Chapter Text
Third-person POV.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Fukuzawa began, standing at the head of the table where all the Agency members were gathered.
"Why were we called in so suddenly?" Junichiro was the first to ask.
"We’ve identified a possible suspect behind this whole ability incident," Kunikida replied, pulling up a presentation that was projected onto the white screen. "His name is Yumi Hatake. He has ties to the International Police and recently arrived in Yokohama. He’s already been accused of at least fifteen homicides—with other suspicions pending—as well as trafficking hospital-grade drugs like morphine."
"Wow, the police must really love him, huh?" Dazai began, sarcasm dripping from his words; he was about to crack a joke about overdosing and killing himself when he was interrupted.
"Is there anything to substantiate this suspicion?" Yosano asked.
"That’s where I come in," Ranpo said, a smile plastered on his lips—a somewhat dramatic entrance—before he switched the slide to a video.
One of the videos showed Atsushi shortly before he disappeared; the footage captured both Akutagawa and Atsushi.
Everyone fell silent, focusing on the screen.
They were walking calmly down a dark street; their faces weren't clearly visible due to the low quality, but it was obvious who they were. The camera recorded the exact moment the argument broke out, showing Atsushi turning his back on Akutagawa—ignoring his shouts—and heading toward an alleyway while covering his ears and yelling something, as if calling Akutagawa an idiot or finding him annoying.
"This is the last footage we have of Atsushi before he vanished—a timeline confirmed by the 'Mafia's Dog,'" Ranpo said, adjusting his glasses. "We managed to get footage from another camera that shows something interesting."
The following camera captures Atsushi bumping into a short, brown-haired figure and being comforted by them—at least, that is what the gestures imply; the camera has no audio.
"Judging by the body language, I don't think it was the first time Atsushi and Hatake had met." Ranpo’s expression hardens.
After they disappear from view, Akutagawa appears on camera, clearly searching for something; then, Ranpo pauses the footage.
"This is the part where Akutagawa showed us the blood—where the only thing he found was a pool of blood, but no sign of Atsushi," Kunikida points out.
"Yes, except for the fact that the bloodstain analysis reveals a physical struggle that doesn't match what we were shown. There was a pool of blood on the floor—drier than the rest—that showed no signs of a struggle, yet later on, new signs of a fight appeared; the spatter patterns on the wall suggest the other person was the same height as Atsushi, or nearly so."
He rewound the recording to the point where Hatake had been seen.
"The suspect is much shorter than Atsushi, so the blood pattern doesn't make sense," Yosano interjected.
"Yes, unless..."
"Unless Akutagawa is hiding something..." Dazai leaned back in his chair, watching the scene unfold before him.
Kyoka listened to the conversation in silence, her small hands resting on her kimono and clutching the fabric as a growing sense of frustration welled up inside her.
"Well, we need to have a talk with Akutagawa," Junichiro stated, already rising from the table.
"Hold it. A direct approach might just make the Mafia suspicious of our already fragile alliance; let's get something more solid first." Kunikida placed a hand on his shoulder to restrain him. "I know we want to know what happened to him, but we need to be careful and avoid taking unnecessary risks."
"...Okay."
Blood bathed the tiles as the young man leaned against the floor, desperately trying to bandage the brittle, black, bloody porcelain-like marks—marks that were stubbornly spreading to cover much of his torso. Atsushi felt weak; it was no wonder, given that any food entering his stomach seemed intent on coming right back up, and his ability—the Tiger—seemed far from happy; he could sense it growing more restless ever since he had turned into *this thing*. The marks traced over his old scars as if mocking him, threatening to tear open fresh wounds. He felt once again like that child from the orphanage who used to hide under tables to avoid a beating. He just wanted to clean everything up before Akutagawa showed up. He felt like dead weight; he knew Akutagawa likely didn't have the best of intentions, yet all this care confused him, making him almost wonder if it might be genuine—crazy as that sounded.
After clumsily bandaging himself, he pulled his shirt back on and tried to make his way to the living room, leaning on the furniture as if about to fall at any moment.
*Are there any painkillers left?* Atsushi wondered. The pain was so excruciating that he found himself considering an overdose preferable to enduring it; it was the kind of pain that wouldn't let his brain switch off, not even for the most mundane daily task—he was constantly, painfully aware of it.
Then, the door opened.
*Akutagawa!* Atsushi thought, tried to run toward him, only to collapse to the ground from the sudden exertion the black-haired man strode toward him and steadied him with Rashomon.
"What the hell happened? Did it get worse?" Akutagawa demanded, glancing at the open bathroom door and the state of the room, while the young man simply nodded. "Let me see."
They returned to the bathroom, and Akutagawa asked him to take off his shirt; he complied. Akutagawa examined the marks on his torso—fissures resembling shattered glass, revealing clearly abnormal flesh beneath. It was so black it was hard to recognize as flesh, yet it bled just the same.
Akutagawa focused on stopping the bleeding and bandaging the area properly. He ran a few more checks—such as taking his temperature—and found it to be abnormally low; his skin was practically cold.
"Did you at least eat anything today?" Akutagawa asked, and Atsushi shook his head.
