Archive of Our Own

Atsushi feared death. The very concept of it chilled him to his very core. He hated the unknowing, of what occurred after death. A question that no one had the answer to. He hated the finality of it all. The fact that there would be no second chance, no more tomorrow. He hated the fact that he wouldn’t be remembered. His name would slip away as quickly as his life had and his face wouldn’t linger long in the minds of others. There was nothing he could control in his life, a fact he had come to terms with at a very young age. Where he slept, what he wore, what or if he ate. All of it was determined by someone else, someone in power. He knew that his death would not be on his own terms. Instead, like everything else, it would be by somebody else. But there were some things he feared more than death.

“Here kitty kitty!” A humorous voice called out and Atsushi’s eyes snapped open before he closed them tightly again. All remnants of unconsciousness vanished as he felt a deep panic flow through his veins. The ground beneath him was cold and hard. Smooth metal under the palms of his hand. His back rested uncomfortably against thick bars and there was something around his throat. A jingle of keys rescinded in his head as rusted metal hinges swung open. He didn’t need to look up. He knew exactly where he was, knew exactly what he’d see. He’d seen it before, saw it every night in dreams that caused him to wake in a cold sweat with a hand clenched over his mouth so as not to wake Kouyka.

“Awe, come on,” The deep voice called out as footsteps grew closer. “Not even gonna look at me?”

A hand gripped his chin tightly and forced it up until it caught on the metal chain attached to the cage behind him. He cried out as the metal contraption around his neck dug needles- no, not needles- spikes into the soft flesh of his neck. He felt a warm trickle of blood run down his neck. For a moment he wanted to stay like that. Stay with his eyes closed and as still as possible so as not to agitate his neck against the collar. But deep down he knew it wouldn’t last. Reality would still be there no matter how long he pretended it wouldn’t.

The man was crouched in front of him. A wicked smile split across his face shadowed by long greasy strands of hair that looked like they hadn’t been maintained in days. A long, thick knife dangled haphazardly in his hands, and a cigarette between his lips. Atsushi looked away frantically but his surroundings only made it worse. He already knew where he was, what he was in. But to see it was something else.

Thick metal bars ran across all four walls and up to the ceiling. It wasn’t a small cage. There would be enough room for him to stand if he even could. Enough room for the taller man to walk in without stooping over. But that's because it wasn’t meant for them. There was plenty of room for a human, less room for the Tiger.

“What do you want from me?” “He asked with all the confidence he could muster, which he quickly realized wasn’t much as all that left his mouth was a whisper.”

“See, it doesn’t matter what I want from you,” The man inhaled deeply before he took the cigarette from his mouth and blew out a cloud of smoke straight into Atsushi’s face. His neck ached from small twitches as he tried to stay as still as possible despite the looming threat of a coughing fit. “All that matters is that seven billion yen bounty on your pretty little head.”

“I thought..” He began before he trailed off slightly as the man laughed.

“What? You thought it’d have gone away even after the original was taken down?” He held the cigarette gingerly as he reached out and caressed the side of Atsushi’s face. His rough, calloused fingers rain down his cheek to his neck. Atsushi resisted the urge to jerk away. Instead, he focused on the bars of the cage behind the man and willed himself to stay still. “People still wanna buy. Especially something as pretty as you.”

The hand disappeared and before he had time to react something pressed against his collarbone in an explosion of pain. He’d been burned before, to the extent he could recognize what was happening without having to see it occur. The mere sight of a fire poker was enough to set off the Tiger. It wanted him to run, to hide, to fight before someone used it against him. There was no use trying to convince it that he was finally safe, that the Agency was safe. Not when the scars that marred his skin were still bright, vivid pink. But no matter how many times it happened, it never got easier. His eyes snapped back to the pain as he placed the cigarette back into his mouth. He stared at the site of the burn with a twisted look of awe on his face.

“I’m not supposed to hurt you, damaged goods never sell too well. But with that healing, we might have some fun.” His face lit up as he spoke and Atsushi braced himself for his next move, but it never came. Instead, the man looked him up and down lazily before he rose to his feet and sauntered to the cage door. “Now, be a good kitty or I might start to think you’re not worth the price and take care of you myself.”

The second the cage door slammed shut he let the tears that burned at the corners of his eyes cascade down his face. The punishment was always worse if he cried- although it took him years to gain control of that- but once alone he could let go.

Frantically he began to look at the room outside of the cage and the pit in his stomach only deepened. The cage was in the middle of a small room illuminated by the harsh fluorescent lights from the ceiling high above them, with no windows in sight. The floor was concrete and the walls a cold steel. There was one door along the far wall and on the other a roll-up door with metal curves that took up most of the space. Most of the warehouses were along the Port but nobody stupid enough would take him there. The truce between the Port Mafia and the Agency was fragile at best but people knew better than to invoke their wrath. He tried to strain his ears, to hear anything beyond the walls, but there was nothing except for the violent and oppressive silence.

But the worst part of it all was that he knew he could not rely on the Armed Detective Agency to save him. He knew how they felt when he had been captured by Akutagawa not long after he first joined. He knew they were all too ready to leave him to die and he still didn’t understand why Fukuzawa made them come for him. However, it was better that way. People often talked about the Tiger as an ability, but it didn’t feel like that to him. His whole childhood he had been treated like he and the Tiger were one and the same. They caged him to cage the Tiger and treated him like an animal because that’s what he was. It didn’t matter if the President’s ability helped him keep control, that didn’t change the fact that he was dangerous.

It hurt the worst when new employees came to the orphanage. They would offer a helping hand and a small smile to the shy boy in the corner with his books, set apart fundamentally from the other children. But that always changed when they saw the cage, saw him inside of it. Their helping hands turned to pain and smiles into sneers. Something about the cage changed the way they saw him. They never went back to the way they were before.

The Armed Detective Agency was the closest thing that resembled a family that Atsushi ever had. They were patient when he messed up. Patient when his lack of knowledge of the world came back to bite him such as when he broke the coffee pot and spilled burning hot coffee all over himself and Kunikida. They were kind to him when he stared over their shoulder at the Headmaster which he quickly realized no one else but him could see. They gave him his own apartment, his own space; he would do anything to not lose that, and even more to keep the idea from ever entering their mind. They could never see him like this.

The collar presented a new problem. He kept his head in the position the man had forced it into. He’d heard Yosano say something about puncture wounds a while ago. He couldn’t remember her words exactly but it was something along the lines of not removing an object that had punctured through the body. That doing so would only result in a worse outcome. But there wasn’t anything else he could do. His neck began to ache from the strained position he held it in and carefully he began to lower his chin.

Instantly, as the spiked that had been digging into his skin shifted, he knew that had been a mistake. That's when the blood started. It poured openly from the wounds, not the small trickle it was before. His shirt became wet and plastered to his skin with thick, red blood. It was the front of his neck they had burrowed into as it pulled back against the chain that held it in pace. He didn’t want to think of what had been ruptured. Instead, they now dug slightly into the somewhat uncouched flesh at the back of his neck, but better than before. He’d dealt with blood loss before, but never puncture wounds. He didn’t know how much the Tiger could heal, or when. Liquid began to build up in his throat and filled his mouth with the overwhelming taste of copper. It trickled out the corner of his lips and down his chin. He tried to swallow but more came in its place.

He shuffled slightly into the corner of the cage, grateful that the chain allowed him to go as far. He pushed himself up into the corner and wrapped his arms around himself. Making himself smaller did nothing to alleviate the pressure in his chest as the walls appeared closer and closer with each second that passed, more familiar.

