking lot. It was what Dazai needed the most right now. So Tanizaki sat on a bench nearby, but not close enough to hear. It was the least he could do when his friend needed someone who was no longer with him. And as he vented away, Tanizaki leaned back on the bench and looked up at the stars. Someway, somehow, they’d find a way to make sure it would never happen again.

 

He had them now. And they weren’t leaving anytime soon.

 

*

 

Teenagers aren’t known for being the wisest people. They lack the life experience that gives people knowledge and perspective, and generally the ability to perceive things about the world around them. But that wasn’t always the case, because with unexpected circumstances comes unexpected people.

 

Kenji never made a habit of staying up late. On the farm he always went to bed early and got up early. Of course, that pattern shifted a bit once he moved to Yokohama, but he still wound up asleep on Kyouka’s shoulder come 9 or 10 pm, or conked out on the Tanizaki’s couch. It was expected of him to fall asleep not only after eating, but also to pass out as soon as a case was over from pure exhaustion or drift off in the presence of anyone else he felt safe around in the late evening. Even when the Agency held events at night, no one expected him to stay awake for long—he couldn’t help it. Fighting the fatigue was more difficult than it seemed.

 

Which was why Dazai was shocked at the boy’s presence in his doorway at midnight.

 

Having yet another bad night, Dazai had decided to forgo sleep in favour of doing anything else that would occupy his mind. He tried to make something to eat, quickly realizing he had no groceries. He tried music, singing with his headphones on, music full blast, but it only made his mind wander more. Those words had a way of winding around his heart and pulling it out of his chest, still beating and bleeding over his curling fingers.

 

He'd even tried exercise. Chuuya had once shown him a workout he did to clear his mind, complete with mountain climbers and burpees, but it only seemed to make it worse. His brain felt foggier than ever, thoughts of the Port Mafia swirling around with the already tormenting images and sounds. It was hopeless.

 

Somehow, in his dazed state, he managed to slip on some shoes and a sweater and make his way outside. The wind tousled his hair as he bounced down the stairs and jogged out into the vacant field across from the dorms. He stood in the middle for a moment or two, unmoving, unseeing, unaware of anything around him. Then he paced over to the rusted shell of a car that sat at the edge of the lot and hopped up onto the hood, watching his feet dangle before staring up at the moon.

 

The moon felt thoughtful to him. He couldn’t quite explain why, it had just always felt that way. The moon knew things about him that no one else ever would, and he supposed that it was an omniscient being, meant to be stared at, talked to, demanded of. Meant to be pondered, just as life was during the day. After all, you could stare at the moon and admire it. You couldn’t do that much during the day, for risk of being blinded. But in the dark, you really get a chance to admire the beauty of the small things that brighten your world. Like the moon and all the stars present before him.

 

“Dazai-san?”

 

A boy’s sleepy voice startled him from his daze and he blinked in that direction before focusing on the figure ten feet from him. The blond teen stood in his doorway in his pyjamas, rubbing one eye while a single lamp lit up the area behind him. Dazai raised his brows. “Kenji-kun?”

 

“Mhmm. What are you doing?”

 

“Oh? Nothing. I—Did I wake you?”

 

Kenji shook his head, bangs falling in his eyes. “No.”

 

“A nightmare then?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then what?”

 

“Nothing,” he yawned. “I just haven’t slept yet.”

 

Dazai slid off the rusted hood and stuffed his hands in his pockets, walking over to Kenji. “Why not? Is something bothering you?”

 

Kenji shook his head again. “No. That’s what I wanted to ask you.”

 

Dazai drew his head back, caught off-guard by the kid’s question. “You—”

 

“You seemed off at the office all day today. So, when I heard you come down the stairs—”

 

“How long were you standing there?”

 

“Long enough,” he said, a soft smile on his lips. “I called your name a few times before you responded.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry Kenji,” Dazai sighed, dropping his gaze. “Go to sleep and don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

 

“But you always say that. And I know that’s a lie.”

 

“So perceptive! I thought it would take knowledge of the whole emotional spectrum to be able to spot me in my bad states of mind.”

 

Kenji jerked his head back. “I do have bad days, you know.”

 

“Oh.” He blinked at the kid, hoping he hadn’t offended him.

 

Kenji smiled and then turned his back, waving for Dazai to follow him inside. “That’s okay. You’re not the first person to think that.”

 

“I’m not?”

 

“Of course not!” He flicked on the light above the stove, rummaging through the cupboards in search of something while Dazai removed his shoes and stood a few feet behind him. “Most of the Agency thought that.”

 

“Well, I’d assume that’s because you always seem to be in such a good mood.”

 

“Yeah probably.” He retrieved a few packages and set them on the counter before him, turning to look at Dazai. He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly. “But Kyouka saw right through me.”

 

Dazai breathed out a laugh. “That doesn’t surprise me. That girl is surprisingly perceptive.”

 

“I don’t know if it’s surprising, but yes, she is. Said she could tell just by the tiniest change in the tone of my voice.”

 

“So do you think…”

 

“Think she knew how you were feeling before the rest of us? Probably.”

 

“Huh.” Dazai looked down, studying the tiles under his feet. “So Ranpo definitely knew, then.”

 

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned here, it’s that Ranpo-san knows a lot of things. You can’t hide anything from him!”

 

“So he knew then, too? About you. Like Kyouka.”

 

He nodded, his back to Dazai again as he filled a small pot with water. “Mhmm. He’s not obvious about it, though. Just slipped me a few candies and went back to work.”

 

“Who knew Ranpo could be so subtle,” Dazai joked.

 

“I just think he didn’t want to draw attention to me. He knows I don’t want people to see me when I’m sad.”

 

“Does anyone?”

 

Kenji shrugged, adding noodles to the boiling water. “I know you don’t.”

 

“Then why did you come and find me?”

 

“Because we all said we’d be there for you when you needed us.”

 

Dazai blanked, his face void of any expression. Did he…? Did they all…? “It’s not an obligation, Kenji-kun. Really, I’ll be fine.”

 

“I know it’s not. I want to do this.”

 

“But you’re so tired. A boy your age really needs to get a good night’s sleep.”

 

“Dazai-san, you don’t get any sleep.”

 

“That’s not the point,” he said with a cringe. “So don’t let me ruin your meal. Eat up so that you’ll fall asleep faster.”

 

Kenji looked at him over his shoulder, one brow raised. “This is for you.”

 

“Eh?”

 

“This is for you. Not for me.”

 

Dazai tucked his shoulders up near his ears. Oops. “You’re not going to make any for yourself?”

 

“I only have enough noodles for one person.”

 

“Then don’t worry about—”

 

“Normally, I wouldn’t continue to interrupt you, but Kunikida-san told me to not let you brush me off if this happens.”

 

“He said that?”

 

“Well, actually what he said was a lot more aggressive.”

 

“What did he really say?”

 

Kenji cleared his throat and pointed the wooden spoon at Dazai. He forced his voice lower, giving a scarily good imitation of Kunikida’s persona. “Kenji-kun, if he tries to brush off your help, tell that blockhead, Dazai, that I’ll smack some sense into that self-deprecating brain of his.”

 

“Ehe…” Dazai laughed uncomfortably, watching Kenji turn back around and strain the noodles over the sink. “Who knew you were so good at doing impressions of other people…”

 

“He also told me that if you said that, then I  should smack you.”

 

“EH?”

 

“But I’m not going to do that because that would hurt you.”

 

He sighed in relief. “Thanks, Kenji-kun.”

 

“I’ll just tell him and let him do it himself.”

 

“Wait what?”

 

“I’m just kidding,” he laughed, grinning ear to ear. “I really hope you like Yaki Udon, I should have asked before I started making it. I’m sorry.”

 

“Luckily, I do like Yaki Udon.”

 

“Then that’s perfect! It’ll be done in a few minutes. You can go sit at the table if you want!”

 

“You sure you don’t mind cooking for me?”

 

Kenji waved a hand with his back still to him. “Of course not! I’ve found that I actually like to cook. It’s a lot faster with electricity!”

 

“I assume it would be, yes,” Dazai muttered to himself, retreating into the boy’s room and sitting down at the table.

