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If people asked Atsushi who the worst person to disgrace his life with their existence was, they would get a startlingly unique but somewhat not-surprising answer. You may think he would bestow that title upon someone as he-who-shall-never-ever-be-named or his oh-so unbeloved and very much unwanted Mafia counterpart.
But no, Atsushi may just as well fall in love with the idea of having regular tea parties with Akutagawa and Francis rather than be linked to the person in any shape or form. Does the gravity of the situation he’s found himself in dawn on you yet, dear reader? No? Well then, I guess we’re doing a fanfic version of a call-out post infused with a cancellation post for Atsushi’s dreaded tormentor.
“You’re a shit storyteller. Try to make it sound less narrative-ish and like…more visual.”
So, this person wasn't just the bane of Atsushi’s fucking existence. He’s the laziest, most annoying piece of —Atsushi couldn’t even think of a swear horrid enough to describe how spectacularly this certain man had and continued to fuck his independent life up.
This man was known by many names —most not particularly nice— such as Atsushi’s mentor in his social circles, a constant headache for his coworkers, and a dead-eyed Mackerel, whatever that means among many others.
You guessed it! He had been waxing poetic about one Dazai Osamu, former Port Mafia Executive, current Armed Detective Agency Freeloader, and Atsushi’s unintentionally acquired and very-much-questionable father figure — fate must be laughing its ass off at him if it cursed him with Dazai Osamu in a parental role, is how Atsushi sees it.
“Aw, Atsushi-kun, you needn’t talk about me in so much detail! People might get the idea you prefer me over a certain browless mafioso, and then, where would we be?” Dazai would say, dropping his head on his desk with a loud sigh, as if he had a long and productive day —which wasn't true, as we all know.
“Fuck off, Dazai!” Would be his response. Yes, after a life-changing ordeal, caused by… you guessed it, Atsushi’s been so much better at putting the mummy cosplayer in his place.
The life-changing ordeal— now that was something Atsushi never wanted to relive even in his worst nightmares, no, screw that, he wouldn't wish that on his worst enemies either — Atsushi shook his head.
“Sounds like an interesting individual.” Atsushi couldn't help but shudder. How someone could describe his lousy coworker as interesting and mean it was beyond him.
“Are you sure you would rather train me than do your paperwork? Kunikida-san isn’t happy with you as it is.” Dazai just skipped ahead, humming his suicide song as if he wasn't dragging Atsushi along by his too-long belt.
“Trust me, At-su-shi-kunnn,” he simpered before turning around abruptly, eyes twinkling with something Atsushi never wanted to know —and for good reason— because anything that could make Dazai look so swoony was trouble. “Don't you want to be stronger than Akutagawa-kun?” And there it was. The dangling carrot bait, the aphrodisiac, the Eurydice to his Orpheus, the-
“Akutagawa did this training, too?” He let Dazai drag him towards wherever their destination was, arms full of two deceptively heavy bags. He’d have complained about being the bellboy if he hadn't had the joy of shopping with Yosano-sensei. Nothing could top having to carry a crapton of bags and boxes only to end up in a hostage situation and face down a bomb threat.
Fond memories , he shook his head wryly before following Dazai to a fancy-looking —it looked simplistic and beautiful, nothing like his orphanage or dorms, so sue him for thinking it was fancy— building.
“You again.” The receptionist shook her head as Dazai leaned down and began bothering —no, even young, inexperienced lil him knew this was no flirting— the woman.
“I simply can't find it in me to stay away from my wife!” The back of his hand came to rest on his forehead as he sighed dramatically. The woman with the patience of a thousand saints just rolled her eyes and handed him a keycard.
“If he kills you, it’s not my fault, and the Agency will compensate for any damages caused by however he reacts to your unwanted presence.” Her tone was monotonous and rehearsed as if she’d been saying this to him so frequently she could hear it in her dreams.
“Such a joy to be around you as always, milady.” He bowed deeply and winked —disgusting, Atsushi looked away in hopes that the others in the lobby would believe he didn't know that man— before grabbing ahold of his belt again.
“Good luck, kid.” The receptionist called out. Her expression screamed concern and he grimaced. Oh boy!
Just what the hell had he gotten himself into this time?
“So, you just…let him drag you around anywhere? Do you have no sense of self-preservation?” The woman asked.
“You have to know that when one is getting newly acquainted with Dazai, he tends to get away with much more than anyone would let him.”
“I don't believe it, you sound like you have a vendetta against him.”
“At this point, who doesn't?” Atsushi countered.
“Are you sure wearing this will make me stronger?” He played with his fingers as Dazai tossed —were those panties?— something on the plush-looking bed. Atsushi was reminded of the receptionist’s words and he had enough sense to piece together that Dazai was breaking and entering someone's apartment. Said someone had gotten so used to this behaviour he made sure Dazai got a keycard. He also knew this mysterious man wasn't too fond of Dazai —or was he? He just basically allowed Dazai to use his apartment— and may just lash out if he saw them here.