Realistically he knew they stayed the same, he knew exactly the size. How many footsteps it would take to reach each wall. But not with the collar on. When did they start to use a collar? The Headmaster threatened it enough to keep him still, keep him from hurting himself against the metal bars after one night when he bashed his head into them in a feeble attempt to knock himself unconscious. Atsushi had never been allotted that luxury, instead forced to be conscious during his personal torture.

That's when he felt it. His breath hitched as his face heated up from his gaze. A deep dread settled into his bones, the kind that only occurred when the man was near. He didn’t need to look, he knew he was there. Not that he could have looked if he wanted to, instead paralyzed by the fear that consumed him. The Headmaster didn’t speak, he only stood there, his disapproval radiated through the bars he stood safely behind. Atsushi couldn’t remember what happened, couldn’t remember what he did to deserve punishment. His head was filled with static as the corners of his vision blurred into obscurity. Was it blood loss? He couldn’t tell. When he tried to remember what happened all the could come up with was blank, nothingness.

Faintly he felt his breath pick up as his fingers tingled slightly, unable to feel the metal underneath them, and horror filled him. How many things had he destroyed? How many people had he hurt? The Headmaster never told him exactly what happened when he lost time, but he knew that he was dangerous. The Headmaster never forgot to remind him of that fact when he finally opened his eyes after those nights, greeted by familiar iron bars. The look of disapproval never wavered in the man's steel gaze. The day after always hurt the worst. He might not have known what he had done but he knew the punishment. The darkness at the edges of his vision crept closer and closer. Finally, his eyes fluttered shut and he felt the world drift away.

When he was ten years old they left him in the cage. Typically they would have one worker, or even the Headmaster himself, stay until he awoke. They would leave and return periodically with no sort of schedule. Rather it seemed they would return when they remembered him, sometimes gone for hours on end. They never spoke either, just stared at him. Some looked at him with disgust but he preferred those to the ones who looked at him like him he was some sort of rabid animal. So when he woke up and saw that no one was there he knew that it would be different. He curled in on himself in the corner of the dark room illuminated only by a single light that hung outside of the cage. It cast a cold, almost blue light around the room that sometimes gave him a headache, but it was better than nothing. That’s what he really feared; he feared the day they wouldn't leave the light on and plunge him into a darkness that filled every part of him. Stuck in the dark, stuck in the cold. He wondered if that’s what death felt like. He wondered if he’d be able to tell if he was dead or alive. The thought chilled him to his very core as the frigid stones he leaned against cut through his flimsy threadbare clothing.

Time was hard to tell in the cage. The only way to judge was by the meager meals they gave him, only breakfast and dinner, and water at lunch. He couldn’t judge how much time had passed since he woke up but he was sure it was longer than it usually was. His stomach didn’t growl, it hadn’t in years, the body doesn’t spend energy on hunger cues if they will only go unnoticed. But it was the water he longed for. His mouth had gone dry, throat was sore. He licked his cut, chapped lips in an attempt to relieve himself of the discomfort caused by their dryness but to no avail.

There used to be a window up towards the ceiling. He could watch the light that trickled in from the early morning until night. It was another way to tell the time, another way for him to keep himself distracted from the pain of untreated injuries or the deep pit of loneliness in his chest. Then one day it was boarded up. He didn’t know why, only that one day there was a large wooden slab nailed securely in place over it. He would have done anything to have his window again just to know how long it had been. There was a dull throb in his head and he became more and more aware of his thirst with each moment that passed. The ground was uncomfortable, he had no fat or muscle to cushion the concrete that pressed into his frail bones. Curled tightly in a ball he lay his head on his arms and slowly shut his eyes, eager for the sweet release of sleep.

A glass of water. A tall, plastic cup, as they didn’t trust the children with the glass ones, filled with clear water. Atsushi wanted to cry from relief. He didn’t hear the cage door open but one of the workers must have come in at some point to put it next to him. He lay there for a moment, a smile on his face before he moved. The cup was just out of reach. He sat put and moved over and… the glass disappeared.

Frantically he looked around as his hand fell to the ground, but there was no glass in sight. They never had been. Was it a dream or a trick of his addled mind? He couldn’t tell, and that fact alone frightened him more than he wanted to admit. If he had tears to spare that's when they would have fallen. He curled in on himself once more. His head pounded like a deep bass that resonated throughout his body until it was all he could focus on. For a moment he wondered if that was it, if this was his end. If he was doomed to die a lonesome death trapped away from the world. Energy sapped from his body with each moment that passed until he could do nothing but lay there in a pit of his own despair.

He didn’t remember falling asleep. He didn’t remember the Headmaster retrieving him. And he didn’t remember the day after. All he could remember was they made sure to always give him water.

A loud clanging noise rang out and he jolted up. An instant regret. His head bashed against the cage behind him and the collar dug into his neck, a fresh wave of agony. Dots filled his vision as he leaned against his hand for stability. Slowly he raised his eyes to the door as the man unlocked it, the same sadistic grin across his face, but in place of the cigarette were two large glasses of water.

“Heard the Tiger helps you heal, but I don’t know how dehydration works with that. You can go a while without food can’t ya’?” It took many months for him to accept that what happened at the orphanage was not normal and should not have happened, but if there was a time to be grateful it was then. He’d gone longer without the nourished body he now had. “After all your buyer won't want a kitty they need to worry about escaping. Some hunger will do you good.”

“Do you want water?” The liquid in the glass sloshed from side to side as he spun it slightly in a circular motion. Atsushi eyes the glass weirdly. On one hand, there was a large chance that it was poisoned or offered with other malicious intent. On the other, he knew what dehydration felt like. He’d felt the agony, both physical and mental. “If you don’t want it then I guess I’ll just take my generous offer away.”

That was enough to push him over the edge. He nodded as frantically as he could without agitating the collar. The man smiled wider as he crossed over to him and knelt down to his level. He gripped his once silver hair now likely stained red from his own blood gently as he raised the glass to his lips. It was water, or at least tasted like it, and he wanted to cry with relief. His hands reached up to hold the glass but the man moved it away with a disapproving look. He laid his hands back on the ground and the man returned the glass to his lips. Eagerly he gulped down the cool water that smoothed his throat hoarse from the hyperventilation from his episode. How long had passed since then? He couldn’t tell.

He swallowed water as fast as the man poured it, desperate for every drop. Soon his lungs started to burn from the lack of oxygen but the man didn’t stop. He tried to speak, tried to tell him to stop but it only caused him to coke. Water spilled out from the sides of his mouth and down his front as he gagged. Instinctively he inhaled, desperate for air, but instead felt the liquid. His throat spasmed violently as he coughed but it only caused him to breathe more. An intense wave of panic flowed through his veins as his eyes shot around desperately for an escape. He tried to turn away but the man caught his jaw roughly and pried it back open. Hands shot up once again to push the glass away. The water stopped for a moment as the man tossed the glass to the ground but there wasn’t even time to feel relieved before he started again. Atsushi’s eyes closed as water splashed out of his mouth, his body’s frantic attempt to clear his airways. The man's fist tightened as he forced Atshushi’s head back. The spikes dug into his neck but he couldn’t even feel the pain. The world blurred from tears and black dots that floated and danced around in his vision. Faintly he heard the man speak but he couldn’t focus on the words.

