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“Why is it you again?!”
Akutagawa had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Once again, he found himself face-to-face with the one person he least wanted to see. It had been a long week, and he’d hoped to end it with a clean, successful mission—another win for the Port Mafia. He’d waited earlier that day under a sky painted pink by the setting sun, expecting things to go smoothly so he could drag himself home in peace.
He should’ve been more suspicious when he received almost no intel for this assignment. He definitely should’ve questioned it more when he saw Chuuya-san earlier today, looking more irritated than usual, as if a certain someone had shown up uninvited at the Port Mafia’s headquarters to bring up another stupid proposal for a joint mission.
So, if Akutagawa had been more alert, he might’ve realized sooner that tonight’s run-in with the Weretiger was no coincidence.
“I should be asking you the same thing,” Akutagawa spat, making no effort to hide his contempt.
The Problem, the man responsible for nearly all the misery in Akutagawa’s twenty years of life, had the audacity to roll his eyes right back at him. That was all it took for Akutagawa to send Rashomon toward him in a flash.
Of course the idiotic Weretiger dodged in time. And of course he had the nerve to look offended, too.
“This is a Port Mafia operation! You’re the one intruding, you fool!” Akutagawa snapped, continuing his attacks.
“What?! No it isn’t! This is an Armed Detective Agency case! Why would they even call you in for anything that isn’t murder? This is supposed to be an investigation! You hear me? In-ve-sti-ga-tion!” Atsushi shot back.
Akutagawa clicked his tongue and pulled Rashomon’s tendrils back into his coat. “Investigation,” he mocked coolly.
Atsushi put a gloved hand on his hip and struck a sassy pose. “What, they don’t tell you things over there anymore?”
Or, in other words: Are you not important enough anymore to be kept in the loop, Akutagawa? An obviously false statement, but you see, Atsushi had gotten really good at ragebaiting him since they’d started working together.
Before Akutagawa could respond, violently of course, a man in all black emerged under a streetlamp near the port. He wore a long, black coat, a large hat, sunglasses, and carried a briefcase.
“Who wears sunglasses at night?” Atsushi muttered under his breath.
“My, my, would you look at that! Weretiger, seems like you’ve finally found someone as ridiculous and stupid as yourself.”
“Says the guy who probably sleeps in his damn coat. When’s the last time you washed that thing?”
“I’ll have you know my sister takes it to the laundromat—”
“Your sister takes care of it? At your big age?”
“At least I have a relative left.”
“Hey!”
“Gentlemen,” the stranger interrupted coolly. “I don’t appreciate being ignored.”
Funny sentence. Very familiar too. It reminded them of a certain american.
“Fitzgerald? Is that you?” Atsushi squinted.
“I—what? No, no. Mister Tiger, I am called The Recruiter.”
Atsushi was pretty sure he heard Akutagawa snort at the mention of ‘Mister Tiger’.
“And what exactly do you want from us?” Atsushi asked.
The Recruiter smiled and opened his briefcase, revealing several childhood games and toys.
“I’m here to help you get rich, fast and easy. I know it’s hard to believe, but I promise, it’s all completely legitimate. All you have to do is… play your favorite childhood games.”
“As if,” Akutagawa scoffed.
“You’re not interested in becoming rich?”
“I’m perfectly comfortable with my earnings. I don’t know about that stray tiger— he looks like he digs through trash for dinner, so maybe this is more his speed.”
“Hey! That’s unbelievably rude, Akutagawa! I’m more than happy with my paycheck, thank you very much. And, it’s not like I’d ever want your mafia salary anyway! I wouldn’t touch your dirty money with a ten-foot pole.”
“But gentlemen,” the Recruiter pressed, “I promise it’ll be fun. Just give it a try.”
They weren’t stupid. They knew it was a trap. But this was connected to their secret mission, after all. It was so obvious. Therefore, Atsushi played dumb (or maybe he wasn’t even faking it, for all Akutagawa knew) and agreed to play.
It was stupid. They had to play actual children’s games and that dumb Weretiger even started enjoying himself at some point. When it was over, they were handed a business card, and The Recruiter disappeared.