Atsushi hated confrontation —he was working on it— and he much rather not get caught as Dazai’s accomplice. Dazai was smart, but unpredictable at the same time. He could be planning to train him or he could be planning to use frilly gloves to take over the world. Anything was possible with Dazai, and it made his head spin.
Too much thinking was not his thing and trying to wrap one’s head around Dazai and his actions could just as well give people an aneurysm.
“Silly, tiger. Of course this will make you stronger! Let me tell you a secret.” Dazai bound towards him, a wide smile stretching across his face, which didn't ease his concerns one bit. If anything, it made the warning signs blare in his head, the little voice in his mind screaming, Danger! Run! Hide! Leave! Danger!
“Akutagawa-kun isn't the only person I trained in my Mafia days,” he nodded, and Atsushi raised a brow, which was the right course of action because Dazai spread his arms gesturing at every expensive thing in the apartment. “I also trained Nakahara Chuuya, and it is because of me he is who is and has what he has.”
“Wait, Port Mafia Executive Nakahara Chuuya? Gravity Manipulator Nakahara Chuuya? Most dangerous abi-” a hand clamped on his mouth and Atsushi would not think of where all that hand would’ve been and what all poisons it must’ve touched.
“Stop with the swooning. I can't bear people saying that name in my vicinity!” He wailed, shaking Atsushi with the same hand that was keeping his mouth shut.
“Youjuththaidit,” he mumbled before Dazai removed his hand and gave him a very disapproving frown. It would be useless considering his mentor held some sort of fancy lingerie in one of his hands but Dazai was a mess of confusing contradictions piled on top of more confusing contradictions. So, Atsushi let it drop for his sanity’s sake.
“Well, I trained Chuuya, and if your fangirling was any indication, my training yielded amazing results. I tried to train Akutagawa-kun the same way but-” he shook his head in disappointment, “-he simply wasn't strong enough.” And now Atsushi’s blood was roaring with the desire to one-up his mortal enemy.
“You think I could do it?” He asked, still a little hesitant about his capabilities. Said hesitation left every cell in his body the minute Dazai smiled brightly at him.
“I know you can.” He sounded so confident, as if there was no way Atsushi couldn't meet his expectations. No one had believed in him before… before Dazai. His mentor had been cheering him on and guiding him since he pulled him out of that river. The thought made his eyes fill with tears —damn, he was sappy— and he straightened, determined to prove Dazai right.
Dazai was smart. If anyone’s words could be trusted, it was his.
“Now be a dear and put these on,” he said before starting to throw articles of clothing on him. A test of his hand eye coordination and reaction speed, huh? He made sure to catch every single one of them, never breaking eye contact with the older man. “Bathroom’s there.” And Atsushi was off in the indicated direction.
“He’s gorgeous. I’d wear anything he told me to wear and believe it was a test of strength, too,” she giggled.
“Looks can be deceiving.” It was a tried and tested fact, especially when Dazai was concerned. “But honestly speaking, I wouldn't wish that fate upon anyone.”
“This is called a bra-”
“I know what a bra is.” Atsushi rolled his eyes, and Dazai gasped, eyes glittering with mirth.
“My my, how scandalous, Atsushi-kun,” he tittered before pointing towards his neck. “The bra’s attached to the choker through mesh. The purpose of these two is to keep your inner beast restrained but gently. The frilly collar will remind you to stay in control and the bra will help regulate your breathing while helping accelerate your heartbeat for whatever activity you’ll take part in.”
Wow, Atsushi didn't know clothes and chokers could be so helpful. He’d never take anything for granted now, and he’d even ask Dazai if he could loan him the choker…
“The silk panties are tight on purpose, to remind you to not think with the wrong head when facing Akutagawa-kun-”
“Wait what?” He wheezed. What the hell did that wannabe vampire have to do with the panties?
“Tch, don't interrupt me when I am trying to help you,” Dazai chided, and he looked at his feet, shame coursing through his veins.
“I am sorry, please teach me how to be stronger than-” his mouth twisted in distaste “-Akutagawa.”
“Of course, Atsushi-kun. Anything for my darling subordinate! Okay, so moving on, the bows and leather straps also remind you of controlling your body but they’re more oriented towards restraining your tiger instincts and enhancing awareness of your body.” He nodded, as if agreeing with himself, and Atsushi raised his hand. “Yes?”
“What do you mean by restraining my tiger instincts? Wouldn't that make me weaker in battle?”
“Good question. I am glad you asked.” He moved to pat Atsushi’s head, and he felt himself melting into the encouraging touch. “The instincts they suppress are chase and mate. In other words, fair maidens and felines alike will be safe from your tiger overpowering you and going after them. Anything else?” He shook his head, and Dazai clapped his naked shoulder.