Just as the water started it stopped. The hand disappeared from his chin as he choked down the last sip. Half of it spilled down his face and for a moment he thought the water had returned. But as he inhaled deeply he was met with the sweet release of air. He paused for a moment as he struggled for air in between fits of coughing. After a moment he cracked his eyes open to see the man whose grin had someone stretched wider.

“I’ve always heard that cats didn’t like water but I’ve never seen it before.”

“What do you want from me?” Atsushi shuffled back and pushed himself up against the cage once more, desperate to much as much space between himself and the man as he could.

“Just the price on your head and a little entertainment along the way. See, with your regeneration I can do whatever I want and you’ll just bounce right back.” With that, he stacked the two glasses together and sauntered his way out. Atsushi began to scratch at his jaw, desperate to remove the feeling of the man's hand that lingered. He barely felt it when they ripped through the skin. He felt something wet and pulled his hand away only to see the nails that had sharpened into claws covered in blood. A sharp stinging sensation began to radiate through his skull as blood trickled down his face. He didn’t want to think about how he looked. The collar blocked his ability to look down but he knew his clothes were at least somewhat tattered by the cold that seeped through where holes hadn’t been before. Blood smeared across his face all down his front. He placed his hand down on the floor beside him and felt a slight sticky film. When he raised his hand he saw it covered in blood.

He held as still as he could as a yawn built up in his chest, the last thing he needed was to agitate the collar. His eyelids drooped slightly.

Throughout the torture and turmoil in the orphanage and throughout his life, Atsushi knew that he could rely on one thing, dreaming. Any way to distract himself, take him out of the horror that was his life. As a child, Atsushi was grateful for the Headmaster. He was grateful to the man that saved him from the world. One time after he had been locked in the cage for two days he spat at the Headmaster words he never had the courage to say before. The man simply stood there as the frown on his face deepened.

“The world is dangerous out there, especially for a small child like you. Do you remember what your parents did to you? This is heaven compared to that,” he had said. Atsushi shrunk in on himself from his steel glare. He didn’t remember his parents, didn’t remember what the Headmaster kept referencing. But his body didn’t forget. He never remembered seeing an adult drunk but he still curled up shaking in the corner of his cage when the adult in charge of watching him pulled out a flask. He still had the raised pink scar behind his left ear, no memory attached to it but the deep sense of mortal panic whenever someone broke a bottle. “On the streets, you would never have books, a place to sleep, or anything to eat. I so graciously gave all of that to you. I spend money on resources that could go to the other children. And I do all of that for you to turn around and insult my kindness?”

“I’m sorry,” He murmured as tears began to pour out.

“Louder.”

“I’m sorry!” A desperate shout rang out as the Headmaster looked down at him, lip curled in disappointment. Atsushi cried out in pain as his foot shot out and caught him in the ribs. He tumbled back into the cage behind him as black dots sparkled throughout his vision. The cage door slammed shut behind him and he choked back a pathetic sob.

“Perhaps more time will rid you of your attitude.”

“Please, please I’m sorry!” He begged desperately as the Headmaster turned to the stairs.

“Don’t beg, it’s unbecoming.” And with that, he ascended the stairs and shut the door behind him.

The only thing he ever found bliss in was leaving his reality. Letting his mind wander to somewhere far from where he truly was. There were many things he could thank the Headmaster for, mostly for things he needed to stay alive. He truly was in his debt. But learning to read was not one of them. He didn't understand why but he knew better than to question it lest the lessons end and books be taken away. The lessons didn't last long, only provided him with the basic concepts and let him figure out the rest, but it was all he needed. He spent each and every one of his spare moments tucked away with a book from the meager library. He had to hide them lest they be taken from him by the other children. He wanted to hate them, he really did, but he couldn't bring himself to. They only reflected the actions of the adults around them.

Those were the moments he lived for. When he could disconnect and go somewhere else. They didn't let him have books in the cage and he knew better than to ask. So he could only try to replicate that feeling but the cement walls and metal bars always invaded them. Sleep wasn't safe and dreams always caused more pain than relief

On good days he was able to zone out, do anything to distract himself from reality. But that never worked for too long and he had used up that time already. He wasn't prepared for the Headmaster to throw him back in. How long had it been? Hours? Days? It was impossible to tell by the one meager meal they gave him and intermittent cups of water.

That's when it came to him. A smile adorned his face as he realized how to pass the time. Sleep was off limits due to the dreams it caused, but there was no dreaming when he was unconscious. He never took notice of it until one of the adults asked him if he had good dreams after his head had been submerged in water until he passed out. It only confused him and only weeks later did he realize the man was trying to taunt him. All it did was draw his attention to the lack of dreams. There was no water to submerge himself into but there was another technique that had been used before that could work

Slowly he staggered to his feet. He took a long, deep breath as he closed his eyes. And then he fell. He thrust himself toward the ground and braced himself for impact. However, his treacherous hands instinctively jetted in front of him to cousin his fall. The shock ran through his fingers to his wrist with a flurry of pain. His hands gave out and he crumpled into a ball on the floor. Tears continued to pour down his face but he didn’t notice. He pushed himself off the floor again. He fell.

This time his head collided with the round in a sickening crunch. Blood oozed out onto the floor around him. A strangled scream tore its way through his throat as pain flooded his entire body, the edges of his vision dimmed slightly as black dots danced across his vision. It wasn’t enough.

Deep, soul-wracking sobs echoed throughout the small space as he stood once more. The room swayed around him as he tumbled into the cage wall. He gripped it tightly as he attempted to reorient himself but to no avail. Blood soaked through his clothes and he calmly wondered if this meant they would give him a new set. The hole in his sleeve had grown to the point he could stick his whole hand through it. He knew he should have felt something more, fear or maybe happiness. But instead, he just felt cold. He pushed himself forward, angled directly at the ground.

He felt cold but the wet puddle that cradled his face was warm. When had he hit the ground? He didn’t know. His leg twitched as a small spasm ran throughout his body. It didn’t hurt. Nothing hurt. There was a noise, a loud noise. A sob. Did it come from him? It had to, there was no one else in the room. But he couldn’t identify the noise that came from his own mouth. His eyelids drooped low as the world around him faded into darkness.

He lay there for god knows how long before he was rudely awoken by shouts and footsteps that raced towards the cage. He didn’t have a moment to process what was going on before he slipped into unconsciousness again. The Headmaster chained him to the wall after that.

He didn’t mean to. He really didn’t. Even though the man had kept him in a cage for god knows how long, Atsushi didn’t mean to.

“Our buyer backed out,” He had said, a hand in Atsushi’s hair once more and he glared daggers into his eyes. He could smell the faint tinge of alcohol on his breath. All playfulness vanished as frustration and anger took its place. “Said you were ‘too risky. Well, do they have any idea how much risk we took?” His voice echoed throughout the space as he shouted. Atsushi let out a small yelp of pain as the man shook his head and agitated the spikes. He reached over to the sheath on his hip and pulled out a wicked, long knife. Atsushi only had a moment to brace himself before he lazily drew it across his cheek, just enough force for the blood to spill out and trickle down his face.

“He wanted to test that famed ability of yours. See how much blood could be spilled before you passed out. Keep you awake as he removed your organs just to watch them regrow.” His heart stopped. Atsushi feared death, but he was also a coward. Only a coward would wish for death over life if he was forced to return to a life he once had. “Maybe I’ll do his dirty work instead.”

‘But perhaps, because of your youth, your special ability is locked deep within you. I can’t pull it out, even with my fog.’