 

It was a nice change of scenery, being in someone else’s dorm besides his own. Of course, that was always the case, but he’d never actually seen the inside of Kenji’s dorm, and he had to admit that the plants all over were rather comforting. They were thriving in their painted terracotta pots, their greens and other bright, happy colours lighting up the room. There wasn’t much else. A stack of books, all heavily read by the looks of their cracked spines and battered pages. A futon with two pillows and an extra blanket, a stuffed cow sitting next to it alongside an alarm clock, which he’d clearly bought once he’d come to Yokohama. A water bottle sat on the table in front of him, chipped from years of use. And then, in a teetering frame, a family photo. Kenji and his parents, and who Dazai assumed were his five other siblings. That was all that the kid had from home. It reminded Dazai of his own dorm and the lack of things inside of it.

 

Dazai himself had barely anything left from his past. A few books, a watch that was too small, and a torn photograph of who he could only assume were parents with his older brother, who died just after he was born. That was all Mori had been able to retrieve for him before the police got there after there were sightings of ‘an odd man,’ heading into the crime scene that was Dazai’s house. Of course, he had a few other things from his past in the Port Mafia. The photos of himself, Ango, and Oda. A few photos of himself with Chuuya, that he’d also kept, along with some tacky arcade prizes. The blanket Chuuya had once given him for his birthday, his current watch given to him by Ango, and the bolo tie from Oda that he originally swore he’d never wear. That was it. His entire past could fit inside of a shoebox, if he really tried, aside from the blanket. He drew his brows together, wondering if that was really all he had to show for himself.

 

“Dazai-san?”

 

He jumped, head whipping up to stare at the boy standing in the doorway. He held a steaming bowl in his hands, brows drawn in concern.

 

“Hmm? Yes?”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Oh, yeah. Why?”

 

“You just looked upset,” said Kenji, setting the bowl down in front of Dazai. Then he sat across from him at the table and continued as he waited expectantly. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

 

“Not really. I was just thinking about how you have so little from home, and my dorm is the same way.”

 

“Really?”

 

He put some of the noodles in his mouth, savouring the taste and the feeling of the warm broth filling his empty stomach. “Yeah. I have basically nothing from before I was your age.”

 

“Dazai-san, if you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you have anything from your past?”

 

Dazai stopped, more noodles dangling halfway to his mouth.

 

“That’s okay—you don’t have to tell me!”

 

Dazai set the bowl down, noodles dropping back into the broth. “No, that’s okay. It’s just that nobody has asked me that before.” He stopped and wiped his mouth, thinking back to the day that awful ability user had thrown them into his memories. “Do you remember, that day, seeing Mori… find me… in that alley?”

 

Kenji tugged at his t-shirt, averting his eyes from Dazai. “Really, Dazai-san. You don’t have to talk about this. I don’t want you to have to relive this… again.”

 

“Do you remember that?”

 

“Yes,” he breathed.

 

“Before that, I was standing over my father. He was unconscious. Do you remember that?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That was the last time I was ever at that house.”

 

“What?” Kenji looked up at him, blinking in confusion. “Why?”

 

“Because my father died shortly after I left. I didn’t kill him, but it certainly looked like I did.”

 

“Then…”

 

“What happened?”

 

“You don’t—”

 

Dazai held up a hand to stop the young boy, his eyes closed. He focused on his breathing for a second before continuing. “My father had been out at a bar until the early morning, and I guess he got in some fights. He caught me trying to run away when he finally came back to the house. He took my backpack and ripped it open and tore up everything inside it. Books, a stuffed animal, clothes. He’d flown into a mad rage. I tried to call the police… It was the first and only time I ever tried. Because I was leaving either way. But then he came after me and I…” Dazai looked down at the table, swallowing hard. “I hit him back. I’d never hit him back before.”

 

“It was self-defence,” Kenji offered, but his voice petered out. Dazai didn’t need him to talk. He just needed someone to listen to him.

 

“He was still drunk and he stumbled and fell, and hit his head off the edge of the stove. It was metal and sharp and it cut him, badly. There were sirens and there was my father, lying on the ground covered in blood, and his abused son who clearly had blood on him and had a motive. So, I ran. I didn’t think, I just ran.

 

“I ended up downtown in that alley. When I finally came to, I was devastated that I’d survived. Mori, to his credit, tried to cheer me up. He went himself to the house to try and get some of my things, but the police had taken my backpack. It had had the things I wanted most in it. All he was able to grab for me were some books, a watch, and a photo. Then the police were coming and he had to leave. Apparently, he climbed out the window.

 

“It wasn’t always bad with him. Originally, he was just my doctor. He took me in, I guess. Sort of. Took care of me. But then the old boss went on a rampage and Natsume-sensei set up a framework for there to be the special ops, the Agency, and the Port Mafia. And Mori was to be the boss. So I got dragged along, into all of that. I… I never asked for any of that. Any of this.”

 

Kenji sat stock still, his mouth hanging slightly open.

 

Dazai swallowed hard again, looking away. His voice was bitter, but it held all of the emotions he tried too hard to suppress. They seeped through all of the cracks in his armour. “After that, that’s when I became that… that demon prodigy. I was in a really dark place. I thought I’d killed my father, which is a lot for any kid, even if he did beat the shit out of me on a daily basis. I was dragged into the mafia and taken advantage of by the first person I thought I could trust. I was put in charge of the army and taught how to torture people. To kill. To manipulate. That… That does a lot to a person. And after all of that… I don’t know if I can even call myself a human anymore.”

 

“Of course you can.”

 

Dazai gasped, as if he’d forgotten Kenji had been sitting there. The boy looked at him with an intense, watery stare. Dazai returned the same gaze, temporarily forgetting that this boy was only fourteen years old. Because how could you tell that to someone so young and ask them to give you the answers you yourself were still searching for? “How?”

 

“Because if you weren’t human… Then how could you feel so much?”

 

The illusion shattered, falling to pieces in front of him. This was a child, just like he once was. Someone the same age he was when all hell broke loose. Of course he would understand to a certain degree, thinking about himself in that situation. If Kenji had gone through all he had gone through, would he still call him human? Of course he would. And to a degree, Kenji had gone through something traumatizing as well at a young age.To be starved and then put on the front-line day in and day out, sacrificing himself for others without question. Stabbed and tortured and blown up. Of course he understood.

 

Dazai stared at him, seeing his younger self in the young boy before him. Kenji drew his head back, drawing his brows together. “Dazai-san? What is it?”

 

He pushed the bowl of Yaki Udon towards Kenji. “Eat.”

 

“What?”

 

“I said eat.”

 

“But I’ll fall asleep—”

 

“Please just eat it.”

 

“After you answer a question for me.”

 

Dazai inwardly groaned. Who’d taught this kid to bargain? “What’s your question?”

 

Kenji nearly shook his head at him in confusion. “What just went through your head?”

 

“Kenji. You’re only fourteen. Why are you here?”

 

The kid blanked, and then looked down, smiling at his lap. “We all have things we don’t talk about, Dazai-san.”

 

“Something happened to you, too, huh?”

 

“Why else would I be here?”

 

“I don’t know why I didn’t think about that before… I’m sorry, Kenji-kun. You don’t deserve this. You’re so young. You should be at school and at home with your family.”

 

Kenji looked up at him. “If you say I don’t deserve it, then how could you say that you ever did?”

 

Dazai opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He simply stared at the boy before him, who was more perceptive and way more intelligent than everyone gave him credit for. He chuckled lowly, staring at the grain of the wooden table. “I guess we’re our own worst critics, huh?”

 

“Give yourself more credit. You went through a lot that wasn’t your fault. And you didn’t deserve it.”

 

Dazai couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with Kenji. Because if he did, if he had to see the empathy in his eyes, he would cry. Because yet again, someone cared about him. And that was something he wasn’t used to. Instead, he cleared his throat and glanced around the room. “I was meaning to ask you. Who painted those pots?”

 

Kenji raised a brow but followed Dazai’s gaze. “It was a mix of people.”

 

“A mix?” Dazai ran his finger over the one closest to him. The pot held a small cactus, the pot painted with coloured dots in a mandala pattern. “Who did this one?”

 

“Kyouka. Actually, a lot of them were Kyouka. But Atsushi and Tanizaki have done quite a few, too.”

 

“Have you?”

 

He shook his head. “I’m no good with paints. That’s why I asked Kyouka in the first place.”

 

“Hmm. They’re pretty.”

 

“Would you like to make one?”

 

“What?”

 

Kenji grinned at him. “Do you want to paint one of the pots?”

 

“You want me to?”

 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I want one from you?”

 

“I mean… sure. Why not? On one condition.”

 

“What’s the condition?”

 

“You eat that soup.”

 

Kenji had to refrain from rolling his eyes, a bad habit he’d recently picked up from Atsushi and Tanizaki. “Okay, Dazai-san. Just let me get the paints first.”