“Now, last but not least, the thigh-highs and gloves!” Atsushi nodded, immersed in the lesson and all the captivating information Dazai so freely provided. This may be his only chance to learn to tame his inner beast. “Their presence, although smooth and soft, will remind you to not transform your arms and legs into tiger limbs. This ensures a fine-tuned control of your ability as well as giving you time to think over whether transforming is the right choice or not as you take them off!” He grinned, and Atsushi found himself smiling back.
People said a lot of mean things about Dazai, and he felt guilty he had joined in on the slander and gossip. His mentor was actually really kind and helpful and as devoted to his training as Atsushi himself was. He vowed to himself to treat Dazai with the respect he deserved and to help him out with paperwork as much as he possibly could.
“Please don't damage these, Atsushi-kun. They’re made of a special material and cost all my Port Mafia savings!” Atsushi wanted to frown. His clothes were bought with blood money. “I can see the gears in your head turning, and I assure you, if money earned the wrong way is spent on good, noble causes, it cancels out the bad juju and angels accept that as a good deed.” A finger poked at the crease between his brows as Dazai explained and… it made sense! Dazai was a good person now, and he was using his earnings for a good, selfless cause.
“Now that we’re done with the theory, let’s proceed to the practice phase,” he said and pulled out a camera?
“What are we doing?” He was confused.
“We’re going to train your confidence and control in front of the camera first! Now, be a good lil student and climb into the middle of that bed… don't lie down! I can't have you fall asleep at such a vital point in training!”
“Oh.” Was his eloquent response as he shifted on the softest mattress he had ever touched. He wanted to cry because it was so soft, and he must’ve done something good in life if he had a chance to sit on it. The softness had to be a reward for something he did good… in this life or some else-
“The pictures will help me better find weaknesses in your stance, tension in your body, and so on.” And that was when Atsushi found out why the Demon Prodigy’s torture methods were so famous.
“Did you get to sleep in that bed, though? How comfortable was it?” Her amber eyes were full of genuine curiosity as she bounced on a wooden box.
“You sure got your priorities straight.” He couldn't help but chuckle despite being tied to an uncomfortable chair with even more uncomfortable handcuffs.
“Unlike you,” she responded before she burst into giggles.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Atsushi peeked from behind a wall, gaze fixed on a certain mafioso with a very distinctly terrible haircut —not that he had much room to judge— envelope clutched into a vice-like grip as he waited for Akutagawa to leave the grocery store. He didn't know what exactly Dazai had him delivering, but whatever it was, he wanted nothing to do with it. Not after Dazai’s training session.
It wasn't even that bad but the true test of strength was rolling around on a bed softer than anything had a right to be and being told to stay awake. It almost made him cry! Dazai was so cruel and meticulous and while Atsushi felt the control his new armour granted him, he still wished Dazai would’ve had a shred of sympathy and allowed him to need the comforter or something. Just once, he had begged.
No, was Dazai’s simple and final answer. Regardless of how upset he was with his mentor, he was grateful too, and so he agreed to run this little errand Dazai had asked him.
Deliver this envelope, no peeking , was the task and it sounded simple enough… until Dazai told him who he was handing it over to.
He remembered falling to his knees and begging Dazai to give it to —and he quoted: Anyone, please. I’ll even go hand it over to the Port Mafia Boss, just not that eyebrow-less brute— but his mentor wasn't willing to budge, insisting that it must be delivered to Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, and it was important that only Atsushi know of this job.
So here he was, stalking someone he didn't want to stalk even if he was offered all the chazuke and crepes he could want.
He felt a movement at the edge of his periphery and turned around to see Akutagawa coming out of the store with a paper bag clutched by Rashomon. This is it, you got this, tiger!
“Love how you call yourself that. Is that an indication of your true nature?” He looked on in confusion and she sighed. “House cat in the streets, tiger in the sheets? Seriously, kid, you need to stop being so naive.”
He darted forward, tightening his grip on the envelope, eyes locked on his target.
“Rashomon!”
“Wait! Akutagawa, I am not here to fight,” he stopped right in front of the man who looked ridiculous if he said so himself. One side of Rashomon was clutching his grocery bag, the other shaped into a sharp spike, aimed at his chest.
“What do you want?” He barked and Atsushi bristled. He could stand to be kinder.
“Here.” And he threw the envelope at him, turning to walk away. His job was done.
“What’s this?” His sworn enemy called from behind and then the thump thump of his footsteps told Atsushi he was being followed. With a sigh of resignation, he turned back around to face the stunned mafioso.
“An envelope?” He made sure to say with a raised eyebrow to make Akutagawa feel dumb —if such a feat was even possible.
“Thanks for telling me, detective.” Was the sarcastic response. Atsushi rolled his eyes. He hated people like this, always getting on people’s cases as if everyone’s time was theirs to waste.