He was a child again, arms strapped to a chair. Electric pulses shot throughout his body. Tears streamed down his face as he screamed in agony. The face of a twisted man above him. The Headmaster in the corner doing nothing to ease his pain.

Distantly he heard the sound of a sharp cry. His fingers felt wet. But they weren’t fingers anymore. Nails extended into sharp claws. White fur marred by splotches of red. Blood-matted fur. Something collided with his face. A fist? He couldn’t tell. Pain spread throughout his cheek but it was nothing to the feeling of the spikes that protruded through his throat. The strong scent of copper hit his nose. The red on his claws drip, drip, dripped down to join a small puddle on the floor. Had he done that? Footsteps, loud pounding footsteps headed towards him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the group to look up. The same shoes the man had before. He was back, when had he left?

A sharp pain. Something jabbed into his neck but he couldn’t find it in himself to move away. A voice screamed loud curses but they were lost to the fog that filled his brain. The man stormed off. He was alone again. One minute, maybe two, and his eyelids started to drop low. The world around him became dark as his head pulled down. All he could think about was that he likely wouldn't have to dream. And the world disappeared.

Voices, two of them, faintly reached his ears and pulled him out of unconsciousness that clung to him like a parasite, eager to take him back under. He forced his eyes open as he strained to make out their words muffled from behind the main door the man always exited from.

“See the original buyer backed out on us but I thought you’d be interested,” The man said as he thrust open the door and stepped inside. The man next to him nodded silently but looked absolutely uninterested. His dark flowed out behind him almost like it had a mind of its own and accented the white frill around his neck. Oh god.

Akutagawa’s eyes widened in surprise as they caught his own. Atsushi froze. Akutagawa had always made his desire to have Atsushi dead by his hand explicitly clear. And that would be the best situation. He feared death but he also feared the hungry look of desire in Mori’s eyes whenever he saw him, and he knew enough about the man to know what he wanted. He hadn’t survived Shibusawa just to go back under a knife wielded by a man fascinated with the way he bled.

“What is this?” Akutagawa’s voice, laced with venom, echoed throughout the room and inside Atsushi’s mind. He tried to squirm away from his piercing gaze but found his hands bound to the cage wall, just above his head.

“The goods I told you about,” The man said cheerfully. Atsushi couldn’t help but notice that he walked with a slight limp and he could vaguely make out white bandages underneath the hem of his shirt.

“We just had to add the chains around his hands. Didn’t want to risk the spikes on the collar going completely through his throat if he fell over.”

Akutagawa looked over to the man with a look Atsushi had never seen before. It was similar to the one he saw when he picked up Akutagawa's pain around Dazai and thrust it back in his face. Even from his distance away, he felt afraid for the man. Rashomon shot out. Black tendrils pierced through the man and lifted him high up into the air before he even had a chance to scream. They ripped out of him with a disgusting squelch and the man crumpled to the floor, and that’s when he started to scream. Akutagawa looked down at him as he kicked the sole of his shoe into the man’s head and the screams stopped.

He turned back to Atsushi. Rashomon sliced the bars on the cage and they crashed to the ground leaving a large hole in its place.

“When I heard you were missing I thought you were pathetic, but this is something else.” He stepped into the cage and Atsushi flinched away, his knees pulled up to his chest. He still didn’t have the energy to sit up. Whatever they gave him still tried to pull him back under. Maybe if he made himself as small as possible Akutagawa would get even more disappointed and he’d make it quick. There was nothing he could do to fight it, only to accept his fate. He saw the red glow around his coat and squeezed his eyes tight in anticipation. Something rushed past his ear and tousled his hair and braced himself for the pain. But it never came. Instead, he felt something metal hit his back. The chains that once held him to the wall fell slack. His eyes snapped open in awe as he exhaled a sigh of relief.

“There, now I’ll call your agency and have them come pick up your mess.

“No,” His voice, which he intended to shout, was more of a pathetic whimper.

“Well, the other option is me leaving you here which I am not very keen on. So either you give me one good reason why I should not call Dazai-san right now and I may allow you to walk yourself out.”

“I can’t give them any ideas,” He said frantically and Akutagawa froze, eyes laced with confusion.

“Please Akutagawa, please.” He was flat-out begging at that point. Large ugly tears ran down his face, down his neck, and onto the spikes. The salt aggravated the wounds which dripped trapped down his neck.

“Jinko, Jinko you need to calm down. First, this needs to come off. Atsushi braced himself as Rashomon cut through the lock on the collar. He felt a little foolish at that. He hadn’t even considered how the collar was placed on him, to begin with. All he had to do was slice the lock and he would have been out of it. However, it most likely would have been put on tighter and harder to escape.

Blood poured like the floodgates of heaven as the spikes exited his neck. He grabbed at the sides and held them in place as securely as he could, however in his weakened state he knew it wouldn’t last long. He could already feel it as his fingers began to give way. Akutagawa looked upon in horror as he struggled to put his thoughts, which were becoming more sluggish by the minute, into words.

“Tiger, I’ll be fine,” He choked out. The taste of copper filled his mouth as blood rushed in. It dripped out the corner of his mouth to start but quickly spilled over as he began to choke and gag, desperate for air. “No Agency, please.”

Finally, his arms gave way and dropped to the floor. The collar ripped out of his neck and crashed to the floor with a thud. He thought it would hurt, but it didn’t. Blood gushed out from his neck and he collapsed to the floor. Akutagawa’s frantic voice met his ears but the words were blurred, slurred together. With all his might he turned his face to meet his. Akutagawa's eyes were large, filled with a concern he’d never seen before. He wanted to tell him everything would be ok, that he didn’t need to worry. But when he opened his mouth the blood that had built up flowed out. Instead, the corners of his lips twitched up into a smile, all he could muster. And then, darkness.

‘Tiger, I’ll be fine. No Agency, please, His last words echoed throughout Akutagawa's mind as he looked down in horror. Atsushi lay in a pool of his own blood that spread out with every second. He didn’t even notice when it reached his shoes. Bright red blood squirted out from his neck from where the arteries had been punctured. His skin grew paled with each second that passed as the life drained out of him.

Dazai hated how he planned, or rather his lack of it. How he charged into every situation without careful planning in advance, and how he trusted his instincts over careful consideration. But he didn’t even have his instincts to rely on as he stood frozen in shock. On the one hand, he wanted to call the Agency and leave. The Tiger would heal him. If he disposed of the rest of the men in the foolish attempt of a gang capable of handling the fire they toyed with then there would be no danger for him. But on the other, the look of pure desperation in his eyes as he asked, begged Akutagawa not to take him back burned into his mind. He of all people knew what Dazai was capable of. He knew the danger an organization would bring if they found any weakness to exploit. The Agency didn’t seem the type to do so. He saw the way they looked after one another, the way they helped instead of hurt even when he knew the situation would be better handled if they chose the latter. But he also saw the fear in the other's eyes. They never talked about their pasts, but it was clear something had happened to bring that sort of terror. So against his better judgment, he made up his mind.

Now there was a new dilemma. Akutagawa was never a strong person and he never claimed to be, but he needed to get Atsushi from the cage back to the car at least. And even though Atsushi had been confident that the Tiger would heal the injuries he knew it would be smart to stabilize the neck to prevent further damage. Carefully he bent down and began to shuffle his arms underneath the other. He cringed slightly as the blood soaked through his clothes in an instant. The shirt would have to be thrown out and it could take hours to get all the blood out of his jacket, but he’d deal with that later.