“We’ll call tomorrow and say we’re in,” Atsushi said that night.
“This might be bigger than we thought,” Akutagawa muttered. “Try not to drag us into disaster just because you want to play detective.”
“Play detective? I am a detective!”
“Show me your license.”
“Go home, Akutagawa.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
⸻
The following days were all tied to the mission. After they called the number, they were drugged and kidnapped, and at some point, stripped of their clothes and searched for weapons, a very humbling experience which Akutagawa nearly razed the place over. Only Atsushi’s warnings like ‘don’t ruin the mission’, ‘let me handle the investigation’, ‘just this once, don’t be an asshole’, ‘have you not matured at all?’, ‘but Akutagawa, the moneeeeeey!’ managed to hold him back to an extent.
Well, that and the fact that this mission was indeed important for the Port Mafia’s as well. It was made clear to him the moment he was given the job. Why, he wasn’t told exactly, and that meant it was none of his business. His business was getting the job done properly.
Still, there would never be a next time anyone got that close to him again.
“But what happens when you get married?” Atsushi asked one morning before a new round of games. “Wouldn’t you have to get naked eventually?”
Akutagawa let out the weirdest noise of disgust known to man.
“Why the hell would I get married? To whom?”
“Oh, yeah, right. Who’d want to marry you of all people?”
“…What’s that supposed to mean?”
Atsushi chuckled nervously. “I mean… Akutagawa… you’re you .”
“Of course I am— why am I even discussing this with a fool like you?”
“Stop calling me that!”
Soon enough, the games began. That’s when they realized just how twisted it all was.
Atsushi was horrified. Akutagawa was disgusted with the sick imagination of the people who created the games. But they wouldn’t die. They started subtly sabotaging the system: Akutagawa disarmed guards using Rashomon’s thinest tendrils, very subtle. At some point, Atsushi used his strength and sharp hearing to protect participants and eavesdrop on the VIPs.
Eventually, the deaths of the contestants fully stopped, and the guards sure noticed. But the lack of evidence made the games continue.
This round though, was especially stupid. They had to carve shapes out of korean candy without breaking it. Some got easy shapes, like a square or a triangle.
Akutagawa got a fucking umbrella.
He loathed sweets in general, but today, he hated them with a passion.
“How the hell am I supposed to—”
“Oh God, oh God, we’re gonna get shot in the head! Everyone is gonna get shot in the head!”
“Get a grip, Weretiger! Can’t you see you’re melting the shape with your stupid sweaty fingers?!”
“I—I’m—ohhhh, I’m doomed! Ohhh we’re so doomed!”
“Shut up! Just focus. Patience and focus. That’s all we need. Let’s finish this and get out of here.”
“…Okay. Okay! You’re right, we’ll win! We’ll take the money—“
“I thought you didn’t care about the money.”
Atsushi scoffed. “I don’t! I mean… once we arrest everyone, the money should go somewhere safe. Just saying.”
“Like your pockets?”
“Noooo! Like the Agency, duh!”
“Right.”
“…Anyways, let’s focus. Let’s just focus. Discipline and focus. Discipline and—”
“Weretiger.”
“Yes?”
“We lost.”
“…What?”
Atsushi glanced over.
Akutagawa’s cookie crumbled. Only the smallest chunk was left between the man’s sticky fingers. How unfortunate. But, still—
“The hell do you mean we? My cookie’s still intact! See—”
His first mistake was probably scoffing directly in Akutagawa’s face. Or maybe it was the incessant talking, going on and on until Akutagawa, clearly stressed as fuck, began to lose focus. Then again, perhaps his original, most fundamental error was agreeing to team up with the man in the first place. That might have been where it all truly began to unravel.
As for his final, most glaring mistake? That would be the moment he so confidently, and so foolishly, flashed the damn cookie in front of the mafioso. Predictably, Akutagawa didn’t hesitate. A single tendril of Rashomon lashed out, perfectly aimed, striking the stupid candy with precision.
The cookie shattered instantly. Atsushi didn’t move. He stood there completely still, expression flat and unreadable.