 

Dazai nodded silently, watching him get up and patter over to his closet. On the top shelf sat a small basket, inside of which was a small jar of paint brushes and several bottles of different coloured paints. Kenji sat it down in front of Dazai before retrieving a pot from the same shelf.

 

“An empty pot?”

 

“I don’t have the plant for it yet. But I saw one in a market that I’d like to get.”

 

“Another plant?”

 

“You can never have too many plants, Dazai-san!”

 

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” he said, chuckling. “Okay. Eat up and I’ll paint. Deal?”

 

“Deal!”

 

Dazai fell into a trance as he painted the pot, slightly wonky brushstrokes covering the burnt orange colour with blues and purples. He dotted other areas with a light green and some with yellow, watching as eventually the whole pot became covered by his artwork. Once he finally finished, he set it down and admired his work. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but he was satisfied. Besides, he’d actually made something, and someone was going to have a small piece of him. It felt nice to be included.

 

A smile quirking his lips, he looked across the table at Kenji. He’d been so focused on his painting that he hadn’t even noticed when the boy had fallen asleep. Good. It was way too late for him anyway.

 

Dazai chuckled at him, his head leant at an odd angle, hair pushed up all over the place. He stood and brushed himself off before rounding the table and picking the kid up. Kenji was dead weight in his arms, completely out, but Dazai didn’t mind. He set him down on the futon and pulled the blanket up and set the stuffed cow on his chest. He laughed to himself when Kenji rolled over and pulled both it and the blanket closer to him, mumbling something that Dazai couldn’t quite make out.

 

On his way out the door, Dazai noticed a notepad sitting on the counter with a pencil. He flipped to a blank page and scrawled a note to leave beside his completed pot. Then he slipped out the door and back up to his own dorm. The smile stayed on his face until he finally fell asleep, satisfied with both his painting, and that the kid would see his note when he woke up in the morning.

 

Thank you, Kenji.

 

*

 

It got the better of him.

 

Not that that was anything particularly new. Everyone had seen his arms that day in the hellscape that was his memories, seen the corset of scars that laced his skin. Though it didn’t constrict his lungs, he still couldn’t breathe. Maybe covering them with bandages seemed counter intuitive, smothering him on top of the torture device he wore on his arms, but at least if they weren’t visible it would stop him from doing things, right? Right?

 

He’d thought it would be that way at least. If only he’d known himself better. Maybe then he would have known that despite not being able to see them, he could still feel them. The way the bandages snagged the rough edges and the dry skin rubbed up against the coarseness of the material. The way they itched when he felt even a twinge of regret, quickly spiraling into a demand to be felt and an order to be replicated tenfold. He wasn’t sure he even had enough skin to shred it that much, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

 

He learned to fight the impulses, but fighting doesn’t always mean you’ll win. Even the master isn’t invincible. And that was how he found himself curled up under his bathroom sink with a crimson runway down his arms. Chin resting on his knees, Dazai stared at the filthy tile floor beneath his feet with dazed eyes. He’d done it again. Done it again when he’d promised not to. Promised not just himself, but everyone else.

 

Maybe promise wasn’t the right word. They all knew as well as he did that it wouldn’t stop overnight. But as he counted the ridges in the tiles, he wondered how many more times he would fail in his pursuit of being clean. It had been almost ten years, after all. That’s a lot of ingrained behaviour. A lot of systematic thought in his brain to undo. And it was hard.

 

Dazai didn’t even bother to mop up the blood as it dripped to the floor. He let the drops run where they may and watched his shame seep from his self-inflicted wounds. The razor he’d been using stuck into the soft wood of the bathroom door, where he’d thrown it during his hazy frustration.

 

“Dazai?”

 

The man barely registered the sound of a woman’s voice in the doorway, the soft rapping of her knuckles on the open door. He tilted his head up, blinking slowly at her. She set something down outside the door and then entered, still keeping her eyes on him. Her voice was soft when she spoke, making her hard to hear over the cotton-balls in his ears. “Hey. Do you want me to…?”

 

Dazai searched her face with wary eyes. “Hmm?”

 

The woman sunk into a crouch in front of him and gingerly took his closest arm. Her short hair fell in her face as she examined the damage, a frown curling her lips. “You did a good number on them, hun,” she said after a moment, letting go with one hand. She grabbed some tissues from the box on the counter and folded them up, pressing them to his arm. Dazai hissed and wrenched his arm away. “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to—What is it?”

 

He stared at her like a scared cat, torso moving with every breath.

 

“What’s the matter? Hey—” She reached out for his shoulder, but he flinched away, holding his arms to his chest. The woman blinked at him, watching fear cloud his eyes. “It’s only me. It’s Yosano.”

 

“I… Why…?”

 

Realization dawned on her face. “You don’t remember texting me, do you, Dazai?”

 

He furrowed his brows. “… I texted you?”

 

“You did. About twenty minutes ago.”

 

“What,” he started, trailing off as he thought back over the foggy events of the evening, “did I say?”

 

Yosano transitioned to her knees, dragging her medical bag over next to her leg, immediately jumping when Dazai lurched away from her before she could continue. “Dazai?”

 

“No. No!”

 

“No what?”

 

“Get away from me!”

 

“What?” Yosano puzzled, sitting back on her heels. “I’m only here to help you, like you asked me to.”

 

“Why would I want that?”

 

“I’m sorry, hun, I don’t understand what you mean.”

 

He stuck a shaking finger out towards her medical bag. “Get those—those tools away from me.”

 

If not for the fear it incited in her friend, Yosano would have cracked a grin and likely laughed. But the mix-up wasn’t funny when Dazai curled up against the wall, trembling from the thought of being mauled by an axe or a chainsaw. “No, no, Dazai, it’s not what you think.”

 

“I know I deserve to be hurt but I don’t want it!”

 

She waved her hands in front of him, shaking her head. “I’m not going to do that.”

 

Dazai tried to scramble to his feet, only to slip in the blood on the floor and crash back to the tiles. His vision became spotted as Yosano slid towards him, the haze crowding him more as he fought just to avoid the pain. Avoid the torture. “No! Plea-Please no!”

“Dazai,” she called again, fighting the arms he threw up in front of him. “It’s only my first-aid supplies. Nothing else!” She knocked his arms down again and again, wearing his blood like spilled paint. Finally, she was able to get a grasp on his wrists, which she was sure was painful, but another outcome would likely be worse. “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you, I’m not here to hurt you.”

 

He stopped fighting, staring up at her with hitching breaths. His ears suddenly cleared, his vision focusing, as if coming to from unconsciousness. The sudden force of reality hitting him was abrupt and, in all truth, too much for him to handle. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a choked noise from the back of his throat.

 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Yosano said again, staring him straight in the eyes. “I promise.”

 

“What’s going on?” Dazai asked, voice cracking.

 

“I came to help you clean up,” she explained, resting a hand in his hair. “I didn’t come here to hurt you.”

 

“To clean up?” His voice began to shake. “To clean up what?”

 

Yosano smiled at him sadly, running a fingertip over the unscathed side of his forearm. “Your arms, sweetie.”

 

Dazai sucked in a breath, as if he was only realizing the cuts for the first time. “I…” He held both arms up in front of him, eyes watering rapidly. “I wasn’t supposed to do this.”

 

“It’s oka—”

 

“I wasn’t supposed to do this Yosano!” Dazai blinked, a tear falling down his face. His voice wavered like the other tears that threatened to spill. “I wasn’t supposed to do this anymore.”

 

“Dazai, it’s okay.”

 

“It’s not okay! I-I was supposed to be better! I was supposed to—”

 

He cut himself off when Yosano’s hands cupped his face, his tears tumbling over her thumbs. “It is. It is okay. It’s okay.”

 

“How? How is it okay?”

 

“This is not a linear process, hun. You’re going to falter. And that’s okay. We don’t expect you to be perfect.”

 

“But you’re all trying to help me. And I said I wouldn’t do this anymore…”

 

“You’re hurting right now. Your emotions got the better of you, yeah?”

 

“I don’t remember anything from tonight…”

 

“Exactly. It was an unconscious reaction to try and help yourself in the only way you knew how. It is so ingrained in you that of course it would be your first reaction. That’s what we’re trying to change. And it will take time.”

 

“So, I didn’t fail?”

 

Yosano shook her head. “No. You didn’t. This is only a bump in the road.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Next time you feel this way, if you can, come tell one of us that you want to hurt yourself. Okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Good… Now, can I fix you up?”