Akutagawa was never a strong person, but even drenched in blood Atsushi weighed less than he knew he should have. He felt his ribs through the shirt and it seemed like he was more skin and bones than muscle. Rashomon cradled his head to prevent movement as they walked. It was a strange feeling to have something that had previously only been used for destruction used in such a gentle manner.

The walk out of the warehouse was surprisingly easier than he thought it would have been. The other men who patrolled the area didn’t even have a chance to scream, much less draw their weapons before Rashomon lashed out. For a reason he wasn’t sure of, he made sure none of the injuries were lethal. Even though every fiber of his being wanted to run through their skulls until they bled out alone and afraid. He just knew the agony it would have brought Atsushi to know that lives were lost in his defense.

The sleek black car waited in an alleyway just beyond the sector of buildings the warehouse had been near. They were stupid enough to try and sell a valuable asset to both the Agency and the Port Mafia, whether they wanted to acknowledge it or not, but not stupid enough to do it on Port Mafia territory. It was further inland on the very edge of city limits, away from the Agency and Mafia. Akutagawa carefully, if not somewhat awkwardly, clambered into the car. Careful so as to not hit Atsushi against anything or jostle him as much as possible. The last thing he needed was for the injuries to worsen.

He told the driver the address with as much confidence as he could muster, careful as to not give away his fear. The driver didn’t acknowledge the situation, only nodded, and started to drive. If there were a few people who were truly trustworthy in the Port Mafia it would be the drivers. They knew addresses. They knew where people lived and where their families do. They knew all the secret meetings people hid from even those within the organization. And they knew just how disposable they were to keep all of those things to themselves. Although Akutagawa always gave them an address a few streets down from his actual apartment for as trustworthy as they are there was only a handful of people he could truly trust with that information.

The ride was somehow too long and faster than he thought as adrenaline continued to pulse through his veins. He wrapped Roashomon around Atsushi’s neck carefully, tight enough to stop the bleeding but not tight enough to cut off any oxygen. There was nothing more he could do but watch intensely as his chest rose and fell, something that became fainted with each minute that passed.

When they arrived he pushed the door open and exited first before he shifted Atsushi out of the car. He nodded to the driver and the man took off without a second to spare, likely eager to clean up the blood before it stained the leather seats too badly. However, in his line of work, it certainly wasn’t the first time. Akutagawa had never been more grateful for the cover of darkness the night brought him. He didn’t want to think about the sort of attention they would have gathered, and that was the last thing he wanted.

The apartment building wasn’t the nicest the Mafia could have awarded them, but they didn’t care. Never in a million years would Akutagawa have imagined he would have lived in such a place. An apartment with ample room for both Gin and him, electricity, plumbing, and more. There was a side staircase only used for maintenance that they were allowed to use so as to not draw any unwanted attention. However, the few other tenets knew better than to ask any questions. The Port Mafia paid the landlord plenty to not rent out the floor they stayed on so the other tenets lived on the first floor and the second was vacant. He also hadn’t minded when they installed extra security at both the doors to enter the building but also to their apartment.

“Gin, get the medical supplies,” He didn’t pause to take off his shoes at the door as he usually would, only vaguely aware of the blood he tracked in with him. He wasted no time to get to the bathroom as he lay Atsushi down on the cool, tile floor and took a deep breath as he tried to take in the injuries. His neck was such a mess of blood he couldn’t even tell where the skin was and injuries began. He discarded his coat to the side and rolled up his sleeves with no care for the red stains that soaked through them. Gin knelt down by him silently as he hesitantly began to prod around his neck.

“Gauze here,” He said as he retracted his hand from where his fingers had sunken into the hole that has significantly shrunken through time. Gin replaced them instantly with a large wad of gauze packed tightly. But gauze alone would do little, not when the veins inside had been punctured and expelled copious amounts of blood. “Do we have clamps?”

Gin nodded as she began to rifle through the large and all-encompassing kit they kept for emergencies such as this. Dazai taught them many things, many of which they used in their day-to-day life. But there was one thing they learned that they held with them on every mission, every time they returned home. The lesson that caused them both to have more medical knowledge than those around them. The Port Mafia doctors are not to be trusted. Avoid them at all costs, and no matter what? Don’t call Mori.

“Should we call the Agency’s doctor?”

“No,” He answered curtly and without hesitation. “He explicitly asked that we do not. And he said the Tiger would heal most of it. We just need to give him enough time for it to work.”

“If he dies,”

“I know,” The Agency would not stop until they had hunted him down. They would not stop until he had paid for having a hand in his death, taking him away instead of to the Agency and to Yosano. He wanted Atsushi dead. Did he? He had to. But not like this. He could only imagine the look Dazai would give him with such a failure. “He said that he would be fine, I trust him.”

Hesitantly he removed a wad of bloodied gauze as Gin pressed her fingers into the hole gently until she found where the artery had been punctured and placed the clasp over it. Carefully they worked around the neck until they were somewhat confident each arterial and veinous bleed and been clamped shut. Hopefully, it would aid the Tiger in closing them.

Hopefully.

Atsushi’s skin had long since ashened. Akutagawa didn’t know how much blood he had lost, how much more blood he could lose. He said he’d be fine, that the Tiger would take over. But he saw how it worked, the way it slowly knit the skin back together. The emphasis on slowly. At what point would it stop? At what point would the last breath leave his lungs and no ability could bring it back?

“He’s not breathing,”

Three little words and Akutagawa froze. His hands laced together and found their way over his chest. A static in his brain blocked out everything; everything but the cadence Dazai had beat into his brain. He didn’t know how many men died underneath his hands but he would be damned if there was another. His arms shook slightly as he locked them straight and began to push down. His body was thoroughly exhausted, not used to the amount of strength he had to exert., but he couldn’t think about that. He couldn’t.

Hands rested on top of his as he came up from the rescue breath and ready to return his hands to their place. Gin gently pushed them aside before she began to start compressions. He moved away from his side and around towards his head that he began to carefully cradle in his hands to support the neck. The tips of his fingers rested just above one of the clamps. The faint pulse thudded against his fingers and he wanted to cry from relief each time. Then a jolt.

Atsushi jolted with a gasp as his eyes shot open. Instantly his chest started to convulse with coughs that rattled the gauze dangerously. Gin stopped compressions and shifted her hands underneath him. She rolled him onto his side as Akutagawa positioned his arms and legs into the recovery position. Each cough spewed more blood onto the floor but he didn’t care. His eyes were open.

“W-where?” He managed to get out as he struggled for air. A desperate, panicked look in his eyes that had never seemed so beautiful before. Akutagawa tucked his fingers underneath his chin and lifted it up slightly. He wasn’t sure if it would open his airways given the situation and position but it had to be better than nothing.

“You are at my and Gin’s apartment. You are very injured. Do not try to talk,” Akutagawa said firmly. Atsushi nodded, a faint twitch of his head. The panicked look faded from his eyes and was replaced with that of pure, utter exhaustion.

“Do you remember what happened?” Akutagawa asked and tapped the hand next to Atsushi’s head. “Tap once for yes, twice for no. Do you understand?” His hand rested on the floor for a moment before it faintly rose and fell again.

“Good. Do you remember what happened?” One tap. Gin began to clean up the blood around them before it turned into a stain, blood always had a way of being difficult to remove.

“Is the Tiger helping?” Atsushi had once mentioned how it felt. The sensation of his own skin being knit back together. One tap.

