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“Seven forty-five is an odd time for an investigation.”
As inclined as Atsushi is to agree with Kyouka, he doesn’t respond. Maybe it would be different if Kyouka was the one going, but it’s him instead. And for some reason, his nerves are firing more than usual. It was bad enough before he got the case file, back when he was only worried because Chuuya was away on a mission himself. Nagoya. He’s coming back tonight. Those are the only details Chuuya shared, and it’s probably more than Chuuya should have told him. He stares at Chuuya’s last text from a couple of nights ago. Take care of yourself, tiger. He’s been nothing but anxious ever since.
“Atsushi-kun?”
“Yes?” he shouts, juggling his phone and snatching it out of the air.
“You’re going to be late if you don’t leave soon.”
Atsushi peers at Kyouka and closes his phone, half wishing he had saved Chuuya’s last voicemail just so he could hear his boyfriend’s voice. He slips it into his pocket, then starts again when Kyouka appears in front of him and pats both of his shoulders.
“I know you’re worried about Chuuya-san and this case. Chuuya-san is probably fine. He’s probably drinking red wine and eating miso katsu.”
“Miso katsu?” Atsushi echoes.
“A famous food from Nagoya. I can make it for dinner sometime. It’s good.”
Atsushi nods.
“And this case is complicated, but you’re good at what you do. Otherwise, Kunikida-san wouldn’t have approached you.”
“That is true,” Atsushi murmurs. He takes a moment to collect his determination and claps his hands against his face. “Right. Thanks, Kyouka-chan. I should be back by ten.”
“Don’t mention it. Be careful.”
Almost as soon as Atsushi leaves their shared dorm, he becomes unsettled all over again. You can’t let yourself get like this, especially on a case. You need to be at your best. That’s what Chuuya-san would say, and you promised you wouldn’t let him distract you.
But Chuuya does, especially now that he’s at the front of Atsushi’s mind. Where other people are involved, Atsushi has always been a worrier by nature. He knows this fact through and through despite telling Chuuya he would at least try to remain focused.
But it’s so damn hard, Atsushi tells himself. He’s aware Chuuya can be a dangerous person where missions and personal safety are involved, and he accepts—even appreciates—how dedicated Chuuya is to his work, even if he can’t support the misdeeds themselves. Where others see a villain, Atsushi sees a whole person. Chuuya’s crimes are still crimes, but the fact that he chooses courses of action to limit casualties… it doesn’t erase his other actions, but it does mean something.
Besides, it’s not like Atsushi hasn’t done questionable things as part of the ADA.
Like getting stabbed all those times by that ability user that escaped because of my mistake, he tells himself, sighing. Or breaking into that office a few weeks ago when I went on a joint mission with Akutagawa. Though… was that him or the mission? It doesn’t matter, in retrospect.
What does is how Akutagawa tucked his hands in his pockets once they were done. While they waited for a recovery unit to pick them up, the mafioso murmured, “I understand you and Chuuya-san are still dating.” Atsushi screwed up a glare and prepared several defensive lines, but Akutagawa didn’t give him a chance to say any of them. Instead, he coughed behind his hand and continued, “If you break his heart, I will break your bones, weretiger.”
“Huh?”
Akutagawa returned his glare. “You heard me.”
“I did. I just don’t see why you’re threatening me.”
Akutagawa coughs again, then wipes his mouth and clears his throat. “Chuuya-san is my mentor and…” He stops. Atsushi waits for him to continue. He doesn’t.
He won’t say it.
Coughing, Akutagawa continues, “I can accept this situation, however detestable I find it, because for some reason far beyond the limits of my comprehension, you make him happy.”
Atsushi bristled as Akutagawa looked at him again. In the distance, he caught the sound of a helicopter approaching.
“Do not hurt him, weretiger. This is your only warning.”
It still doesn’t make any sense. Even if Akutagawa tried to explain his actions, the fact that Akutagawa accepts this…
The only explanation is that Chuuya-san talked to him. His thoughts of Chuuya vanish when he spots Kunikida waiting at the entrance of a popular botanical garden. Atsushi flips his phone open and checks the clock. Seven forty-four. Right on time. He approaches the blond man and waits for him to say something.
Instead, Kunikida pushes up his glasses and sighs.
“Kunikida-san?”
“Nothing,” he answers. “Come on.”
It’s obviously something, Atsushi tells himself. Still, he falls into step beside Kunikida and doesn’t ask. At the ticket counter, he hands the clerk a note from Fukuzawa, explaining their business. The clerk nods and passes them both tickets.
“Please enjoy your visit,” she says in the same friendly voice that she spoke to the last customer with.
Once they’re inside, the whole idea is to look normal. But two men walking in silence looks nothing of the sort, so Atsushi says, “Why… am I here instead of Dazai-san?”
“He’s sick,” Kunikida answers.
Atsushi rolls his eyes.
“Actually sick. His fever was 39.1 degrees. He has no voice and no appetite.” Kunikida sighs again. “I apologize for inconveniencing you.”
“It’s not an inconvenience at all, Kunikida-san. You love him, so of course you’re worried.”
Kunikida pushes his glasses up again.
“Um…” He scans the handful of people around the garden, but none of them look suspicious. “If it’s okay to ask…”
“Hmm?” Kunikida asks.
Atsushi supposes Kunikida is trying to hide the fact that he’s studying his surroundings by looking directly at him. But Kunikida’s gaze makes him nervous. “I… how did you know you were in love with Dazai-san?”
“Is this about your slip-up a while ago in the breakroom? Dazai was only teasing. He didn’t mean—”
“I know, but…” Atsushi pauses. “But I’ve been thinking a lot about it. About that word. And whether maybe, I’m ready to use it with Chuuya-san.” Atsushi rubs his arm. “But I’m really not sure, and given my options for people to ask, you seem like the best candidate. Plus, we’re supposed to be looking normal, and you’re good at multitasking.” He swallows. “Actually, now that I say it, it sounds way too personal. I’m sorr—”
“Red roses.”
Atsushi blinks. “Huh?”
“Red roses. In the language of flowers, they mean love. It’s how we told each other. Before that, it was lady’s mantle and pink camellias.”
He waits for Kunikida to continue. When the blond man doesn’t, he says, “I see.”
“If I’m being honest, I didn’t know I was in love at the beginning. I chalked all my concerns up to my desire to be the ideal partner. But around the time I recognized the pattern to his behavior—he never shows up to work when it’s raining—I just… sort of stumbled into realizing it.” Kunikida pauses to examine a bush. The sign next to it is marked “rhododendron.” Atsushi watches him touch one of the leaves. “I never planned to tell him.”
“Because he’s not your ideal wife?”
“Because I didn’t think it was possible.” Kunikida turns to him, the light glinting off of his glasses. “Like all things with Dazai, this relationship has been unpredictable, and there are days when it’s a nuisance, as you know. Still, he… cares. Really cares. Knowing full well I would have to handle this case without him today, he apologized between coughs like it was his fault. And he sounded so… tired.”
Atsushi watches Kunikida rise. “Then let’s try to finish this quickly so you can get back to him.” He says that, but he has seen the file. They don’t even know what they’re looking for.
“Atsushi.”
“Yes?” he asks.
“Some things in this world are beyond describing. It’s not that they don’t exist; they just escape language. Maybe because they’re so powerful. Or because they’re different for everyone else.” Kunikida turns to him. “Love is one of those things. You’re the only one who can know if you’re feeling it. Someone like you, though… I don’t think you have to worry about calling it anything but what it is.”
The crowd thins out as the sun sets. Pretty soon, they’re the only ones left that Atsushi can see. Even the man with a newspaper tucked under his arm disappears. They’re passing the rhododendron for what must be the fourth time, and Atsushi is explaining that he’s worried about Chuuya, too, when, out of nowhere, Atsushi’s hackles rise and he whips his head in a direction. He hears Kunikida ask him what’s the matter, but he’s not sure.
Inside of him, the tiger paces, letting out a little snarl of warning.
“Atsushi—”
Pure instinct drives him to lurch. He doesn’t even know what he’s protecting Kunikida from. At least, until he feels a cold prick in the side of his arm, like the sting of a wasp but with a reversal in temperature. He staggers and winces as he plucks something out of it. He doesn’t recognize the object. Its shape and color are unfamiliar to him.
In the near distance, Kunikida is calling to him, reaching for him. But his body isn’t listening. His senses are fading. He smells the ground.
Everything goes black, but something inside of him is fighting, thrashing like a beast in a cage.
He jolts awake to find himself in an infirmary bed, covered in cold sweat, shaking. The scream trapped in his throat breaks out. He sees the curtain at his bedside fly open, and Yosano is there in an instant, clapping his face in her hands, shaking his shoulder.
“Okay,” she says. “Okay. Breathe. Damn it, I really don’t want to sedate you again.”
Atsushi sucks in air. His head reels. His ears ring. His stomach… he feels sick, but he catches a glimpse of daylight beyond the curtain around his bed and realizes time has passed.
“There you go,” she murmurs. Then again, “There. Okay.”
“Yosano…-sensei.” He manages the last bit before his head threatens to split open again.
“Lay back down, Atsushi. I’ll get you some water.”
He tries to answer, but he can’t. His head hurts. His stomach… his arm—
His arm.
The room goes black again.
When he wakes up a second time, he feels a cooling patch on his forehead. Yosano is sitting at his bedside, flipping through a thick volume with a red cover. “Sen…sei.”
“Hey, you. You’re finally awake.” She shuts the book and sets it on a table. “Birthday.”
“Huh?”
“Your birthday. I’m testing your faculties.”
“May fifth.”
“Good.” She hangs a thermometer over his mouth, and he obediently opens it. She waits three minutes before pulling it out. “Your temperature is still a little high. Do you remember what happened?”
Atsushi shuts his eyes, and an image appears. “I was with Kunikida-san.”
“When?”
“At night. Last night, maybe.”
“Close enough.”
Atsushi stares up at her for a moment. “We were at a botanical garden working on a case, walking past the rhododendron bush again. Maybe the fourth time? We were talking about…” Atsushi pauses and flushes. “It’s not… important.”
“Which means it’s personal,” Yosano states. “Go on.”
Atsushi pulls in a breath. “I felt… I don’t know. Some kind of anticipation. And I threw myself in front of Kunikida-san. I got… hit by something. With… really bright green feathers. Not a bird. Something… else.” His heart lurches. “Kunikida-san—”
“He’s with Dazai, who is on the mend from his cold but still not well enough to work.”
Atsushi sighs with relief, but when he flexes his fingers, pain shoots up his arm. Wincing, he turns to find an IV sticking out of it.
“I had to get you fluid somehow,” Yosano says. “How are you feeling?”
“Still tired,” he admits. “My head hurts.” Even so, he pushes himself up with his good arm and clutches his shoulder, the spot where whatever it was hit him. “Ow… why does it feel bruised?”
Yosano stares at him. “Let me see.”
He doesn’t resist as she slips his suspender down, unbuttons his shirt, and pushes his sleeve off of his shoulder. The burn scar is still covered, after all, so he has no reason to panic. He seldom thinks of it with Chuuya anymore, but even if Yosano is a doctor, he’s hyperaware of it now. When the silence lingers, he twists his eyes and sees it: a purple spot on his skin with a little scab in the middle.
Something’s wrong, he thinks. Something…
That’s when he realizes it. He feels… empty. Not just hungry, either. Truly empty. The tiger that constantly circles his insides, flashing its teeth or flicking its tail or snarling, is completely still. He lifts a shaking hand to his chest as his eyes start to burn.
“Atsushi.”
Atsushi hates his ability. It’s the reason he got thrown out of the orphanage, the reason he has to work for the ADA. People around him have suffered because of it. As complicated as his feelings about it are, that startling emptiness inside of him hurts worse than any wound. In combination with the lingering bruise on his arm, that emptiness suggests a truth too crushing to endure.
“Atsushi—”
“My ability.” Atsushi grips the front of his shirt and shudders. “It’s… not working.” Saying that realization out loud only makes it more real. He turns to Yosano, but her features are fuzzy beneath his tears. “Do something.” He has to ask because that emptiness crushes him like a black hole. “Sensei—”
She pats his uninjured arm and sighs. “Not to alarm you, but I tried.”
A new sensation works through him: a shudder borne by a chill.
“Your injuries weren’t bad enough to use Thou Shalt Not Die. And even if they had been, it’s unclear right now whether whatever caused this nullifies just your ability or all of those that affect you.”
Swallowing, he murmurs, “Ranpo-san—”
“Ranpo tried to deduce it. He didn’t get far until he hit a wall.”
He doesn’t need to ask to know that’s bad news.
“I know this is hard for you. And I know that’s an understatement. But for now, I need you to try not to go into shock. Okay?”
Atsushi dries his face and nods. “Okay.”
“Do you need a minute alone?”
“Please.”
The instant she leaves, Atsushi buttons his shirt again. As soon as his suspender is back on his shoulder, he pulls his knees up and cries the way he used to at the orphanage: as quietly as possible to avoid disturbing anyone around him or drawing any unnecessary attention. Not that he thinks the agency would respond the way the orphanage did. It’s just something he doesn’t want to burden anyone else with, especially given that his ability is dormant. Or worse.
When Yosano comes back, he wipes his face on his sleeve and sniffles. She offers him a bottle of water. Without a word, he takes it.
“Here. Drink this. You need to eat something before I can give you medicine for your headache, but we’ll start with this.”
Atsushi twists the cap off and takes a long drink. He can feel the cool water all the way down his throat.
“There are a few important things I want you to remember right now, Atsushi. First: you’re not dead. Kunikida got you back here without meeting any major obstacles aside from a few unwarranted stares. But hey, that’s not unexpected.”
Lowering the bottle, Atsushi nods.
“Another good point: you’re safe. Here. There’s no telling what may have happened if you’d both been hit. That means we have a real shot at figuring this out and fixing it.” Yosano draws a slow breath. “I think our first attempt needs to be Dazai. If it’s an ability, he can touch you and nullify it. Maybe your own ability will come back if he does.”
He nods again. He’s not really sure how else to respond.
“But, given what hit you knocked you out, I’m banking on this not being an ability at all.”
“What else would be able to do this?”
“A drug.” She drops back down into her chair and folds one knee over the other. “Or… some substance acting like one. The closest thing I can compare it to is an EpiPen, which is intended to stop an allergic reaction. Of course, one is more benevolent than another—”
“How long am I going to be like this?” Atsushi asks.
Yosano lets out a long breath and spins her chair away. “I don’t know.”
Part of him wants to demand how she can just… say that. But she’s not the one without the ability at the moment. And her ability, while useful, isn’t of the same nature as his. Or Chuuya’s. “Fuck.”
She whips around. “Did you really just swear?”
Atsushi watches in disbelief as she raises her hand to her mouth and laughs.
“Sorry. I just never thought you had that kind of language in you. Well…” She folds her hands and smiles. “I promise you I’ll do everything I can to counteract this… whatever it is, whether that’s sawing you in half with Thou Shalt Not Die or spending dozens of droll hours flipping through books like this one.” She raises the heavy volume she was reading earlier. “In the meantime, there are two things you can do. For me and yourself.”
Atsushi doesn’t feel like he can do much of anything under his current circumstances, but he nods in agreement anyway.
“First, don’t tell anyone outside the agency. I don’t need to explain that includes Nakahara.” She must catch the frown on his face because she continues, “Ranpo says there’s a chance the Port Mafia might be involved with this. It’s slim, but for now, we don’t want to take any risks.”
As wrong as it feels to withhold something that important from Chuuya, he nods. “What’s the second thing?”
“Do your best to stay calm. I say this with the full understanding of how dire this situation feels to you, but prolonged stress will likely make it worse.”
“I… can try,” he concedes.
“Good.” She opens her drawer and offers him a pack of crackers. “Eat these if your stomach is settled. Once your IV is done, I’ll take it out, and you can go. Make sure you only eat light food for the next few hours. If you experience any lightheadedness or nausea, come back. Don’t wait until you’re miserable.”
Atsushi peels the wrapper open and pulls one out. “I’m supposed to go out with Chuuya-san tonight.”
“Ah,” Yosano says.
“I…” He pauses. “I should call him.”
After a moment, Yosano says, “How hard is it going to be for you not to tell him?”
He takes a breath. “I can manage,” he says. “We don’t talk business when we’re together anyway, aside from mentioning being on missions or being annoyed with our coworkers.”
“That’s not hard to do here. Kunikida and Dazai constantly flirting, Ranpo whining about how little sleep he’s getting…” She rises. “Let me go get your phone. Work on those crackers a bit.”
As soon as she’s gone, Atsushi’s mind races for something—anything—he can tell Chuuya and not raise alarm bells. He can’t tell the whole truth, but he doesn’t feel like lying, either. Since he has an IV in his arm and the wound won’t heal, he knows he’ll have to keep his shirt on and his sleeves down. He realizes Chuuya could feel the texture of the bandage, but… well, it’s something he’ll have to figure out in the moment. It doesn’t feel right to cancel. In fact, if he did that, he knows he’d just panic more.
When Yosano brings him his phone, he reaches for it and flips it open.
Of course, he has a missed call from Chuuya, and a text that says, You must have gone to bed early. Dream of every good thing, beautiful.
It’s enough to make his chest hurt.
“You look like you’re going to cry again.”
“Because Chuuya-san said something really romantic, and I’m too tired to hold myself together.”
Yosano smiles. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”
Atsushi doesn’t answer, but he does think about it while his phone rings. Chuuya picks up on the third. “Hey.”
“Chuuya-san.” A wave of relief hits him. Maybe his own situation is messed up, but at least Chuuya sounds conscious and healthy. “Thank heavens.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that? Why are you calling me while you’re at work?”
“Ah.” Atsushi glances at Yosano, who folds her arms and leaves again. “My case yesterday was a little more difficult than I bargained for. It… really took everything out of me.” He doesn’t bother to clarify the actual truth in those words. Instead, he searches for something else to say.
But he doesn’t have to. As usual, Chuuya picks up right where he left off. “We don’t have to go out tonight if you’re not up to it.”
“But…” He stops.
“But?”
He glances at Yosano and lowers his voice. “But I still want to see you.”
“Then come over and we’ll cook something. Is seven still good?”
Just the idea of seeing Chuuya makes his heart flutter. “I… don’t know if I can wait that long.”
“Four?”
“Yeah, that’ll be alright.” It will at least give him enough time to go home and regroup.
“You really missed me, didn’t you, tiger?”
The clear note of amusement in Chuuya’s voice makes him smile. “I can’t help it, Chuuya-san. It seems missing you is all I’m doing these days.”
“Well, you don’t have to miss me anymore. See you in a couple hours.”
“Yeah,” Atsushi murmurs. “Alright.”
They disconnect, and he lets the warmth inside of him draw another smile to his face.
“Are you planning to stay the night there again?” Yosano asks. “Just so I know where to find you if you collapse.”
“I don’t know,” Atsushi answers. “I didn’t ask him. I’ll make sure you know where I am, though, just in case.”
She nods and wheels her chair closer. “Your IV bag is empty. You might want to turn your head if you don’t like needles.”
Atsushi glances away and tries not to tense. After a cotton ball and some gauze to hold it in place, he barely notices the lingering wound.
“You might bruise a little. Don’t be alarmed if that happens. You can also put a band-aid on in a couple of hours. You’ll probably be fine doing it a little early. Less noticeable than the gauze and cotton.”
Atsushi nods and rises to stretch. While he does, he catalogues the aches and pains of his fall. Yosano instructs him to drink more water when he gets back to his dorm, and he’s desperate to get back and change into a fresh set of clothes. He sips water between cleaning the kitchen and the bathroom, hoping that at least makes things easier for Kyouka that night. He leaves a note on the counter with instructions to call him if she needs to before leaving.
It takes him until he gets to Chuuya’s apartment—a period punctuated with bouts of anxiety that he’s being watched or followed—that even if he was still wearing his clothes, it’s highly likely that for Yosano to complete her examination, someone had to undress him. Kunikida, Yosano… it doesn’t matter. The idea of either of anyone besides Chuuya seeing his burn scar brings back the nausea that left him hours ago.
He knocks. And as soon as Chuuya opens the door, he breathes a long sigh of relief.
“Looking a little rough, kitten,” Chuuya states, folding his arms and leaning against his door frame. “Did you have a bad dream last night?” His smirk wavers. “Hey. You okay? You look like you’re about to cry.”
It’s so hard for Atsushi not to hate himself in that moment, given the way Chuuya looks at him. He wants so badly to explain that it was an actual nightmare. Not one in his head. One in his life. But he can’t do that. He can’t do anything except hug Chuuya so hard, they’d both topple over if Chuuya didn’t hold them up with his ability.
“Okay,” Chuuya murmurs, hugging him back. “Okay. I’ve got you.”
Atsushi nods and buries his nose in the top of Chuuya’s head, seeking out that woodsy-floral smell of shampoo. The tiger is still gone, but that scent grounds him, fills him to his toes, and makes him realize Chuuya isn’t going to vanish in a cloud of smoke. He’s there. This isn’t a dream, even if he desperately wishes parts of his situation were. They’re entwined in a hug in Chuuya’s doorway that Atsushi is reluctant to break away from.
Chuckling, Chuuya says, “How long are you planning on hugging me, beautiful?”
Atsushi swallows and shuts his eyes. “An hour.”
“Only an hour?”
Atsushi laughs at the mock offense in Chuuya’s tone. It’s not as freely as he normally laughs when he’s with the mafioso, but it reminds him he’s not entirely empty. He still has Chuuya, and… whatever he feels for the redhead.
For most of the night, all they do is hug, eat, and talk. Chuuya doesn’t even try to kiss him. “You look tired, and I don’t want to work you up.” Probably for the best, but Atsushi insists, and Chuuya obliges, peppering his face and forehead with little pecks until finally connecting their lips. It goes no further than that. Atsushi texts Yosano to let her know where he is. He winds up falling asleep on top of Chuuya’s chest while they’re on the sofa. Chuuya wakes him gently only to suggest they move to the bedroom. He grumbles a half-conscious agreement, then realizes Chuuya picks him up without any effort.
He lets himself be carried. Bridal style, no less. They dress for bed. Atsushi peaks over his shoulder to find Chuuya staring at him and flushes.
“Sorry,” Chuuya calls. “You’re just really fucking hot.”
Smiling, Atsushi murmurs, “I’m still not sure how you think that sometimes, honestly.”
“Then.”
Before he knows it, Chuuya has him in another hug, this one from behind, face pressed against his bare back.
“Let me take this opportunity to remind you.”
Atsushi smiles. “Let me finish putting on pajamas, and I’d be happy to let you.”
He’s not sure how long he listens to Chuuya list the parts of him that are beautiful. The way he smiles when eating something he likes or how he worries when Chuuya goes away on missions. How he holds a knife in the kitchen. How excitable he is about things. How he listens. “Of course,” Chuuya continues, “That doesn’t mean I don’t like your body. You look like you’ve been through hell, but you’re still beautiful to me.” Chuuya smirks. “Those sunset eyes of yours do unspeakable things to me. And your ass is fucking perfect.”
Atsushi snickers. “I could say the same about your ass, sweetheart.”
Chuuya’s laugh fills the room. When it falls away and silence is all that’s left, Atsushi snuggles closer to Chuuya’s chest. He fears he’ll have nightmares, but between night and morning, he dreams of nothing but warmth and happiness.
In some ways, that makes reality a little harder to face once it’s day. Chuuya is still there, dozing beside him, cradling Atsushi’s head in his arms.
The tiger is still dormant.
But, if it is an ability, at least now, he knows No Longer Human will nullify it since For the Tainted Sorrow can hold him up.
Even though he’s not working that day, he goes into the office in the afternoon and insists that Dazai touch him just to see if it will work.
“Atsushi-kun, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know where you’ve been.”
Atsushi blinks. “Huh?”
Kunikida punches Dazai’s arm without even turning his head and continues flipping through forms. “He’s worried about what you and Nakahara were doing last night.”
Atsushi folds his arms. “We aren’t just having sex, you know.”
“But you are still having it!” Dazai declares, acting as scandalized as ever.
“And?” Ranpo retorts. “At least he’s not being a public nuisance like you and Kunikida are.”
Kunikida pushes his glasses up, and Dazai drapes himself over Kunikida’s shoulders.
Annoyed, Atsushi murmurs, “Are you really that invested in what I did with Chuuya-san last night?”
Dazai smirks at him. “I just want to make sure I don’t catch anything.”
“You say that like you were a perfect portrait of chastity in the Port Mafia,” Kunikida retorts.
“I’ve been out for four years. The slug, though—”
Atsushi’s temper grows shorter. “Dazai-san, I’m warning you now, if you don’t try to nullify whatever it is that is affecting my ability, I’ll be forced to start saying too much.”
“About what?”
Atsushi rubs his arm. He really doesn’t want to talk about it, but if this is what it takes—
“Your lovey dovey text messages together?”
Something inside him snaps like a cable put under too much pressure. “No.” Atsushi draws a breath, and the whole damn bridge comes tumbling down. “I’ll tell you all about how good he rails me.” Ranpo definitely chokes on the ramune he’s drinking.
“Atsushi, you don’t have to do that. Dazai, for God’s sake, just—”
“I will.” Atsushi folds his arms and meets Dazai’s gaze.
“You’re bluffing.”
“Oh?” Even without his ability, he can pick up on that genuine anxiety in Dazai’s mannerisms, hidden beneath a smile that only shows in his curved lips. “Maybe before I started going out with Chuuya-san, I would have been too shy, but now, I’m more than happy to be frank about how he makes me beg.”
“Atsushi—”
“So,” he snaps. “Unless you want to spend the next three hours hearing about how badly I want him to bend me over his desk or that time he fucked me so good, I literally passed out, you’ll stop terrorizing me and help me out, because I’ll do it. Don’t think I won’t.” Atsushi watches the pen fall out of Kunikida’s hand and roll to the floor. He doesn’t even move his head. When it drops out of sight, he looks back to Kunikida, whose jaw at some point joined his pen on the floor, and at a less than enthralled Dazai. Considering how Dazai feels about Chuuya, he wouldn’t be surprised if the ex-mafioso wanted nothing more than bleach for his brain. “Dazai-san, I just want my ability back. Because for all the pain it’s caused, I feel like I’m no one without it. Now, you’re going to try to nullify whatever took it. Alternatively, I can continue.” He glances at Kunikida again, who is stammering something as his face grows increasingly red. “For the partner I lost my ability to save, and the one you say you love, I’d recommend the easy road, Dazai-san. It’s the one you normally prefer, after all.”
He hears a stack of papers tumble to the ground and turns to find Naomi and Tanizaki both staring at him. They don’t look scandalized the way Dazai does, but their eyes are wide and Naomi is clinging to her brother’s arm.
“Holy shit. Who are you and what have you done with Atsushi-kun?”