 

“Sure. Just one thing…”

 

“What’s up?”

 

“How did you know to come here?”

 

She blinked. Man, he was really out of it. “You texted me.”

 

“Saying what?”

 

“You said that you were going to hurt yourself and didn’t think you could stop. And that you would probably need my help.”

 

“I… said that?”

 

“Mhmm. And I’m glad you did so that I could be here right now.”

 

Dazai tore his gaze away from Yosano’s, looking back down at his arms. “Yeah.”

 

“Here,” she said, her voice gentle. “Let me see your left arm again.”

 

Dazai obliged, offering the torn skin to her skilled hands. “Just… stitch me up, alright? If they’re deep enough.”

 

“I’ll do my best work.”

 

The two sat in silence for a while as Yosano did exactly as she said she would. The damp cloth didn’t sting as much as he thought it would, but it didn’t exactly feel nice. The cool water she rinsed the angry flesh with dripped onto the floor tinged with red, running clearer every time. It cleared like his head, the events of the night becoming a bit less muddled.

 

“Yosano?”

 

She peeked up at him, just before the needle pierced his skin. “Yes?”

 

“How did I know to message you when I was so out of it?”

 

She shrugged, then poised the needle again. “I’m not sure. I guess your subconscious knew what to do to help you even when you weren’t exactly with it.”

 

“I guess so… Maybe I really am healing.”

 

“You are.”

 

It wasn’t long before she bandaged him up, pressing sterile gauze pads to both of his wrists and wrapping them with bandages. Eventually she let his arm down, watching it lay gingerly in his lap while Dazai looked the other way. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“I don’t even know what it is, Yosano.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I don’t remember what happened. It’s all hazy. I was reading and then I was in here with a razor in my hand. And I was crying. I think I might’ve been screaming. I threw the razor. I must’ve texted you and then I guess I just sat there. That’s all I remember.”

 

“You threw the razor?” He only pointed to the door, and she followed his gaze, pursing his lips. “Why would you do that?”

 

“I dunno. I guess the same as why I texted you, my subconscious was aware. And I kinda…”

 

“You kinda what?”

 

“I kinda felt like a failure. For doing this again when I said that I wouldn’t. And I know we just talked about this but it’s really nagging at me. In my head.”

 

Yosano patted his bandaged arm. “This is not something that will just stop with the snap of your fingers. I know you know that. I know you know a lot of things because you’re brilliant. But I know that that doesn’t make it any easier.”

 

“It really doesn’t.”

 

“If I could clap my hands and make it happen, I would.”

 

“I wish you could.”

 

“So, you want to stop? Not just because you made a promise?”

 

“Yes. Of course, I do. Sometimes I still feel like I deserve it but at other times I know that I’m trying to be better and it won’t help me do that. Among about a million other things.”

 

“That’s the first step, Dazai. You’re already there. Like I said before, you are healing. That’s already a big accomplishment. Being able to differentiate. And wanting to stop for yourself and not just for us.”

 

“I guess so.”

 

Yosano shook her head, brushing Dazai’s bangs away from his eyes. “I know so. You’re making progress already. You will get there. It just takes time.”

 

“Know of anybody who has a time-manipulation ability?”

 

She chuckled, a smile quirking her lips. “No, I don’t. We both wish, though.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Doesn’t everyone? If I could go back in time and save just this one person…”

 

“You wouldn’t be the same person you are today, though. And most of the Agency would probably be dead.”

 

“I know that. But it’s something I think about from time to time.”

 

“I get that. I think about it a lot. What I would do if I could go back. To save Oda. To bring Chuuya with me. To maybe even save my Mom, just by being a few minutes earlier…”

 

“The only thing with that is you don’t know what exactly it would change. But no matter what, today you would be different.”

 

“Yeah, I know. But even just going the other way,” he huffed. “If I could skip to when I was better…”

 

“Speed healing wouldn’t be beneficial to you anyway,” Yosano stated, waving a hand. “There’s a reason that it’s a process. You have to actively make the decision; you have to actively heal. If you skip that then no real progress has been made. You know?”

 

“I’ve actually… never thought about it that way before.”

 

“Wow, the great Dazai Osamu didn’t know something that I did? I’m shocked.”

 

Dazai swatted her. “Stop. I’m plenty clever about most things.”

 

“I know,” she said, a shit eating grin plastered on her face. “That’s why I said it.”

 

He hung his head with a chuckle and Yosano leaned in to let him rest on his forehead on her shoulder. “Thank you, Yosano.”

 

She rested a hand on the back of his head. “Anytime, Osamu.”

 

*

 

It wasn’t that Fukuzawa wasn’t prepared… it was just that it was unexpected. He had tea, books, and bandages set aside in case a night ever did arrive where the brunet would show up at his door, but it was never something that he thought of as a real possibility. After all, he was just the Agency President, he wasn’t a real father figure in Dazai’s eyes. Not like Mori might have been, despite how badly he might have treated him.

 

Like Atsushi and his headmaster, that man was a father to Dazai, like it or not. He spent a long time under his care. However, when Dazai transferred to the Agency, the two of them did not form that same bond. He watched Dazai from afar, hoping that all would turn out all right. After all, with someone like Dazai, the more you push the more they pull away.

 

Except, that wasn’t so much the case anymore. Not really. Sure, some days were worse than others and he held his cards close to his chest. But since all his dirty laundry had been aired, each and every agency member had in some way shape or form had an impact on Dazai. He’d opened his heart up to each of them, showing his vulnerability little by little. As far as he knew, he was the only one Dazai hadn’t approached or been approached by—and he expected it to stay that way.  As much as he wished to step up and help, to be the father he needed like he did his best to be for Ranpo, he stayed on the sidelines. Until that day finally came.

 

It was the middle of a Sunday afternoon, sun pouring in the windows over the treeline. Fukuzawa read over case files and letters that needed responses, puzzling over them with his pen in hand and an empty cup of green tea. He scrawled notes to himself on a legal pad off to the side and assigned cases and reports to the different agency members from his laptop. Two new reports for Kunikida, an intel gathering case for Kenji, another murder investigation for Ranpo, and yet another request from Mori for Atsushi to partner with Akutagawa. The list was never ending, as was his need for more caffeine. Was this how Kunikida felt all the time?

 

Itching for a distraction, he welcomed the soft knocking on the front door. The paper boy? Or perhaps a door-to-door salesman? Either way, the more time he could stand and talk the more time he could break from work without feeling guilty. But it was neither of his guesses. Not the newspaper boy, nor a door-to-door salesman, but Dazai, looking up at him through his bangs while he hugged himself with one arm clad in a very oversized sweater.

 

“Good afternoon, Dazai-kun. Is everything alright?”

 

“I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes?”

 

Though that didn’t directly answer his question, it told him what he needed to know. Something was up. There was something bothering Dazai, and he’d come to him. But why? “Of course. Come in.”

 

He didn’t wait for Dazai to take off his shoes once he entered the house, knowing that he would follow him in and find him in a room off to the side. Instead of bringing him to the dining room where he’d spread out all his work materials, he decided to lead him to the sitting room instead. He sat in one of the white wicker chairs and leaned back into it, crossing one leg over the other. Less than a minute later, Dazai appeared in the room and curled up on the delicate surface, peering at Fukuzawa over his knees.

 

“What did you wish to talk to me about Dazai-kun?”

 

“Why did you hire me?”

 

Fukuzawa’s face softened, an almost knowing smile appearing on his often-stoic features. “I had a feeling that one day you would ask me this question.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“Because you don’t believe that you belong here. Do you?”

 

“Truly? I’m not sure. I didn’t. But now I’m hearing a lot of insistence. Everyone is trying to support me. And it’s very conflicting with the internal monologue I’ve had for years.”

 

“Of course it is. I would expect no different after all that has happened in your life.”

 

“Yeah, childhood trauma… I know.”

 

He shook his head with a low chuckle. “I guess you’re tired of hearing that answer. But you must realize that everyone in this Agency knows this same, similar feeling of being unworthy. Though you all have different circumstances, something has led all of you to believe you do not belong.”