“Do you want me to call Dazai-san or your doctor?” He asked again. One tap, two, three. Atsushi’s hand frantically beat up and down again until Akutagawa slid his own hand underneath to prevent further injury from the hard force he used to hit it against the ground. Whatever fear that had shown before clearly still lingered. It didn’t make sense, he saw how the Agency treated their injured. However, he knew the fear brought on by the thought of Dazai’s disapproval, by the thought of being before him in such a vulnerable state. While Atsushi never appeared to be afraid of Dazai, Akutagawa still saw the subtle flinch whenever the man’s hand drew close to his head.

“Alright, I will not contact them.” Atsushi’s hand relaxed into his own. He should let go, he knew he should let go. But he knew he would never get a moment like this again.

Akutagawa was no fool. He knew the name of the deep, uncomfortable ache in his chest whenever he saw Atsushi’s wide, warm smile. Not that he would ever say it out loud of course. He didn’t say it when he found out, though he wasn’t the one who fully put the dots together.

“Love,” Nakahara, or Chuuya as he requested to be called, had said. A bitter smile on his face as he took a long sip of a drink Akutagawa couldn’t pronounce. Something Italian maybe? The bar empty for everyone but them and the bartender who seemed rather interested in the back when he saw them come in and disappeared there whenever he could. They had a bit of a reputation after all, even in a Mafia-associated bar. Chuuya said that he was new. Akutagawa didn’t want to think about how often he had to have visited to know.

“What?” He choked slightly on his drink as he looked over at Chuuya in shock.

“The tense feeling in your throat, chest, or stomach when they laugh. You watch them wherever you're near them. You tell yourself it’s to keep an eye on them but in reality, you can’t seem to draw your attention anywhere else.” Chuuya wasn’t looking at him, his eyes fixed on the bottles behind the bar yet Akutagawa knew he didn’t see them. His voice thick with bitterness. Thick with anger. Thick with a devastating love. “And no matter what you do, you can’t stop fucking thinking about them.”

“How do you make it go away?” He asked and Chuuya let out a short laugh.

“That’s the real question isn’t it,” Chuuya took another sip before he held out his glass.

“What are you toasting to?” Akutagawa raised his own glass till they met with a soft clink that resonated throughout the room.

“To love, may yours not be as doomed as mine.”

Love, the word looped through his head as he helped Gin remove the clamps once they were sure the ruptures had been stitched back together. It was much harder than the first time, however. Being awake Atsushi felt everything that happened and they had no painkillers to offer. They knew too well the damage a vice like that could cause. He didn’t cry out or try to squirm away as they pulled the clamps from inside of him and changed the soiled gauze for fresh bandages. He only squeezed his eyes tight and attempted to keep his breaths as even as he could. Although Akutagawa could still hear the faint rattle of liquid still in his lungs. He could only hope it didn’t bring more issues later but there was only so much they could do.

He passed out again only moments after they redressed the last wound. And as bad as he knew it was, Akutagawa couldn’t deny the fact that he was a little grateful. Otherwise, the next part would have been much more uncomfortable for both of them.

Gin brought some soft clothes to replace the soiled ones. It was perfect that they were near the same height so the clothes fit well enough. He’d never seen Atsushi in that much black before, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. As he changed him Gin cleaned the blood off his skin. His scarred and marred skin that showed a story more descriptive than he tried to let on. It was difficult to get the blood out of his hair without using a sink or bathtub, but with a bowl and plenty of ruined hand towels, they got all they could out of it for the time being.

“He can rest in my bed until he wakes up,” Gin shot him a look that he pointedly decided to ignore as they began to awkwardly carry him out of the bathroom supported between each other. Luckily his bedroom was right next to the bathroom so they didn’t need to go far. He grimaced slightly at the idea of laying his still blood-stained head down onto the pillowcase but he knew how to remove it and they could always replace it. Gin looked at him for a moment before she nodded and left the room, faintly he remembered her mentioning something about a night mission with the Black Lizards. He could only hope that the sudden emergency wouldn’t cause her to be late. Although Hirotsu was always more lenient with his closest subordinates.

He looked over at Atsushi once more. His light hair was a stark contrast to the black blankets he rested comfortably on top of. Akutagawa suddenly became aware of how out of place he looked. Someone so focused on his life in the light resting in his dark room, blackout curtains to keep the light out. Although there wasn’t much to show it was his room, with no pictures or sentimental objects. Just a bed, desk, a closet with its doors shut, and a small refrigerator. It had been a present from Higuchi to keep in his room after he made a passing comment about not wanting to leave his work and walk all the way to the kitchen for water. He thought it a waste to keep buying bottled water but Gin kept it refreshed and he found that he didn’t mind. But as uncomfortably as he was he was not about to wake him. So he sat back in his chair and opened his novel to where he had left off. Something to keep his mind off the way it stuttered when he looked at how peaceful Atsushi was.

He didn’t know how long it had been when a faint ring cut through the air. He hurried back to the bathroom where his phone, now long forgotten, buzzed against the tile floor. The second he saw who it was he picked up instantly.

“Akutagawa-Kun” Dazai’s cheerful voice cut through the speaker. But it wasn’t correct. There was something underneath it. It lacked the typical energy and was muffled slightly as if he didn’t want the call to be overheard. Although he was likely reading into it too much. He tended to do that with Dazai, hanging on to every word he says like a lifeline.

“Yes,” He said curtly. Faintly he could hear other voices on the other end, too many of them for him to make out anyone in particular. Likely who Dazai did not wish to be overheard by.

“I’ve got a little bit of a situation. See Atsushi has been missing for a little while now and we just found a large cage covered in blood that trails out of the building. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?” There it was. He could make Dazai proud, tell him of the good thing he had done and deliver Atsushi to him. Maybe then Dazai would see him, really see him and everything he could do. That he’s not the same child, pathetic enough to be cast away in return for someone better. But he couldn’t help but remember the frantic look in Atsushi’s eyes as he begged Akutagawa not to tell them. The way he shook as he held the collar for just long enough to get the words out. The frantic tapping of ‘no’ over and over.

“I do not know what you are referring to,” He said finally. Blood rushed in his ears and he closed his eyes in preparation for his disappointment.

“What a shame,” Dazai finally said with an exaggerated sigh. “If you did know where he was and he’s safe then that's all I can ask for.”

“I do not know where he is,” He said. A blatant lie and they both knew that. But it was in any attempt for Dazai not to come by, or even worse one of his coworkers.

“Well if you did tell him he has a few days off to recuperate and be back at the office when he can. Oh and Akutagawa?”

“Yes?”

“Take care of him.” Then he hung up. Akutagawa looked down at the phone in confusion. He figured that eventually, they would figure out his involvement either from the marks left by Rashomon in the steel cage or by any of the scum he so mercifully left alive. He expected Dazai and his coworkers to burst into his apartment to rescue Atsushi from him. He wasn’t expecting that although he didn’t complain. The apartment they had was nice and he didn’t enjoy the thought of having to move.

Faintly he heard the rustle of blankets and he whipped around and hurried to the bedside. Atsushi’s eyes were open, the beautiful colors on display. He blinked twice at the sight of him He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by loud coughs that tore their way out of his throat. Akutagawa grabbed a spare cloth he kept in his bedside table and pressed it up to his face. A mixture of blood and saliva smeared across it. He quickly crossed the room to the refrigerator and retrieved a bottle of water. Atsushi reached out greedily and began to drink before he suddenly froze. He pulled the bottle away and looked at Akutagawa suspiciously. Akutagawa sighed before he reached out and took a small sip himself.