Atsushi clenches his fists. “When people are desperate to get something important back, they’ll go to any lengths. To me, this is just a necessary step in the process.” He twists back to Dazai. “What’s it going to be?”
Not long after, Dazai concedes, and he finds out losing the tiger was not his lowest point. He sits with this new desolation at his desk until Ranpo taps his shoulder and offers him a bag of chocolate cookies. “Thanks,” he murmurs. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ranpo states, patting his shoulder. “I know why you did it. It just kind of took me by surprise is all.” He rubs his head. “I didn’t deduce you were the type to get that personal. I admit, even though it was shocking, I’ll take your stories over having to hear Dazai-kun’s moans.”
Atsushi glances at Kunikida’s desk, and Kunikida pushes his glasses up. “Damn waste of bandages. I keep telling you to keep it down.”
“But Kunikida-kun is so good—”
“Go do your damn work, or the only good you’re getting tonight is sleeping alone in your dorm room!”
“So mean…” Dazai whines, but he peels himself off of Kunikida and sulks back to his own desk anyway.
“To be honest,” Ranpo continues, peeling a bag of chips open, “this case is really weird. There are so many holes, I can’t deduce anything.”
Atsushi sighs and tears the cookies open. They don’t do much to improve his mood, but they’re better than nothing.
“I’m not giving up!” Ranpo declares. “Just sit tight. I’m the world’s greatest detective, after all!”
Sometimes, though, the world’s greatest isn’t enough. Another handful of days goes by, and all the holes are still there. His ability still isn’t back. Kyouka makes miso katsu, which he plans to tell Chuuya next time they go out. Dazai fortunately stops annoying him, likely because he’s still too horrified to hear even those few details about their sex life.
Atsushi hates to think that this is the new normal, but he’s coming to accept it.
After his lunch break, he returns to the office to find things unusually tense. Even Dazai is pouring over files. He walks to his own desk and murmurs to Kyouka, “What’s happening?”
“The Port Mafia is coming.”
“Huh?” he asks.
“Apparently, Mori-sensei got in touch with the President right before you left. He’s on his way with a few higher-ranking members to discuss this case.”
A wave of panic rushes over him, and he practically knocks his chair over. He slams the door to Fukuzawa’s office open without even knocking. “President!”
Fukuzawa is at his desk, arms folded, staring into his cup of tea, apparently unfazed by Atsushi’s sudden entrance.
“I need a word with you!”
Fukuzawa glares at him and nods.
“I apologize for intruding so suddenly,” Atsushi says as he shuts the door. “Kyouka-chan just told me the Port Mafia is coming.”
“Yes,” he retorts. “Before you ask, yes, Nakahara is with them.”
Atsushi swallows. “Do they still not know I’m the one without an ability?”
“As far as I know,” he states, “and I am to keep it that way. This could be a trap, or a ruse to lure the ADA into a false sense of security. I’ve given Kenji-kun orders to protect you if things turn violent.”
Atsushi takes his breath. “Sir, I… don’t want to seem like I’m resisting your orders, but I’m asking you to reconsider.” He dips into a bow and waits to get chewed out, but the shouts never come. “It must seem to you like my reasons to ask for this are purely personal. They aren’t. If we’re working together, they need to be aware of the situation. They need to know I—”
There’s a knock at his office door and Haruno enters. “Sir,” she says. “They’re here.”
Fukuzawa rises from his desk and tucks his arms into his sleeves. Atsushi swivels and watches him. When they’re shoulder to shoulder, Fukuzawa stops moving and murmurs. “My decision stands.”
Atsushi’s heart sinks.
“If anyone asks, it was Kunikida Doppo who got hit by that dart and lost his ability. Should the situation warrant such information, however, I trust you will know when that moment is.”
He’s not sure he can trust his own judgment, but if Fukuzawa does, he’s determined to find a way.
“Come on, Nakajima-kun.”
All he can do is murmur an affirmative, follow him, and watch as Mori files in, flanked by two of his executives—Chuuya and Kouyou. Akutagawa is with them, looking displeased as ever. So is Higuchi, carrying a stack of files.
“To think I’d have more than one occasion to set foot in this shabby little building this year,” Mori states. “Aren’t you going to welcome me back, Fukuzawa-dono?”
“Like hell,” Fukuzawa answers.
“Rintaro,” Elise demands, “are you really going to let him talk to you that way?”
“I’m used to him addressing me in such a manner.”
There was enough tension in the air before he opened his mouth, but now, it’s unbearable. He tries to catch Chuuya’s gaze. He does. For a moment. And everything else disappears.
But then, Kouyou clears her throat, and Chuuya pushes his hat down.
Atsushi catches a glimpse of red from the corner of his eye. Kyouka, looking like she’s ready to brandish a knife at any moment.
“Let’s get this over with,” Fukuzawa retorts.
They file into a meeting room and fill the chairs. A few extras have been brought in. Atsushi is pretty sure Akutagawa mumbles something about them not even having enough money for—
Chuuya cuts him off with a glare and a growl.
Once they’re all seated, Mori folds his hands and leans on them. “To business, then.”
“Indeed.” Fukuzawa’s own hands disappear into his sleeves. “As you are all aware, we’ve been working on a case concerning a string of mysterious deaths. The victims are never injured; they all die from cardiac arrest in their sleep. Originally, we thought the victims suffered from heart attacks, but we’ve gotten new information since then.” He gives Dazai and Kunikida a long look, and they both bow their heads slightly. “Considering the nature of these killings and the disparity of those affected, Ranpo-kun has deduced the culprit is an ability user. Mori-dono has requested our cooperation, considering the same ability user is terrorizing the Port Mafia.”
Kouyou laughs. “Such a strong word.”
Fukuzawa passes her a glare. “As I was saying—”
Dazai leans back in his chair and hums. “The Agency is aware of five victims so far. How many from the Port Mafia?”
The four of them exchange looks. Akutagawa coughs.
Yosano groans. “If you aren’t going to provide us with information, then leave and figure it out yourself.”
“Yosano-sensei—”
“This is bullshit,” she retorts. “And you know it. They’re not going to cooperate with us, and I frankly don’t have the energy to cooperate with—”
“Eighteen.”
Atsushi flinches as Chuuya’s voice rises over Yosano’s.
“Eighteen. An entire unit. None of them were ability users, but they were all well-trained.”
Atsushi notices that he squeezes his arm.
“One of us should have fucking been there.”
“As I said,” Mori states, “if you’d been there, you’d likely be as dead as they are.”
Chuuya lowers his head, but Atsushi knows from the frown on his face that the mafioso doesn’t accept the answer.
“I performed autopsies on all eighteen bodies personally. The cause of death was cardiac arrest. They all died within ten minutes of each other. Additionally, they all had lethal levels of adrenaline in their blood.”
“Huh.” Kenji tips his head. “What’s that mean?”
“It means they were scared to death,” Yosano states.
“Ah… I didn’t know that could actually happen. City folk sure are something.”
Atsushi thinks of his own lingering fear and stares at his lap. He curls his fingers around his knees.
“Now that we’ve given you some information,” Kouyou states. “We expect you to pay it back in kind.”
Yosano sighs and tosses a bag on the table. When Atsushi looks up, he realizes it’s the same dart that was in his arm.
“What is it?” Akutagawa asks. “A dart?”
“What the fuck does a dart have to do with—”
“We already know about the dart,” Mori retorts. He’s definitely smiling at Kunikida. “Our intel says one of your agents was hit with it, and his ability is currently not working.”
Atsushi notices Kunikida grab Dazai’s hand under the table. “What of it?” Kunikida demands.
“There’s no evidence this is in any way connected—”
“It’s connected, alright,” Ranpo states. Atsushi has no idea where the sucker in his mouth came from because he definitely didn’t have it when they entered the room. Probably from his pocket. “Kunikida-kun was out investigating this case, following a lead. I deduced the location the ability user would be during that evening.”
“And what?” Akutagawa snaps. “He made it back alone?”
“Atsushi-kun carried me back.”
Scoffing, Akutagawa mumbles what sounds like the word, “Brute,” before coughing again.
“If that person was there,” Atsushi murmurs, “then we had to have seen them at least once. We were there for almost two hours.” He starts sifting through his memories of that night. “When the incident with the dart happened, weren’t we standing next to something?”
“A rhododendron,” Kunikida answers.
“Danger in the language of flowers,” Kouyou murmurs, rubbing her chin. “Is it possible they were trying to send some kind of message?” She reaches for the bag, but she’s careful. “Is this the ability?”
“It’s just a dart,” Yosano says, “but after days of slogging through books, I’ve located a few reports about an experimental chemical that erases users’ abilities. I doubt it’s the same substance, though. The studies are almost eighty years old and the results are inconclusive.”
“How long does it usually last?” Chuuya asks.
She shakes her head. “The effects varied. And I distrust the results of the study, especially because the methods were less than ethical.”
“This coming from a woman who saws people in half to keep them alive,” Kouyou retorts.
“It’s better than having your ability swing your sword for you.”
“Ladies, ladies.” Dazai smiles. “I’ll have to ask you to be civil. Hand that to me.”
Kouyou slides the bag to him, and he picks it up. “If it were an ability, I’d be able to nullify it. The fact that it’s still here means we’re dealing with a substance.”
“And also two people,” Higuchi murmurs. “Maybe more.”
“It’s troubling,” Tanizaki murmurs, folding his hands. “How eighteen people can die of similar causes in so short a time…”
“They were all in the same place,” Chuuya states. “Guarding one of our warehouses.”
Atsushi glances at him. “Did they take anything?”
“No.” He taps his fingers. “I checked the full inventory myself. Unless the list is wrong, everything was accounted for.”
“No motive, huh?” Ranpo sighs. “The plot thickens.”
Fukuzawa shifts in his chair. “Let’s go over what we know about the ability user, then.”
“It’s long-range,” Chuuya says.
“It works on individuals and contained spaces,” Dazai adds.
“It operates on the principal of fear.”
Mori says that, and Atsushi hums again.
“But we don’t have any photos of potential culprits,” Yosano says. “Or eyewitness reports.”
“And that's what makes this case so damn interesting.” Ranpo smiles. “It’s like the ability user doesn’t even exist.”
“I’m convinced they do,” Mori states. “And I intend to flush them out. However, to do that, I need your cooperation. And…” He sends Atsushi a pointed look. “I’ll need to borrow your weretiger.”
“Huh?” Atsushi asks.
Dazai lets out a yawn.
“Out of the question,” Fukuzawa answers.
Mori scoffs. “Come now, Fukuzawa-dono. Don’t tell me you aren’t willing to risk a little on this.”
“The only thing I am willing to risk is lost time. I will not gamble with the lives of my employees.”
Atsushi glances at Akutagawa, who glares at him. He can’t even say anything before Dazai starts up again.
“Using the new double black is out of the question. They’re too uncoordinated. They’ll never pull it off.”
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Chuuya demands.
While Kouyou is chiding Chuuya for his language, Dazai continues, “You can’t expect Akutagawa-kun to do anything useful or reliable. I should know. I trained him.”
Chuuya slams his hands down on the table. “You’d better be thankful this fucking table is between us, or I’d punch that fucking smirk right off your god damn face!”
“Aww… did I make the shrimp mad? Chuuya’s like a chihuahua, barking away but too small to actually do anything.”
“You want to take this outside?” Chuuya demands. “Or do you want me to kick your ass in here and take the building with me?”
Kunikida pushes his glasses up. “Dazai, quit antagonizing people.”
“Chuuya-san,” Akutagawa interjects. “I said I would do this, even if I have to do it alone.”
“It’s too dangerous.” Atsushi finds himself under Kouyou’s pointed look. “Then again, this just shows the ADA is full of cowards.” She clicks her tongue. “He’s way too good for you, lad.”
Atsushi stares at the table. He catches Kyouka’s reassurance in his ear, and the discord rises around him again. She’s right, he thinks, glancing at Fukuzawa. She’s right. I’m too scared to…
Fukuzawa is looking back.
Atsushi sends him a blink, and he replies with a nod.
“Ane-san, this ain’t about me and him. Just—”
“I can’t do it!” The room falls silent in the wake of his shout. He feels his shoulders shaking, but he says it again, this time with more control. “I can’t do it.”
“I thought you were over this life-long lapse of confidence, weretiger,” Akutagawa deadpans, coughing behind his hand. “This is personal for me. Gin could have been at that warehouse. Therefore, I am willing to set aside our differences and—”
“No, I mean I really can’t do it.” He swallows. “I know it’s selfish, but I have to think of myself right now.”
Chuuya sighs. “Atsushi, I know it’s a pain in the ass for you, but I also know you can—”
“If I go on that mission, I won’t make it back alive.”
“You don’t know—” Chuuya begins.
“I do know. Because it wasn’t Kunikida-san who got hit with that dart, Chuuya-san.” He pulls in a long breath. “It was me.”
The silence afterwards is so unnerving, so startling, that Atsushi is pretty sure he can hear the grass at the park down the block growing.
“What…” Akutagawa stammers. “What the hell did you do?”
Atsushi stares at him. “I did what needed to be done to protect the ADA. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Fool,” Akutagawa snaps. “While I don’t personally value your ability or your life, I can’t believe you would be stupid enough to—”
Atsushi watches Chuuya rise. He’s still wearing a blank expression that disappears as he turns and paces towards the door, hands in his pockets.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Fukuzawa demands.
“Fuck off,” he snaps without turning around. “I need some air.”
Atsushi weighs the benefits and drawbacks of following him. He hears Fukuzawa sigh and catches him sinking in his chair a little. Around that time, he realizes everyone is staring at him and lurches up. “I’ll… go make sure he doesn’t blow anything up.”
“You did a fine job of that yourself,” Dazai retorts, smirking at him.
Atsushi does his best to push that knowledge down as he heads down the hallway and up a set of stairs leading to the roof. He finds Chuuya leaning against the edge, staring out at the street below. For a moment, he just watches as Chuuya’s hand digs into his pocket and re-emerges, gripping a pack of cigarettes. He turns away from the wind to light it. Atsushi guesses Chuuya catches sight of him from the way his blue eyes pivot and slam into him. From that distance, he can see an unusual glassiness in them. Unsure of what else to do, he paces forward and works the lighter out of Chuuya’s unsteady fingers before flicking it and lighting the end of his cigarette. He watches Chuuya take a puff and blow the smoke away from his face.
Say something, he thinks. Because the silence makes him anxious, makes him more aware of the emptiness inside of him. But he knows there aren’t words to take that distant, misty-eyed look off of Chuuya’s face. Before he can get anywhere in his search for words, Chuuya takes a breath that’s less steady that his previous one. That close, he can see the tears in Chuuya’s eyes, which he wipes away before glaring at Yokohama from beneath his fedora.
“I should have known.”
Atsushi blinks.
“I should have fucking known something was up with you a few days ago.”
“Chuuya-san,” he begins, but he has no idea where he’s going.
“I didn’t want to ask because I was scared of what you’d tell me. Maybe I thought it was about work. Maybe I thought there was something wrong with us.”
Atsushi clenches his fist. “Isn’t there?” He catches Chuuya’s eyes boring into him. “When we went to the festival, that night at your apartment, you mentioned you couldn’t freely give your trust, that you envied me for being so forthright in giving mine. But this time, I was the one who withheld my trust when I shouldn’t have. It doesn’t matter if it’s about work or that at the time, we weren’t sure if the Port Mafia was involved. It’s important. I should have at least told you I was struggling.” He stares at the street below and remembers his ability won’t be there if he winds up losing his balance. Then, he just as quickly reminds himself that Chuuya would definitely catch him. That only makes him feel worse. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Chuuya echoes.
“I should have told you.” Atsushi braces himself for anger, but instead, Chuuya leans against his arm.
“Beautiful, I get you had orders, and I don’t hold that against you. I understand that. You didn’t break my trust. And honestly… I’m the one who should be sorry. That I wasn’t there to protect you.”
Those words hurt almost as much as knowing that beyond deskwork, he is useless to the ADA, a burden to his coworkers. A burden to Chuuya, even. They can’t meet on Yokohama Bay Bridge if he doesn’t have the tiger to help him climb. He leans until his face rests against the top of Chuuya’s hat, still struggling for words. Maybe I should just speak without thinking. But then, I might tell him something I’ll regret later. Atsushi swallows. “I… don’t think you need to be sorry about that, Chuuya-san. Besides, maybe you weren’t there to protect me, but you helped me so much that night just by hugging me, feeding me dinner, and reminding me of all the reasons you like me. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that.”
Chuuya hums. When he stirs, Atsushi lets him up. “What’s it like?”
“Huh?”
Chuuya wipes his eyes again and tips his hat back to look at Atsushi. “The tiger sleeping. What’s it like?”
Without a moment’s thought, Atsushi grimaces and answers, “Awful.” A shudder works through him, not just because the tiger is still dormant, but because it’s a chilling truth he has to face. “I… haven’t always liked my ability in the past, but at some point, I came to accept it as part of me. I rely on it so much for strength. As a member of the ADA, regardless of my personal feelings, it’s an important part of my work. Without it, I feel…” Atsushi glances at Chuuya. “Vulnerable. My wounds don’t heal. I don’t have any superhuman strength. I’m just… a burden.”
Sighing, Chuuya says, “I’m sure your coworkers don’t think of it that way. I sure as shit don’t.” He smiles. “It took a lot of guts to refuse to go. Seems those boldness lessons I gave you are paying off in more ways than one.”
“I don’t think the President would have let Mori-sensei convince him to send me.”
“Yeah,” Chuuya chuckles. “I don’t imagine he would. He seems the type to look out for his own. Sounds like someone else I know.”
Atsushi watches Chuuya take another puff of his cigarette. He scootches a little closer, until the sides of their arms push together. “I’m… sorry I made you cry, Chuuya-san.”
“You don’t have to apologize for that,” Chuuya retorts. “But maybe I need to. For wishing it was me, and not you.” He puts his cigarette out on the brick ledge and sighs. “I don’t remember a time before I was Arahabaki’s vessel, but if it was dormant, I wouldn’t have to worry about losing control or using it at the wrong time.”
“You wouldn’t be able to use For the Tainted Sorrow, either,” Atsushi points out.
“I’d give up my moonlit walks on the sides of skyscrapers if it meant I could wake up knowing I had full control of myself, even if it was only for a day.” Chuuya’s eyes tilt to the sky. “Huh. It’s nice during the day. I don’t normally look at it.”
“Your eyes are bluer,” Atsushi murmurs. His heart leaps when Chuuya turns to him, smiling at the compliment. They’re brighter than he remembered. “As for what you said about control, I think you have plenty. For example, I can tell you really want to kiss me right now, but you’re holding back.”
“Because we’re fucking being watched.”
Atsushi rolls his eyes. He should have known his colleagues would pull something like this.
“And I know you’re not a huge fan of me kissing you in front of other people, so—”
“Put your hand in my back pocket.”
“Huh?” Chuuya asks. “Where the fuck did that come from?”
For once, it’s Atsushi’s turn to smirk. “If they want to watch,” he says, “let’s give them something to see.”
“You sure you’re good with that, tiger?” he asks. “I don’t want to rile you up too much.”
“You won’t,” Atsushi reassures him. “And I promise, it’s fine.”
Chuuya shifts so his hand rests against the middle of Atsushi’s back, then starts to lower it. “You don’t strike me as the type who likes to show off.”
“I’m not showing off.” Atsushi feels Chuuya’s fingers stop at his belt. “Maybe it’s a little pettiness.”
“What for, beautiful?”
Atsushi locks eyes with him. “Let’s just say Dazai-san was less than cooperative when I asked him for help, so he got to learn a few things he didn’t want to.”
“Oh?” Chuuya asks, smirking as his hand travels lower. “Like what?”
Atsushi hums as he finally feels Chuuya’s touch where he wants it: in his back pocket, right where it’s supposed to be. “Like how you railed me unconscious.”
Chuuya chuckles.
“And if you could remind Dazai-san of that fact on the way out, I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate it.”
“Yeah,” Chuuya murmurs, shifting so he’s on his toes and leaning towards his mouth. “Not at all.”
Atsushi braces himself for the kiss. He wants it. Desperately. But Chuuya freezes a few centimeters from his lips, swivels his head, and snaps, “All of you fuck off. We’re trying to make out.”
Atsushi turns just in time to see the door shut. He thinks he catches snickers behind it, but he’s not sure, given the distance.
“Eavesdropping assholes,” Chuuya retorts, rolling his eyes. “Now, where were we?”
In the end, Atsushi is the one to dip, to press his lips to Chuuya’s face. He draws away with a smile to see Chuuya blushing. “It’s a little more innocent than what you were planning, but I think it’s appropriate to temper our affection. After all, we’re both still at work.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Chuuya retorts, removing his hand from Atsushi’s pocket. But he still sneaks a peck before letting Atsushi rise again. “Come on. We should go back before they get any other ideas about what we’re doing up here.”
“Before that,” Atsushi calls.
Chuuya turns to him.
“Thank you for being so understanding. And for making me feel better. And for… everything, Chuuya-san.”
In response, Chuuya sends him a smile and says, “I really don’t think I’ve done anything worth being thanked for, but…” He rubs the back of his head. “I guess… you’re welcome.”
Now that Chuuya is level, they head back down to the meeting room to be met by a group of people awkwardly staring at the table, the wall, and anywhere but them. Akutagawa, to Atsushi’s surprise, is the color of a tomato.
“It serves every one of you fuckers right.” Chuuya plops himself into a chair. “Especially you, Akutagawa. I thought better of you.”
“If we could wrap this up,” Akutagawa states with far more authority than he has, “I would like to return to headquarters and attempt to forget this happened.”
“What? With half a cup of sake? That should do the trick.”
Atsushi doesn’t listen to how Akutagawa responds. He just sits back down and refocuses his attention on the matter at hand.
The conversation resumes, goes on for nearly forty minutes, and dies off when Fukuzawa states, “We cannot pursue anyone when we have no description.”
After a silent moment, Mori exhales and says, “Sadly, I must concur.”
“Another dead end,” Ranpo groans. Atsushi hears the crunch of his lollipop and his sigh.
“It sure seems that way.”
Atsushi wishes he had something to add. It’s not enough to remember the rhododendron. He starts thinking of all the people he saw that night: a group of teenagers in high school uniforms, couples of varying ages holding hands, tourists…
“Then we agree to share any information our respective organizations gather?” Fukuzawa announces.
Atsushi zones out again. That person was there that night. I saw them. He shuts his eyes. I know I did.
Kunikida is saying something. It’s the voice that makes him replay those moments before the dart. He’s still thinking about it when everyone rises from the table. He’s convinced that there’s something there.
“Atsushi-kun,” Tanizaki says, tapping his shoulder. “You’re spacing out. What is it?”
“Nothing.” He glances at Chuuya, who shakes his head. “At least… I think it’s nothing.”
“It’s pretty clear to you’ve got something on your mind tiger. Just say it. If anyone insults you, I’ll throttle them.”
Atsushi glances at the table and hums. “I think I got it.”
“Huh?” Dazai folds his arms and leans back in his chair. “What exactly do you have, Atsushi-kun?”
“I mean… I don’t think I have it completely, but…” He trails off. “Give me a few minutes.”
It’s hard to shut out all the murmurs and stares, but he does. And the more he focuses, the more it dawns upon him.
“Chuuya-san.”
“Hmm?”
“You remember that first night we spent together? In that fancy hotel? Where we just ate dinner and talked?”
“Of course I remember. You brought me salmon.” He smirks. “And you were incredibly stunning as always.”
“Remember how on the way up, I said someone recognized me from that case I had botched and solved right before we started dating?”
“I’m not following you, tiger.”
Atsushi swallows. “I’m pretty sure… I’ve seen that person more than once.” He inhales. “He was in the lobby when I left. And at the second hotel we went to the morning after you called me your boyfriend. And he was there when you dropped me off a couple of blocks away from the dorms after our trip to the beach house. I saw him when we got ice cream. And on my way to your place after you got sick.” He pauses. “I even saw him the morning after the summer festival on my way to the train station. I think it was him after we confessed, too. I’m just now realizing it, but he’s been almost everywhere we have after that.”
“You’re just now remembering this?” Akutagawa retorts. “It seems rather convenient, like an ADA trick.”
“It’s not a trick. He was there the night Kunikida-san almost got hit with the dart.” He looks at Kunikida. “Do you remember anyone carrying a newspaper?”
Kunikida hums. “Actually, now that you mention it, I do. I wound up passing someone like that when I was carrying you.” He turns to Ranpo, who shrugs.
“Tell me what else you know.”
Atsushi swallows. “He’s about a hundred and eighty centimeters tall. If I had to guess, he weighs maybe seventy-eight kilograms. He’s old.”
“What’s old?” Ranpo asks.
“Maybe forty?” He catches Fukuzawa’s glower and says, “I wasn’t calling you old, president! Honest!”
“Mori-sensei,” Kouyou says, “You’re looking a little faint.”
Elise lets out a little laugh. “Rintaro is realizing his age. He’ll live. Probably.”
Atsushi notes how dazed Mori looks. Serves him right, he tells himself.
“What else?” Chuuya says.
Atsushi hums. “His facial features are… kind of sharp. Especially his cheeks. He wears nice shoes.”
“Not as nice as mine, right, beautiful?”
“Kindly refrain from flirting until—” Kunikida begins, but Ranpo cuts him off.
“You’re the last person who gets to tell Atsushi-kun to refrain from anything since his sex life isn’t constantly interrupting my sleep schedule.”
Atsushi hums. “Every time I’ve seen him, he’s dressed nice. Usually in a suit. He’s got brown hair, and he’s a little pale. Green eyes… or maybe gray. I think I could probably pick him out from a line-up of pictures.” He hums. “Do you think you can find people who look like that, Ranpo-san?”
“Atsushi-kun!” He smirks and flips the end of his cape. “As impressive as you’re being right now, need I remind you that rhetorical questions are rude!”
Atsushi tips his head, then glances at Yosano, who taps on his shoulder.
“It means Ranpo can find him.”
“Oh.” Atsushi scratches his head. “Then… I’ll do what I can to help.”
“Very well. We’ll work on identifying the culprit, as Ranpo is the best person for it.” Fukuzawa glances at Mori, who still looks like he hasn’t recovered from Atsushi calling him old. “Once we’re sure, we’ll reconvene and discuss strategies.”
“Very well, Fukuzawa-dono.”
Right as the farewells conclude, Kouyou looks at him and says, “You still dress shabby, but… perhaps I underestimated you a little.”
“Ah. Thank you very much,” he answers, unsure of how else to respond. Kouyou departs, Chuuya follows, and he turns to go back to his desk.
“Hey!”
He turns to find Chuuya glancing back at him.
“Seven-thirty. Tomorrow.”
He blinks. “But I can’t—”
“You don’t need to,” he states, grinning. “I’d never let you fall, beautiful.”