With absolutely no emotion on his face, Akutagawa simply deadpanned, “We.”
Minutes later, they were on their knees, guns pointed at their heads.
“The money, Akutagawa! The fucking money!!!” Atsushi wailed.
“Is that really your biggest concern right now, Weretiger?!”
“You’re my concern! If you hadn’t broken my cookie too, at least one of us could’ve finished the mission and save the prize!”
“You think I’d die again so you could complete the mission?!”
“Oh please, you’d die for the Mafia in a heartbeat! Besides, I have more people who’d mourn me!”
“Your friends are glorified petsitters. You’re their charity case, you overgrown cat!”
“You’re just jealous because you don’t have any friends and only your sister tolerates you!”
“You’re talking a lot for someone who only got friends a few months ago after growing up chained in an orphanage, licking salt for lunch!”
“You’re an orphan too, you jerk!”
“At least I didn’t get the ‘orphanage special’ haircut!”
“At least I have eyebrows!”
“At least I didn’t eat people in my tiger form!”
“Atsushi-kun~ Akutagawa-kun~ Usually people about to die aren’t this chatty!”
A familiar sing-song voice came from behind the mask one of the guards.
“Dazai-san?!” they shouted in unison.
“Shut up!” they both snapped at each other again, simultaneously.
“Hey!” barked the raspier voice beside him. “Get your asses up and help us clean this mess.” It was Chuuya, also dressed up as a guard.
The moment the real guards opened fire, Chuuya surged forward. His ability erupted in a pulse of gravitational energy, warping the air around him. Bullets twisted mid-flight, diverted by invisible force, some even snapping backward into their sources. Concrete cracked beneath his feet as he launched upward, using gravity to defy physics, controlling the battlefield with precision (and making chuuya noises).
Atsushi shifted mid-sprint, his limbs transforming into those of the beast. He crashed into the front line with animal speed, claws tearing through riot gear, his movements brutal but calculated. He moved through them like a force of nature—never stopping, never hesitating, but never killing anyone (akutagawa take notes).
Akutagawa followed in eerie silence, his clothes fluttering on him as Rashomon sprang to life. It slashed through weapons and armor alike, a blur of green steel, this time. Each motion was cold and efficient, and even dressed like that, Akutagawa managed to keep his usual elegance, his obsidian eyes following the enemy’s movements like a hawk. Guards dropped, one after another, overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity of the assault. (akutagawa can’t wait to get his gothic clothes back).
And behind them, Dazai moved without urgency but with complete control. Every time a guard aimed, his touch disabled their abilities, collapsing strategies in an instant. Unsurprisingly, some guards had abilities, which they started using once they understood using firearms on them would be in vain. Dazai navigated the chaos with the calm precision of someone who had orchestrated it all from the start. (wouldn’t be surprised if he had; a very dazai thing to do).
The four of them advanced as one—an overwhelming tide of strength, speed, and coordination. Within minutes, the guards were down, unconscious or too injured to resist. The VIPs tried to escape, but their security systems were no match for both pairs of Soukoku.
The contestants were all freed. By the time law enforcement swarmed the compound, it was already over. The guards were restrained, the richmen captured, and everything exposed. The prize money, the millions, was promptly confiscated as evidence.
The air hung heavy with the weight of everything that had happened. It hadn’t been clean. It hadn’t been heroic, but at last, it was done.
And for now, that was enough.
The following days, back at the Agency, Atsushi sat chewing a dalgona absently. He wasn’t in the mood for paperwork. He was a bit disappointed that he hadn't seen a single yen of that prize.
“Great job, Atsushi-kun!” Ranpo suddenly appeared out of nowhere, popping up beside him to steal some candy and then vanish again behind his own desk.
Just then, Atsushi’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and instantly wished he didn’t. Whatever he saw on the screen made him choke on the candy. Kyouka, who was just next to him, started patting his back, looking very worried.
Then flashing screen showed two notifications, the very reason for Atsushi’s near death experience.
First one read: 70,000¥ have been deposited into your account
The second one was a text from Feral PM Goth Boy which said: not as much as the prize, but enough for you to get a decent haircut, you foolish weretiger.