 

“Everyone else does. I mean… Kunikida will do anything to uphold his ideals and keep people safe. Atsushi has this inherent goodness in him that he fights to keep alive. I don’t think you could find someone friendlier than Kenji if you tried. Kyouka is doing everything in her power to prove her own worth to herself, and she is doing a damn good job of helping us keep the city safe. Yosano uses her ability to heal us and destroy enemies that threaten the city’s wellbeing, or any of ours for that matter. Tanizaki and Naomi would do anything for each other and despite all the weirdness are genuinely good people who just want the best for others. Haruno sticks by our sides through thick and thin and does her damndest to make cases easier to organize for us. And Ranpo… well this place wouldn’t even exist without the two of you. Ranpo keeps our city safe with just his mind and look at what you’ve done for everybody. I just don’t see where I fit in to all of this.”

 

“Did you know that Kunikida refers to you as the brains of this place?”

“What? He’s always calling me an idiot.”

 

“Yes, well that may be true, but behind his incessant teasing, he truly believes you are a genius. That if anyone can save the Agency, or the city, then it is you. You are the strategizer, the organizer, the brain of the machine that makes everything work. And while everybody else may have their place, yours is just as vital. And we are lucky to have you.”

 

Dazai puzzled over his words, slotting the pieces together into some pattern that made sense to him. However, even though it was nearly complete, there was still a piece missing. “But there is no way that you could have known that when you took me in.”

 

“You did pass your entrance exam.”

 

“That’s not what I mean,” he sighed. “You gave me a chance, even though you knew I was a Port Mafia executive beforehand.”

 

“Of course, I did. Because I saw potential in you. There is still good in you, Dazai-kun. You just have to see it for yourself.” He paused, smiling at the floor. “And also because… I know the need for a second chance very well.”

 

“What?”

 

“I well understand the guilt of a killer, Dazai. I could see it in your eyes. It was stronger back then, much stronger. And I knew then and there, from the remorse and conflict that came off you in waves… it was much like myself after I stopped being a samurai.”

 

“Do you…”

 

“Do I what, Dazai-kun?”

 

“Do you think you could tell me some of those stories?”

 

After an initial hesitation, he smiled. He had never told those stories to anyone but Ranpo. But if there was anyone else he would tell, especially if it would help, it would be Dazai. Fukuzawa stood and headed for the empty teapot on the counter. “Sure, son. I can do that.”

 

*

 

Contrary to what Fukuzawa thought, there was still one person Dazai hadn’t sought out. Kunikida may have been the one to get to him first that day, may have been the one to hug him until he calmed down, and sure Dazai knows the man cares about him—hell he’s his best friend! But that doesn’t make approaching him any easier. Not after all he saw.

 

Kunikida was different with him. Not all the time, and not in a bad way, but enough that it was noticeable—and it put Dazai on edge. He was used to the teasing, to the jabs and the yelling and the nagging… and it had all but stopped. Sure, he still razzed him a little bit, but he was careful. Nothing too personal, nothing too serious, and nothing that could be construed as even close to anything to do with his past. Which, with Dazai, was hard. Because he was the by-product of all that had happened to him. Everybody was, after all.

 

Did he appreciate him laying off about deadlines when he had bad days? Of course he did. But other days, when he was feeling good, it made him want to snap. He didn’t know where they stood anymore. Instead of equals, did Kunikida now see him as lesser in some way? Was he like a burdensome younger sibling? And what if he relapsed? He’d promised not to hurt himself anymore, but if he failed again like when he slipped up and had to text Yosano…

 

Those thoughts, the spirals, still whipped him around in their torrent. When he was so close to the surface he could almost breathe he was tugged back beneath the murky surface and forced to take in that which he couldn’t breathe. It was always the same with him, wasn’t it? How many times before had he consumed the darkness, been tangled in the seaweed, watched as his fingertips receded from where they broke through the surface?

 

He was one gigantic contradiction that no one could understand and even less people would want around. His father had proven as much, hadn’t he? And if they did want him, it was for some disturbed, fucked up reason. To use him, to abuse him, to break him… Always one of those.

 

Until the Agency. Wary as he was at the beginning, he hid it behind his plastered-on smile and goofy demeanour. Always so aloof and acting as though he had no cares in the world. As though his suicide attempts were jokes and nothing ever bothered him. That side of himself was an impenetrable fortress that others would accept instead of breaking down. And it worked. He had friends, he had an apprentice, he had moments where he was happy… Or at least, he could convince himself that he was happy. He wasn’t a burden that way.

 

But then she appeared and ripped that all away from him—and that included, possibly, his best friend. Kunikida treated him differently now. He didn’t see him the same way anymore. He was cautious and considerate and completely unlike how Kunikida had ever treated him before. And Dazai was going to lose him, too. Now that the fortress had fallen, and he could no longer tread water. No longer had the guise of carefree and had lost the ability to joke about suicide without being questioned.

 

Kunikida said he loved him. Said he was his best friend. But that was before. Before he continued to be beaten down by the world around him over the past few weeks since the incident. Before his true nature as a walking, talking suicide-risk was revealed to be serious. Before, well, all of it. With everyone else.

 

And Kunikida knew. Of course he knew. The others talk. And they would talk about him just like they would talk about everything else. Brought up in casual conversation, as gossip, or even as a warning. Stay away from him, they’d say. Get out while you can.

 

Dazai pulled his knees to his chest where he sat on his futon. If he lost one, he’d eventually lose them all. And they were people he couldn’t afford to lose. He lost Oda and it had devastated him. He lost Chuuya, and it had ruined him. He lost Ango, and never fully recovered from that blow, either. And now, more people who said they loved him would disappear, just as he told Ango all things did. As soon as he had something he wanted… they left him.

 

Burying his face between his knees, Dazai squeezed them against the sides of his head. Though he was externally silent, his inner monologue screamed and cursed at the rampaging whirlpool inside his head. It had been hours. He’d been spiralling for hours. And still he hadn’t been able to pull himself out. Hadn’t even come close to breaching the surface.

 

An involuntary whimper mixed with a scream, tearing from him without his permission. Why couldn’t he stop? Why couldn’t he stop this? Why why why why why?

 

He didn’t know why, but the longer it continued, the more he began scratching at his arms. They still held fresh stitches from a few nights prior and he winced when his nails snagged one of them. Intense, dark eyes stared at the translucent thread poking out from his skin, followed the line of them across his wrist. Several lines of them. He couldn’t do it again. What would Kunikida say? What would Yosano say? What Would Kunikida say??

 

He wouldn’t understand. It would just prove him to be more of a burden. And yet, as his brain spouted irrational thoughts, the one person he kept going back to was Kunikida. He wracked his overactive brain for a way to cope. Mentally rifled through his head for the list of strategies he’d discussed with Yosano. He couldn’t come up with many, and the ones he did he’d already tried. Ice in his palm, box breathing, going outside… nothing had worked. But there was one that he returned to again…

 

“Please come to us next time you want to hurt yourself… I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night, okay? You can come to me.”

 

Did Kunikida’s promise still stand? Even weeks later when he’d become insufferable? He hadn’t called it off… but then again he’d be too nice too. That would go against his ideals. But would he be bothering him? Would he even want to see his face? Would he secretly resent him? Dazai wasn’t sure when that had all become important to him but somewhere along the line, he supposed it had. Enough to make him hesitate. But the pull of the brutal tides was overpowering. He needed someone if he was going to make it through the night unscathed.  

 

Dazai stood, yanking his baby blue sweater sleeves down over red arms. He’d practically scratched them raw, but that was better than the other option he’d been considering. His fingernails were short, they could only do so much damage.

 

He kept his head down as he swiped his keys from the counter and slid on his shoes. Dazai didn’t even bother to lock his door when he left, curling in on himself and burying his sweater clad fists into his armpits to shield them from the cool night air. It was the second time cold air had failed to refresh his brain that night. And he was sick and tired of it.

 

It wasn’t a far walk to Kunikida’s apartment, but it took a bit longer when you practically shuffle there. Regardless, he made it there before he could decide to turn around and go home, finding himself standing in front of the door and knocking before he could talk himself out of it.

 

From beyond the door came a bang and a string of curses followed by silence as he assumed Kunikida stared through the peephole. Upon opening the door, Kunikida yawned his name into his hand. “Come here.”

 

Kunikida spun around and headed back inside, tugging on Dazai’s elbow so he would follow him. He barely slipped out of his shoes before Kunikida was pulling him around the corner and into his living room. He yawned again as he sat down on the plush couch, nodding at Dazai to signal for him to sit down, too.

 

He did, right beside Kunikida, still huddling in his sweater and not making eye contact. Kunikida dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Why are you here, Dazai?”

 

He flinched involuntarily. “It’s nothing. Just couldn’t sleep.”

 

“You’re not here for no reason. So… what happened?”

 

“It’s fine. Really, I’ll just go home.”