Thoughts of the view from Yokohama Bay Bridge fill his mind and his dreams that night, but it doesn’t prevent him from doing his job. After looking at a dozen or so photos of ability users Ranpo presents to him the next day, he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Ranpo-san, but none of these people are the man with the newspaper under his arm.”
Ranpo sweeps all the photos off the table and plants his head on it. “It took me all night to find this much. Why is this case so hard? It’s like chasing a ghost.”
Atsushi rises to pick up the photos. “Why don’t we go get something to eat, Ranpo-san?”
“I just ate an hour ago.”
“So you should be hungry again,” Atsushi states, lifting one of the photos and staring at the background. “Ah. You didn’t show me this one.” He shows Ranpo the photograph.
“Because that guy doesn’t have brown hair or sharp features. That’s why I took his photo out.”
Atsushi sets the photo down and points to someone in the background. “But this person does. Look. He even has a newspaper tucked under his arm.”
Ranpo studies the photo, then smiles up at Atsushi. “Yeah, you’re right again. You’ve really hit a lucky streak without your ability.”
“I just want it back,” Atsushi confesses. “And if this person has answers, I want to track him down.”
Using a combination of super deduction and the internet, Ranpo manages to track down both men in the photo. “The man in the foreground with the cigarette is Jean Genet,” Ranpo announces as everyone opens their copy of what he has managed to cobble together. “A French ability user, although we’re not sure of the name or its effects, but I deduce it had something to do with all these victims of cardiac arrest and the dart.”
Dazai flips through the pages. “He doesn’t match the description.”
“Because there’s an accomplice in the background. The man with the newspaper tucked under his arm. Atsushi-kun just happened to notice him earlier. Although, more accurately, this guy with the cigarette is the accomplice.”
“So who is he?” Atsushi asks.
“Antonin Artaud.”
“Do we know about his ability?” Tanizaki asks.
“What ability?” Ranpo retorts, leaning back in his chair and spinning. “Our sources say he doesn’t have one. But I’ve deduced he might. And I’ve also deduced Artaud and Genet are going to be at the exhibition of rare plants there in a few days.”
“That would explain the rhododendron,” Kunikida murmurs.
Dazai leans over. “So rhododendrons are out for the wedding?”
“I thought we were already married.”
“What about the housewarming—”
“Be serious for once, you lanky paperweight,” Kunikida snaps.
Atsushi laughs without knowing why. The stares he earns as a result are pretty bewildered, but honestly, he’s just relieved some things can continue as normal.
As haunting as all of that is, over the course of the afternoon, Dazai and Ranpo develop a strategy that they then present to Mori and the Port Mafia executives. He guesses from the sigh Dazai lets out and the way he rubs his neck that the two organizations have reached some kind of agreement.
He gets to the bridge about fifteen minutes early. Chuuya arrives a little late. “Sorry,” he explains. “I got pulled into a meeting last minute.”
“Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, more or less.”
Atsushi stares at him.
“The fucking mackerel didn’t tell you.”
“Didn’t tell me what?”
Chuuya growls and extends a hand. “Come on. We’ll talk at the top.”
Atsushi takes the redhead’s hand, but when it comes to climbing, he hesitates. “Are you sure it’s… safe? I mean… I trust you. I’m just nervous about being up that high and not having my ability, you know?”
“Atsushi, beautiful.” Chuuya smiles. “I swear on my life I won’t let you fall. And if you ever do, I’ll catch you.”
That’s all the reassurance he needs before Chuuya’s gravity envelops him and he feels his body lighten. They walk up the cable the way normal people walk down the street to the convenience store. He keeps a firm grasp on Chuuya’s hand and tries not to get swept away by the red and gold sunset or the lights dotting Yokohama’s skyline in the distance. When they get to the top of the tower, Atsushi staggers beneath the wind, but Chuuya pulls him close, folds Atsushi’s hands in his, and peers up at him. “God, it’s really gorgeous up here.”
“Yeah,” Atsushi agrees, smiling and lacing his fingers through Chuuya’s. “It is.”
“You know I think you’re beautiful all the time, but in this light, you’re—” Chuuya stops. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” Atsushi asks.
Chuuya chuckles. “Like you want to take my breath away.”
“Are you going to let me?”
There’s a moment where Chuuya’s smile wavers, but Chuuya doesn’t seem to notice it because he’s already looping his arms around Atsushi’s neck and tiptoeing. And Atsushi is already bending. When their lips connect, it’s Chuuya taking his breath, not just him taking Chuuya’s. At the risk of falling, he doesn’t get too lost in the. He’ll deny that his hands moved any lower than Chuuya’s lower back, or that Chuuya moaned into his mouth when that happened. It’s not like anyone is around to see whether that’s true except the two of them, and Chuuya’s lips are sealed. He’s making sure of that.
When they break apart, Chuuya passes him a long look, like he wants to say something important. Instead, he murmurs, “Do you want to lay your head in my lap like you usually do?” Smirking, he adds, “Or are you going to kiss me until my knees give out?”
Atsushi opts for another kiss, but this one isn’t as involved. It’s more tender. Like he’s trying to say something with his actions that he can’t put into words. Chuuya’s eyes are blazing when he pulls away again. He accepts the caresses Chuuya gives him, so soft that they make him ache in the best of ways.
Chuuya sits, and Atsushi curls up beside him, resting his head on Chuuya’s thigh. It almost makes this situation feel normal, like he still has the tiger. He savors the soothing feeling of Chuuya’s fingers in his hair. He’d suspect someone as fashionable as Chuuya to raise issue with it, yet he never has. He stares into the distance, waiting for Chuuya to speak. He doesn’t. He just keeps petting Atsushi’s head, pausing only to remove a glove, then picking up right where he left off.
“I don’t know how to say this delicately, so I’m just going to say it. That mission the boss tried to send you and Akutagawa on? Well, I’m going instead.”
Atsushi jolts. He’s happy he’s staring out at the water. “When… are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow night.”
Gently, he pushes Chuuya’s hand away and sits up. “That’s too soon.” Atsushi feels Chuuya’s bare hand settle against the side of his face. “Chuuya-san—”
“We don’t know how long that bastard or his friend are going to be in Yokohama. This is situation requires quick action.”
“But what if you get hurt?” Atsushi realizes how loud he has gotten and presses his lips together. “What if you don’t come back?”
“Atsushi, beautiful.”
When Chuuya’s fingers guide his eyes up, he follows the pressure.
“I promise I’ll come back. And when I find the fucker that did this to you, I’ll be sure to punch him extra hard for you.”
Atsushi tries to find comfort in the way Chuuya chuckles, but he can’t bring himself to join the mafioso in laughing. Judging from how Chuuya’s smile slips off of his face, he guesses Chuuya picks up on that.
“This wasn’t a decision I made lightly. And I didn’t make it just for you.” Chuuya’s hand drops. He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, sets one between his lips, and lights it. After blowing smoke into the air, he continues, “I’m not going to lie, though: I definitely thought of you first.”
“Chuuya-san, you can’t go—”
“I already offered.”
“It’s dangerous!” Atsushi shakes his head. “I don’t want you to get hurt! I don’t want you to suffer because of me!”
The end of Chuuya’s cigarette lights up as he takes another draw. “Trust me. If I suffer for what I’m about to do, it ain’t your fault.” Chuuya’s eyes find his in the dark. With his bare hand, he reaches up and wipes Atsushi’s face. “You don’t need to cry for me, tiger.”
Atsushi didn’t even realize he was shedding tears, but now that he does, he pulls away and wipes his eyes, sniffling. “I’m not crying just for you.”
“Then what for?” Chuuya asks.
“I’m tired of not being able to do anything to help the people I care about. You, the agency…”
“You helped that blond guy with the glasses.”
“Because he’s an important person to—” He stops himself from saying anything else. Mostly because he doesn’t want to utter Dazai’s name and set Chuuya off. But also, he’s not sure he should be talking about Dazai’s private affairs. Not that they’ve made a secret of it.
“I know they’re dating,” Chuuya retorts. “I knew they were before that guy who always calls me Mr. Fancy Hat complained about them fucking. They weren’t exactly subtle.” He takes another puff and glances at Atsushi again. “Glad the mackerel finally found someone who can keep up with him.”
Atsushi sighs and draws his knees up. “I… wanted to save Kunikida-san because he’s my coworker and I look up to him. But I also saved him for Dazai-san, who would be upset if something bad happened to his partner because he was sick.”
Chuuya puts out his cigarette and sighs. “This is just so fucking shitty.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What the fuck are you apologizing for?” Chuuya asks.
Atsushi curls up a little more. “Because it’s my fault.”
“Atsushi, look at me.”
But he only balls up tighter when his eyes start to burn again.
“Atsushi, you’re crying. Let me hold you.”
With the force he uses throwing himself at Chuuya, he’s surprised they don’t fall. Chuuya catches him. Atsushi barely registers the pressure of Chuuya’s arms around his shoulders. He’s too busy reveling in every happy recollection of their time together: that first dinner; their fight in the warehouse; their confession on the bridge; the wonderful way Chuuya kisses him, treats him, holds him; Chuuya’s hungover expression and untidy hair; the ice cream; the fedora in his closet; the taste of Chuuya’s skin while he kissed the tan lines; the way Chuuya looked in his yukata under the fireworks; the windchime Chuuya hasn’t gotten around to hanging in his apartment… normally, these memories would bring him more joy than anything. Now, instead, they only bring pain. And it shows in the way he sobs against Chuuya’s chest. Above all else, Atsushi wishes he could convince himself the fault wasn’t his, but like his desire to change the past, it’s a futile hope that leaves him feeling even emptier.
The whole time, Chuuya murmurs sweet, soft reassurances in his ear. More than once, he’s convinced Chuuya slips into French. He doesn’t care what Chuuya said. No set of words in any language can comfort him. Yet eventually, Chuuya manages to calm him down. “You’re okay now.” Those are the first words he catches Chuuya saying over the blood in his ears. “You’re okay now. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”
But Chuuya won’t be there tomorrow, and that hurts.
“I don’t want to let go,” he manages, sniffling and burrowing closer. “I don’t want to let go, Chuuya-san.”
“You’ve got a little time still.”
“It’s not enough.” Atsushi lifts his face and wipes it. I don’t think any amount of time would be.
“I’ll come back. And when I do…” Chuuya grins. “We can do something special from your list. Your choice.”
That’s right. Even if this mission is dangerous, something comes after. Something with Chuuya. Something wonderful and warm and romantic. Something this moment should be but isn’t. Chuuya will give him more reasons to smile. This isn’t their last night together. Even if Chuuya gets hurt, he clearly doesn’t blame Atsushi as much as Atsushi blames himself.
“Come see me off tomorrow,” Chuuya states, grinning at him. “So I can give you a proper good-bye.”
“Can we stay up here a little while longer?” Atsushi asks.
“Sure.” Chuuya wipes his face again. “You can cry some more if you need to. I’ll hold you.”
“I think I’m good now. Just… the stress of the tiger sleeping built up and came out all at once when you said you were going.”
Chuuya pats his leg again, and Atsushi’s head drops into it. As he looks out at the dark water and Chuuya’s hand returns to his hair, his mouth curls into a slight smile. “You’re… so special to me, Atsushi.”
Those words cover him like a warm blanket.
“I know you’ve lost the tiger for the time being. I promise you won’t lose me.”
This time, he believes them, all the way down to the deepest level of his being. When he dreams that night, it’s not of losing Chuuya. It’s of the tiger, napping in a cage. He has vivid recollections of walking to the tiger’s prison and asking, “When are you going to wake up?” But the tiger keeps snoring, tail flicking and ears swiveling as if immersed in a dream. Atsushi sits in front of the cage, legs folded, before reaching forward to slip his hand through the bars.
He wakes up in his bed, but the tiger doesn’t wake up with him. Worse still, now that he’s awake, he has to face the fact that Chuuya is leaving.
His coworkers take notice of his glum mood at the office. Ranpo drops two chocolate bars on his desk. Tanizaki and Naomi try to reassure him. Kyouka offers to cook him chazuke for dinner. But he doesn’t have an appetite, and he isn’t in the mood to talk about it, so he says he’s fine even though everyone knows he isn’t.
Kunikida catches him in the breakroom, drinking his customary jasmine tea. “I know how you feel, Atsushi. In fact, despite how composed I appear, I’m concerned, too.”
Composed, Atsushi thinks, his brow twitching. Kunikida’s foot is tapping at light speed.
“It’s perfectly normal to worry when someone important to you goes away on a mission. I have full confidence it will be fine.”
“You can say you’re not okay, Kunikida-san.”
“Look here, brat!” Kunikida snaps, grabbing him by his tie. “You’ve been saying you’re fine all day when you’re obviously not!”
“Well, that’s the pot calling the kettle black!” Atsushi fires back.
“I’m completely fine!”
“Then why are you tapping your foot?”
Kunikida freezes, releases Atsushi’s tie, and plants his head on the breakroom table with a verbal sigh. “I can’t help it, Atsushi. He means so much to me.”
“I know.” Atsushi straightens his tie and goes back to his café au lait. “That’s part of why I saved you. I mean, I saved you for you, too, but… thinking about how Dazai would worry about you if you were the one who got hit by the dart—” Atsushi shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t say I haven’t regretted that decision a little since. Being without the tiger is… terrifying. And it hurt Chuuya-san to learn I was the one who took the dart like that. I know it did.”
Kunikida picks himself up. This time, they sigh in unison. “Sometimes, this relationship with Dazai is difficult because of his action. At other times, it’s because of his inaction.”
“I remember you said something like that before.”
“Because this time, it’s not him making things difficult.” Kunikida spends a long time staring at his tea. “I… want so badly to protect him. He’s been hurt so many times in his life. But I can’t protect him from something he wants to face head on. When Dazai gets the resolve for something like this, there’s no stopping him. So, all I can do is see him off and hope he comes back alright.”
Atsushi watches him tip the bottle.
“And if that isn’t far from ideal, then I don’t know what is.”
“Kunikida-san,” Atsushi says. “I believe Dazai-san and Chuuya-san will both come back safe.”
“But there are so many unknown factors… how can you believe that?”
“Simple.” Atsushi drains his coffee and rises to toss the can in the recyclable bin. “Beyond seeing Chuuya-san off, that’s all I can really do. For him, and for myself.”
The day drags. And it races. After eating dinner with Kyouka, he climbs into the backseat of a car with Kunikida in the driver’s seat. Dazai is decked out in a suit, hair slicked back on one side, and strangely serious. Kunikida occasionally glances in the rearview mirror, but Atsushi can tell the blond isn’t looking at him; he’s checking traffic. He eventually leans against his hand and stares out the glass. Beyond his transparent reflection, he stares at cars and streetlights, shopfronts and passersby, trying to remain calm and only half succeeding.
It takes what feels like forever to get to the drop-off point, located in neutral territory, of course. From the outside, the building looks shabby. It reminds Atsushi of the warehouse he and Chuuya first fought in months ago.
He winds up squinting against the light when Dazai flips it on, then stepping aside as Dazai ventures further inside. There’s nothing remarkable about the space; it looks like a modest office. The space that used to serve as the lobby is empty, but Dazai leads them to a room further back where there’s a sofa and desk. There’s no computer, but the abandoned internet cable and power strip suggest there used to be.
Dazai places himself behind the desk, setting his feet on it as if he owns the place. His expression is stark, like his Port Mafia past has come out of the dark hole he hides it in and completely taken over. Atsushi glances away from Dazai to watch Kunikida enter, fold his arms, and lean against the wall. He’s frowning, glancing at some empty part of the room.
Left with no other options, Atsushi sits down on the sofa and tries not to think about what sort of business took place there. Not hard considering he’s there to say good-bye to Chuuya.
“They’re running late,” Kunikida comments.
“They’ll be here,” Dazai answers.
That’s all they say to each other. In fact, for nearly seven minutes, those are the only words spoken. Atsushi listens to his heart pounding, to the slight squeak of the chair when Dazai shifts, to Kunikida’s shoe tapping against the laminate floor… but eventually, those sounds are joined by muffled voices and a discord of footsteps. Atsushi watches Kunikida pace across the room to join Dazai behind the desk.
Chuuya’s voice rises above the others and rocks through him. “Hey, shitty mackerel! Where the fuck are you?”
Atsushi isn’t sure what he expects, but it’s definitely not Chuuya to walk through the doorway wearing a dress. He sees Chuuya’s mouth moving, but he has no idea what the man is saying. He’s too busy letting his eyes roam over Chuuya’s exposed collarbone, along the asymmetrical hem of the dress that’s longer on the left to the heels he obviously has plenty of practice wearing. Of course, Atsushi knew Chuuya’s legs were nice, but seeing them now—
“Hey.”
“Ah! Sorry!” Atsushi shakes his head. “I just didn’t expect you to walk in here like that! I’ll stop staring!”
“You can stare all you fucking want. I know I’m hot.”
“But Chuuya,” Dazai sing-songs. “Back when we were double black, you always complained about how humiliating this was.”
“Yeah, and you know what happened? I fucking grew up. Unlike you, you stupid, useless fucking suicidal maniac.”
Dazai huffs. “Chuuya should just die.”
“Not gonna happen.”
Atsushi practically stumbles backwards when Chuuya’s gloved hand smooth his face. These aren’t leather. They feel more like silk and go up to his elbows.
“Not when I’ve got someone important to come back to.”
He starts to calm down a little with Chuuya in his space, even if their difference in height is reduced by Chuuya’s footwear.
“So, how do I look, tiger?”
“You… look really beautiful, Chuuya-san.” He knows he’s blushing. He knows people are staring. But that doesn’t matter because Chuuya’s eyes are on his. He feels Chuuya tuck the long side of his hair behind his ear.
“Good. Because your opinion is the only one I care about.” For a minute, he thinks Chuuya is going to kiss him. In fact, he wants Chuuya to. And if he had his way, they would. After all, they’ve kissed in front of people before. Or more accurately, Atsushi kissed Chuuya in a crowd while panicking. But Chuuya leaves his space without doing anything else. “Come on, asshole. Let’s get moving. I promised my boyfriend I’d take him on whatever kind of date he wants to go on when I get back.”
“Fine, fine.” Dazai rolls his eyes and turns to Kunikida. “Don’t worry too much about me while I’m gone, alright?” Of course, Dazai uses a different tone with Kunikida. It’s gentle. So gentle, it almost doesn’t sound like Dazai. More surprising still, Dazai is the one who wraps his arms around the taller man. Kunikida’s expression when he does… Atsushi can’t explain it, but he can see a depth of fear and pain there that his glasses do nothing to hide. Kunikida kisses the side of his face and murmurs one last “Be careful” before they separate.
“Atsushi,” Chuuya murmurs, close to him again. “It’s going to be alright.”
“Yeah,” he answers. “Be safe, Chuuya-san.”
“You know I’ll damn well try.”
A hollow feeling fills him as Chuuya falls into step beside Dazai. The rhythm of their footfall is eerily similar. Atsushi gets a good look at the back of Chuuya’s dress, which dips just low enough to expose the tops of Chuuya’s shoulders. When the Port Mafia employees and Dazai disappear from the doorway, Atsushi feels even emptier than before. His hands curl into fists and his vision blur because all the things he didn’t say or do crowd his head. Because he has been so unsure about what to call the feeling he has for Chuuya until this moment. And now, it’s too late to say anything.
“Hey.”
Sniffling, he dries his face and says, “Let’s go back.”
“Atsushi—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Luckily, Kunikida doesn’t press the issue, because on the ride back to the ADA, Atsushi realizes something that makes him more bitter than how comfortable Kunikida and Dazai were kissing earlier. They had one more whole night together. One whole night to tell each other how they feel and say good-bye. And maybe if I’d had that whole night, I… would have finally told him I loved him. He doesn’t begrudge either of them for that; he just wishes he and Chuuya had had the same luxury.
“You’re glaring at the glass,” Kunikida notes.
Atsushi wipes his eyes again. “There’s something I should have said to Chuuya-san before he left.”
Kunikida hums.
“Something really important that maybe… looking back… I should have told him long before now. But I didn’t. Because I was scared and unsure.” He grips his knees. “And that hurts a lot more than I thought it would.”
“Be sure to tell him when he gets back.”
Atsushi glances at him. “What if he doesn’t come back?”
Kunikida sighs. “Just this afternoon, someone I look up to—someone whose work is always timely even if it isn’t always perfect—told me I couldn’t think that way.”
Atsushi catches Kunikida glancing at him.
“I’d like to give him a reminder now, if you’ll let me.”
Atsushi nods and murmurs what little thanks he can muster. Then, he goes back to staring out the window, watching Yokohama roll by. He wonders if Chuuya is watching it, too, from the inside of one of his nice cars while Dazai pesters him in the passenger’s seat.
The next day, Fukuzawa briefs them all on the exact nature of the mission, and Atsushi realizes with a sinking stomach that it’s more dangerous than he originally thought. Undercover work at the exhibition and a private afterparty featuring a variety of rare black market plants smuggled out of rainforests and other exotic locations. Chuuya will approach the two men, expressing interest in one of the rare plants on behalf of Dazai. Once they’re in a room together, they’ll work together to apprehend Artaud, Genet, and anyone else responsible. Dazai will create a diversion to bring an early end to the event. A recovery team associated with the Port Mafia will pick them and the restrained culprits up.
Ranpo devised this plan himself. “It’s foolproof,” Ranpo states, “but only if they can execute it perfectly.”
“As the former double black, I have no doubt in their abilities,” Fukuzawa states.
Ranpo lets out a long hum. “Yeah, I’m not really sure… it really depends on their willingness to work together and their ability to stay undercover.”
That explains the dress at least, Atsushi tells himself.
“Do you see any issues with that?” Yosano asks, waving the papers. “I mean, it seems pretty straightforward, but knowing how they bicker—”
“That’s all up to them,” Ranpo states, folding his arms. “I deduced they were the best two people for the job. Dazai-kun devised most of the plan himself, but since he’s not here to explain it, he asked me to.” Ranpo tips back in his chair. “The sale takes place tomorrow night. They should be back the following morning.”
Atsushi glances at Kunikida, who is once again tapping his foot. “Something about this feels… unnecessarily risky.”
“You would say that,” Ranpo retorts. “I for one am planning to enjoy every bit of the next two nights. I slept so well yesterday, I feel like a brand new man today!” He stretches his arms and smirks at Kunikida. “Ah. Don’t think I did this just to get some rest, Kunikida-kun. The only force in existence that can match a double black is a double black.”
Kunikida pushes his glasses up. “As long as it goes off without a hitch, I couldn’t care less.”
“Dazai-kun can pull it off. He has Mr. Fancy Hat with him. Brains and brawn. They’ll be fine.”
The rest of that day and all of the next stubbornly refuses to pass at any reasonable speed. To add insult to injury, he almost burns the eggs again at breakfast. Almost. Kyouka doesn’t chide him. In fact, she politely eats her meal without commenting.
But she does say, “You’re worried about Chuuya-san.”
Atsushi nods.
“He had to cut all contact with everyone when he went undercover, right?”
“Yeah,” Atsushi murmurs. “I… really hope he’s okay.”
“Chuuya-san has always liked this sort of work, even if he’s bad at it sometimes. And Dazai-san hates it even though he excels at it.” She raises her teacup and blows the steam off of it. “I’m choosing to believe in both of them. And I’m here to help you do that.”
But all the belief in the world doesn’t help him the following morning, when Chuuya and Dazai still aren’t back. An anxious charge fills the office, and for once, it’s not just Kunikida tapping his foot or Atsushi staring at the same file he opened when he got there. It’s Yosano pacing by at least four times. It’s Ranpo saying he’s not hungry. It’s Naomi and Tanizaki being totally silent. It’s Fukuzawa’s figure in his office doorway, drawing his sword over and over.
“What’s taking them so long?” Naomi finally says.
Atsushi tries not to wrinkle the paper in his hands. He has thought that at least five times that morning.
It’s past noon when, out of nowhere, Fukuzawa’s office phone starts ringing. It cuts off halfway through the second ring. He does his best to pick up words. He even leans back in his chair, trying to catch a glimpse of the president, but he winds up nearly tipping his chair over and frantically recovering his balance. He rubs the back of his head when he earns glances from Yosano and Ranpo, then clears his throat and returns his eyes to the file in his hand. Eventually, the voice cuts off. The silence draws on. Fukuzawa appears in the doorway, and Atsushi sets his file down.
“Dazai will be here in eight minutes to provide a full report. I’ll need you all in the breakroom now.”
“But old man, this is cutting into my—”
“Now,” he repeats.
In the breakroom, the air grows tenser until Dazai’s arrival breaks it open. One look is enough to tell Atsushi he’s tired. His hair is disheveled. He’s wearing his usual work attire and a somber, focused look. Before he can say anything, Kunikida practically knocks his chair over and throws his arms around the brunet, ignoring his objections that he’s squeezing too tight and hurting his bruises.
A truly human moment, Atsushi thinks, folding his hands.
“Kunikida,” Fukuzawa calls. “Let him go while he explains, if you please.”
When Kunikida returns to his chair, he’s wiping his eyes. Tanizaki pats his shoulder, offering some words of gratitude or comfort.
“Alright, then.” Fukuzawa clears his throat. “If you would.”
“Should I start with the good news or the bad news?”
“There’s bad news?” Ranpo asks. “Which one of you fucked up?”
“Language,” Fukuzawa snaps.
“I’ll have you know, neither of us did. Chuuya’s performance was surprisingly good. We had everyone fooled until someone recognized me from my old days in the Port Mafia.”
“So?” Fukuzawa presses.
“So I had to move up Operation: Pandemonium.”
“Dazai-kun threw a bunch of smoke bombs to clear the room,” Ranpo supplies.
“Chuuya said he’d meet me at the rendezvous point so we could collectively regroup.” Dazai’s eyes land on Atsushi. “I waited for four hours. He never showed up.”
Atsushi feels his eyes grow wide and turns to stare at the table instead, doing his best to hold his expression in place, but he knows he’s doing a terrible job. His folded hands are shaking just like the rest of him.
“The only reason it took me this long is I had to spend all morning convincing Mori-dono and Kouyou-san that I didn’t leave him there on purpose.”
“Did you?” Atsushi murmurs. Because now, in addition to grief, he’s feeling anger. That Dazai, for all his bruises, is safe and Chuuya is not. “You’ve spent all these years saying you hate him. Why wouldn’t you leave him there?”
“Atsushi-kun,” Ranpo calls. “I’ve deduced he wouldn’t do that. Besides, Mr. Fancy Hat would be useful while regrouping.”
Even if Ranpo says that, he finds it nearly impossible to believe. But just as quickly as it came, his anger fades, and it’s replaced by an endless parade of cruel things Chuuya could be going through at that moment. “Then we have to get him back.”
“We plan to,” Dazai states. “The Port Mafia plans to get him out and strike full force. They’re requesting the ADA’s support.”
“Why?” Yosano states.
“Because we’re not dealing with one ability user, or even two. We’re dealing with five.”