“You’re no use to me dead of dehydration. Now drink, you’ve lost a lot of blood.” Atsushi shifted up onto his elbow as he attempted to sit up. Akutagawa thought briefly about moving to help him but he thought it best to stay where he was at least for the moment.

“What do you want from me,” He said quietly. To hold your hand. To brush my fingers through your uneven, choppy hair. To maybe even give you a-

“Dazai-San made us partners. I am only doing what he would have wanted.” He pushed away the traitorous thoughts as he spoke but they still lingered in the back of his mind. Atsushi’s shoulders dropped slightly as the tension left them. Akutagawa was surprised he even had the energy in the first place.

“Where am I?”

“You are at my and Gin’s apartment. Do you remember what happened?” Atsushi’s eyes slid slightly out of focus as his breath hitched slightly. He nodded slowly, more of a slight twitch as the skin around the bandages pulled tight. Akutagawa didn’t know whether it was better that he remembered or worse that he did. He had no idea what occurred in the cage however he knew how vicious the scum of the city could be. Especially if they got their hands on something, someone, as valuable as Atsushi. He felt his jaw clench tight at the thought. Maybe it would have been better to kill them after all. Nonetheless, the Agency had them now. There was a saying in the Port Mafia that the biggest misfortune for Dazai’s enemies was the fact that they were his enemies. An old saying yet one that did not lose its truth, and applied to the rest of the Agency as well.

“Can I look at the bandages?” He asked. The bleeding had likely stopped and he couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable they had to be, especially just after having a collar removed. Atsushi nodded hesitantly and he reached forward with careful hands before he gently touched one of the bandages.

The reaction was instant. The second his hands got close to his neck Atsushi flung himself backward. He toppled over the side of the bed and landed on the floor with a loud thud. Akutagawa quickly darted to the other side as Atsushi shoved himself into the corner with a strangled sob. His knees came up to his chest as his hands gripped his hair so tightly Akutagawa was worried it would rip right out.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” He repeated between sobs. His breaths were frantic and Akutagawa became worried he might pass out again. Slowly Akutagawa came close. He knelt down to his level and put his hands up to show no harm. It would be an understatement to say that he was out of his expertise. He could get him to safety and patch up his wounds, but comfort was not something he knew well. Kyouka only cried once. He gave her a black eye, but she stopped crying. It’s what Dazai had done for him, but he knew that would not work here. Atsushi would know how, Atsushi would know exactly what to say, what to do to calm the person in question. Always his better half.

“Jinko, Atsushi! You need to breathe,” With as carefully telegraphed motions as he could he reached forward and wrapped his hand around Atsushi’s. Atsushi flinched slightly and tried to pull away but he held on gently. After a moment he pulled the hand closer to himself and rested it on his own chest. He tried to remember how Gin would do it when they were children. His violent coughs turned to panic as he couldn’t breathe which only exacerbated the problem. She hadn’t done it in years but he remembered it well, one of the only soft touches he had ever received. He inhaled slowly and held it for a moment before he exhaled. The deliberate breaths tickled his throat slightly and he pulled Atsushi’s hand away for a moment to cough into the crook of his elbow before he brought it back.

Slowly but surely Atsushi’s fingers flexed against his slightly as his eyes began to scan around the room, his breathing somewhat normal. As his eyes drifted to Akutagawa’s they widened and he pulled his hand away quickly.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” He said as he curled in on himself once more. His face somewhat flushed as he looked away in embarrassment. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

“It is ok,” Akutagawa said, somewhat awkwardly. The bandages shouldn’t stay on any longer. It could be good to have blood-stained bandages when there was no wound that needed it, but Atsushi seemed more than uncomfortable at the moment. “Would you like some tea?”

“What?” Atsushi looked at him in confusion.

“I said, would you like some tea? Or was your hearing damaged as well?” The insult felt normal on his tongue, a situation he knew how to handle. Yet lacked the typical bark. It likely wasn’t the best way to communicate, much less with someone he had thoughts and feelings for widely outside of his comfort range. But it seemed to work for Chuuya, although he wasn’t sure if he was the best person to base romantic advice off of seeming how every time he interacted with Dazai he seemed like he wanted to kill and kiss him simultaneously.

“Tea would be nice,” Atsushi finally responded. Akutagawa wasted no time rising to his feet. For a moment he considered helping Atsushi up. He may be still weak from the blood loss, he reasoned, but it didn’t seem wise to approach him from a high vantage point in his current state. He turned to the kitchen when he heard a slight thud. He whipped around to see Atsushi on his feet, his hand pressed up against the wall as he blinked aggressively. But after a moment he seemed to stabilize and followed Akutagawa into the kitchen. There weren’t many things he could offer. Comfort was not something that came naturally to him, his hands had always been made to hurt, not to help. But he could offer tea.

“What kind would you like?” He asked as he filled up the tea kettle and put it onto the stove.

“What kind do you have?” He crossed over to one of the cabinets and opened it to reveal a wide variety of options. He turned to look at Atsushi who looked upon him with wide eyes. He took a moment to scan through the different kinds of teas, teeth slightly buried into his lip as he appeared more and more overwhelmed with each second that passed.

“I am having fig tea,” Akutagawa finally stated after a moment of silence and retrieved the small, metal box. It had been a present from Gin. She took to their newfound wealth well and would often surprise him with little things she got while out in the town. While he didn’t know Atsushi’s preferences perfectly he couldn’t imagine him as someone who didn’t like sweet things.

“I’ll have that as well,” Atsushi said, relief clear in his voice. There was another pause as they waited for the tea to reach a boiling point but it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable like he thought it would be. Instead, it felt rather…domestic. He grabbed two grey ceramic mugs and poured the tea in before the bags, the proper time to steep be damned. He never paid that much attention to it, instead opting for getting all the flavor he could. Atsushi took the cup with both hands and nodded in thanks before he took a hesitant sip. His eyes lit up slightly at the taste and Akutagawa knew he had chosen well.

“Can we take care of the bandages now?” A statement veiled as a question. It wasn’t of utmost importance to check them, however they needed to know if the Tiger had finished healing and if so needed to clean on the remainder of his blood. Atsushi nodded slowly, his shoulders dropped as he tensed slightly but followed Akutagawa to the bathroom nonetheless.

Akutagawa reminded himself to get something for Gin as he saw the spotless condition the bathroom was in. He knew the effects of seeing your own bloodstains and they weren’t pleasant, especially not in an already heightened state. He put the toilet seat down and gestured for Atsushi to sit as he retrieved a few hand towels from underneath the sink. Atsushi fiddled with his cup as Akutagawa leaned down. He gasped slightly as his fingers brushed the bandages once more but didn’t move away. Violent tremors ran through his body that Akutagawa tried to ignore as he hesitantly peeled away some of the medical tape used to hold the mess of gauze and bandage together. The skin was covered in dark red that flaked off slightly as the bandage was removed. So much blood he couldn’t tell if the wound had been healed or not. Carefully he prodded the area with his middle finger. He froze slightly as Atsushi let out a stifled sob, worried he had hurt him, but upon closer examination, there was no such wound left.

Slowly but surely he pulled all the bandages away from his skin until there was nothing left but a neck as bloody as a massacre. Tears streamed down Atsushi’s face and he stared off into the shower, into nothingness once more. Akutagawa raised the mug to his lips and he took a small sip. The warmth seemed to draw him back into the moment as his eyes flickered down to the mug and up to Akutagawa’s face.