“Wait here,” he demanded, and Atsushi began tapping his foot on the pavement. Akutagawa tore the top of the envelope with his teeth like the brute Atsushi knew he totally was and fished out the contents with utmost reverence. He brought one of the papers close to his face, squinting before his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.
“Why did Dazai-san send this to me?” He still looked shocked and Atsushi shrugged.
“He didn't tell me anything. Just that I had to give it to you.” Akutagawa rubbed his face and sighed before gazing into his eyes. What the hell?
“Come, Jinko.” was all he said before a tendril of Rashomon wrapped around his wrist and gave him a tug.
“What the hell?” This time he asked out loud but followed him to a small cafe anyway. “Do I look like a dog to you?”
“Would you rather I pspsps you?” He raised a nonexistent brow and Atsushi recoiled in disgust, face flushing out of sheer mortification.
“Never say pspsps again,” he said, his mind screaming that it was so cursed wtf I’ll hear that in my nightmares as he sat down in a booth.
“PSPSPSPS,” Akutagawa said with the most award-winning poker face ever, and Atsushi wanted to die. “We need to talk.”
“Huh?” That sounded like something people would say in a romcom.
“I can't let my enemy, my supposed equal, be so dumb. It doesn't sit well with me and makes me despise you even more.” Akutagawa scowled before flagging down a waiter. “I can't in good conscience let you keep believing Dazai-san’s bullshit.”
“One black coffee for me and one…whatever’s the sweetest, most abhorrent non-alcoholic drink for him.” The waiter turned to regard Atsushi with a sympathetic expression before turning around to get their drinks. Atsushi may be dumb and young, and naive, but he knew for a fact that he couldn't fuck up more than he had when Akutagawa sat him down for advice and bought him a pity coffee.
When the drinks were placed in front of him, Atsushi felt even more pathetic. Just what the hell did he do now to warrant this unconventional behaviour from a brute like the one who sat across from him?
“You need to stop doing everything Dazai-san tells you to do.” Was how he started the one-sided conversation.
“I know you’re hiding something from my ability, its an effort worthy of a standing ovation but futile.”
Atsushi felt sweat form on his forehead, neck, and every damn part of him covered by the stupid lacy lingerie — armour, as Dazai would say… fucking Dazai it always came back to him — he still secretly wore.
“What are you hiding, Nakajima Atsushi?” She asked head tilted to the side like that of a curious feline. Atsushi would know. He was one. “What is it that you don't want me to know?”
An image flashed on the warehouse’s wall, one of Atsushi holding his head as Akutagawa showed him one of the papers he had been given. It was a photograph, one of Atsushi sitting on Chuuya’s soft bed, wearing what Dazai called armour. The fact that Dazai had gone through the trouble of having Atsushi himself deliver his shame to Akutagawa on a silver platter spoke volumes.
The ability user —one with mind reading and projection ability he had been sent to distract and stall on Dazai’s orders— fell off the wooden crate, clutching her belly and laughing.
“And that, children, is how I finally learned what an asshole Dazai-san is and unlocked the ability to cuss my heart out,” he sighed, rolling his eyes, as the woman continued to laugh at his expense.
Fuck the mission. Fuck saving the city. He was gonna kill Dazai.
OMAKE
Atsushi: I thought Fukuzawa-shachou's ability granted me control over mine.
Dazai: To an extent but the tiger isn't just your ability, it's a large part of who you were and who you've become so... all the more reason to practice!
WHAT HAPPENED BEFORE THIS FIC BEGAN? (IN CASE YOU'RE CONFUSED HAHA)
The Special Abilities Division catches wind of an ability user who can read thoughts and memories AND project them on random places. She's been causing trouble by humiliating officials in public. And as some of the most incompetent Ability users ever, they hire the ADA to arrest her. As part of HIS plan, Dazai sends Atsushi in with only one order: STALL. Atsushi's improvising by trying to keep her invested and wasting her time with his long story and running commentary which brings up some memories he wishes he could scrub out of his mind. The memory is of that one time Dazai fooled him into wearing lingerie so he could take pictures and send them to Akutagawa to spur him into making a move on Atsushi.
The italics are the story he tells her (already happened). Normal text is what's happening in the present!
FUN FACT
The first part of this fic that I came up for this fic was in Jay's DMs about "What if this is Dazai's doing?" and later acquired permission to write this as an extended gift for Mikan.
The first part I actually wrote was the iconic Akutagawa PSPSPSPS'ing Atsushi with a straight face, which made me invested in the fic and I actively began wanting to finish it lol
So there you have it, I usually don't explain my reasoning and stuff in the end of fics but this is a one-time thing. I wanted to include Mikan in the conception phase of this fic! Happy Birthday Miku, I am prolly posting this when the day's already over but hey! Better late than never!