Ranpo’s eyes snap open. “Theatre of Cruelty.”
“Exactly,” he says. “It’s a single ability shared by five men, Genet and Artaud among them. Peter Brook, Jerzy Grotowski, and Heiner Muller are the remaining three.”
“Well, that explains why Artaud was in the photo. Though I still can’t understand why we thought he had no ability.”
“Considering they’ve never acted collectively until now,” Yosano states, “I can see how people wouldn’t take notice.
Atsushi stirs. “So what’s Theatre of Cruelty?”
“The ability forces people into a dream,” Ranpo murmurs. “And while science says it’s not possible for someone to die from a nightmare, first-hand accounts of these dreams say otherwise. In these dreams, the senses are assailed in every possible way, but the target can’t tell it’s a dream. And even if they do, their body responds as if the danger is real.”
“So they die of cardiac arrest induced by lethal amounts of adrenaline.” Yosano folds her arms. “Like our five victims and those eighteen people in the Port Mafia warehouse.”
“Obviously, I was never in any real danger,” Dazai states. “If I get hit with an ability, it will get nullified instantly. And Chuuya doesn’t dream, so there’s no real danger to him, either.”
Well, at least that’s something, Atsushi tells himself.
“There’s more.”
“Go on.” Fukuzawa folds his arms.
“They’re leaving Japan tomorrow. If Ranpo-san can identify what port they’re leaving from—”
“Then we could head them off.” Tanizaki nods. “Alright.”
“Everyone take a lunch break,” Fukuzawa orders. “You have an hour. As soon as you come back, we’ll get to work.”
After rising and bowing in time with his colleagues, Atsushi returns to his desk. What appetite he had is gone now. In its place, there’s nothing but worry for Chuuya. And guilt that he never confessed to loving the redhead. What if that’s what he was trying to tell me? Atsushi swallows. What if… I never get to tell him because of this?
“Atsushi-kun,” Tanizaki calls.
He raises his eyes.
“Come on. We’re going somewhere in Chinatown.”
“Oh.” He swallows. “I… appreciate the invitation, but I need to clear my head.”
Kyouka approaches his desk, her expression blank as always. “We’ll get him back,” she says. “And Chuuya-san would want you to eat.”
“I know,” Atsushi sighs. “I just… can’t right now. I’ll go pick up something at the convenience store.”
Kyouka nods.
“Can you… tell Dazai-san I’m sorry I accused him of anything earlier? I’ll apologize myself once my head is clear.”
“Sure.”
He watches her red sleeves waver as she goes after them. Two quiet minutes pass. Enough time for them to be gone. When he’s sure they are, Atsushi rises and descends the elevator. For the most part, he spends the hour wandering, grappling with the possibility that Chuuya could be hurt or worse.
He sits on a park bench for a while, soaking up the sun, doing his best to breathe and stay calm. He winds up wallowing more than anything. But, Atsushi tells himself, Chuuya-san wouldn’t want me to. He would want me to stay calm and hope for the best. He buries his face in his hands. But it’s so damn hard when every thought in my head is a catastrophe. Eventually, he manages to get to a convenience store, where he buys a single meat bun and eats it standing just outside, his mind still cluttered with every painful possibility.
The rest of the day is a flurry of strategizing and re-strategizing. The work is so fast paced, Atsushi barely has time to think of Chuuya’s situation. He does manage to apologize to Dazai himself, who, in a surprising show of good will, pats his shoulder and says, “If I could have brought him with me, I would have. After all, you care about him so much.”
That only makes him realize once again how wrong it was to accuse Dazai in the first place. He tries to apologize again, but Dazai cuts him off.
“Ah, ah, ah… you’ve met your quota for apologizing in this particular instance, Atsushi-kun.” He sing-songs the last part and goes back to flipping through photos of the ability users. “Love makes people do strange things. For me, that was trying to cook. For Kunikida-kun, it was letting his ideals go a little. For you…” Dazai smiles. “Well, we’ll see.”
Since he can’t apologize anymore, he goes back to work. Around seven, Atsushi excuses himself to take another walk with the full intent to go back.
But he doesn’t. Because he realizes there’s one other person who likely wants to save Chuuya as much as he does. Why? he thinks, picking up his phone and staring at the number. Why has it come to this? Screwing up his courage, he repeats the same three lessons of boldness Chuuya instilled in him. Think of the other person. Take risks. Don’t be afraid of the full self. Once he’s sure this course of action meets all of the criteria, he initiates a call that he believes will go unanswered.
For the second time that day, though, he finds himself surprised. The ringing stops, and a voice deadpans, “Weretiger.”
“Akutagawa,” he answers. Even the sound of the diablo’s voice grates on his nerves. There are more pressing matters, he reminds himself, before continuing, “Can you meet me somewhere?”
“And why would I want to do that?”
“You wouldn’t,” he states. “But Chuuya-san is your mentor, and even if you hate him dating me, you want to save him.”
“I don’t get your meaning.”
“I think you do.”
A long silence passes. “You are still without ability. Am I correct?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I do not desire to spend my evening hauling dead weight, much less if that dead weight is you.”
“Look, just… meet me somewhere.”
“Why?” Akutagawa demands.
“Because… it’s my fault Chuuya-san had to go in the first place, and if I can do something to make it right—”
“This will not absolve you,” Akutagawa interrupts.
But it’s all I have to offer. Given Akutagawa’s refusal, he knows he has lost. Facing it is a hard task, but after grappling for a moment, he does. “Fine,” Atsushi spits. “I knew calling you was a terrible idea.”
“Foolish weretiger. Did you hear me utter a refusal?” Akutagawa demands. Atsushi is pretty sure he picks up a groan from Akutagawa. “Yokohama Bay Bridge. Be there in half an hour. If you are late, I’m going alone.”
Make that three times he’s been surprised today, but he has a train to catch.
He arrives at Yokohama Bay Bridge a few minutes early. A crisp wind whips his belt out behind him. Right around the time it flutters back to its original position, he catches sight of Akutagawa, brooding as usual, hands in the pockets of his possessed coat, thin brows knotted with displeasure. The diablo stops a couple of meters away, and Atsushi finds a question filling his mouth.
“Why?”
Akutagawa passes him a blank look.
“Why are you helping me do this?”
Suddenly, he looks even more like he swallowed a lemon. “Must you ask, weretiger?”
“Yes,” Atsushi says.
Akutagawa rolls his eyes and sighs audibly. “This is an important place for you and Chuuya-san, is it not?”
Atsushi glares at him.
“He only mentioned it one time when he was drunk at a work party. He said of all the first kisses he’s had, the one on top of Yokohama Bay Bridge was easily the most meaningful. I presume, considering how he was going on about you, that this was where you shared that kiss.”
Still glowering, Atsushi grumbles, “What of it?”
“I’m not here to intrude on whatever this place means to you and Chuuya-san. I’m here because even if the shape of our caring is different, I still… care for Chuuya-san. As a mentor. And… friend.”
Holy shit, he actually said it.
“That means being happy for him even if he’s dating the most detestable person on the face of the planet.”
“Hey—”
“That also means,” Akutagawa continues, pausing to cough, “partnering up with said detestable pesron when he winds up in a precarious situation.” His glare intensifies. “Don’t get the wrong idea. And if you wish to keep your tongue, you will avoid mentioning this conversation when we find him.”
“Of course I won’t say anything, but…” Atsushi smiles. “Is it true you fainted when Chuuya-san told the Port Mafia—”
“I take back every word I said. Chuuya-san can rot in hell, and so can you.”
Atsushi rolls his eyes. By now, Atsushi knows Akutagawa well enough to know when such words are genuine and when they are a knee-jerk reaction. This is definitely a case of the latter, of Akutagawa’s bark being worse than his bite. “Thanks. For offering to help.”
“I did not offer for you, weretiger.”
“I know.” Atsushi paces towards him. “Still, thank you anyway.”
Akutagawa passes Atsushi another glare that’s so easy to deflect with a smile. “Just… try not to die. Chuuya-san would never forgive me.”
“Maybe you should make sure I don’t get killed.” They start walking. “Or did you forget you’re the only one of us with an ability right now?”
“I’m having second thoughts about letting you keep your tongue, weretiger.” Akutagawa keeps his eyes ahead. “However, knowing what we are up against, I’m hoping your voice is enough to wake me up if I’m hit.”
“If either of us is hit, it’s going to be me. I’ve been living a waking nightmare since Chuuya-san left. But remember…” Atsushi makes sure Akutagawa is looking his way before saying, “I can only get hit once.”
“Duly noted.”
Akutagawa turns away from the bay, and Atsushi says, “Wait, where are you going?”
He receives only a glance in response.
“I thought they were on the docks.”
“Tomorrow morning, they will be on the docks. Tonight, all five of them are celebrating in an upscale restaurant on the top floor of a pricy high-rise hotel that I am positive Chuuya-san has taken you to.” Akutagawa pauses to cough behind his hand again.
“So what are you planning to do?”
“Simple. I will locate their table and—”
“What about civilians?”
Akutagawa throws Atsushi a look. “What about them, weretiger? Their lives mean nothing to me. Chuuya-san’s does. However…”
Atsushi scrambles after him because he pivots around a corner so suddenly.
“Given Chuuya-san’s affinity for sparing as many lives as possible, I suppose for tonight, I will attempt to minimize casualties.”
Atsushi does his best not to sigh with relief.
“The Port Mafia has connections with this particular hotel. I would gladly get the head chef to poison their food—”
“Then how are we going to find Chuuya-san?”
Akutagawa growls at him. “Will you quit spoiling my plans, weretiger?”
“Then make them harder to spoil,” he shoots back.
“I don’t hear you contributing.”
“Yeah, because you always say I’m too dumb to strategize.”
“Strategizing is all you can do tonight,” Akutagawa retorts, coughing. “Though I should not be surprised. Perhaps Chuuya-san has helped you become more confident, but nothing can fix your intelligence or lack thereof.”
Atsushi is already exhausted from Akutagawa’s presence, but he figures if he hasn’t been impaled by now, he’s safe enough. “If the Port Mafia has connections to the hotel, just have the staff call them out for a minute. It doesn’t even have to be all of them. If we can get someone to tell you where Chuuya-san is, then I can go rescue him and you can take care of the rest.”
“Why do you get the easy job?”
“Because I’m the one without an ability, remember?” Atsushi frowns at the pavement under his feet. “If you’re doing this, I want it to be Artaud.”
“The leader.”
“He’s the one who hit me with the dart. I’ll trade him his life for Chuuya-san’s whereabouts and how to get my ability back. After that, I don’t really give a fuck what you do with him.” He takes a few more steps, then realizes Akutagawa is hanging back. He turns to find the mafioso staring at him. “What?”
“Are you actually giving me permission to kill him?”
“Why does it matter?” Atsushi turns and continues forward. “Even if I didn’t condone it, you’d do it anyway.”
About ten minutes later, they reach the hotel. Atsushi spends a moment staring at the front of the building. I was definitely here with Chuuya-san the second time I saw Artaud. Come hell or high water, unlike last time, I’ll be leaving with Chuuya-san tonight. He turns to Akutagawa. “Well?”
“I will… do my best to convince the front desk clerk to call Artaud away.”
“And?” he presses.
“And once he is out, I will restrain him so you can get your information.”
“If that doesn’t work?”
Akutagawa frowns. “I don’t know, but we will handle anything that comes at us. Despite fighting like cats and dogs, we are the new double black. If Dazai-san and Chuuya-san can tolerate each other for two nights, we can tolerate each other for two hours.”
Atsushi rubs his arm. “I think Dazai-san would be proud of you for saying that.”
Akutagawa freezes at those words.
“And I hope this works.”
The first steps of the plan go effortlessly. Akutagawa approaches the front desk, asks to see the manager, and spends no more than three minutes in the back room. The man bows as Akutagawa paces back through the lobby, a black blight amidst all the white and gray.
“This way.”
Atsushi follows Akutagawa to one of the elevators. They step inside, the doors shut, and they move upwards. They remain silent. After all, there’s nothing to say.
When they reach the top floor, Atsushi lets out a slow breath. The merry ping fades, the doors slide open, and they walk into the hallway side-by-side. He once again feels out of place among all the luxuriant trappings of the hotel.
The trouble comes when they round a corner. A miscalculation in timing, or an unfortunate bout of chance… whichever it is, Atsushi finds himself trapped in the grip of something powerful. He thinks he hears Akutagawa calling his name before hitting the ground. Only it’s not the ground he falls on. It’s water. Ice cold. It swallows him up.
He jerks awake with a scream, covered in cold sweat, assaulted by the saturated hues of the dark night. His bed feels like concrete and sandpaper. The lightning blinds him. He feels the thunder in his chest. Out of nowhere, a vice-like grip clamps down on his arm and drags him.
He knows this place, even if every sense is amplified so sharply. And just like all the other times he has had this dream and this experience, his struggles are vain. He’s tossed into a dark room, this time after only one punch across the face, and the door slams shut.
He can taste the cacophony of music in the air, smell the sweat on his own skin. He shuts his eyes and covers his ears, trying to find one pocket of peace. But peace is a memory he can only wish to relive as again and again, with ultraviolet colors and nerve-wracking sounds, he perceives too much. Danger, he thinks, balling up. His feet are bare in the dream. Something crawls across one of them. A centipede, its menacing legs like sharp steel nails tap-tap-tapping against his skin.
Atsushi knows it’s a dream. But it’s one he can’t wake up from, one he can’t pull himself out of. He screams until his voice is raw, but that only makes his headache worse. He beats against the walls until his knuckles bleed. Until, disoriented, he drops off again, perhaps into a different level of dreaming, perhaps one that’s adjacent to the nightmare he’s living.
This time, he’s at a grave, holding a bouquet of flowers whose scent chokes him as much as his shirt collar. The kanji on the headstone screech at him like vengeful gods. Nakahara Chuuya. Even though he’s dead by then, Chuuya’s voice still hangs in the air, calling him a disappointment. Calling him worthless. When he looks up, Kouyou stands in place of Chuuya’s grave and gives him one look before unsheathing her sword and running him through. It’s a familiar pain, but it’s amplified. Without his ability, there’s no healing from this, so he may as well…
Chuuya-san would never say those things to me.
The pain stops.
Between one blink and another, he wakes up sprawled out in an empty space, presumably inside of himself, wearing the same clothes he wore to work that morning. Sitting up, he shakes his head and takes stock of his injuries. There’s no blood on his chest where Kouyou stabbed him in the previous dream, no headstone or dark room. Just him, the tiger, and the cage.
Only this time, the tiger is awake. Wake up, it tells him.
Atsushi shakes his head. “I’m not waking up without you.”
The beast’s ears swivel back, and a row of teeth appears as its pupils narrow. Wake. Up.
Struggling up, Atsushi staggers to the cage and throws both hands through the bars, stroking the tiger’s fur beneath his fingers. “I can’t do this without you.”
You will have to try.
“I’ve been trying!” He grips the bars instead, struggling to pry them apart, but without the tiger’s strength, they don’t budge. “All this time, I’ve been trying! It’s time for you to come back! Please…” He jerks his arms again. “Chuuya-san is in trouble. I thought I could do it with just Akutagawa, but I can’t. Please—” He thinks maybe he feels the bars bend. “Help me save him so I can tell him I love him.”
The tiger’s head tilts, and the way its tail curls…
“You’re my ability. I’m not letting anything take you away from me!”
Perhaps the tiger has its own regrets. For making Atsushi a pariah, for condemning him to this sort of life. Perhaps the tiger had a nightmare of its own, too. Perhaps this is the nightmare: stuck in a cage, asleep forever, waking up to find its host begging it to come out and being unable to.
“Come on…” He hunches over, breathless, then catches sight of something that wasn’t there before: a lock, chartreuse just like the dart that hit him. Out of nowhere, he has that same dart in his hand. He approaches the lock, expecting the dart to change shape. But it doesn’t. And he supposes, because this is a dream, it doesn’t need to. He hopes it will suffice.
Sure enough, lock and dart disappear the instant they get close enough the way objects in dreams do. Breathless, he shoves the door open and looks the tiger in the eye.
“I know I hated you in the past, but I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
The tiger continues to stare at him.
“Chuuya-san is in danger, and I need you. He needs you. So please… I’m asking you one more time…” He reaches out a steady hand. “Help me save him.”
Rising, the tiger paces forward and sniffs Atsushi’s hand.
In an instant, he’s on the hotel carpet again, blinking against the haze of light. Awake, he thinks. I’m awake, he thinks, turning his head to see his arm has transformed into the tiger’s. He pushes himself up and sees Artaud aiming a gun at Akutagawa. Without thought, he springs, knocking the gun out of the man’s hand with tiger claws and pinning him to the carpet with a snarl. We’re awake.
Before Artaud can scream, a black tendril of Rashomon presses over his mouth. Akutagawa appears above his head, arms folded behind his back. “I am going to let you open your mouth again. And you are going to tell me exactly what you’ve done with Nakahara Chuuya. If you are unwilling, then one of your companions certainly will be after I show them your mangled corpse.”
Atsushi digs his claws into Artaud’s shoulders to stop his frantic whimpering. “You know who I am, don’t you? I’m Nakajima Atsushi with the Armed Detective Agency, and you’ve been following Chuuya-san and I for months, haven’t you, Antonin Artaud?”
Something more composed but muffled comes from behind his gag, and Akutagawa lets him go. “—remarkable young man. I had no idea—”
Akutagawa shuts him up again and rolls his eyes. “Ever the minor celebrity I see.”
“The next thing you say had better be where Chuuya-san is. If he tries to kill you…” Atsushi passes a glance to Akutagawa. “I won’t stop him. Understand?”
A vigorous nod, and Akutagawa releases his grip again. “I do not know this Chuuya-san—”
“Red hair, black dress, smoking hot.” He doesn’t even have to look up to know Akutagawa rolls his eyes.
“Ah, yes… we did not realize we had captured an executive until after Dazai left, just as we did not realize that warehouse contained Port Mafia property. We figured we could use him to do business—”
“Where. Is he?”
Artaud shifts his eyes. “He is in a warehouse nearby with the stock we did not manage to sell, very much under our ability. Although… he does not appear to dream the way most people do.” He glances up at Atsushi. “It is not guarded, as we did not account for any issues. Hubris on our part, really.”
Atsushi swallows a growl.
“That you broke free from my ability and the dart meant for your companion—”
“Save it.” He transforms his arms back. “You’re going back to dinner. None of this happened. Don’t come near me again.”
“Or what? You will kill me?”
“Believe me, I’m not the one who will.” He feels the beast inside him snarl. “I can’t make the same promise for the tiger, though.”
Artaud, while a little disheveled, can still move quickly. Once he’s standing, he darts back towards the dining room, straightening his coat, shaken but otherwise fine.
“That warehouse he talked about—”
“Turn left out the main exit, then right at the next corner. Three blocks. It’s right next to a little shrine.”
Atsushi turns to go.
“Weretiger.”
He stops and glances over his shoulder.
“Bring him back safely.”
He bolts back to the elevator and hits the button. The damn thing takes forever to get to the top floor. Once it does, he steps inside, frantically taps the button for the ground floor, and sighs with relief as the doors start to shut.
Before they close all the way, Rashomon slips between the crack and forces them open again. “Akutagawa? What the hell—”
“It seems we are not the only ones who thought to get an early start.”
The elevator starts to descend, and Atsushi stares at him.
“Fucking imbeciles, the lot of them.” Akutagawa folds his arms. “As if we would partner with a group of men who slayed our own.”
He supposes he should care more about what Akutagawa means, but Chuuya is at the forefront of his mind. Just a few more blocks, Atsushi tells himself as the doors open. Just a few more, and Chuuya-san will be safe. He crosses the lobby, listening to Akutagawa’s steps beside him, watching his shadow from the corner of his eye. They may be working together, but he’s less trustful of the diablo now that his ability is back.
Akutagawa notices. Not that he’s trying to be subtle. “For fuck’s sake, weretiger, quit glaring.”
They step back out into the night air, this time fully dark and heavy with a damp coldness. “I’m just making sure you don’t try to impale me.”
“And what purpose would that serve, pray tell?”
“I don’t pretend to know how your mind works, Akutagawa.”
The cold gray eyes move away from him and back to the sidewalk as they turn left. “Hurting you now would mean disappointing Chuuya-san. I am certain you are the person he wishes to see the most.” Akutagawa passes him a glance. “However, should you continue to give me lip like that, I might be persuaded change my mind.”
It’s hard to tell because of the light, but Atsushi thinks, maybe Akutagawa might be smiling. Not enough to notice, probably, even in daylight.
“Relax,” Akutagawa retorts. “It was a joke. Seems I underestimated your foolishness yet again.”
“Because you joke way too serious—”
“We’re here.”
Atsushi’s full attention shifts to the warehouse in front of them. Right next to it is a little shrine that, if he were more superstitious, he would stop to pray out. From the outside, the building looks totally unassuming. If Artaud wasn’t lying—and Atsushi doesn’t believe he was—then this normal-looking warehouse contains a whole host of illegal plants and a hostage. Nakahara Chuuya.
“Be on alert, weretiger. I believe it was sheer luck you escaped your nightmares the first time. You will not be so fortunate a second.”
“We’ll see,” he states, transforming his arms and legs for good measure.
They don’t even bother trying to unlock the door. Between Atsushi’s claws and Akutagawa’s threads, it lands on the ground in too many pieces to ever put back together. A cacophony of sweet, pungent smells hits Atsushi, and he covers his nose with his elbow. For some reason, one of those smells mirrors the sensation the dart brought him. The tiger knows it, too; its hackles are raised, its ears flattened, its pupils blown. It makes him dizzy. It reminds him of that emptiness.
“Chuuya-san is inside,” Akutagawa states, waving his hand in front of his face and coughing. “Given you have a beast’s sense of smell, I understand if this deters you—”
“I’ve faced worse,” Atsushi states. “Just… one of these plants is the one Artaud used on the dart. At least, that’s what my instincts are telling me.”
“Then we will take it slow.” Akutagawa coughs into his hand. “If you locate the plant in question and are incapable of destroying it yourself, I will gladly do it for you.”
“That’s really not necessary,” Atsushi retorts, keeping his mouth and nose covered. “Besides, it’s not the plant’s fault it was used that way.” He wonders, as he walks forward through this hellish garden of wild, exotic plants in all shapes and sizes, if perhaps the same could be said of others. Akutagawa, for all the wrongs he has learned to enjoy doing as a member of the Port Mafia. The tiger, for all the blame he cast on it when it was the reason the orphanage director abused him and threw him out. Kunikida for being the original target. Me, he finally thinks. For being this exploitable weak point for weeks no thanks to Theatre of Cruelty and Artaud, who has followed me for months.
All his thoughts disperse when he and Akutagawa round the corner and find themselves in a row of plants leading to a clearing. And in the middle of that empty space is Chuuya, face down on the concrete floor. In the dim light, Atsushi can see a sheen of sweat on the exposed parts of Chuuya’s arms. He thinks there’s some on his brow, too, but the angle makes it hard to tell. In the silence, he can hear Chuuya breathing, deeply in, pausing, deeply out.
Relief floods him, and he lurches forward only to be stopped by Rashomon, which winds around him and holds him back. “Fool,” he snaps. “This could be a trap.”
“I don’t care,” he growls, clawing through the tendrils holding him back and throwing Akutagawa a glare.
“You just got your ability back,” Akutagawa insists. “If there is another dart, I will be the one to take it.”
“Why? You hate me!”
“Because I am better equipped to block it,” Akutagawa spits. “And because Chuuya-san has suffered endlessly due to your self-sacrificing stupidity!”
Atsushi turns more fully toward Akutagawa.
“As I stated before, I care about him. As a friend. I have no desire to see him in such low spirts again.”
He said it again, Atsushi thinks, following Akutagawa with his eyes.
“Come on. The closer you stay, the easier I can deflect any incoming attacks. Mind the direction they come in, and do not show mercy. Should anyone be fool enough to attack us now, I will show none.”
Considering we’ve come this far, Atsushi tells himself, falling into step right behind Akutagawa’s shoulder, I don’t blame him.
As they approach Chuuya, however, Atsushi’s relief turns to something else. Mostly because he realizes Chuuya is definitely sweating, that his face keeps contorting, and his eyes are moving behind closed lids. Every now and then, he lets out a sound, more whimper than anything. Like he’s facing something truly detestable.
He’s dreaming.
“Chuuya-san,” Atsushi says, pushing past Akutagawa and dropping to the floor.
“What the fuck did I say about—”
“Chuuya-san, wake up.” He gives Chuuya’s shoulder a shake. Beneath his fingers, Chuuya’s skin his hot and sweaty. “I’m here, Chuuya-san. I’m sorry it took so long. I… got my ability back, though, and now, I’m here to get you back, too.” He hears Akutagawa approach from behind him, but he’s too focused on Chuuya to snap anything about backing off. “Chuuya-san.” He says it a little louder this time. “Chuuya-san—”
“It’s no use,” Akutagawa states. “The only one capable of waking him up… is him.”
“What do you mean?”
“This information is recent, so we have not had the opportunity to share it with the ADA, but the Port Mafia recently purchased some information on the black market. That report revealed those who survived Theatre of Cruelty reported an anomaly of sorts that triggered when they realized it was a dream. I doubt it leads one to waking every time.” Akutagawa shifts and kneels beside Atsushi. “It’s more… a slip. Between one level of consciousness and another.”
Atsushi recalls his own experience. I realized it was a dream. Then, I wound up in my own subconscious with the tiger. He presses a hand to his chest as Chuuya’s body twitches. “Akutagawa.”
“What?”
“I don’t think that’s possible for Chuuya-san.”
Immediately, Akutagawa scowls. “You are his boyfriend. How dare you—”
“No, I mean…” Atsushi shakes his head. “I think Chuuya-san is amazing in a lot of ways, but he’s never dreamed before.”
“So?”
“So it’s impossible for him to know what a dream is like.” Atsushi swallows. “If that’s true, then… this whole thing was a fool’s errand. We can find him, but we can’t save him.”
Akutagawa shuts his eyes. “In the moments before you woke up, do you remember what happened?”
“Oh. Um… I think… I unlocked the cage the tiger was in and said it was time to wake up.”
“And even though you were still asleep, you activated your ability.”
“Yeah, that’s true. I guess I did.” Atsushi’s eyes widen. “Wait, are you saying—”
He doesn’t get the chance to ask. And he doesn’t need to, because several things happen in the same instant. Akutagawa lurches, and he’s dragged backwards by Rashomon, clawing the floor on the way because he’s so desperate to stay by Chuuya’s side. The floor implodes, rocking the building’s walls. Beyond the cloud of rubble and dust that kicks up, Atsushi watches Chuuya’s gloves shred. They’re replaced by black and red markings winding up his arms, as if he’s being devoured from the inside out. With gravity, Chuuya pulls himself up. In place of blue eyes, there’s nothing but a blank stare. The markings spread across his face like corrupt smoke. A sound rises in Chuuya, starting starts as a growl before breaking out of him as an inhuman scream that freezes Atsushi’s blood.