“I need to get a new mug,” He said finally, the tense silence shattered. Akutagawa placed the soiled bandages in the trash and turned to the sink where he started running the towels under lukewarm water. “Mine has a chip.”

“Does the Agency salary not pay you enough to afford two mugs?”

“It’s not that,” Atsushi started before he looked down at the mug with an expression Akutagawa didn’t know how to interpret. “I just can’t spend that kind of money.” Oh.

“I understand,” Akutagawa said gravely. He remembered those days. The days when each paycheck was tucked safely away. Most untouched and the ones that were only paid for the most basic of necessities. “It took Gin and me time to adjust to having money to spare.”

“Really?” Why was he telling him this? Akutagawa didn’t need to, he didn’t need to do any of this. But instead of the tense protectiveness, he felt whenever he had to discuss anything about himself, it felt comforting. It was information that could easily be used against him but at that moment he didn’t even care to realize that the man he spoke to was supposed to be his enemy.

“When Dazai-San took us in we had nothing. It took years to finally understand we were not at risk of going back to that state.” Atsushi looked up at him with shock, as surprised as he was at his openness.

“When Dazai found me I was basically moments away from starvation. I refuse to go back to that state. If something happens with the Agency I have to have a plan.” He said firmly and Akutagawa nodded. He kneeled down slightly with one of the towels in hand which he carefully moved forward until they made contact with his neck. Instantly the white cloth turned red from the amount of caked-on blood and he had to scrub lightly at an area just to see skin. Atsushi opened his mouth to speak before he shut it tightly. Akutagawa looked at him for a moment but simply tilted his head at an angle with the tips of his fingers to better get at the blood underneath his jaw.

“Why are you doing this?” He finally asked. The words tumbled out of his mouth quickly. If Akutagawa hadn’t been anticipating the question since he awoke he wasn’t sure if he could have comprehended it. And even though he knew it had been coming, he still couldn’t find an adequate response. Well, an adequate response that wouldn’t humiliate him to no end; even if it was the truth.

“Dazai-San made us partners,” He repeated, the same answer earlier. “I am only doing what he would have wanted.”

“No, why are you doing this after what you saw?” That stopped him dead in his tracks. He pulled away in confusion as Atsushi swallowed nervously and began to shake slightly.

“I do not understand.”

“Why are you helping me after seeing what I am?” He all but yelled as the pent-up emotions flowed out before him. Tears streamed down his face as he jerked away from Akutagawa as he wrapped his arms around himself. “Why are you treating me this way?”

“Would you like me to stop?” Akutagawa finally said, confusion clear in his voice as he tried to comprehend the situation in front of him.

“I want you to stop pretending!” His voice louder with each word.

“Stop pretending?”

“Stop pretending that you care!” He froze. If anything today was the one day he hadn’t been pretending, he thought that was clear. He never talked about his life, especially not about Gin. Hell, most people didn’t even know they were related. But maybe it wasn’t enough. Maybe his best wouldn’t be enough to prove that he cared, that he cared too much to know what to do with it all. But as he froze in a state of spiraling and confusion, Atsushi continued.

“Stop pretending that you still see me the same way as before! I know you don’t, no one does. Seeing me in the cage changed something and I know that just please, god, stop pretending.” He broke. Yells diminished to sentences broken by sobs. The violent tremors in his chest and shoulders shook each word that he forced out. His hands clenched into fists so tight Akutagawa knew his sharp nails had to have pierced skin.

“And I didn’t want you to call Dazai because I didn’t want him to see, everyone, to see. But they probably already have and now I have to go back to them. And I can’t go back in, I can’t.”

Unsure of what to do Akutagawa did what seemed right. Gently he wrapped his arms around Atsushi’s upper torso like he had seen people do before. On the rare occasion that he was involved in a hug, it was always on the receiving end and he could count the number of times that had occurred in the past decade. He was all too aware of how he awkwardly pinned Atsushi’s arms to his side and shifted upwards slightly so as not to pin his arms so intensely, although he supposed that is what a hug was. Atsushi’s head found its way to the crook of his neck as he sobbed. Akutagawa didn’t know what to do with his hands at first and they just stuck out slightly before he did what he had always secretly wanted to do. His hand slipped into Atsushi’s soft hair as he cradled the back of his head.

“I do not know what people have done to you in the past, but I promise you that the same fate will not return. The Agency will not see any different of you.”

“But I’m out of control!” He argued although he seemed more and more resistant as though he wasn’t sure how he wanted Akutagawa to answer. “The only reason I’m not in a prison is because of the President’s ability. But what if they decide that’s not enough? What if they get ideas?”

“Then I will personally hunt them down one by one.” The words left his mouth before he even processed what he was saying. Atsushi pulled away and looked into his eyes confused. “Not even the Port Mafia treats those so differently based on their ability. And if they do, which I am sure they will not, I will not let that go by. They are worried.”

“What?” Atsushi asked, surprised. It was all he could do to not sigh in exasperation, he truly had convinced himself of something so clearly untrue.

“Dazai-san called from the warehouse. They saw the cage and blood, he wanted to know if you were safe. From what I heard in the background it seemed like the rest of the Agency had come as well.”

“Why? Why would they all go out of their way?”

“Because they care for you!” And Akutagawa knew that all too well. He knew the way that Dazai looked at Atsushi, a fond look in his eye he had never managed to earn. He heard Atsushi mention all the little things Kunikida had done to help him settle into adult life rather than leaving him to figure it out on his own. He saw the place they gave him to live, the chances they let him have no matter how many times he messed up. All the things that once infuriated him to his very core, that he dare get all the things Akutagawa never did. But that didn’t matter, not right now.

“I can’t go back there.”

“Well they gave you a few days off of work before you are expected to return but I would not put it off any longer. The hesitation only makes things worse,” Something he knew firsthand. The waiting was always worse than the punishment itself. The unknowing. Something that only got worse when Dazai left and he started to work more under people like Chuuya or Hirotsu. He knew what it was like to anticipate a punishment that wouldn’t come, but he also did not want the Agency to burst into his home looking for Atsushi like he knew they would. Once again he found himself in Dazai’s debt as he was the only one who kept the Agency on a warpath to find their missing coworker and missing friend.

He picked up the cloth and began to lightly scrub at the area once more. Atsushi’s tears had finally come to a stop but it was clear there was something else he wanted to say.

“Can I stay here? Until then I mean?” He’d never heard the other so quiet before, so hesitant and unsure of himself. But Akutagawa only continued, something he’d already had plenty of time to think about while he had been asleep.

“You might still have side effects from the blood loss,” He finally said. “It would be unwise to have you by yourself.” It was a poor excuse and they both knew that, but Atsushi didn’t call him on it. Instead, he only nodded in understanding with a small smile on his face.

It wasn’t a good idea, in fact, one of the worst Akutagawa had in a while. Chuuya wished him a love that wasn’t as doomed as his own, yet there was no way it would end well. He knew how love ended, how love between two people from opposing forces. It only ended in pain, in misery; but at that moment he didn’t care. They weren’t enemies, weren’t important parts of two rival organizations, weren’t two people haunted by pasts that nipped at their heels no matter how fast they ran. But rather two teenagers in a bathroom, cleaning off the pain from the world around them. It didn’t even matter to Akutagawa if the feelings would be reciprocated, although part of him wondered if they already were. Because right then, it seemed for a moment that everything could be ok.