 

Kunikida caught his wrist as he stood up. “I’m sorry if I sounded gruff, I’m just half-asleep. I’m not mad at you.”

 

“I didn’t think you were.”

 

“Your face says otherwise.”

 

Dazai blanked. Had he really shown that much? Was he really that incapable of hiding his thoughts now? What was wrong with him? “I just didn’t want to bother you.”

 

“When has that ever stopped you before now,” he joked. “All you ever do is bother me, it’s like it’s your job or something.”

 

One corner of his lips quirked up. “It was in my contract.”

 

“Uh huh.” Kunikida rolled his eyes, then turned to sit cross-legged on the couch facing Dazai. “It must be a rough night for you to come all the way here instead of just messaging me. So what’s up? What’s bothering you?”

 

“Well…”

 

“And please don’t give me some bullshit. Be honest with me. Please. I care about you, remember.”

 

Dazai took a deep breath. “I want to hurt myself.”

 

Kunikida sat up straighter, silent for a moment while he processed that information. “Thank you for coming to me. I know that must’ve been hard for you.”

 

“Don’t say it like that,” Dazai nearly snapped. “Like you’re patronizing me.”

 

Kunikida blinked at him. “What?”

 

“You’ve been treating me differently and I figured that the only way not to lose you, and everyone else, would be to not fail and hurt myself again. So, well, here I am, even though I’m scared you’re going to hate me for being a burden and well, well…”

 

“Well what?”

 

“I needed someone. You specifically. But that sounds stupid and needy so just forget that I said that…”

 

“I wasn’t trying to patronize you, Osamu.”

 

Dazai jerked his head up, searching Kunikida’s face. “Then what were you trying to do? Why do you treat me differently?”

 

“I treat you differently because I realized how unfair I was being to you before. I’m adjusting based off of what I know now. I was being a dick.”

 

“All I ever did was annoy you.”

 

“Yes, but I would call you names and nag at you without even considering how you were or why you weren’t doing your work or were doing whatever you were doing. And knowing what I do now, it makes a lot more sense.”

 

“So, it’s not because you think I’m a freak? Or want to pull away and shut me out?”

 

“What would give you that idea—actually, don’t answer that. I’m sorry that I didn’t clarify that with you.”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

“It’s not fine,” said Kunikida, running a hand through his hair. “It got to this point before you would come to me because you were scared I was going to hate you. And I’m sorry.”

 

“Apology accepted. Really, I’m not mad. Just relieved. I was… I was really spiraling.”

 

“Is that what was making you want to hurt yourself?”

 

Dazai nodded, playing with his fingers in his lap. “I know it sounds stupid coming from me… Because I never seemed to care. But I don’t want to lose any of you. And even though you said you were all here for me, I was worried that the more you saw what I was really like, the less you’d want to be around me.”

 

“Well somehow, even after all your bullshit and all your antics these past few years, you’re still my best friend. And I still want you around. Truthfully, I’m not sure how you managed that one, but you did.”

 

That time, Dazai smiled a full smile. “You’re just a masochist I guess.”

 

Kunikida side-eyed him. “Really? Now?”

 

“Sorry, sorry.”

 

“We were having a moment.”

 

“It’s a deflection mechanism.”

 

“Yes, I know. You’re really bad at accepting affection, you know?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“Anyway. I meant what I said. Thank you for coming to me. I’m sure it was hard to keep that urge at bay and keep yourself safe until you could get to me.”

 

“It was… very hard. But I didn’t want to fail.”

 

Kunikida shook his head, resting a hand on Dazai’s leg. “Even if you did hurt yourself, I wouldn’t say you failed. You’re not perfect. None of us are perfect. And self-harm is one tricky, addictive piece of shit. Of course it would be hard to resist when it’s all you’ve known for the better part of a decade.”

 

“I guess so.”

 

“I know so. And I know that Dr. Yosano has had a similar conversation with you. So it’s not just me talking out my ass. It’s hard. And I’m very proud of you for trying.”

 

“Thank you…”

 

“Now… how about a cup of tea and then bed? You can stay here tonight.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“I’m absolutely positive.”

 

Dazai inclined his head once again, finally breaking through the surface. He was still barely treading, but at least with Kunikida, he had his head above water. “Thanks, Doppo.”

 

“Anytime, Osamu. I mean that.”

 

*

 

It was true that it was a struggle to keep himself together some days. A struggle to keep the demons within, to keep himself safe, to gather himself enough to get to a safe place. But he was working on it every day. And it was progress.

 

Sure, they had all made a promise. Every single Agency member had promised to be there for him. And Dazai hadn’t expected any of them to remember nor care. Until they surprised him with their kindness. With their generousity and perceptiveness. Patience and outright concern for his wellbeing. With their overwhelming support.

 

Atsushi and Kyouka with their brief but effective words of comfort. Tanizaki, digging in deep to make sure that he knew Oda’s death wasn’t his fault. Kenji, for listening to him and making him realize that he was human after all. And that he wasn’t alone. Yosano, for cleaning him up and teaching him that healing isn’t linear—it’s an active choice. Fukuzawa, for relating to him in the only way he knew how. For showing him his place in their wonky, dysfunctional family. And Kunikida, for his earnest attempt to better himself for Dazai’s sake. For him companionship and unwavering support. For being his best friend. All of them, for everything that they’ve done for him. For being the family he’d needed his whole life.

 

For saving him from drowning, each of them taking hold of some piece of his identity, his sanity, his everything and dragging them back above water.

 

Sure, you only have room for one on your boat—but together they made a raft for him. And there was only one thing that meant to him…

 

“We love you, Dazai.”

Notes:

Helloooooo everybody who is reading this! I am back, hopefully more frequently haha. it is my summer vacation now so I hope to post some more one-shots. I also have a group-chat series for BSD ongoing rn on my profile. It's currently on book 3 but I will shortly be oing back to start editing the first book (still give it a read though if you want a good dose of humour AND angst).

Also, the community from that series and here made me want to create a discord to chat with you guys and it has become a nice little community. So here is the link if you would like to join us: https://discord.gg/958b3yhz

Until next time, guys! -Emma :)

ps. sorry for disappearing for almost a year. I'm still very much active in this fandom I just had a lot going on aha

Chapter 57: Forgive Yourself (Kenji Backstory Angst)

Summary:

Yes, yes, I know. Another Kenji one-shot. I'm sorry everybody.

And also, yes, the names I gave Kenji's family members are the same as the ones from the gc series. But this is in no way related to that story, I'm just fucking around with it and the dynamics. Sora is really the best Mom ever in the gc series even though here she is... really REALLY not. Just humour me, alright?

Summary: One a short trip home, Kenji is reminded of exactly why he didn't visit. The memories were too painful. As were the punishments. And when his mother found out he was self-harming by mistake... It was up to the Agency to help him out.

TW: self-harm, blood, discussion of natural disasters, death, grief, abuse, disassociation.

Warning: This one-shot contains manga spoilers for Kenji's backstory in chapters 99-100.5!!

Finally, the house was quiet.

 

Only the shuddering of the windows in their frames and the muffled lowing of the cows in the fields. What a luxury the stillness was. It was a rarity in a household of nine.

 

Kenji peeked around the doorframe from the kitchen, brows drawn. From the window in the next room, eight figures clad in overalls and work boots moved towards the gate to the pasture. The youngest of his siblings picked up some brushes while the others gathered feed and buckets of water before following his parents into the field. A frown forced its way onto his face.

 

“We don’t need your help. Go pack your things.”

 

Kenji’s shoulders drooped as he turned away from the window and headed for the stairs. That’s right… he only had a few hours before the Agency would arrive to pick him up. His chest clenched as he ascended to the second floor. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go back. He wanted more than anything to be back in Yokohama. But to leave his siblings there…

 

The sting on his back intensified, as if reminding him of the night before.

 

Kenji jolted to a stop at the top of the stairs as his mother’s voice bounced off the walls. He held his breath.

 

“And what on earth makes you think I’d allow that?”

 

“I don’t know.” It was the oldest of his younger brothers, Hikaru. “I just thought—”

 

“Well think harder next time. There is absolutely no way in hell that you’re not helping in the fields tomorrow.”

 

“It’s only for an hour—”

 

“I don’t give a damn! Why should you get special treatment?”

 

“Kenji doesn’t have to work—”

 

“We don’t need his help.”

 

“But it’s easier—"

 

“We learned how to get by just fine without him, did we not?”

 

“Still, he wants—"

“To hell with what he wants!”