“Damn it,” Akutagawa states. “The last thing I planned to do tonight was fistfight a god, yet here I stand with the last person I wish to do it with.” Sighing, he murmurs, “All I wanted to do tonight was drink a nice cup of fig tea.” It’s oddly human to see Akutagawa complain, but it’s clear to Atsushi that he’s worried about the situation and his friend’s well-being.
Atsushi pulls himself to his feet, still shielding his face from the debris. He feels the gravity in the room become warped under Arahabaki’s influence. Maybe we don’t have to fight him, Atsushi thinks. Maybe… there’s one more thing I can do. He cuts in front of Akutagawa, who is already snapping something about getting out of the way, but he ignores it. He shoves all of his fears and misgivings into a box that he’ll unpack later when he’s not facing a possessed Chuuya head-on. Even knowing here is only one thing that can pull Chuuya out of corruption, saying the words he’s about to is a risk he’s willing to take. “Chuuya-san!” Despite all the plants that have yet to be disturbed, his voice echoes in the enclosed space. “Chuuya-san, I… I love you!”
“Fool! Is this really the time for—”
“I love you, so please! Wake up!”
But nothing happens. The low growl in Chuuya doesn’t abate, and the gravitational field in the room warps more, not less. Atsushi knew deep down this wouldn’t work, that this isn’t a fairytale no matter how true his feelings for Chuuya are, that maybe he was saying this more for himself than for Chuuya so at least the redhead would live long enough to hear it. In light of this unexpected turn of events, Atsushi knows how unlikely it is Chuuya will make it out of this alive.
But I had to try, he tells himself. His eyes start to sting as he realizes his futility. I had to. Because Chuuya-san deserved to hear me say those words long before now.
“Weretiger.”
“Akutagawa,” he answers.
“If I do not make it out of this, I need you to tell my sister something. Under more optimal circumstances, you would be my last pick, but right now, you are my only option.”
Atsushi listens to the request and nods. “Alright.”
“And for fuck’s sake,” Akutagawa continues, activating his demon armor. “Don’t try to be a hero here. There are no winners in this fight. Only survivors and causalities.”
The tiger’s strength is not enough to fight gravity. The minute they both lurch, Chuuya pitches Atsushi through a wall. After healing, he rocks back up and bolts back inside. Of course, Chuuya can stop bullets. Rashomon is no problem. But the threads keep breaking apart into smaller threads, creating new targets, then winding back together to deflect whatever rare plant Chuuya pitches at him.
Mercy would be killing Akutagawa now, but Arahabaki is not known for that. Perhaps the most frightening thing is how much Chuuya has disappeared beneath corruption’s influence. He’s enjoying the prospect of hurting Akutagawa. Hurting them.
Atsushi takes the opportunity to occupy one of Chuuya’s blind spots before throwing himself at the redhead. The punch connects, but Chuuya only winds in mid-air before being flattened into the ground. One by one, his bones crack until he’s screaming in pain. Still, he fights against it. Against gravity, and his own growing desolation. Both struggles feel equally futile.
The press of gravity lessens, giving him time to heal, and he shoots at Chuuya again, this time throwing him against the wall. Regrouping with Akutagawa, they both dart forward to punch him before he recovers. The wall crumbles with the force of the blow, but the thing Chuuya has become only laughs in response.
“We need to wear him out,” Atsushi murmurs. “We need to—”
Akutagawa hunches over with an unpleasant noise and coughs into his hand. The scent of blood on the air grows stronger. Damn it, he thinks, watching Chuuya hoist a massive slab of concrete above his head, grinning with delight. Another look at Akutagawa tells Atsushi he’s done. I guess I’m alone in this fight.
As much as he hates Akutagawa, he doesn’t want the man to die. Not here. Because he, too, has something to go back to. He shoves Akutagawa down the moment the concrete flies at him. It catches him head on and flings him across the sidewalk, through a shopfront window. Again, he groans and pulls himself up, ignoring the cuts and bruises and disorientation.
He realizes he left Chuuya with Akutagawa and leaps out of the wreckage. I’m not being bold enough, he thinks. It takes a beast to defeat a beast. Wiping the blood from his nose, he exhales. He can’t remember Arahabaki’s incantation, but he remembers the spirit of it: the total lack of need to wake again.
He finds himself back in his subconscious with the tiger, who he approaches with steady steps. “I’m leaving him to you,” he states.
The tiger cocks its head in an oddly kitten-like way.
“Chuuya-san is very important to me. And I love him. I think… no, I know… after the first time we fought in that warehouse, you developed some respect for him.” Atsushi reaches the beast at his core and buries his face in the fur. “Please… help him.”
Once he has his nod of ascent, he lets the tiger take over fully. He closes the gap between him and Chuuya quickly in that form and winds up throwing him in the process. Before pursuing the possessed mafioso, he takes one glance at Akutagawa, still on his knees, wiping his mouth and leaving a smear of blood behind. “Go, weretiger. I will call for back-up.”
The tiger in him—or the tiger that is him now—lowers its head, then takes off after Chuuya.
Fighting Chuuya while he’s overtaken by corruption is one of the hardest things he has ever done. Atsushi doesn’t want to hurt him. Neither does the tiger, at least beyond what is necessary. He loses count of how many times he’s thrown through a building or into the street below, how many times he dodges one projectile just to be hit by another. Gravity grinds his bones to dust and crushes his organs, but the tiger’s healing ability surges and erases the pain, renews his strength again and again. As the fight stretches on, Chuuya’s erratic movements begin to slow. A trickle of blood appears at his mouth as he coughs, but he just throws his head back and laughs like he delights in his own destruction.
The critical moment of stopping him approaches sooner than Atsushi anticipated, and for all the tiger’s agility and strength, he just can’t crack the impenetrable shield of gravity. Not with his claws. Not with his cunning. Again and again, he’s caught and crushed. Again and again, the tiger rises. Chuuya’s inhuman scream tears through the air, more terrifying than any thunder. Atsushi throws his head back, and the tiger roars in answer. They clash again and again until he’s sure that if they don’t stop soon, the whole city will be completely destroyed.
Then, the unthinkable happens. An opening. The same opening he seized when they fought that first time in the warehouse. Uncannily identical.
And the tiger that is him takes full advantage, throwing Chuuya to the ground and pouncing on him, setting a heavy paw with claws retracted on Chuuya’s chest, letting out a low, almost pleading growl. It hurts. To watch Chuuya struggle and shout and cough up more blood, to push against him as his grip on gravity waivers. When it surges, again, the tiger sinks its teeth into Chuuya’s shoulder hard enough to hold on. As gravity presses, he presses, too, until his mouth fills with Chuuya’s blood and his eyes water.
Wake up, he thinks. Wake up. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.
But Chuuya doesn’t wake up. He can’t wake up. He doesn’t realize he’s still in a dream, doesn’t view the destruction as real, so Atsushi tightens his jaws and draws a breath through his nose, waiting for the bone beneath the skin to crack. The tiger sees Chuuya’s fist rise. His eyes drift shut. He prepares for the blow, the break, the—touch? His eye flicks open to see a hand wrapped around Chuuya’s wrist. The other is poking him in the center of the forehead, reverting him to his human form. His ability unfurls, but he doesn’t release Chuuya’s shoulder just yet.
At least, not until Dazai pats his head and says, “Atsushi-kun, you’ve done enough.”
He unclenches his jaw and sits up, passing Dazai a frantic look that the nullifier meets with a smile.
“Ah… did you and Chuuya-kun have to move around as much as you did? Kunikida-kun and I have been chasing you for almost half an hour.”
“Dazai-…san.” Slowly, his thoughts catch up with what’s happening now. The tiger, now dormant within him, paces. It’s still there. Still awake, now that Dazai isn’t touching him anymore. Beneath him, Chuuya lays unconscious, his breaths shallow, his skin clear of the marks. In their place are cuts and bruises, likely from his fight with Atsushi. Dazai is there, still holding Chuuya’s wrist in his grasp. If Dazai-san is here, that means… Chuuya-san is going to live. That thought crashes down on him, stronger than the gravity Chuuya wields, stronger than any destructive god, and his eyes start to burn.
“Kunikida-kun!” Dazai calls. “Are there any tissues in the car?”
“I’m fine,” Atsushi murmurs, wiping his eyes with his arm first. “I’m fine.” He says it again and cleans the blood from his mouth, certain the remaining red smudges make him look depraved. “Akutagawa—”
“A recovery team came to pick him up.” He finally lets go of Chuuya’s wrist, setting the redhead’s hand on the ground. “Sorry I was late, partner.”
“You weren’t late,” Atsushi murmurs, drawing Dazai’s eyes. “You were right on time, the same way you always are.”
Dazai sighs and flips his phone open. Atsushi barely hears him as he climbs off of Chuuya, staring at the bite wound on his shoulder. He can’t think of anything else to do, so he grabs the hand that is closest to him and cradles it in his own. Minutes pass. His legs start to go numb from kneeling there. Dazai drapes his coat over Atsushi’s shoulders, then rises to talk to someone he doesn’t have the energy to look at.
Part of him thinks he’s not even worthy of holding Chuuya’s hand, especially since this isn’t the first time he has drawn blood. No, don’t think about that right now. That was because sex with him felt a little too good and I scratched him. Chuuya-san wouldn’t—
“Boy.”
His hackles rise, and he passes a resistant glare up to the speaker, Kouyou Ozaki.
“Let him go.”
“No.”
Kouyou’s glare grows more intense. There’s a flicker of light as she draws her weapon.
“I won’t. He makes me happy. We make each other happy. This is just something neither of us could avoid. We did our best, and—and we’ll work it out when Chuuya-san is better, so—”
Kouyou cuts him off with a scoff. “I am not asking you to let him go forever. Just so we can get him the treatment he needs.”
Atsushi almost complies. Almost. But then, he remembers this executive hates him, loathes the fact that he’s with Chuuya, and would kill him on the spot if given the opportunity.
“You didn’t run when you saw that side of him,” she continues. “The side he hates the most.”
Atsushi squeezes Chuuya’s hand.
“I’m not so sure what scared him more: the notion that you would see him like that and run, or the certainty that you would stay no matter how much pain he inflicted.”
Atsushi realizes he’s holding his breath and exhales, then draws in more air. “Promise me you’ll take care of him.”
“We always take care of our own.”
“Then…” He gives Chuuya’s hand one more squeeze before lowering it to the redhead’s chest, which is still steadily rising and falling. “Remember that I love you,” he murmurs, low enough so only Chuuya could hear him.
He lets go, pulls himself to his feet, and steps aside. All he can do is watch Kouyou’s weapon disappear and the recovery team load Chuuya into a car not too far away. He catches Akutagawa on the other side of the tinted window, brooding as usual, but in a way that’s less angry and more somber. Their eyes meet through the glass. Then, the pair of black vehicles pulls away, leaving Atsushi standing with his guilt in the middle of a wrecked and ruined street.
“He usually wakes up a day or two after using corruption. He’ll probably be blowing up your phone with sappy texts before you know it.”
“Yeah.”
“Atsushi-kun.” Dazai pats his shoulder. “He may look bad now, but he’s quite durable, especially for a slug. He’ll be alright.”
“Yeah,” Atsushi mumbles. “I’m not so sure he will.”
Dazai blinks at him. “What do you mean by that, Atsushi-kun?”
“Nothing.” He turns and walks towards the car. When he climbs into the backseat, he finds a plant there, too.
“An illegally smuggled orchid,” Kunikida explains as Dazai climbs in through the passenger side. “Dazai is insistent that we try to keep it alive.”
“And you agreed to it?”
Kunikida shrugs. “In the context of over a thousand criminal charges, what’s one more, given this particular one aims to save a life?”
The car rocks into motion. Atsushi sees his reflection in the glass. There’s still blood around his mouth. He manages to smear most of it away, but no matter how many times he brushes his teeth when he gets back to his dorm, he can still taste it on his tongue while he falls asleep.
That night, his nightmares are not of the orphanage. They’re of Arahabaki, of the destruction that anomaly wreaks on the city and his boyfriend. And they’re underpinned by the guilt he feels for holding Chuuya down and biting him.
Regardless of how poorly he slept, Atsushi still goes to the office the next day, fully prepared for a lecture from Fukuzawa. Instead, he’s greeted as normal by the president himself on his way to the office. Blinking, Atsushi looks at Ranpo, who said, “For once, I can’t take the credit. Dazai-kun banked on you pulling something like this.”
“Huh?” he asks.
“Considering the strength of your feelings for Nakahara,” Kunikida clarifies, “he said it would be no surprise if you went rogue, so he and Ranpo-san formulated a back-up plan.”
“You mean you’re not mad?”
“Mad? No.” Kunikida pushes his glasses up. “However, I wouldn’t recommend doing it again for at least another six months.”
“Four,” Ranpo corrects him.
Well, on the bright side, at least his job isn’t at stake. But that seems to be the only thing going for him. Chuuya doesn’t call that day or the next. Or even the next. His day off also passes without a phone call. I was right. Chuuya-san isn’t okay. Atsushi stares at the ceiling. Maybe he doesn’t want to see me after I saw him like that. He rolls over and balls up. Or maybe he doesn’t feel as strongly about me as I do about him.
Atsushi throws himself at work the next day and tries not to think about it. He wishes he could say he succeeded. Periodically, his worry about Chuuya will cut through his focus and draw him to a total stop.
“Atsushi-kun, are you okay?” Kenji asks. “Your whole body just froze all of a sudden.”
“Fine,” he manages.
He’s pretty sure everyone there knows he’s not. But he should be. My intent in saving Chuuya-san wasn’t to trade one crisis for another, but it seems like that’s exactly what I’ve done.
After lunch, his mood improves a little, and he’s able to make a little more headway, at least until Fukuzawa yells his name so loudly, he jumps out of his skin and nearly trips on his way over the threshold.
“Yes, sir!”
“Sit.”
Atsushi occupies one of the empty chairs in front of Fukuzawa’s desk.
“I will make this quick.” Fukuzawa thumbs through case files on his desk. “Thanks to some quick thinking and acting on the agency’s part, particularly the back-up plan Ranpo and Dazai devised and Dazai and Kunikida’s willingness to carry it out, all five users of Theatre of Cruelty were apprehended.”
So that’s what Akutagawa meant when he mentioned something unanticipated.
“In part,” Fukuzawa continues. “We owe our success to your actions. That’s not to say I condone them.” He sets the file aside. “That is to say, however, that after losing your ability, being forced into a nightmare, and subduing Nakahara, I believe it would be wise for you to take some time off.”
“Sir, I—”
“In particular,” he continues, raising his hand to silence Atsushi. “There is someone downstairs who wishes to see you. Should that encounter require you to be away from your desk for a day or two, I will make no note of it, and I will ensure Kunikida doesn’t, either.” He folds his hands into his sleeves. “Go. You know my office number. Should you choose not to return for a short period, at least have the courtesy notify me of that decision so I know you are not out running amok.”
“Yes, sir.” He rises with a slight bow. Once he leaves Fukuzawa’s office, he heads straight for the elevator. It takes him to the ground floor, and he steps outside, into the blazing autumn sun and the cool breeze.
He’s not sure who he expects, but it definitely isn’t Kouyou. Her parasol is propped on her shoulder. Her red eyes regard him from beneath its shade. “Kouyou-san…”
“Come.”
“Huh?” Atsushi raises a brow. “Why are you even here? You don’t like me.”
“You’re not wrong.” She twirls her parasol in her hands, and it spins. “However, circumstances necessitate your presence.”
“Where?”
“Chuuya-kun.”
Atsushi remains where he is. “Chuuya-san doesn’t want to see me. He hasn’t called or texted.”
“I was wrong about you,” Kouyou states. “You’re not just shabby. You’re also stupid.”
Atsushi huffs. He’s used to being called that, but that doesn’t make him any less tired of it.
“He doesn’t want to see you, it’s true. The poor lad is so addled by his own guilt, he refuses to even look at his phone for fear you have reached out and cut ties. But he needs to see you.”
“Why?”
“He won’t sleep.”
“He won’t sleep,” Atsushi echoes.
“Ever since he woke up, he has staunchly refused. He’s too afraid he’ll have another nightmare and attack someone.” She folds her arms. “Compassionate to a fault Chuuya-kun, who became an executive to protect people in the Port Mafia…” Shaking her head, she continues, “He’s starting to hallucinate, and as much as I love him like family, I have come to accept I’m not the one who can provide the help he needs.”
“And you think I am?” Atsushi demands.
“I know you are.” The smile on Kouyou’s face is almost troubled. “You saw the darkest part of him and faced it head on, indifferent to how it might harm you, not as a test of your own strength, but because you cherish him more than your own life.”
Atsushi considers her words for a moment.
“I need an answer, boy.”
“Alright.” He sighs. “Alright. Under one condition.”
“You dare put a condition on your acceptance? Do you know who I am?”
“Of course. You’re Ozaki Kouyou, Port Mafia Executive. But the condition’s not for me. It’s for Chuuya-san.” He draws a slow breath. “I’ll go with you, but if Chuuya-san asks me to leave, I will, no questions asked. And you won’t stop me.”
To his surprise, she laughs. “An odd condition. Why pose it?”
“Because consent is really important in a relationship. That includes a lot of things, but it especially includes this.”
Kouyou studies him for a moment before turning again. “Very well. I accept your terms.”
When she starts forward, Atsushi falls into step behind her.
“The car is parked just around the corner. I have a spare key to his apartment for emergencies. Yes, like hangovers, before you ask.” She approaches a sleek black vehicle similar to the two that picked Chuuya up. Atsushi opens one of the doors and climbs inside. Kouyou joins him in the back of the car, uttering an order to drive. He puts his seatbelt on before the car rolls forward. Occasionally, he glances at Kouyou, anxious from the silence, but she keeps her eyes locked on the seat ahead of her. While he’s facing the window, she mumbles something. He half thinks to ask, but before he can, she demands, “Why the hell do you like him?”
Atsushi shrugs. “Because Chuuya-san is Chuuya-san.”
“Don’t be a fool. I’m asking you what specifically made you fall for him.”
“Oh.” Atsushi scratches his head. “I mean, I like a lot of things about Chuuya-san, but I don’t think you want to hear me go through them all to figure out which one made me fall in love with him.” He watches Kouyou’s eyes widen and rubs his head, unsure of why he’s suddenly smiling. “I guess I… really like his eyes. And his laugh. He’s very respectful even though he swears a lot. He can be a little open about things, but I’m learning to appreciate that about him. He’s always invested in what I want, even if we’re doing something he wants. Ah… I realize that sounds suggestive, but really, I was talking about little things like getting ice cream or going to the cup noodle museum.” The car rounds a corner. “He’s pretty good at cooking, too. I feel like I’ve learned a lot just in the handful of times we’ve cooked together. I’m hoping once he’s up to it, we can try baking.” The more he says, the more shocked Kouyou looks. “I guess… he’s just a beautiful person to me. Not just his looks, either. All of him. Because he’s respectful and not afraid to be himself.”
Kouyou lifts a hand to her chin and shuts her mouth.
“If my answer isn’t satisfactory, I can keep going.”
“No need,” she states.
The uncomfortable silence settles again and lingers until the car stops outside of Chuuya’s apartment building. They both get out. Kouyou instructs the driver to wait. On the way up, she turns to him. “Permit me to have a word with Chuuya-kun before you see him. I… don’t want to startle him too much.”
Atsushi nods. “Of course. Just don’t tell him anything I told you.”
“Scared, are you, boy?”
“It’s not that at all. It’s just… look, if I’m being honest, I’d rather tell him those things myself.”
“Ah.” The elevator slows to a stop and pings. “If that’s all it is, then you have my word.”
When they arrive, Kouyou slips a key that looks identical to Chuuya’s in the door. The inside of his apartment looks the same as always. He waits for Kouyou to move out of the entryway before removing his own shoes and setting them next to hers. “Should I stay here, or—”
“The living room.”
“Ah. Okay.” Atsushi sits down on the sofa. The sound of Kouyou tapping against Chuuya’s bedroom door pulls his attention, and after a moment, she disappears into it. He catches the muffled sound of voices. Kouyou’s. Chuuya’s. But he doesn’t eavesdrop beyond that.
Eventually, Kouyou’s colorful attire crosses his periphery, and she nods. Rising, Atsushi swallows and walks towards her. They pass each other out of Chuuya’s sight and before Atsushi reaches the doorway she just exited. He has no idea what to say, but he thinks maybe that’s for the best so his words don’t feel artificial or overly practiced.
Chuuya’s bedroom feels dark even if the curtain is open. He spots the redhead sitting in his bed, leaning against the headboard, the covers pooled around his waist. A few of his cuts are still fading, including the bitemark on his shoulder. He looks totally disconnected from his surroundings.
“Chuuya-san,” Atsushi calls.
Chuuya’s eyes shift towards him. “You’re not really here,” he growls. “You’re just another fucking hallucination.”
“Chuuya-san.” Atsushi stops by the side of the bed. “I promise it’s me. Kouyou-san brought me here.”
Clouded blue eyes bore into him. He keeps his hands at his sides.
“Why are you here?”
This time, Chuuya’s voice is quieter.
“I hurt you. I… tried to kill you. I thought you were him. Artaud. I…” He stops. “Why the fuck are you here?”
Atsushi does his best to smile. It’s a simple answer, but it feels right.
“Atsushi, I broke every promise I ever made you to that night. Even if it was Arahabaki, my hand was the one that hurt you. So why…” Chuuya’s voice trails off. “Why… are you…”
“Can I sit down?”
Chuuya’s gaze drops. “Do whatever you want.”
All Atsushi does is place himself on the side of Chuuya’s bed, draw one leg up, and twist to face the redhead. Once Chuuya’s eyes are on his, he says, “I know to you, it feels like you broke your promise, but you didn’t know. How could you have? You never dreamed before that night. Besides.” He flexes his fingers and lifts his hand, watching for any signs of resistance from Chuuya. Finding none, he smooths the long part of Chuuya’s hair back. “It didn’t change how I feel.” He can see the memory behind Chuuya’s stunned eyes, knows that Chuuya recalls well what he said, but he says it again anyway. “I still love you, Chuuya-san.”
He pushes Atsushi’s hand away. “I hurt you.”
Atsushi reaches out with his other hand to touch the bitemark on Chuuya’s shoulder, barely exposed by his shirt. “Yeah, well, I hurt you, too. But I’m trying not to blame myself for that.” Chuuya shivers as his thumb skirts along the wound. “I did this to save you. Because I was out of options and out of time, desperate. And you…” Chuuya pulls Atsushi’s hand back to his face and draws an unsteady breath. “You hurt me because you were trapped in a horrible nightmare, convinced it was real because you don’t know what dreams are like.”
He catches Chuuya’s eyes as they rise, brighter than before, outlined by dark, sleepless circles.
“Chuuya-san,” Atsushi murmurs. “I love you. And I don’t think I have anything to forgive you for, but if I did, I would in an instant.”
Something hot seeps through his glove. Tears. Unsurprising, considering Chuuya hasn’t slept in three or four days.
“You need to sleep.”
Chuuya shakes his head. “No. No sleep. It’ll happen again. It’ll—”
“I know you’re scared of that, Chuuya-san, so… if you want me to, I’ll stay with you. And if you start to dream, I’ll wake you up.”
Another tear drops free. “How?”
Atsushi hums. “Maybe like I did at the beach house?”
Chuuya huffs. It sounds like laugher to Atsushi.
“Would you like that?” he asks, drying Chuuya’s face.
“Atsushi…” He sniffles and smiles anyway. “Beautiful…”
“What is it, Chuuya-san?”
“I’m so sorry.” Just as quickly as Chuuya’s smile appeared, it’s gone again. He shakes his head and tips forward so he’s buried against Atsushi’s chest. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I broke my promise. I’m sorry I made you come down here just for this.”
“You don’t need to apologize for any of that, Chuuya-san,” Atsushi murmurs. “The only reason I didn’t come sooner is because I was worried you didn’t want me to.”
Chuuya grips his shirt and lets out a shattered sob. Then another. This is different from when Chuuya cried at the beach. It’s a hard cry, one that he’s been holding back for days, one that takes over him now because of how little he has slept or how guilty he feels, or maybe both. Atsushi just holds him close, patting the point between his shoulders as he lets it all go, wailed apologies and all. Although they become increasingly hard to understand, Atsushi accepts them all anyway.
It takes a while for Chuuya to stop. The instant he does, Atsushi offers him a pack of tissues from the nightstand drawer. Chuuya wipes his eyes and blows his nose, apologizing as he does. In response, Atsushi gives in to his urge and presses his lips to Chuuya’s forehead. The most well-mannered criminal in existence, he tells himself, drawing away. And I am so lucky to love him.
Chuuya hugs him this time. Atsushi hugs back. “Sleep, sweetheart. I need to see Kouyou-san out, but I’ll come right back.”
Finally, Chuuya lays down. Atsushi tucks the blankets around him and bends to kiss Chuuya’s forehead again, but this Chuuya guides their lips together instead. “Promise you won’t be gone long.”
“I promise.”
Chuuya drags him back down one more time, and Atsushi goes willingly. He didn’t realize how much he missed the feeling of Chuuya’s lips against his own until this moment. But he doesn’t want to draw it out too much since Kouyou is still in the living room. She probably heard Chuuya sobbing earlier. When he emerges, he finds Kouyou sitting on the couch, hands folded. She glances at him. He nods, and she rises. “No need to see me out. Stay with Chuuya.”
“I need to call the president to let him know I’m here anyway. I’ll make it quick.”
Kouyou shrugs and starts towards the entryway. Atsushi trails behind her, careful not to make too much noise. She slips her shoes on and turns to him.
“I admit, you’re remarkable. I’ve been trying for days to get him to sleep, and you manage it in ten minutes.” She picks up her parasol. “You’re still stupid and shabby, and I still don’t like you, but as Chuuya has told me before, I don’t have to. Treat him well.”
“I mean of course I’d treat him well. It’s what he’s deserve even if I wasn’t in love with him.”
Daylight floods the entryway as Kouyou pushes the door open. She peers back at him.
“But… if I ever don’t, then you’re welcome to kill me.”
To his surprise, she smiles. “I could do that. I doubt there’d ever be a need, but if there was and I acted on it, I’d lose Chuuya.” Her red eyes lock on his. “That’s not a price I’m willing to pay, Nakajima.”
He bows without knowing why, listening to the soft sound of the door fall shut. Kouyou is gone when he rises. It’s not a blessing, he tells himself, but it’s close enough.
He makes his call with Fukuzawa quick. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I’m not coming back today. Tomorrow…” He opens Chuuya’s fridge to find it empty. “Tomorrow… I may also need to inconvenience you. I’m deeply sorry for any trouble this causes.”
“Hmm.”
That’s all Fukuzawa says for a few seconds. “I can try to come back tomorrow afternoon if—”
“Very well. We’ll manage. If things change, call me.”
“Thank you, sir.” He bows even though he’s alone in Chuuya’s kitchen.
Once they disconnect, he texts Kyouka letting her know he isn’t coming back tonight. He drops his clothes on Chuuya’s bedroom floor and pulls on the pajamas in his overnight bag. He could stay up, but since he hasn’t been sleeping well, either, he thinks it’s best to take a nap. Carefully, he climbs over Chuuya and slips under the covers. It’s rare he gets to stretch his arm across Chuuya’s sleeping form, but he does. Once the redhead is nestled against his chest, Atsushi closes his eyes.
He wakes up to find twilight has descended on Yokohama. Chuuya is still against him, but he softly pries himself loose before his stomach lets loose a growl. After pulling his discarded clothes back on, he darts to the grocery store. A pre-made bento will do tonight (he buys a second just in case), but he also picks up stuff to make a few simple meals for Chuuya to eat after he leaves. After putting the food in the fridge, he eats alone in Chuuya’s living room, hoping Chuuya doesn’t mind how much he’s making himself at home.
He’s about halfway through his bento when a blur of color catches the corner of his eye. Chuuya, rubbing sleep from his eyes and yawning. “Go back to bed, sweetheart,” Atsushi calls, lifting another meatball with his chopsticks. “I just need to eat something, and I’ll be—” His sentence cuts off when Chuuya’s arms wind around his shoulders. The redhead’s forehead rests against his temple.
“Warm,” Chuuya murmurs. “You’re so warm.”
Atsushi offers him the meatball on the end of his chopsticks, and Chuuya takes it, chewing as he shifts to a more suitable position. “Are you hungry?”
Chuuya glances at him.
“I bought two just in case. The other one is salmon. I know how much you like it.”
Before he swallows, he’s already smiling.
“I can heat it up for you if you want to try eating.”
“Probably a good idea.” Chuuya stretches, and his shirt rides up far enough to expose his stomach. Free of bruises, to Atsushi’s surprise. “I haven’t been eating much, either.”
“Do you want some wine? Or tea?”
“Definitely tea,” Chuuya says. “If I even think about wine right now, I’m liable to wind up sloshed.” A familiar grin appears on his face. “It’s sweet of you to dote on me, but I can get the tea now that I’ve slept a few hours.”
“You sure you won’t set the water on fire?”
Scoffing, Chuuya delivers a playful jab to Atsushi’s ribs with his elbow, just hard enough for him to know it happens. They both go to the kitchen, and between the two of them, they brew tea and heat the second bento.
Of course, when Atsushi returns to the living room, Chuuya is stealing a bite of his rice. They lock eyes, and Chuuya puts on an innocent smile.
“Really?” Atsushi retorts.
After swallowing, he says, “I had to pay you back for stealing that bite of ice cream, tiger.”
“That was months ago!” Atsushi pouts when Chuuya laughs and eats his pickled plum.
“I was giving that to you anyway.”
Rolling his eyes, Atsushi hands Chuuya the tray and starts working through the rest of his own. They trade a few bites of fish and meat in peaceful silence. Once they’re empty and the tea is gone, they take a shower together, and Atsushi gets a chance to catalog Chuuya’s injuries. Besides the bitemark, there’s still a scrape on his back, cuts here and there, a raw and a few bruises. Atsushi hopes the soap and water will wash away however much of Chuuya’s guilt is lingering. He’s especially careful with the bitemark, but Chuuya flinches anyway.
“Will it… be okay?”
“Mori-sensei said it would scar.”
“Ah.” Atsushi flinches. “I’m so—”
“Don’t be sorry,” Chuuya interjects, passing him a grin. “I think it’s fucking hot. If anyone asks, I’m going to tell them my boyfriend went feral and—”
“Chuuya-san, please!” Atsushi cries, but Chuuya cups his face and smirks.
“And stayed by my side when I was at my scariest, even though I was too far gone to thank him.”
Atsushi gazes at Chuuya. “Then thank me now.”
“Gladly.” That’s all he says before their lips meet, before they wind their arms around each other and re-explore the familiar space of each other’s mouths and bodies beneath the hot water of Chuuya’s shower. Right now, that’s all they need. That’s all they can manage, because Atsushi is tired again, and he can tell by how heavy Chuuya feels in his arms that the redhead is struggling to stay awake. So, Atsushi turns off the water, and they go back to bed. He barely gets his boxers back on before Chuuya is clinging to his back. “Chuuya-san—”
“We don’t need clothes to sleep.”
Atsushi tries to glance at Chuuya, but the angle makes it awkward.
“You’re so warm, Atsushi…”
Atsushi holds back a laugh as Chuuya nuzzles his back. “Tickles—”
“Just want to feel your skin against mine while I fall asleep.” Chuuya’s grip finally loosens enough for him to turn around. “Please?”
“Like I can refuse when you ask so nicely.” Atsushi cups Chuuya’s face between his hands. “Climb into bed, sweetheart. I’ll get the light.”
“You can always refuse, beautiful. Always.”
Smiling, he lets Chuuya go. The room goes dark again. On his way back to bed, Atsushi removes the only piece of clothing he’s wearing. It’s a little nerve-wracking at first, the feeling of Chuuya’s sheets against his skin, but then, Chuuya is back against him, head tucked beneath his chin, mumbling a good-night. Instantly, Atsushi is drowsy again. He realizes there’s something deeply intimate about this. So much so that he wonders briefly whether he’ll ever wear clothes in Chuuya’s bed again. He thinks about it until he drifts off, which doesn’t take long.
In the morning, while Chuuya is still sleeping, Atsushi gets dressed and cooks. Breakfast is simple eggs and rice, but he also cooks some fish and quick pickled vegetables for Chuuya’s lunch. He puts the chocolate mousse somewhere noticeable. Around the time he starts the coffee, Chuuya joins him in the kitchen, wearing Atsushi’s t-shirt and his own boxers. Atsushi tries not to blush, but his face heats up, and Chuuya definitely notices. It’s obvious from the way he bumps Atsushi’s leg with his hip while he pours the hot water and stirs their coffee. “A little cream and a little sugar, right?” Chuuya asks.
“Yeah,” Atsushi murmurs. He definitely doesn’t stare at Chuuya’s ass while carrying the bowls to the table. He’s still thinking about how perfect it is when he goes back for the chopsticks, narrowly avoiding a collision with the redhead because he’s distracted. They sit down and eat.
“Did you sleep alright?”
“Huh?” Atsushi takes a swig of his coffee. “Oh. Yeah.”
Smiling, Chuuya leans against his hand and passes Atsushi a look. “Did I get your coffee right, tiger?”
“You did,” Atsushi confesses. He takes another sip. “It needs more Chuuya-san, though.”
Chuuya leans over to kiss him, then takes another bite.
“Did you… also sleep well?”
“All night.” Chuuya exhales. “No dreams, good or otherwise. Just my beautiful, loving boyfriend letting me sleep next to him all night long wearing absolutely nothing. And it was easily the most peaceful night I’ve spent.”
Smiling, Atsushi adds, “Do any of your wounds hurt this morning, Chuuya-san?”
“Yeah, a little. The bruises on my shoulders are the worst. I can take some aspirin after we eat.”
Humming, Atsushi says, “I made some fish for lunch. You can eat it with the leftover rice. There’s also some chocolate mousse if you want dessert.”
“You’re leaving?”
Atsushi chews the bite he just took. “Do you… want me to stay?”
“Just until the afternoon. Then, I guess I’ll let you go.” Chuuya leans against his hand again. “If I had my way, though, you’d never leave.”
Atsushi wonders what Chuuya intends to say. But he doesn’t ask, doesn’t pressure the mafioso. “I imagine with your shoulders like that, you’re having trouble cleaning, so—”
“You’re not my maid, Atsushi.”
“No,” he states, “but I want to help if you’ll let me.”
He gets a yes. A begrudging one, but still a yes. So, while Chuuya sweeps the floor, Atsushi scrubs the bathroom and the kitchen. He helps Chuuya change the sheets (he does most of the work, though, given how Chuuya winces when he rises). They have another cup of tea and cuddle on the sofa while an album spins on the turntable, filling the air with piano notes.
“Atsushi.”
“Hmm?” he asks, moving his arm as Chuuya sits up.
“I…” He pauses. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but after you leave today, I think I need a little space.”
Atsushi swallows. “Is it because I said I loved you?”
“Atsushi,” he says, guiding Atsushi’s eyes to his with a soft push. “Beautiful, I’d never ask for space because of something like that. Hearing you say that makes me really happy. It’s more…” Chuuya trails off. “I just need to work through what happened. In that dream and because of it.” Chuuya rests his elbows on his legs and hunches over. “I know you said you forgave me, but I still feel guilty. I need to work through that on my own. I don’t want that sitting between us like a wall.” He clutches Atsushi’s hand. “I don’t want to look at you and feel this sting of remorse. I want to look at you and feel happy and treasured.”
“Okay,” Atsushi says. “I can do that.”
Chuuya blinks. “What. Really?”
“Yeah.” Atsushi smiles. “I’ll still love Chuuya-san while we’re apart. And it’s like we decided before we went to the beach: if either of us needs space, we say so.”
Chuuya’s eyes drop.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head and tucks himself beneath Atsushi’s arm again, then immediately starts playing with his fingers. “Just… realizing all over again how lucky I am to have you.”
Atsushi flexes his fingers, but Chuuya unbends them again. Softly. Nothing about the motions are forced. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah.”
“Your nightmare…” Atsushi catches Chuuya glancing up at him. “What was it?”
Chuuya sighs. “At first, it was the Sheep. Just people who had betrayed me in the past. Then people I’d lost.”
Atsushi feels a shudder work through him.
“Then it was you, dead at my feet. My hands were so red…” He stops and huddles closer. “I dreamed that Artaud wanted that, and he got what he wanted. I think maybe that’s when I snapped. When the dream became… more than that.”
Atsushi smooths the side of Chuuya’s arm with his fingers.
“When I woke up after Arahabaki and remembered you said you loved me, I swear, I almost died of happiness. But then, I remembered everything else, and I’ve never hated myself so much.”
“I still love you.”
Chuuya glances at him. “You’re saying it too much.”
“Am I?”
“I don’t fucking know.” Chuuya shifts to line up their lips, and Atsushi lets it happen, lets Chuuya guide him onto his back before drawing away. “Really, half the reason I need you to give me space is because I’m not supposed to exert myself for a couple of weeks yet, until all my wound are healed.”
“Ah,” Atsushi says.
Chuuya smooths his face. “Hey. I want space, but I don’t totally want to cut ties with you. I still feel shitty I didn’t reach out to you sooner.” Chuuya drops another kiss on his lips, and he accepts it with a sigh. “You can text or call if you’re lonely, tiger. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”
Atsushi steals one more kiss. After that, he just hugs Chuuya close. He wants to remember this feeling while they’re apart.
After their simple lunch, Chuuya walks Atsushi to the door. “Thanks for being understanding about this.”
“Sure. If I can do anything else, let me know. I’ll try not to be too impatient about seeing you again.”
“If three weeks go by, and I haven’t invited you, I give you full permission to bother me about it.”
Atsushi slips his other shoe on, then rises. “I’ll… really miss you in the meantime, Chuuya-san.”
“Yeah, well…” Chuuya tugs on his tie, and Atsushi leans. “That feeling’s mutual. I promise you that, tiger.”
Their lips meet one more time. Atsushi backs away and pushes the door open. He pats his pocket to make sure his phone is there. Once he’s sure, he steps outside to face an undetermined about of time without Chuuya.
He looks back one more time, but the door is already closed.
The next couple of weeks pose plenty of challenges, but chief among them is not being able to see Chuuya. Atsushi does his best to limit his texts. He doesn’t want to overwhelm the mafioso, after all. But they do exchange messages pretty regularly.
When they talk on the phone, Chuuya gripes about desk work. “Seriously, just let me go out and kick somebody’s ass or blow something up already! Mori’s being an overly cautious fuckwad.”
“Ever the man of action,” Atsushi murmurs, clicking his tongue. “Please don’t do anything reckless.”
“Or what? You’ll bite me again?”
“Chuuya-san…” Atsushi hopes his bland annoyance shows in his voice.
Chuckling, Chuuya says, “You know, I kind of liked it.”
“Chuuya-san.”
“Fine, fine… I’ll quit teasing you. Even if it’s fun because you have such cute reactions, I don’t want you to feel like I’m genuinely making fun of you.”
Atsushi sighs as relief floods him.
“But really, how are you doing? I feel like the few times we’ve talked on the phone, I’ve done nothing but bitch.”
“It’s okay. You’re under a lot of stress, and you don’t really have any other way to get rid of it.”
Chuuya growls. “Really, are you doing alright?”
“Yeah,” Atsushi says. “Work is fine. I went to a family restaurant yesterday. I…” He pauses. “I… really miss you, Chuuya-san.”
“The feeling’s mutual, tiger.” It’s Chuuya’s turn to sigh. “I really appreciate you being willing to give me space like this. I know it’s hard. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“You don’t have to make it up to me, Chuuya-san.” Atsushi smiles. “I just want you to get better and take care of yourself. Besides, it’s hard for you, too, being stuck behind a desk and not being able to see me. That’s why…”
“Hmm?” Chuuya presses.
“You should listen to Mori-sensei and take it easy.”
A choke fills the phone.
“Please? For me?”
Chuuya lets out a quiet whine. “You’re not going to let me say no, are you?”
“Saying no is always an option, Chuuya-san. I’m just worrying about you. Maybe a little too much.”
“You worry the perfect amount, beautiful.” Chuuya sighs. “Alright… I’ll try not to go stir crazy. If only so you won’t fret too much.”
“I appreciate that, Chuuya-san. Text me if it gets unbearable.”
“You know I will. You’re so fucking generous, listening to me complain all the time.”
Atsushi shakes his head. “If I’m not in a mindset where I can listen, I’ll make sure I tell you.”
“You’d fucking better.”
They end the call with a laugh and a long good-bye. It would be less disappointing if, after that, their texts didn’t dwindle or if Chuuya called again in the next few days. He doesn’t, though. And Atsushi isn’t sure he should.
He does his best to shoulder the silence, to pretend everything is okay while he’s at the office, but Chuuya often says honesty is his best quality. In this case, it also happens to be his worst.
“Chuuya-san still hasn’t been in touch,” Kyouka remarks.
Atsushi sighs and turns the report he’s reading over.
“Oh?” Dazai sing-songs. “Is there trouble in paradise?”
“Dazai, don’t tease him,” Kunikida snaps.
Dazai’s smile doesn’t fade, but he does wheel his chair over to Atsushi’s desk and peer at him.
“Atsushi-kun.”
“What?” he asks, tossing the file down and resigning himself to whatever nonsense Dazai is about to utter.
Instead, he says, “Text him.”
Atsushi glances at him.
“As much as I hate Chuuya, I know him well. I’ll bet he’s waiting for you.”
“I’ll bet he’s busy,” Atsushi counters.
“Even if he is,” Dazai continues, “I know it would make his day to get a text from you.”
Atsushi glances at his mentor and fellow detective, he’s surprised to find Dazai’s smile has softened into something that almost seems… genuine. Like he’s remembering something pleasant but still fairly recent. “What did Chuuya-san tell you?”
“Why would Chuuya-kun tell me anything?” Dazai counters.
“Because you were on a mission and spent at least one night in a hotel with him?”
“Adjoining rooms,” Dazai clarifies. “The Port Mafia funded it, so there was no reason to share. Besides, I’m not interested in your relationship with him.”
“Yet you’re giving me advice.”
“Perhaps I just sense you need a little push to be bold,” Dazai states, shrugging. “Plus, I kind of miss the giddy, lovestruck Atsushi-kun who would smile about going out and doing something normal with the person he treasures.”
Atsushi blinks. “Speaking of, I haven’t heard complaints from Ranpo-san about you and Kunikida-san, and you’ve been coming to work on time. I don’t want to pry, but is your relationship… okay?”
“We moved out of the dorms,” Kunikida announces, flipping through his forms without looking up. “We got the keys a few weeks ago before Dazai left. The apartment is a train stop away. The president helped us find the place that’s reasonably priced. Ranpo-san knew, of course, which was why he made such a production over getting enough sleep.”
“Kunikida-kun,” Dazai grumbles, pouting. “I thought we weren’t telling them yet.”
“It was time. Besides, weren’t we going to invite everyone to celebrate?”
“At a hot pot restaurant.” Dazai wheels his chair back towards Kunikida’s desk. “The nights have been getting so cold! But my work wife keeps me so warm…”
“Yeah, yeah. Get back to work, honey.”
“But my Kunikida-kun battery is depleted!” Dazai drapes himself over Kunikida’s shoulders and smiles. “That’s better.”
To Atsushi’s surprise, Kunikida smiles, too.
“I’m surprised you’re not complaining, Ranpo-san,” Kenji notes.
“Oh, they’re still intolerable,” Ranpo states. “The key difference is I’m not losing sleep over it.”
Just before lunch, Atsushi sends Chuuya a single line. I miss you. He doesn’t get the chance to write more since Naomi and Tanizaki both grab one of his arms and insist he’s going to lunch with them. And he half regrets he didn’t go the first time; the atmosphere is so energized and full of camaraderie. He doesn’t take a break again until four o’clock, and it’s just for a little coffee in the breakroom alone. Surprisingly, he finds he appreciates the space and solitude just as much as the bustle of going out with his coworkers.
He realizes something in that moment. I’m still a little lonely, but… without realizing it, I’ve let go of a lot of my sadness today. Even if things aren’t perfect with Chuuya-san, I have plenty to be happy about. I hope he does, too.
Once his coffee can is empty, starts back towards his desk and stops three steps into the office because there’s something that wasn’t there before. Something bright.
“Ah, Atsushi-kun,” Yosano says. She’s leaning against the edge of Ranpo’s desk while the detective eats. “A delivery came for you while you were on break.”
“We just told them to put them on your desk and that you’d be back soon,” Naomi adds.
Ranpo grins like he already knows what’s going on. Of course, Atsushi is pretty certain who sent them. It’s not like just anyone would send him flowers, especially blooms that are so blindingly blue. He approaches his desk and bends to smell them. Sweet, he thinks. Not just the smell, either.
“Dazai tried to read the note,” Kunikida retorts. “I sent him to the convenience store to buy me tea, banking on him taking as much time as possible.” He pushes his glasses up. “I was correct. That intolerable waste of bandages has been gone for fifteen minutes.”
“Maybe there’s a reason for that, Kunikida-kun,” Ranpo points out.
Kunikida rockets up.
“Relax. I’ve deduced danger isn’t the cause of his delay.” Ranpo mumbles something about idiots in love and eats another handful of chips.
Atsushi was so taken by the color, the gesture, and the smell that he didn’t even notice the note. Now that Kunikida has pointed it out, though, he pulls the little envelope loose from its holder. His name is jotted on the outside of it in immaculate kanji. Turning it over, he removes the little slip of paper inside and unfolds it.
My place, 7 p.m. Here’s something to remind you of me in the meantime.
Chuuya
He shakes his head, then drops his eyes to the small row of characters near the bottom of the notecard.
P.S. I love you, too.
If the world is still turning, if gravity is still working, if time is still moving, Atsushi doesn’t perceive any of it. Those words… after waiting so long, to get them in writing of all things… It’s so romantic. He resists the urge to hug that slip of paper to his chest. It would wrinkle if he did, and now, given what it says, it’s easily his most precious possession. He feels the same way he does when he eats chazuke after a long time: not warm but warmed and warmer. Not just full but fulfilled on every level. Rejuvenated. Alive. Safe.
“You know…”
“Ah! Dazai-san!” The notecard slips out of his hand, but he catches it, pushes it back in the envelope, and hides it behind his back before. “Welcome… back.”
Dazai’s eyes shift to the bouquet on the desk, and he smiles. “Did you know blue orchids symbolize rarity, uniqueness, and beauty?”
“Huh?” Atsushi asks.
“The language of flowers,” Dazai states, shrugging. “Just a bit of trivia for you.”
“Dazai,” Kunikida calls. “Come over here and look at this file, will you?”
“Alas, my work wife demands my attention.” When Dazai turns away, he takes his knowing smile with him. He sets his hand on Kunikida’s shoulder and paces to his other side, scratching his chin with his free hand as he thinks. And Atsushi… he sends another long look at the flowers, which make him feel all those wonderful things a second time but stronger.
Fortunately, the rest of the workday doesn’t drag. Once the flowers are safely in his dorm and the note tucked away, Atsushi says good-bye to Kyouka and takes the train to the stop before Chuuya’s apartment. He buys a box of chocolates from Chuuya’s favorite shop, not caring whether Chuuya scolds him. He winds up arriving a few minutes early and ringing the doorbell anyway. After about thirty seconds, the door opens.
“Hey,” Chuuya says. He’s wearing an apron. “You’re early.”
Atsushi takes a deep breath. “And you’re in the middle of cooking.”
Chuuya’s eyes drop to the bag in his hand. “And you brought chocolate.”
“To thank you for the flowers.” Atsushi offers Chuuya the bag, and Chuuya pushes the door farther open to accept it. “They’re really beautiful, but they don’t compare to you.”
Chuuya steps aside to let Atsushi in, and Atsushi removes his shoes after Chuuya walks into the kitchen. “Do you need help with anything?” he asks as he creeps closer to the kitchen. He finds Chuuya smiling into the pot he's stirring. “Chuuya-san?”
“Come over here and kiss me, beautiful.”
“I can do that,” Atsushi states, slipping his hand into the small of Chuuya’s back and bending to connect their lips. “You look like you had a really good day.”
“It was good before you got here, but you showing up just made it a hundred times better.” Chuuya’s fingers slide along his face, and he lets himself be pulled into another kiss. It feels like he’s finally back in orbit, spinning on the right axis, and that’s before Chuuya deepens the kiss, poking the seam of Atsushi’s lips with his tongue. Atsushi parts them willingly and drops his hand lower. He devours the little noise Chuuya makes before pulling back.
“Ah… sorry. I wasn’t—trying to start anything. It’s just I haven’t seen you in over two weeks, and dinner… smells really good, but the flowers were really moving and I really want—”
Chuuya smirks at him. “Nakajima Atsushi.”
“Y… yes?”
“Before we do this, can we at least talk?”
“Of course.” He waits for Chuuya to start, to stop staring at him and talk, but he feels Chuuya’s hand trace his jawline again.
“I love how eager you are, kitten, but I’m gonna need you to let go of my ass before we have this conversation.”
“Oh yeah. Sorry.” He releases his grip and exhales. He didn’t realize it until now, but part of the struggle with waiting was the sheer amount of time it’s been since they’ve had sex. He watches Chuuya unstring his apron and removing his hat to remove it. In the process, his t-shirt slides over to his shoulder. He can clearly see the scars left behind by the tiger’s bite. The flavor of iron floods his mouth, so strong he forgets it’s just a memory.
“Hey,” Chuuya says. “You okay?”
“I… the bite. I’m so—”
“Stop.” Chuuya holds his hand up, bare for once, but that makes sense since he’s been cooking. “You don’t need to apologize. I know you were just doing what needed to be done.” Sighing, he murmurs, “This is why I want to talk before we do anything else. Can we sit down? Do you want anything to drink?”
“Tea,” Atsushi says. “Tea’s fine. Thank you.”
“Sure. Go have a seat in the living room. I’ll bring you some.”
Having nothing else to do for those few tense minutes, Atsushi fidgets with his fingers and tries to figure out what the air smells like. He’s still trying to place the scent when Chuuya appears beside him.
“Beef bourguignon. Like a stew, but French. It’s been simmering for about forty-five minutes now, so we’ve got some time before dinner.”
Atsushi nods and accepts the tea, careful not to spill as Chuuya’s weight falls beside him. The redhead takes a sip himself, then sets it down with a sigh. “Alright.”
“Um…” Atsushi shifts his eyes. “What are we talking about?”
“Honestly?” He looks at Atsushi. “I want to talk about what happened when I used corruption and why you said what you did. Your side of it.”
Atsushi muses over Chuuya’s words for a moment. He’s not really sure what Chuuya is asking him. But if I just start, he’ll probably listen and ask more questions if I don’t tell him what he wants to know. He folds his hands and takes a long breath. “After Dazai-san came back, I just… felt cold.” Atsushi squeezes his knees and stares into his teacup. “And the world… looked so gray.” He swallows. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared of anything in my life as I was of the possibility that you weren’t okay. Even without an ability, I knew I had to do something.”
“So that whole fiasco at the warehouse was your idea?”
“I mean…” Atsushi shrugs. “Akutagawa and I hate each other, but we could cooperate if it was for your sake. I won’t say too much, but—”
“Atsushi,” Chuuya retorts. “We’re friends. He knows it. He just won’t fucking say it to me.”
After nodding, he continues, “Before we got to the warehouse, we went to the hotel where you and I spent our first night together. All five Theatre of Cruelty users were there eating dinner. I offered to take one hit.” Atsushi sighs. “As soon as the elevator doors opened, Artaud activated the ability, and I found myself in a dream.”
“What kind of dream?” Chuuya presses.
“A bad one,” Atsushi admits. “At first, it was something that always happened at the orphanage. When a storm woke me up, or when I had a nightmare, if I screamed, the director or one of the staff would rip me out of bed and throw me in this room. There were no doors or windows. But it was dark, and I think maybe it was on the outside of the building because I could still hear the rain. They’d lock me in there all night.” Atsushi sighs. “Sometimes, they’d beat me before. Sometimes after. But to me, the room was the worst part: cold, dark, and small. And lonely. So lonely.” He sighs. “After that, I had a dream that I didn’t make it in time and you died. I was at your funeral holding a bouquet of flowers. Kouyou-san stabbed me in the chest.”
“Then you woke up?”
“Kind of.” He shakes his head. “I figured out at that point I was dreaming because I heard echoes of all these horrible things you’d never say to me. The tiger was last, stuck in a cage. In the same nonsensical way of dreams, I unlocked the door with the dart and made it wake up, too.” Atsushi glances at him. “You know what happened after that. Akutagawa and I went to the warehouse and found you, and we fought. And I… told you I loved you at what was probably the least opportune moment, but I was so scared that that was my only chance.” After taking a drink of tea, he continues. “So I said it. Because I realized I should have said it long before then.” He takes that opportunity to look at Chuuya and finds the redhead staring back, captivated almost. “Knowing what I did about corruption, I understood there was nothing I could do. But I had to try. I ran out of options, though. With Akutagawa down, the only thing I could do was become the tiger again. When I… whittled down your strength to put an end to it, I wanted to keep you down no matter what.” He swallows and glances away again. “I did the only thing I could think of. I tried really hard to hurt you as little as possible, but… I don’t know. I still feel bad about it.”