 

“But—”

 

“What did I say, Hikaru?”

 

Kenji flinched when she raised her voice.

 

Hikaru paused. “Mom, I don’t understand… Why are you so angry the last few days?”

 

“Because that traitor came back to visit!”

 

“Why do you always say that about him?”

 

“I’m sorry?? Are you questioning me?”

 

“No. No, I—”

 

“Should I—”

 

The switch in her tone shocked him from stillness and he poked his head around the railing. “Mom!”

 

Fury glinted gold. “What do you want?”

 

“I need help with something.”

 

“Can’t you see I’m busy with your brother.”

 

He gulped. “It’s important.”

 

With a huff, his mother bounded up the stairs. He barely had time to notice Hikaru’s confused stare before she was upon him, shoving him back into his room. But his brother’s confusion was bliss. He didn’t remember that night, back when he was only a toddler. When Kenji had stepped in front of him at only five years old, barely turning in time to get the whip across his bare back instead of his face or chest. He’d gotten twenty lashes that night for interference. Yet he did it time and time again, right up until he left for the ADA. And now…

 

“What have I told you about shielding your siblings?” The whip cracked across his skin and he dropped to the floor. “Why do you insist on being a pain in my ass? Why did you even bother coming home? We don’t need you!”

 

Kenji didn’t respond. He just grit his teeth as he took another lash. And another. And another. Each slash lacerated his skin and he supressed a groan as his tears dripped to the floor.

 

Kenji blinked at the blood-splotch on his floor. He’d never even cleaned it up before collapsing into bed. Face blank, he turned and walked down the hall to the bathroom instead and grabbed a rag from the shelf. As he ran it under the faucet a metallic glint caught his eye. His father’s razor. Kenji swallowed hard. The rag fell into the sink.

 

“You know you fucking deserve this. How could you leave him to die?”

 

“All you’re good for is helping people. But he’s dead. His whole family is dead and it’s all your fault!”

 

“Just go! We don’t need you.”

 

“WE DON’T NEED YOU!”

 

He hadn’t even realized he’d pulled out his blade until it was already coated crimson, several new slashes adding to the corset of blame on his forearm. Unfocused muddy eyes raked over the pink water in the sink and up to his disheveled reflection in the mirror. Had he always looked like this? Had he always been like this?

 

Of course he had. She’d given him no other choice in the matter.

 

Dull eyes stared back at him.

 

Bandages. He needed bandages.

 

Kenji tore his gaze away from the mirror, dropping the blade into the now-empty sink before floating from the room. He stood next to his bed, eyeing the sheets instead of the bandages in the drawer of his nightstand. The blood-stained blankets. The blood-stained carpet. The blood-stained clothes on the floor.

 

The tear-stained pillowcase.

 

He yanked his sleeve down, deep red not showing as it seeped through the black fabric. Fibers snagged the ragged skin as he moved across the room, ignoring the liquid dripping off of his fingertips. They hit his bare feet like the first drops of rain in a storm.

 

Kenji pressed the palm of his right hand against the glass, staring between his fingers at the horizon. No clouds lurked there as they did in his mind, only rays of sun chortling with the wind as they danced over the crevice in the mountain.

 

“Do you think it will really be that bad, Ken-chan?”

 

Fluffy bangs tickled his nose as he shook his head. “Nothing that we can’t handle!”

 

“Are you sure? Really sure?”

 

“Of course! We’ve dealt with loads of bad storms before. Why should this be any different?”

 

The boy picked a blade of grass and held it up in front of his face. “I heard some of the adults say that it might be.”

 

“Maybe… But, we all have each other. Isn’t that enough to make it through?”

 

“I guess so.”

 

“Don’t worry about it so much,” Kenji said, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Everything will be fine, just you wait and see.”

 

“And if it’s not?”

 

“Then I’ll be there. No way I’ll let you go through it alone!”

 

Kenji’s hand fell from the window. He hadn’t been there. He had gone through it alone.

 

On the outskirts of Ihatov, rocks barreled down a steep incline. Their rumbling tipped off the locals up at the crack of dawn, and they watched the boulders tumble in the dim light as they passed the word on. But it wasn’t fast enough.

 

Through the driving rain, Kenji pushed forward. His hair stuck to his face, clothes plastered to his body as he sprinted through the village. He blinked water from his eyes as he continued, the blur of the rain hindering his vision even more than the dimness of the sky.

 

Kenji ignored the burning in his legs and the tightness of his chest, careening towards his friend’s place in a race against gravity. But the soft ground got the better of him, tweaking his ankle as his foot stuck in the mud and sent him skidding across the slick grass. He hissed as he stood, cringing as he transferred his weight onto that foot before the joint buckled. Kenji staggered to get his balance, not waiting to be fully upright again before continuing to limp on his way.

 

But it was too late. By the time he made it around the corner… He would never be able to un-see the sight before him. Tears mingled with the rain as they coursed down his face, already knowing but not willing to face the truth as he gimped into their front yard. Kenji called for him, but he received no answer. He called again—for his friend and their family. For anyone in that house. But there was no one left to hear him.

 

He stood slack jawed as the realization hit him and his chin started to tremble. Kenji fell to his knees, a strangled cry escaping him and turning into a scream.

 

How had he felt in those final moments? Was he scared? Did he feel cheated? Or betrayed? Was he angry with him…?

 

Kenji sucked in a breath as he wondered this for the umpteenth time in the past six months, his eyes trailing from the mountain to the scene of his devastation. Except… it was no longer there.

 

Kenji stumbled away form the window until his back was pressed to the wall. The wreckage of his friend’s house was gone. For a while after the landslide, he could see where the cliff had given way and buried his friend and their family alive. No one had moved the rocks or the dirt or the debris… The only thing that was ever touched were their bodies, pulverized remains pulled from the dirt by Kenji himself several days after the incident. He’d begged not to have them buried after the funeral… he couldn’t bear to see him back under six feet of earth. So, their ashes were scattered in the fields and taken by the wind, returned to nature where they belonged.

 

But now… with no grave and no wreckage… no house and no possessions… there was nothing left of him but memories. Painful, bittersweet memories.

 

Kenji shook his head as he stared out the window across the room as if that would allow him to shake off the guilt. But that would never happen. His shoulders crept towards his ears. He’d never escape the blame, not only from himself, but from the town. From his own family. From his mom. Not when—

 

The door to his room burst open. “Show me!”

 

He whirled around, bugged eyes staring into his mom’s. “Huh? W-what?”

 

“Show me!” She held up her right hand and his breath caught in his throat. She held his blade from the bathroom, still coated in his own blood. “You’ve been cutting yourself, Kenji? Show me. Show me right now!”

 

His voice wavered as he backed away. “Mom…”

 

“I want to see! Show me. Show me right now, Kenji, or so help me God!”

 

“No… n-no I don’t—”

 

His head jerked sideways by the force of her hand. “Liar! Show me!”

 

“I— I don’t—”

 

She made a grab for his arm and he yanked it away, throwing himself off balance. Kenji fell back onto his bed and she followed, trying to pin him down. “SHOW ME.”

 

“Mom, no! Get off me!”

 

Rage burned in her eyes. “Show me!”

 

“Get off of me! Don’t touch me! DON’T TOUCH ME!” A sob tore from his throat. “FINE! Fine! You want to see?”

 

She glared down at him, shoulders pinned by her hands and elbows beneath her knees. She raised her brows. “Yes,” she bit. “You are my child. You came out of my body. I have every right to see what you’ve done to yours.”

 

Kenji hauled in a few deep breaths as she got off of him. He sat up and made direct eye contact with her as he rolled up his sleeve. Watched her face as she looked. Her expression morphed into something monstrous… contorted beyond lividity. A few gasps came from his bedroom door. All of his siblings stood there, plastered to the floor. More tears sprung to his eyes.

 

 “How dare you?” His mother slapped him again, then curled the front of his shirt into her fist. “You have no right to do this to yourself!”

 

“Why not? It’s not like you care about me!”

 

“Your body is my property.”

 

“I know,” he wailed. “You’ve made that clear to me since I was a toddler! And it’s only gotten worse since the first time I shielded Hikaru from you!”

 

“You blame him? When it’s your fault for interfering in his punishment? You blame him for this?”

 

Kenji wrenched his arm from her grip and held it close to his chest. “Of course not. I will never regret taking the brunt of the punishments for his sake. For all of their sakes.”

 

“Then why do this to yourself?”