“Atsushi.” Chuuya’s hand catches his. “Beautiful, I wasn’t mad before, and now that I understand, I don’t think I can be.”
Atsushi knows forgiving himself in that moment isn’t the end of the process, that he’ll likely circle back to his guilt again and again the same way Chuuya probably does. But for tonight, at least, he chooses not to beat himself up any more than he already has about it. “What about you?” he asks. “What happened at the hotel? What… happened after that?”
“Pretty sure you know the bit from Dazai already. Muller recognized Dazai from his days in the Port Mafia, and shit fell apart. Knowing he was dating that high-strung blond guy, I didn’t want him to be the one to get caught. It wouldn’t feel right, and I was confident I could fight my way out.” He scoffs. “Fat lot of fucking good that did once I was hit by Theatre of Cruelty. I honestly didn’t think it would work on me, but I guess stranger things have been known to happen.” Smirking, he adds, “Like my incredibly hot boyfriend pairing up with his sworn enemy to save me.”
Atsushi smiles at those words.
“You know the sort of nightmare I had. I really don’t remember anything after I was hit. I don’t think I woke up. Bastards kept me in that hellish dream for almost twenty-four hours, except to me, it wasn’t a dream because I didn’t know. Stuff seemed really off, but somehow, I couldn’t connect two and two.”
“That’s how dreams are; they always have fragments of sense.”
Chuuya hums. “I don’t remember anything else. Though every now and then in the dream, I caught a sweet smell. Like flowers. Something exotic and unfamiliar.” Chuuya folds his arms. “If I’d known it was a dream, I never would have hurt you. I want you to know that.”
“I do.” Atsushi slips his fingers between Chuuya’s. “Just like I know now I’m not the only one feeling this way.” He swears Chuuya blushes and glances away. “Sweetheart—”
“It was stupid.”
“Chuuya-san, it made my day.” Atsushi squeezes his hand tighter. “Maybe other people would think it’s stupid, but I didn’t. And blue orchids? Really?”
Chuuya’s eyes finally rise to his.
“Rarity, uniqueness, and beauty, right? They really remind me of your eyes.”
“Who told you?”
“Dazai-san,” he says. “But I would have asked you anyway because I figure you picked them for a reason besides their color.”
“How’d you figure that?”
“Chuuya-san, you always think so deeply about the things you do for me, even the little ones.” Atsushi passes him a smile. “I think that part of you is really beautiful. Why would you think it’s stupid?”
“Because I’ve fucked a lot of people.” Chuuya’s eyes shift back to his face. He’s definitely blushing. “But you’re the only one I’ve fallen in love with.”
Overwhelmed by the affection laced through those words, Atsushi pulls Chuuya into a hug that, thankfully, the redhead returns. They spend a few moments holding each other tightly. “I really love you, Chuuya-san. Really.”
“I know, beautiful.” Chuuya stays buried against his chest. His hat falls off, and Atsushi takes the opportunity to wind his fingers through Chuuya’s hair, earning a quiet but satisfied hum. “And because you’re the first person I’ve said that to romantically…”
Atsushi picks up on the tangible shift in Chuuya’s tone from sentimental to sensual. The feeling is still there, but the desire has taken over. Sure enough, when Chuuya pulls back far enough to look into Atsushi’s eyes, he sees they’re clouded with want.
“I think we should do something special.”
“Oh?” Atsushi asks, dropping his hand a little lower. “What did you have in mind? Should we get the red notebook?”
“No need,” Chuuya says. “What I want isn’t something I wrote down, but it’s something I’ve thought a lot about while we’ve been apart.”
Atsushi hums. “Are you going to share, or do I have to guess?”
“Oh, I’ll tell you exactly what I want, kitten.” Chuuya’s fingers walk up his chest, and he sets a hand on Atsushi’s shoulders. “Are you listening?”
“Mmhmm,” he murmurs, leaning a little closer.
Chuuya’s look turns a little more serious. “Remember, tiger, if you don’t like the sound of it, you can say no. If we start and you don’t like it, you can say no. If at any point you don’t want to continue, all you have to do is say the word.”
“I promise I will, sweetheart.” Atsushi catches Chuuya’s lips again, but he draws away after a peck. “Tell me what you want. I’m listening.”
Chuuya draws a breath. Something playful fills his smile. His eyes darken with lust. “I want you to take me to my office, bend me over my desk, and rail me.”
Atsushi is pretty sure he grows hard at the mere thought. His head fills with so many lewd images about the sounds Chuuya will make while taking him from behind… his breath actually hitches.
“Oh, does my kitten like the sound of that?” Chuuya’s hand drops to Atsushi’s knee, and he starts trailing his fingers along the clothed inside of Atsushi’s thigh. “Can you do that for me? Can you make me scream your name?”
“I…” Atsushi swallows. “I’m not sure. It’ll be my first time topping, but I can try.”
“Good,” Chuuya purrs. “So needy.” He leans a little closer. “And so, so honest.”
He sighs when he feels Chuuya’s tongue trace the shell of his ear and slips his own hand beneath the bottom hem of Chuuya’s shirt. Chuuya’s breath feels hot against his skin. It hitches as Atsushi’s fingers climb his spine. He didn’t think Chuuya’s grip could get any tighter. It does. The breath shifts from his ear to his neck, and it’s followed by the delicious feeling of Chuuya sucking on his skin. “That’s it, sweetheart,” Atsushi whispers. “Mark me up. Just like that.” He tips back a little further to give Chuuya better access, winding his fingers into the soft, red hair at the back of Chuuya’s head. “I’m yours,” he murmurs. “Yours, Chuuya. And you’re mine.”
Atsushi isn’t sure whether Chuuya smashes their lips together or whether he does. Maybe it’s a joint effort. Whatever the case, they wind up with their tongues tangled and their bodies pressed together. Chuuya rocks against him. Atsushi can’t help but snicker that the redhead is already hardening against him. Not that he’s any better.
The need to be inside Chuuya overrides his need for anything else. He rises and tucks his hands beneath Chuuya. The mafioso’s legs lock around him; his weight shifts, then grows lighter until it’s barely there. With a smirk, Atsushi squeezes Chuuya’s ass, earning a breathless moan that fills his mouth.
“Office,” Chuuya demands before lapping at the inside of Atsushi’s mouth again.
They get there with minimal bruises. At some point, Atsushi bumps against a wall and twists so Chuuya’s back is against it. The way their bodies line up while they kiss like that… his mind is wiped of everything but the need for more of Chuuya. More of this. Crossing the threshold of the office, Atsushi breaks away and says, “Let go.”
Dazed, Chuuya stares at him.
“You said you wanted me to bend you over your desk, sweetheart,” he explains. “How can I do that when you’re clinging to me like a koala and kissing me senseless?”
“I know you’d find a way, tiger.” Chuuya can evidently be cheeky, too. He pulls Atsushi into one more kiss before setting his feet on the floor and staring up at him.
“What?”
“I said I wanted you to bend me over the desk.”
Atsushi definitely feels his dick twitch. “Do you… want me to be a little rough?”
“I would love you to.”
“I…” He shifts his eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“That’s why it’s only a little.” He pecks Atsushi’s jawline. “But if you’re uncomfortable, I can bend myself over and give you a magnificent view of the ass you’re always ogling.”
Atsushi cups his hands around it again. “Not just ogling, Chuuya-san.”
Laughing, Chuuya guides his head down into another kiss. Their noses brush together as they part, then come back together.
“Back up slowly,” Atsushi murmurs. They shuffle until Chuuya bumps against something solid. The desk. With a ragged breath, the redhead tears back and rolls the chair out of their way, then sweeps his arm across it, knocking everything on the floor. Not that there’s much outside a couple of pens and a stack of papers. He’s sure to sweep the clutter away from their feet, likely controlling where the objects go with his ability. Before he can turn back around, Atsushi grabs his other arm and pins him to the desk.
“Hot,” Chuuya murmurs. “I miss your eyes, but I can tolerate that until after you’ve fucked me mindless.”
Atsushi drops until his chest presses against Chuuya’s back. Chuuya’s own chest flattens against his work surface. He’s still gripping Chuuya’s wrist in his hand. Chuuya shifts so he can support his head with the other. Like this, it’s incredible how their bodies line up. Atsushi shuffles his hips, grinding against Chuuya’s ass.
“Ah…”
“Good?” Atsushi murmurs in his ear.
“Good. So good. Need you inside…”
That’s all the encouragement Atsushi needs to reach around to the front of Chuuya’s jeans and search for the button. Once it’s open, Atsushi feels a shudder work through Chuuya. “Okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. Yeah, good. Just… a little daunting.”
“Do you want to stop?”
“Let me… think for a minute.”
“Sure. Do you need me to back off or—”
“You’re… okay for now.” Chuuya pushes himself up a bit, and Atsushi gives him a little space to rise. “Holy fuck… I didn’t think it’d be this intense.”
Atsushi slips his arms beneath Chuuya’s chest and hugs him. “You’re okay. I’m just holding you until you feel better.” He hears Chuuya sigh and hopes the redhead is smiling. “Let me know when you’re ready to keep going or if you want to stop. Either way, I’ll make you feel good tonight.”
“Atsushi, beautiful…”
“I mean it, Chuuya-san. It’s okay if you want to change places or positions. I won’t think you’re indecisive. I want to be inside of you, but not if you’re scared or unsure.”
“God, Atsushi…”
Atsushi knows Chuuya is smiling from the sound of his voice. As a bonus, he’s not shaking anymore.
“Let me take care of you tonight,” Atsushi murmurs, kissing the back of his neck, then sighing against it.
“Okay.”
Smiling, he continues administering his little kisses. I may have gotten a little overzealous, so… I’ll start slower. As he continues peppering the back of Chuuya’s neck with kisses, he smooths line down Chuuya’s chest. “Can I take this off?”
“Yeah,” Chuuya answers.
It’s a little awkward with them both bent over, but Atsushi manages to tug Chuuya’s shirt over his head. Chuuya shuffles beneath him to unthread his arms. In the process, he grinds against Atsushi, who bites his lip and lets out his expression of pleasure as a soft, “Fuck.”
Chuuya snickers. “Who taught you how to swear like that?”
“Chuuya-san—”
Another laugh. Well, at least he’s not scared any more. Without the shirt, Atsushi catches the few fading bruises on Chuuya’s shoulders, as well as the bitemark left behind by his last-ditch effort to save Chuuya. He starts with the bruises and scrapes, pressing his lips to each one, listening to Chuuya sigh beneath him.
“Is that nice?”
Chuuya hums, and Atsushi smiles.
“I’m glad to hear that, sweetheart.”
“You know, I really like you calling me that.”
Smiling, Atsushi rises. He knows what he wants to do. But it’s something personal. Something that might hurt Chuuya. He skims the bitemark with his thumb as a test. Chuuya shudders, and he freezes.
“Don’t… ah…”
“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I wanted to kiss it, but I wasn’t sure—”
“Feels… good.” Chuuya lets out a ragged gasp. “Don’t stop.”
Those words reassure him he hasn’t done anything wrong or unwanted. “How needy will you get if I kiss that mark, Chuuya?”
“Very,” he answers. “So fucking needy, just for you.”
“Let’s test that theory, then.” Atsushi dips and traces one of the teeth marks with his tongue. Chuuya has never made the noise he makes, but Atsushi loves it. He wants to hear more of it. Pressing his lips to one of the larger puncture wounds, he trails his lips along the row of smaller ones.
“Atsushi… ah!”
Atsushi licks his lips. “Sorry, Chuuya-san. I interrupted you.” He waits for Chuuya to speak and listens to the gasps he’s emitting. “You’re shaking again, sweetheart.”
“Because I’m fucking horny.”
“So I can take off your jeans?”
“Yes! Fuck, please!”
Atsushi presses another kiss to the bite wound and shifts. Something about the way Chuuya’s wrists look against the dark wood gives him an idea. “Can I try something first?”
“Huh?” Chuuya manages, passing him a hazy look.
He lets Chuuya watch him unthread his tie before murmuring, “Bend your arms and put your wrists together.”
In response, Chuuya actually stops breathing.
“If you’re okay with that, of course. We don’t have to—”
And then, Chuuya complies, dropping his head again with a ragged sigh, bending his elbows and presenting his wrists, one pressed flush against the other. Atsushi winds the fabric around them a few times before knotting it.
“Too tight?”
“No,” Chuuya says. “It’s good.”
Somehow, the black tie around Chuuya’s wrists makes what they’re doing even more intense.
“Where’s the lube?”
“My back pocket.” Chuuya, red to the ears, tosses a smirk over his scarred shoulder. “I know how much you love my ass. I had to give you another chance to touch it.”
“I’ll get it in a minute. I want to kiss your back more.”
“Mmm… it does feel nice, but my pants are getting tight, kitten.”
Atsushi grinds against Chuuya’s backside again, releasing a breathy moan and shivering. “So are mine, sweetheart. But I know from all the times you’ve had sex with me that if I make you wait long enough, you’ll go crazy. And that…” Atsushi pauses to drop a line of kisses between Chuuya’s shoulder blades. “Is when I’ll give you exactly what you want.” He shifts his attention back to the bitemark. It seems to be the skin most wanting of it, and the part of Chuuya’s back that, when touched, makes him react the most. He starts with a little kiss right above the teeth marks. Smirking at the moan Chuuya responds with, he murmurs, “Does me giving this mark attention really turn you on that much, Chuuya-san?”
“Yes…”
“Did you like it when I bit you?”
“Fuck, yes.”
He sweeps his tongue across the still healing scar again, reveling in the way Chuuya shivers. “Do you want me to do it again?”
“Please, Atsushi, fuck—”
“Where?” he murmurs, trailing his fingers down Chuuya’s chest again. “Where do you want it, sweetheart?”
“Anywhere,” Chuuya gasps. “Anywhere. Anywhere, just… please…”
Atsushi turns his head and pecks the right side of Chuuya’s neck. Beneath his palm, he can feel Chuuya’s heart racing. “I’ll never bite you as hard as I did that night, but…” He tastes the part of Chuuya’s body where neck meets shoulder. “I can nibble you a little here. How would you like that?”
“I’d love it.” Chuuya shudders again. “I want it. Please…”
“You’re like a whole different person underneath me,” Atsushi purrs in his ear, trailing his hand lower. “I love how needy you’ve become. Do you want me to touch you?”
Chuuya shakes his head. “Don’t… want to come without you inside of me.”
“But sweetheart,” Atsushi murmurs, “I get so relaxed if I come before you finger me. I want you to feel that way, too, when I start.” He kisses the side of Chuuya’s face before dropping to his uninjured shoulder and pressing his teeth against Chuuya’s skin, just enough for Chuuya to know they’re there. “I’m not going to bite hard. I don’t want to hurt you.” He laps at Chuuya’s skin before delivering a little nip that makes Chuuya shudder. “Chuuya-san…”
“Hmm?”
Atsushi is pretty sure that sound is higher-pitched than he intends. “Let me touch that perfect cock of yours. I want to hear you scream my name when you come. And then,” he continues, nipping Chuuya’s skin again before kissing it. “If you’re still okay with it, I want to finger you open. Slow.” He traces Chuuya’s navel before dipping his fingers a little lower. “Bent over like this, I’ll bet you’ll feel every thrust to your toes.”
“Yes,” Chuuya answers. “Yes…”
“When you’re ready, I’ll give you this.” Grinding his still clothed erection against Chuuya’s ass makes his mind fuzzy, but he recovers enough to nibble Chuuya’s neck again. “I’ll make it so good for you, you won’t want anyone else.”
“I already don’t,” Chuuya whines. “You. Only you, Atsushi…” He inhales as Atsushi’s fingers finally trail past his navel again. “Touch me. Please… I want you to mark me when I come.”
Atsushi nuzzles Chuuya’s skin, sighing against it as he hooks his fingers through Chuuya’s waistband and slips the fabric out of the way. “You’re okay,” Atsushi murmurs, kissing him again. “You’re doing so well for me. Are you ready for me to touch you?”
“I was ready five fucking minutes a—”
He silences the complaint by pressing his teeth against Chuuya’s shoulder and brushing his fingers against Chuuya’s cock. Something between a whimper and a groan breaks out of the mafioso beneath him, and he continues those little touches as he laps at Chuuya’s skin. He can feel Chuuya shifting beneath him, trying to get more contact, but Atsushi just shushes in his ear. “Easy,” he murmurs, finally giving Chuuya the contact he wants and smirking at the desperate moan that fills the office. “Easy. God, you’re so hard… your skin is burning up.” Keeping his grip loose, he gives Chuuya a pump and listens to him gasp. “You’re loving this, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
In answer, Chuuya bucks into his hand.
“How do you want me to finish you? Like this?”
“No…” He shakes his head. “No… too slow…”
“So you want it fast?”
A frantic nod is the only response he gives. Atsushi takes the shell of his ear between his teeth and applies a little pressure, then kisses the blazing side of Chuuya’s face. He can feel Chuuya’s chest rise and fall, hear the way the redhead gulps air like he’s struggling to keep up. Atsushi can feel his own arousal building, but fortunately, he can back his hips up enough to where he’s not grinding against Chuuya’s ass anymore. At the very least, that will keep them from having to do laundry. “Okay,” Atsushi murmurs in Chuuya’s ear. “But I want to hear my name spilling from your lips. I want to hear how wrecked just the prospect of me fucking you from behind while you’re tied up like this makes you.”
“Atsushi—”
“Just like that, beautiful,” he says, borrowing Chuuya’s moniker for him and sliding his hand down the redhead’s slick shaft. “God, you’re leaking so much, I don’t even need lube for this. Is that okay with you?”
“Yes,” Chuuya moans. “Yes, please, fuck, it feels good.”
“I’m happy to hear you think so, Chuuya-san,” Atsushi sighs, his fingers traveling back up Chuuya’s dick. “Let me make it feel better.” He skims the head of Chuuya’s cock with his thumb, before setting a pace so fast, he can barely keep up with it. At first, he thinks it might be too much, given the indistinguishable fragments of words spilling out of Chuuya’s mouth. They’re interspersed with increasingly frantic moans, pleas for more. The whole time he’s jerking Chuuya off, he alternates between tasting Chuuya’s salty skin and murmuring words of encouragement that Chuuya answers. “That’s it.”
“Atsu—”
“That’s it, sweetheart.”
“More!”
“Show me how good it is, Chuuya. Let yourself go. Come for me.”
“Yes! Fuck! Atsushi!”
Atsushi bites him again, a little harder this time, so his teeth will leave an indent that will fade quickly.
“Atsushi! Ah!”
He feels Chuuya’s erection pulse in his hand, which grows even slicker. He’s coming, Atsushi realizes, pressing a satisfied smirk against Chuuya’s neck and continuing to jerk him. He’s coming because of me. Beneath him, Chuuya continues to moan and shudder. Slowing the pace of his hand to bring Chuuya back down, he kisses Chuuya’s neck again and murmurs, “How was that, sweetheart?”
“Fuck,” Chuuya breathes. “Just… fuck.”
“You’re still shaking. Are your legs okay? Do you need a minute?”
“Yeah… just…” Chuuya inhales. “Take my fucking pants off in the meantime.”
“Can I take my shirt off first, at least?”
“Yeah.” Chuuya chuckles and turns to smirk at him. “I can be more patient now that my balls aren’t so fucking tight, I’m losing my mind.”
“Alright.” Atsushi stands up and slips his suspenders off first. He starts on his buttons next, his fingers descending to the third one before Chuuya speaks again.
“Damn. I don’t think anyone has made me come so hard, I’ve seen stars.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Chuuya props himself up, and Atsushi catches the glance he’s being given. “I’ll bet I can guess why it was so good.”
“Oh?” Atsushi slips his shirt off of his shoulders. “And why is that, Chuuya-san?”
“Because it’s been so long.”
Atsushi’s eyes snap to him. He’s wearing an almost cheeky smirk. “Really?”
“I’m trying to rile you up more, kitten. I was serious about you railing me.”
Atsushi scoffs and slips his fingers into Chuuya’s back pockets. He finds the packet of lube pretty quickly, but he spends time searching for something else.
“What are you doing, groping me like that?”
Frowning, Atsushi murmurs, “There’s no condom.”
“Well, unless you’ve stuck your dick in anything but your hand, I figured we didn’t need one.”
Atsushi swallows and meets Chuuya’s gaze. “Chuuya-san—”
“Atsushi, beautiful.” He props himself up a little further and cranes is neck. “I thought a lot about this. I’m totally fine with you filling me up with that picture perfect cock of yours. But if you want to go get one—”
“No. No, it’s okay. Just… nervous, I guess.”
“If that hand job was any indicator, you’re going to be fantastic. Not like I have any comparisons, mind you. I’ve only ever offered to bottom for you. Plus, if it doesn’t go well, we can just talk about how to make it better next time.”
As always, Chuuya knows just what to say to put his mind at ease. “Okay.” He sets the lube on the corner of the desk and slips thumbs into the waist of Chuuya’s jeans. After a moment of gathering his confidence, he murmurs, “If you want these off, you’re going to have to put your legs closer together.”
“But then I’ll look way less willing to take you, tiger.”
Shaking his head, he adds, “It’s just for a bit, sweetheart. Until I get you naked.” He smooths Chuuya’s ass. “Come on. I want to see all of you.”
“Fine, fine.” Once Chuuya adjusts his stance to make removing his pants easier, Atsushi works them down his legs. He makes sure he smooths Chuuya’s thighs as he drops down.
“Lift your foot for me.”
It’s a bit awkward, but he manages to get one of Chuuya’s legs free.
“Why do you wear such tight jeans anyway, Chuuya-san?”
“Because they make my ass look good.”
Atsushi removes the jeans entirely and tosses them. “Your ass looks good in everything, Chuuya-san. Of course.” Atsushi squeezes again, and Chuuya moans. “It looks good out of everything, too.” He tugs Chuuya’s boxers down his legs, and the redhead steps out of them.
He’s halfway out of his own cropped pants when he realizes just how sexy the sight before him is. Chuuya is studying him, glancing over his shoulder. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on his skin. The scar on his shoulder is visible from that angle. His cock hangs between his legs, still soft, but not for long if Atsushi has anything to say about it. “Come on, tiger. I’m so ready for you.”
“Chuuya-san, I think you’re gravely underestimating how horny I am right now.”
“And you’re underestimating how much I want you inside of me.” To punctuate his point, Chuuya wiggles his ass a bit. “Come on, tiger. Grind against me a little. It felt so good…”
“Chuuya-san—”
“You need a little relief yourself before you start fingering me open.”
Atsushi steps out of his own boxers and nearly stumbles in the process, but he’s soon over Chuuya again, gripping the edge of the desk and sliding his half-hard cock between Chuuya’s thighs. “Do you feel that?” he asks.
“Mmm… yes, I do, tiger.”
“That’s how hard I am for you, just from all those pretty noises you were making earlier.” He rocks his hips, and Chuuya shudders. “Do you still want me inside?”
“God, yes.”
“How many fingers do you think you need?”
“Three. Ah…” Chuuya moans against the wood when Atsushi grinds against him again. “Three… three…”
“Are you ready for the first one, Chuuya? Or do you need a little more time?”
“Ready,” he gasps. “Ready for you.”
Atsushi reaches over him and grabs the lube, making sure to let out the little moan he’s been holding in. Chuuya answers with one of his own.
“If I’m going too fast, let me know, okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I know you won’t,” Chuuya sighs. “You’d never hurt me, Atsushi.”
“I’ve done it twice now.”
“The first time, you scratched me because you were feeling really good when I was fucking you into that mattress at the beach house. And the second time, you had no other choice because you were trying to stop me from hurting people.”
Atsushi nuzzles the back of Chuuya’s neck.
“I trust you, Atsushi. I wouldn’t offer to let you fuck me like this if I didn’t.”
“Chuuya-san…” Smiling, Atsushi just rests against him for a moment, basking in the love and affection that he feels. Because he knows what Chuuya means by those words without the redhead even saying it. It’s what he’s been saying for months with all the little things they get up to, over and over, so quietly Atsushi couldn’t hear it. But he does now. “I love you, too,” he murmurs. The loss of contact is brutal. He whimpers when the only thing around his hardening cock is the cold air. But soon enough, he knows it will be somewhere nicer. Just be patient, he tells himself, grabbing Chuuya’s ass and pulling his cheeks apart to get a better view. “Mmm…”
Chuuya lets out a grumble and drops his head against the desk again.
“Even this part of you is beautiful, Chuuya-san.”
A choked sound escapes him.
“Problem?”
“Quit staring and get on with it!”
“But you stared at mine,” Atsushi counters, relinquishing his grip. “For longer than that, if memory serves me right.”
“Atsushi, fuck.”
He laughs at the growl Chuuya follows up with. “How is it, being on the receiving end of that?”
“Embarrassing.”
“No need to be embarrassed, sweetheart. I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to. Although… I might have to look a little to line myself up.” He glances at Chuuya’s ears and finds them red. Trailing his eyes down, he sees Chuuya is getting hard again. “You liked it.”
Chuuya lets out a bitten off sound.
“I can tell.” Atsushi smooths Chuuya’s skin again. “Or am I wrong and you’re just excited I’m about to open the lube?” He walks his fingers up Chuuya’s spine. “Tell me the truth, sweetheart, and I’ll give you something nice.”
“Both. Both…”
“Good,” Atsushi murmurs, kissing the bitemark again. “You stay right there.”
“Kind of hard to move when you tied me up.”
“Please.” Atsushi takes the packet between his fingers and tears it open. “You and I both know that tie isn’t holding you back. You’re staying like that because you want to.” He squeezes what is likely too much onto his fingers, spreading it over two and warming it up. He leaves a little extra on his fingertips so he can apply it to Chuuya’s rim before he starts. “Are you ready?”
“Hang on.” After a breath, he says, “Yeah. Okay. I’m ready.”
“You’re still nervous.”
Chuuya scoffs. “It’s that obvious?”
“We’ve been having sex for almost five months, Chuuya-san. I pick up on these things because I care. Do you want to stop?”
“No.” Chuuya shakes his head. “No, kitten. I want to feel you. Your fingers, your cock, every part of you.”
“Then take another breath for me, sweetheart, and I’ll start.” He listens to Chuuya fill his lungs. “That’s it. Let it out for me. I’m going to put some lube on your rim so it doesn’t hurt as much.” Chuuya’s breath shudders the moment Atsushi’s fingers brush against that most intimate part of him. He’s liberal. Maybe a little too liberal, given how a bit of it drips along the curve of Chuuya’s body, but the noise he earns makes him think he’s doing something right. “Good?”
“Mmhmm…”
“Then I’ll add one.”
“God, yes.”
He’s careful when he pushes past Chuuya’s rim, listening and watching for signs of discomfort, but Chuuya only sighs. “Relax a little more. That’s it… so compliant. Almost like you’re a whole different person when you’re bottoming.”
“That’s the pot calling the kettle black,” Chuuya retorts. “You’re loving every minute of having control over me.”
“Only because you’re so willing to let me have it, sweetheart.” To punctuate his point, he pushes his finger the rest of the way inside. “You’re taking this pretty easily, Chuuya. Did you do it yourself?”
“Yeah, what of it?”
Chuckling, Atsushi murmurs, “And what did you think of when you fingered yourself?”
“You,” Chuuya sighs. “This…”
“That’s really sweet, Chuuya-san.” He starts to drag his finger out, taking note of how Chuuya’s body reacts, how his muscles tense like he’s not ready to lose this feeling yet. “That you thought of me when you did this.”
“I…”
Atsushi starts pushing his finger back in, and Chuuya’s words drop off. “You were saying?”
“I… thought you’d be disappointed I didn’t let you do it first.”
“Why would I be disappointed, Chuuya?” Atsushi hopes the smile on his face is evident in his voice.
“I just wanted to make sure I was okay with it before I let you do it. I didn’t want to disappoint you if I changed my mind.”
“I wouldn’t have been disappointed, sweetheart.” Atsushi thrusts with a little more force this time, and Chuuya whimpers. “I would have been proud of you for being honest and telling me you weren’t into it.”
“God, you’re so good to me, Atsushi. Better than I deserve…”
“I respectfully disagree, Chuuya-san. To use your own words, you deserve every good thing in this world. I’d say that whether I loved you or not.” He catches Chuuya’s sigh and says, “Are you ready for another?”
“Mmm… yeah…”
“Still comfortable? Am I going too slow?”
“You can go faster after I adjust.” Chuuya pushes back onto Atsushi’s finger and moans. “Add another. I can take it.”
“Alright. Breathe for me, sweetheart.” Carefully, he pulls his one finger out. “Good. Now out. Try to relax. I’ll go slow so it doesn’t sting too much.” As Chuuya exhales, he slides both of them in. There’s more resistance this time. Chuuya hisses through his teeth, and Atsushi stills.
“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Just… stings a little. Keep going. I can take it.”
“Okay.” He resumes, but at a slower pace. “You’re doing good, sweetheart, taking two of these.” He shifts them a little and Chuuya gasps. “That was an interesting reaction. What do you want, Chuuya?”
“Deeper,” he demands. “Deeper. And a little to the left.”
“And what will I find there?” Atsushi meets Chuuya’s smirk as he passes one over his shoulder.
“Guess you’ll just have to do what I say and find out.”
Atsushi hums. “Or,” he says, dragging his fingers back out. “I can tease you like this until you’re feeling so good, you tell me what it is.” He watches Chuuya’s visible eye widen. “You like the sound of that, don’t you? You enjoy getting teased.” Atsushi reaches his hand around Chuuya and smooths it up his thigh. “Maybe I should tease you somewhere else, too.”
“Be careful, tiger. Tease me too much, and I’ll come before you’re inside.”
“Thanks for the warning.” Atsushi brushes the sides of his fingers against Chuuya’s cock and feels it twitch. “If you think it’s too much, tell me.”
“Not too much yet,” Chuuya gasps, shuddering as Atsushi runs his fingertips up Chuuya’s shaft. “Not… too much…”
He pushes his fingers back in, then drags them out again. “How about now?”
“Not… enough…”
“You want it harder?”
“Yeah, I fucking do.”
Atsushi bends and blows against the bitemark. “But you still feel tight, sweetheart. Give yourself a little more time to adjust.” He skims the head of Chuuya’s cock with his thumb before trailing his fingers back down. “Good?” he asks, filling the silence after Chuuya’s latest moan.
“Good,” Chuuya pants. “Good. So fucking good…”
Atsushi cuts him off with a thrust like the one Chuuya asked for, harder and a little to the left, and drinks in the beautifully wrecked scream Chuuya lets out. “Lovely,” Atsushi murmurs in his ear. “Simply lovely.”
“Do it again,” Chuuya begs. “Again…”
“Chuuya.” He runs is hand back up Chuuya’s cock. “You feel wetter than before. I don’t want to push you too hard.”
“Please…” After a few ragged gasps, Chuuya repeats the word. “Please, kitten, I need it.”
“I know. And you’re being so vocal about it.” He pulls Chuuya’s cock a few more times and rests his chin on a patch of skin he didn’t scar when he bit Chuuya. “How about I add one more finger, and I’ll nail your prostate again?”
Chuuya moans and thrusts his hips back, meeting Atsushi’s fingers.
“Or do you want to do it?”
“Either. Either one. I need—”
Atsushi pulls his fingers out and adds a little more lube to them, especially the third, before positioning them at Chuuya’s entrance again. “Go on. If you want them, show me.”
He pushes back on them, moaning as their tips disappear inside of his body.
“Now that’s a pretty sight. Can I push them the rest of the way in?” Atsushi waits for a nod—he figures that’s all Chuuya can manage—and slides them inside, gauging the tightness of his body, once again watching for any signs of hurt or discomfort. Finding none, he leaves them there for a moment, toying with the head of Chuuya’s erection until he’s even less coherent. “Too much?”
“Al… most.”
“Should I back off your cock?”
“Probably—”
The frustrated moan Chuuya lets out when Atsushi lets go is so beautiful, he can’t resist the urge to press little kisses along Chuuya’s neck. “Stay with me, sweetheart. You’re doing good. Just relax a little more, and I’ll start moving them, okay? And once you’re all opened up for me, I’ll fuck your perfect ass until you’re screaming my name.” He shifts his fingers, dragging them out before pushing them back in. “Are you thinking about it?” he asks, nibbling Chuuya’s ear again as he continues his shallow, soft thrusts. “Are you thinking about how much better my cock is going to be than my fingers? Are you thinking about how once I’m inside and you give me the go ahead, I’m going to rail you into this desk?”
“God, Atsushi, yes. Yes to all of it.”
“Do you want me to hit your prostate again?”
“Yes,” he moans, his voice rough with building pleasure. “Yes.”
“Alright, but after I do, if you’re ready, I’m giving you something better.” He thrusts his fingers a few more times before he gives Chuuya what he asked for, mostly so Chuuya relaxes a little more, partly so he won’t expect it and will scream again. But instead of being rough or fast like he has been, he slides his fingers in that direction and presses. His ears ring from the volume of noise Chuuya lets out. Beneath him, Chuuya shivers and squirms. There’s something erratic about the movements. Atsushi isn’t sure if the mafioso is seeking more pressure or less.
“Atsushi, fuck me! Fuck me now! I can’t fucking stand it anymore!”
He backs off, then applies another kiss to Chuuya’s scarred shoulder. “Is that really what you want, sweetheart?”
“God, yes, I want your cock so deep in my ass, I’m feeling it tomorrow. I want it. I want you so badly…”
With a little laugh and one more nudge against Chuuya’s prostate, he pulls his fingers completely out. He doesn’t even bother warming up the lube when he squeezes it on himself, hoping the shock will temper his arousal so he doesn’t come as soon as he’s inside the mafioso. It does little to help. “If I… come too soon—”
“You come whenever you want as long as you’re balls deep in me when you do it.”
Smiling, Atsushi murmurs, “I was going to say I would make sure I finished you off, too.” He rests one hand on Chuuya’s hip, smoothing the skin there. “Is this position okay?”
“Let me prop myself up a bit.”
“Sure.”
Chuuya shuffles until he’s resting his weight on his forearms instead of his elbows. Even if his ass is sticking up less now, it’s still up far enough to make this angle good. Maybe even better, because Atsushi can snake his arms around Chuuya’s body and hug him. But he’s brief because he has more pressing matters, namely his own arousal.
“How’s that? Better?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Are you ready?”
Chuuya hums his affirmative again, but then, he says, “Yeah. I’m ready for you.”
“Okay. Can you spread your feet a little more?”
Chuuya complies, and he lines himself up with one hand. Just the sensation of his erection resting against Chuuya’s rim is enough to make his head buzz, but it’s nothing compared to when, after reminding Chuuya to breathe and relax, he starts pushing inside.
“Holy fucking shit, Atsushi, oh my god, yes, yes…”
Encouraged by Chuuya’s string of words, he continues pushing. When he’s about halfway in, he feels Chuuya flinch and stops. “Sorry. I was going too fast. I’ll give you a minute.” He’s pretty sure he can fit the rest of his erection in without gripping it, so he moves to rubbing little circles on Chuuya’s back, sides, and hips. It’s incredibly hard not to just ram the rest of the way in. But I can’t just think of myself right now, even if it is hard. Out of nowhere, Atsushi snickers.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. Just… I had a thought and realized maybe it wasn’t the best choice of words.” He rubs Chuuya’s back again. “Your voice got quiet. Are you still okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just a little much is all. I’m horny, but it stung for a second.”
“I’m so sorry, Chuuya. I should have paid more attention.”
“It’s okay. You stopped. I… think you’re okay to keep moving now.”
“Are you sure?”
“Mmhmm.” Atsushi listens to the breath Chuuya draws in. “Go on. Don’t stop until you’re all the way in.”
“I’ll stop if you flinch again. I don’t want this to feel anything but good for you.”
“So fucking soft… ah…” Chuuya’s back arches a little more as Atsushi resumes his slow slide inside. He grips Chuuya’s hips gently. Before he knows it, their bodies are flush, and they’re both breathless.
“Holy… shit.” Atsushi bends until his forehead rests against the back of Chuuya’s neck again. “This is amazing. You’re amazing. Are you still okay?”
“Move.”
The word blindsides him.
“Move. Move… fuck me… I want it hard. Please, Atsushi…”
Despite Chuuya’s nonsensical pleas, Atsushi starts slow, moving his hips back and sliding forward again. He ignores his body’s urges to go faster, tries his best to hold Chuuya back from quickening the pace too soon, savoring the little moans Chuuya emits.
“Deeper,” he begs. “Please, you know where to aim, stop teasing and—”
Atsushi nudges against that spot that drives Chuuya wild, and the moan he earns is so wrecked, his composure almost crumbles. Almost.
“There!” It’s half plea, half sob. “There! Again!”
“Alright, sweetheart. Do you want me to touch you, too? You can’t do it yourself with your hands tied like that.”
“Yeah, Atsushi, touch me while you push that perfect cock as deep as you can.”
Atsushi slips a hand beneath Chuuya’s neck and angles his head a little higher so he can rest against Chuuya’s shoulder. Steadying himself with the other hand, he smooths Chuuya’s collarbone and moves his hips forward a little faster.
“That’s it. Yeah… just like that…”
Atsushi repeats the motion again, but it’s so hard to hold his own orgasm back. He moans in Chuuya’s ear as he shifts his hand back to Chuuya’s erection, slicker than it was when he last touched it.
“Make me yours, Atsushi. Make me—”
This time, he doesn’t hold back. He aims, and Chuuya screams his name. “That pace good, sweetheart?”
“God, yes!”
“Then remember to breathe,” Atsushi murmurs, dragging his hips back and thrusting again.
“Fuck! Atsushi! Yes!”
He repeats the motion with each word. Beneath Chuuya’s ongoing litany of pleasured noises, there are filthier sounds he’s just now taking note of: the slap of their skin, the sound of Chuuya’s slick member sliding through his damp hand… it’s wonderful. That such sounds exist, that as loud as Chuuya is screaming his name right now, he can still hear them.
“Atsushi!”
“That’s it,” Atsushi manages between moans of his own. “Don’t hold back, sweetheart. Scream my name. Just like that… just like…” The rest of his sentence breaks apart, and he transfers all of his focus into making Chuuya feel as good as he is. It doesn’t take long before he’s coming, biting down on Chuuya’s shoulder so he doesn’t scream too loud. But that only makes Chuuya louder, makes the sound of his name bounce off every surface of the room before it dissolves into a wrecked and wordless moan. Now that they’re both over the edge, Atsushi realizes he came inside of Chuuya without making sure it was okay. He starts to string together an apology, but Chuuya thrusts into his hand again, likely working through his aftershocks, his muscles clamping down on Atsushi to bring him through his own. In the silence that follows, Atsushi takes a moment to catch his breath, to reflect on everything that just transpired. When enough time has passed, and he’s resting on top of the Chuuya, who lays beneath him on the desk, he manages, “Holy fucking shit, that was incredible.”
Snickering, Chuuya murmurs, “Pull out, tiger.”
He doesn’t notice the note in Chuuya’s voice until he’s fully out, admiring the way his release starts to dribble out. And he barely has time to process it until his legs are pressed against the desk. “Scoot back.”
“Huh?” Atsushi asked.
Chuuya’s eyes, clouded with lust, meet his, and he chuckles. “That’s cute. You think I’m done with you after one round.”
“Chuuya-san, what—”
“Atsushi.” His voice is low and dripping with desire. “I want to ride you on this desk.”
The offer is too appealing to refuse. He scootches until his back is pressed against the wall and watches Chuuya crawl towards him, his still bound wrists between Atsushi’s knees. He loops them around Atsushi’s neck and pulls him into a kiss. As sensual as it is sloppy. As good as it was with Chuuya bent over, he already knows he likes this better.
“Work yourself up again for me, kitten. I’d do it, but my hands are tied, and I want them to stay that way.”
Atsushi obeys, skimming his own soft erection with his fingers, then building up a pace based on how Chuuya’s tongue moves in his mouth. It doesn’t take him long to start getting hard again, especially when Chuuya shifts his hips closer and grinds against him. They break apart in the same moment, moaning, exchanging glances, then laughing before picking up right where they left off with the only notable difference being Atsushi is now stroking them both with the same hand.
“Fucking hell,” Chuuya murmurs. “I never thought I’d have anything like this in my life.”
“Yeah?” Atsushi asks, watching his composure waiver as he shifts to just gripping Chuuya. “Honestly, I didn’t know something this good existed, and I’d say that without the mind-blowing sex.”
Chuuya’s eyes meet his.
“It’s because I love you.”
“Yeah, I kind of picked up on that.” Chuuya smirks. “Can I mark you one more time?”
“Sure.”
He does his best to maintain the pace of his strokes while Chuuya sucks another bruise onto his collarbone. This one hurts more, but it’s not an unpleasant pain. In fact, it sends pleasure through every part of his body. “Chuuya-san,” he murmurs. “That’s really nice. Now I’m yours, too.”
“You were already mine,” Chuuya announces as he pulls back. “And I was already yours.”
Atsushi caresses Chuuya’s face, and Chuuya leans into it.
“I shouldn’t have waited as long as I did to tell you I loved you.”
“It’s okay,” Atsushi says. “You felt it, but you weren’t ready to say you did.” With a slight smile, he adds, “I didn’t know I felt it until I watched you walk away.”
“Well, say it all you want now,” Chuuya says, grinning. “I’ll never get tired of it, beautiful.”
Atsushi kisses Chuuya’s neck and sighs against it. “I love you, Chuuya-san.”
In response, Chuuya hugs him closer and murmurs in his ear, “Love you, too, Atsushi.” They stay like that for a moment. Chuuya moves first. “But if I don’t have you inside of me again about two minutes ago, I’m going to lose my mind.”
Atsushi laughs. “You still have a mind to lose?”
“No, I don’t believe I do, thanks you to.” Chuuya shuffles so their eyes line up again. “Hold yourself steady for me. I’m doing this quick if you’re good with that.”
Atsushi wraps his hand around his own erection, now a little over half hard, and watches Chuuya’s hips sink. It takes a couple of adjustments, but eventually, Chuuya lines himself up with Atsushi’s rim and drops so fast, it knocks the air out of both of them. Their eyes stay locked the whole time. It’s intimate. Intense. And it’s so good to be back inside Chuuya. When the mafioso’s hips shift, is toes curl and he moans.
“God, you’re so into this…”
“I can’t help it. Chuuya-san is so good. The way you can move your body is incredible.”
Chuuya smirks and lifts his hips before dropping down again. “Quit holding your voice back, beautiful. I want to hear you.”
“Chuuya—”
Chuuya cuts him off with a kiss. “That’s better,” he murmurs.
Atsushi’s lips part as Chuuya kisses him so deeply, he’s not sure he’ll ever recover. This is his second time tonight and Chuuya’s third, but he can feel his pleasure building again anyway as Chuuya rises and falls, as the redhead’s lips work against his own. There’s a point where Chuuya freezes and tears away, arching his back and moaning. The only reason they don’t fall is because Atsushi grabs him and pulls him close. Once Chuuya is against his chest, he murmurs, “Too much? I can finish if you want. Just pick yourself up a bit. There you go.” Chuuya rises a bit, and once Atsushi’s hands are cupped under his legs, he thrusts.
“Fuck!”
“Good?” he asks, shuddering as he drags back out.
Chuuya gives him a frantic look before lurching forward and connecting their mouths. At that angle, Atsushi can almost pinpoint every time he nails Chuuya’s prostate with his thrusts. Not from the noises that fill his mouth. From the way Chuuya shivers, the way he rolls his erection between their bodies.
“Chuuya—”
“Come inside of me.” Chuuya laps at the inside of his mouth again. “Inside, Atsushi… fill me up again. I want it.”
“Chuuya—”
“I love you,” he says against Atsushi’s lips. After a kiss, he says it again. “I love you.”
Atsushi half thinks the words, and not the way Chuuya tightens around him, push him over the edge a second time. As soon as he realizes Chuuya is still hard between their bodies, he wedges his hand between their stomachs and strokes him fast, until his eyes glaze over and he comes with a loud moan of his own. Chuuya’s weight falls into his lap, and he hugs the redhead closer, weaving a hand into the soft locks as they catch their breath.
“Please tell me that is not the hand you just used to get me off.”
“We’re showering anyway,” Atsushi retorts, catching Chuuya’s petulant lips in his own. That’s enough to steal his frown. “Can we stay like this for another minute?”
“Untie me first.” Chuuya unloops his arms from Atsushi’s neck, and he works the knot loose. His wrists are a little red, but not red enough to alarm Atsushi. Once he’s free, he slumps against Atsushi again, eyes drifting shut. A low hum drifts out of him.
“Satisfied, sweetheart?”
“We could have stopped at once and I would have been,” Chuuya murmurs. “You’re so good.”
“And you’re so sweet.” Atsushi combs his hair out of his eyes, this time making sure he uses his clean hand because he follows up by smoothing Chuuya’s face. For one uninterrupted, blissful moment, they stare at each other.
Then, Atsushi’s stomach growls. Chuuya snorts. “Is my little kitten hungry in a different way?”
“Chuuya-san—”
“It’s fine. It should be done by now. Here… let’s shower and clean up. I bought a nice bottle of wine I think you’ll like and a loaf of crusty bread to go with the bourguignon.”
Atsushi frowns, cursing his body for being honest about its needs. “Kiss me one more time.”
“I’ll kiss you as many times as you want,” Chuuya murmurs, brushing their lips together. “But only after we eat.”
Chuuya seems to take bottoming better than Atsushi did, given he doesn’t fall over after he stands up. But Atsushi scoops him up bridal style anyway, earning a startled yelp and a glare that he laughs off despite his own aches. By the time they get to the shower, Chuuya is smiling, pulling Atsushi into another kiss.
Atsushi isn’t surprised that clean-up is more involved that night, not only because he came inside of Chuuya twice, but also since they decided to do it in Chuuya’s office. The redhead is meticulous, wiping the furniture and the floor several times before rolling his chair back. Atsushi sets the pens back on his desk. Their discarded clothes wind up in Chuuya’s washing machine. Chuuya sets the stack of paper back on the desk. They exchange glances and slip their arms around each other before heading to the kitchen.
Dinner is easily one of the best meals Atsushi has had. The bourguignon is spectacular with the bread. The wine is so good, he has a second glass, but only after drinking water. There’s cake for dessert. He’s almost too full to eat it, but he and Chuuya settle for splitting the dark chocolate cake now and eating the strawberry one for breakfast. They wash the dishes together, and Chuuya passes him a look. “I was serious about that date, by the way.”
“Huh?”
“I said I’d take you somewhere special, remember?”
Atsushi hums. “Yeah. I do remember that. I don’t have my list with me, so let’s look at yours. I know a few things lined up. While we’re at it, let’s update the one in the red notebook, too.”
Chuuya laughs. “Yeah, we did just fuck on my desk. Twice.”
“Are you going to put two lines through it then?” Atsushi asks, handing Chuuya the dishtowel so he can dry his hands.
Snickering, Chuuya says, “I might.”
“Are you going to add letting me come inside of you to the list?”
“That’s a permanent item now, tiger.” He cups Atsushi’s face and draws him into another kiss that they draw out a little more. “We can talk about it in the bedroom. I’m so relaxed, there’s no way I can’t sleep well.”
They spend a little time going over Chuuya’s list—the one in the black notebook—so Atsushi can mark the intersecting items that he can remember from his. He probably thinks too hard about it, but he can’t help it when Chuuya is leaning against his arm, passing him an enamored look. Humming, he finally taps his fingers against one.
“Baking? Really?”
“I want to try it,” Atsushi says. “We can make something savory if you want. I can look for some recipes online.”
“But you like sweets so much—”
“How about something chocolatey, then?” he asks. “We can do raspberries instead of strawberries since they’re not as sweet. And maybe while those are baking, we can try to make bread.”
“Bread is difficult,” Chuuya states. “I’ve never tried it, but I hear if you kill the yeast, it’s all over.”
“Then we laugh about how bad it turned out while we try to eat it. If we don’t get it right the first time, we can try again.” Atsushi slides his fingers along Chuuya’s palm and links their hands together. “If you really don’t want to, I can pick something else, but I think it’ll be fun.”
“Alright,” Chuuya sighs. “If that’s what you want.”
“You’re disappointed.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t pick the trip abroad.”
Atsushi smiles. “We have time of that, Chuuya-san.”
“Yeah,” Chuuya answers, closing the notebook, tossing it on the desk, and twisting to line his lips up with Atsushi’s. “Yeah, we do.”
After kissing almost to the point of arousal, Chuuya breaks away to turn off the light. Atsushi is surprised to find him shirtless when he comes back to bed. Of course, he lets Chuuya wrestle his own shirt off before they curl up together to drift off. Atsushi is just as convinced as Chuuya says he is that he’ll sleep through the night.
At least, until he dreams of Chuuya’s phone ringing at what must be three in the morning. Grumbling, Chuuya sits up and answers it. “Hello?”
Atsushi rolls over and winds his arm around Chuuya’s waist, because like fuck is he letting the redhead go anywhere right now, even if this is a dream. He starts to drift off again, blanketed by the increasingly muffled sound of Chuuya’s voice and the voice on the other end. And he slips into the oddest dream.
“Yeah, not interested.”
Atsushi’s eyes flash open.
“Boss—”
The tiger inside of him stirs.
“Boss, I know, but it’s three in the fucking morning, and I’m… kind of under a cat?”
It’s hard, given how tired he is. Not to mention how the aches in his body have only grown in the hours after fucking Chuuya on his desk twice. Still, he pulls himself up and nuzzles against Chuuya’s scarred shoulder, reveling in how his breath hitches.
“Yes, it’s Atsushi.” A pause. “Yes, I understand.” Another pause. “You have four other executives. I’m begging you to call one of—hey—”
Atsushi works the phone out of Chuuya’s hand, then presses a finger against his lips and lifts it to his ear. Mori is in the middle of explaining… something that he couldn’t care less about. “Mori-sensei.”
A pause. “Nakajima.”
“I’m not letting Chuuya go tonight,” he states, feeling the tiger inside of him growl. “Maybe any other night I would, but not tonight.” He waits for Mori to speak, then continues, “I’ve been nothing but understanding of Chuuya’s work schedule since we’ve been together, but I can’t keep letting you take him away from me, especially after everything we just went through. And while I can’t promise I won’t intervene in the future, considering how much time we’ve lost together because the missions you send him on, I can promise I’ll try my best to be as patient and understanding as I have been in the past.” Sighing, he murmurs, “So, for tonight only, I won’t allow you to take him.”
“You are out of line, talking to a mafia boss like you have the authority to make requests.”
“What part of that sounded like a request?”
Another long silence.
“I put my life on the line to save Chuuya. Yeah, maybe I did it because I love him, but that puts you in a place of owing me a favor, doesn’t it?” The tiger in him rises and starts to pace. “I think Chuuya’s life is worth more than a night, don’t you?”
“What? Is he leaving the Port Mafia?”
“He is nothing but loyal to you and your cause, Mori-sensei.” Atsushi finds Chuuya’s eyes by the light of the cell phone. “As payment for keeping him and Akutagawa alive, I want you to negotiate with the president to make sure he and I get time off that we can spend together. I’m fine with a day here and there, but in addition to that, I want at least two or three consecutive days off a month that we can spend together.”
“I don’t believe he would be willing—”
“He helped two members of the agency move out of the dorms. I guarantee you, he would be more than willing.” Atsushi’s eyes meet Chuuya’s again. “Two or three consecutive days at least once a month, and two or three scattered here and there besides. Otherwise, on the handful of days we do spend together, I’ll wear him out so much, he won’t be of any use to you beyond deskwork.”
“You wouldn’t if he asked you not to.”
“You’re right.” Atsushi studies the glint in Chuuya’s eyes. “But something tells me Chuuya likes the sound of what I’m proposing.” He’s pretty sure Mori lets out a scandalized huff in his ear. “Trust me: you’re getting the good end of that deal, Mori-sensei. If I were less understanding, I’d ask for considerably more.”
The strangest part of the dream is the fact that Mori agrees to it. It ends with Atsushi flipping Chuuya’s phone shut and tugging him back down into the sheets, where they kiss with a passion that tapers off just like the dream does.
In the morning, Atsushi wakes up in Chuuya’s arms. He stretches before curling up against Chuuya’s chest again, but before he can, he realizes Chuuya is staring at him. “Morning,” he murmurs. “Sleep well?”
“Atsushi, what the actual fuck?”
Atsushi blinks. “Huh?”
“Are you out of your mind?”
He tips his head, and Chuuya grins.
“Making demands of a mafia boss…” Chuuya smooths his hand beneath the covers and leans against his own. “I definitely taught you boldness too well, tiger.”
Atsushi sits bolt upright. And once he does, he starts to process those events. While he does, he reaches a troubling conclusion. If Chuuya remembers them, it wasn’t a dream at all. “Oh, fuck.” Reality caves in around him. “What did I do?”
“Nothing I wasn’t already planning on doing, kitten. Now lay down again. You’re warm.”
“But—”
“Atsushi,” he calls. “Beautiful. It shouldn’t cause any problems. I’ll talk to Mori-dono. You talk to Fukuzawa. We get our two or three consecutive nights a month together, and a handful of date days besides.”
Atsushi lowers himself back down, and Chuuya immediately winds him in his arms again. “You… sound so sure.”
“You fought your way out of a literal nightmare and worked so hard to drag me out of my own,” Chuuya states, shifting so their noses brush together. “In comparison to that, something like this feels exceedingly easy, don’t you think?”