 

“Because!” Kenji swiped tears from his face with his good arm. “You made me feel worthless! Like I deserved every single one of them!”

 

“Oh, so it’s my fault? Is that what you’re saying?”

 

“No—”

 

Blood spurted from his nose and down the front of his shirt from the force of her fist. “You think it’s my fault that you’re like this? I gave you everything!”

 

“You hurt me.”

 

“I disciplined you.”

 

“That wasn’t discipline,” Kenji sobbed. “That was abuse!”

 

“Abu—” She cut herself of with a flurry of fists, throwing herself at every piece of him in her reach. Kenji backed up until the backs of his knees hit the side of his bed and he fell back onto it, wincing as his sore arm protected his face from further impact. The obscenities she screamed continued, intensifying as she was hauled off of him by his brothers. “You ungrateful brat! You are a monster. I was trying to keep you in check before you ruined anyone else’s lives!”

 

“What about my life? Huh??”

 

“Someone like you doesn’t deserve to live the life you want,” she spat.

 

“I thought you didn’t think I deserved to live at all! Isn’t that how you always made it seem? Starving me? And saying I was only good for helping others?”

 

“And you couldn’t even do that right, could you? You’re worthless. Fucking worthless!”

 

“I know,” he mumbled, voice cracking. “I’ve always known. And you will never let me forget that.”

 

“You let him die. You let them all die!”

 

“And you cast me aside when I needed you most. When I needed you all the most, you turned everyone’s backs on me!” Kenji got back to his feet, a flood of the same magnitude as that day welling in his eyes. “I hate myself. And it’s all. Your. FAULT.”

 

Air wheezed from his lungs as his back hit the floor, the back of his head stinging from the impact of the wooden nightstand. The tears leaked over his temples and mixed with the blood in his hair as she stood over him. “Get out of my fucking house! We don’t need you! Nobody needs you!”

 

“I know,” he choked, more to himself than to anybody else.

 

She threw his blade to the floor, narrowly missing his wrist. “You’d be better off dead than wasting our space.”

 

His siblings protested, but he paid no attention to them. Not to them, nor the blood from his wounds, nor the footsteps bounding up the stairs. The bellowing voices bursting onto the scene—

 

“Kenji!”

 

He knew that voice. Those voices. Not only his father’s directing the others up the stairs, but the two male voices that followed.

 

“Kenji! Oh my God!”

 

“What have you done to him.”

 

Kenji didn’t look up as he was pulled into somebody’s arms. The first voice spoke to him again. “Hey, it’s okay, buddy. I’ve got you.”

 

His fingers clenched the front of the boy’s shirt. “Tanizaki…”

 

“I’m here. I’ve got you.”

 

A small hand closed around his left wrist. He tried to pull away, but the grip was too firm. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

 

“Kyouka…?”

 

Her hair brushed his shoulder as she nodded. A wet cloth pressed to his skin. “Let me clean you up.”

 

“I-I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

 

Tanizaki held him close to his chest. “She’s right. You don’t need to apologize Kenji-kun. Just let us help you.”

 

“What on Earth do you think you are doing?” His mother shrieked behind them. “Barging into my house!”

 

“I let them in.” It was Kenji’s father, his voice even and stern. “Emiko came and found me just as the Agency got here.”

 

“Well, this is absolutely none of their business.”

 

“It is 100% our business,” Kunikida stated. “You’ve hurt someone we care about.”

 

“I have done nothing of the sort. Those wounds are of his own doing!”

 

“Kunikida…”

 

“Yes, Tanizaki?” He peered over to where the boy stared at something over Kenji’s shoulder. “What is it?”

 

It was Kyouka who answered, eyes fixed on Kenji’s back under his loose t-shirt. “She whipped him again.”

 

“Again?” His father spluttered. “Sora. How could you?”

 

“He shouldn’t have interfered.”

 

Kenji hissed as Kyouka pressed the cloth to one of the fresh wounds on his back. When she moved to another one, it turned into a whimper.

 

“Fucking shut up. It was for your own good.”

 

“For his own good? Why would you say that?”

 

She glared at Kunikida. “Why wouldn’t I? He can go to hell for all I care.”

 

“Sora—”

 

“I’d rather him dead,” she fumed, fists shaking at her sides. “Go kill yourself. Maybe you’ll see your beloved friend again.”

 

Tanizaki flinched when Kenji recoiled, a strained cry tearing from his chest. He held the boy closer. “How could you say that to your son?”

 

She peered down her nose at him. “He’s no son of mine.”

 

Kyouka only looked up from her cleaning when Kenji started to shake in time with his heavy sobs. She set down her cloth and scooted closer to him, wrapping her arms carefully around him so he was between her and Tanizaki. The redhead looked down at him and rested a hand on his hair. “Shh… it’s okay. We’ve got you.”

 

“Just breathe,” said Kyouka. She leant her head on his shoulder. “I won’t let her hurt you.”

 

“Neither will I,” Kunikida said, retrieving handcuffs from his belt. “I had a suspicion something would go awry. Though I’d hoped to be wrong.”

 

“You’re arresting me?”

 

“You deserve to be locked up.”

 

“On what grounds?”

 

Kunikida didn’t even flinch as she shrieked in his ear. “On the grounds of child abuse, neglect, and endangerment.”

 

“Kohaku, you’re just going to let him do this?”

 

Her husband only blinked at her as she fought Kunikida, slowly shaking his head as she was forced from the room. “This whole time… he was in pain…”

 

Hikaru stepped forward; one hand outstretched towards his brother. “Kenji…”

 

Kohaku stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Give him some space.”

 

“He’s been shielding us this whole time.”

 

The man nodded. “I wish he would have said something to me.”

 

“Is onii-san going to be okay?”

 

He looked down at the tiny blonde girl beside him and scooped her up into his arms. “Yes, Emiko. He’ll be okay. Thank you for coming to get me when you saw mommy was hurting your brother.”

 

She rested her head on his shoulder, little fingers clasping his collar. “Kenji was crying because of mommy. And his arm was bleeding. I didn’t like it.”

 

“Daddy doesn’t like it either, Emi.”

 

Kunikida popped his head back into the room. “Tanizaki, bring him out to the car.”

 

“I don’t know if he can stand, Kunikida-san.”

 

He pursed his lips as Kenji clutched the older boy tighter, trembling. “You might have to carry him.”

 

He nodded. Hazel eyes glanced around the room at the boy’s unpacked belongings. “But what about his things?”

 

“I got it,” Kyouka said. She pulled away from the two of them and picked up Kenji’s blade, wiping his blood from it with the sleeve of her kimono before stashing it in her obi with her own dagger. “You take him.”

 

“Got it.” Tanizaki carefully got to his feet, adjusting his hold on Kenji to carry him like you would a child. He shushed him again when his breathing picked up, his hitching chest causing Tanizaki’s own to ache. “I’ve got you, buddy. It’s alright. Let’s go.”

 

As Tanizaki carried him down the stairs and out the front of the house, he did his best to become a shield of his own. From the stares of his family, the stares of his neighbours, and the horrific spouting of his mother. He tried his hardest to keep him calm. But Kenji couldn’t help but continue to cry. How could he not when a boy who would never age appeared along the long, gravel drive.

 

“I’ve already forgiven you,” he said.

 

Kenji sobbed into Tanizaki’s neck.

 

“It’s time for you to forgive yourself.”

Notes:

Hello hello everybody!! I hope that you enjoyed this oneshot. This was totally self-indulgent for multiple reasons. 1. I'm not doing so hot so by proxy, neither is the boy. 2. I heard a Tiktok audio that inspired me (but only the very first part of his mother finding out about his s/h came out of it). 3. I wanted to dive into his backstory and write a little bit about what happened, as well as how he and the village dealt with it. 4. I wanted to see what would happen if I reversed the dynamic of Kenji's parents as I wrote them in the gc fic (although obviously Kohaku is no where near as bad as Sora is here in the gc fic, but I digress). Anyway, I hope that you liked it!

How are you feeling about the manga? And about season 4 so far?? We only have one episode left... I'm nervous abut how this will play out.

It's 3am. I need to sleep now.

Until next time, guys! -Emma :)

Notes:

Hey everyone thanks for giving this fic a shot! I'll continue to update this with One-shots, and you are more than welcome to request one in the comments! Let me know hat you thought of this first one. I wasn't too sure about Dazai calling Chuuya 'baby', but I figured that Dazai does have a soft side, and would use that to try and calm down his distressed boyfriend.

Anyways, another should be up soon! Until next time! -Em :)