"You're quieter than usual." That observation might be the death of Akutagawa one day; the way Atsushi looks at him sends a shiver of unease down his spine. He hates the fact that things have gotten worse over the past week—a cycle of bloody clashes and temporary truces—and he still hasn't figured out how to turn the tide. He received word from Dazai today about a potential suspect, but nothing concrete enough to act on.
"You're bleeding..." He snaps out of his trance upon hearing Atsushi's voice; the other man is pointing at his blood-smeared face, where blood is trickling from a wound on his forehead and a cut on his lip.
"It's nothing," Akutagawa replied, doing his best to keep his voice sounding unconcerned. "Are you in pain? I'll get some medicine."
He left the bathroom—with Atsushi still clinging to him—and headed to the kitchen to search for something to help; unfortunately, the albino could barely stay on his feet, leaning against the furniture as he tried to keep up with Akutagawa's frantic pace.
He let out a weary sigh upon realizing there was no medicine left.
"We'll have to buy more." Akutagawa was about to grab his coat to leave when Atsushi briefly grabbed his wrist. Startled, Akutagawa instinctively let Rashoumon’s tentacles manifest into sharp points aimed at the tiger—who didn't flinch. Damn, he was just so tired.
"Let me take care of it." Atsushi pointed to the wound on his head; it was nothing more than superficial.
"..." Akutagawa didn't resist for long; he allowed himself to be guided to the kitchen counter, where he leaned for support. The younger man turned his back to him—walking with a slightly unsteady, clumsy gait—to fetch supplies to treat the wound. "This isn't necessary."
"Just stay still and let me help, even if it's only a little," Atsushi replied bluntly, though his voice held an almost affectionate tone. "You’ve already been doing so much for me—I still don't understand why—but I feel I should return the favor."
He fell silent for a few seconds, his mouth going dry as he grappled with the reason he kept Atsushi around. It certainly wasn't about their promise anymore (even though he wanted Atsushi to believe it was); it was because the mere thought of Atsushi dying made him feel sick—as if a tangle of snakes were knotting in his stomach, squeezing his organs and rising up to his throat to suffocate him. Atsushi gently brushed his hair back as he carefully disinfected the wound before applying a bandage; his fingers lightly grazed Akutagawa’s face—skin that, like the rest of his body, was scarred, calloused, and battered, yet felt comforting to the touch. Akutagawa found himself almost leaning into the contact.
"There," Atsushi said, offering a subtle smile as he finished the task.
"Let's go buy some painkillers now, then." Akutagawa quickly straightened his posture, calmly removing Atsushi's hand from his face. "You're in greater need of medical attention than I am."
The Tiger fell silent, offering only a small nod in return; the dark-eyed man took his hand and led him to the bedroom to look for clothes.
"Will I be allowed to leave captivity?" the boy asked, his tone clearly mocking as Akutagawa rummaged through the drawers.
"Captivity? You're being treated far better than the people I usually capture," Akutagawa retorted, grabbing a long-sleeved sweatshirt and tossing it at Atsushi. "Just get dressed already."
The dark-haired man waited outside the door while Atsushi changed, a strange feeling filling his chest. The days the boy had spent with him were marked by an odd sense of calm—even though the *Jinko* seemed somewhat lost, as if his mind held more than he could put into words. Cooking together and having Atsushi tend to his wounds had brought a strange sense of tranquility, despite the situation being far from ideal.
He glanced at the bathroom door, where a bit of blood still stained the floor.
*He needs me; I can bring out the best in him in every aspect, not just on the battlefield. Perhaps seeing him this vulnerable is something he could get used to,* Akutagawa thought.
"I'm ready," Atsushi said, appearing and clutching the sleeve of Akutagawa's coat.
They walked through the freezing streets of a less populated area of Yokohama; the sky was already dark, and tiny, glittering specks drifted through the air. It was bitterly cold, but luckily, the pharmacy wasn't far.
"Here you go, sir," the elderly woman—her expression far from pleasant—replied as she handed the items to the dark-haired man. Atsushi was waiting outside, gazing up at the sky with a somewhat lost expression; since the area wasn't heavily light-polluted, the stars were clearly visible in this part of the city. Akutagawa stood still for a moment, watching him.
"It's really beautiful here," the albino said, pointing at the sky; a smile appeared on his face, looking almost like that of a curious child.
"Yeah." He handed him a bottle of water and the medication, which Atsushi quickly swallowed. "Want to try eating now? There's a shop around here that I think sells chazuke."
Atsushi seemed surprised by the suggestion but agreed; they then headed to a small, cozy, traditional-looking shop bathed in a warm yellow light that made the place feel as though time had stood still.
To Akutagawa’s surprise, Atsushi ordered a bowl considerably smaller than what he would normally eat. Their conversation remained casual—Akutagawa recounted details of his missions while Atsushi listened, occasionally tossing in a sarcastic remark. He seemed to be enjoying himself and, at the very least, distracted enough to eat better, even though he still didn't finish his entire meal.
They left the shop—which turned off its lights right after they stepped out; it was definitely late—and walked with Akutagawa slightly ahead, though the other followed close behind.
"You aren't being quite as annoying anymore," Atsushi broke the silence.
"I’m not going to add any more stress to your condition," the man in the coat said, turning to look him in the face. "You barely eat properly, you’re pale, and the dark circles under your eyes just keep getting worse, I'll save my comments for when you're in your best condition.."
Atsushi let a small smile slip; the silence was comfortable until they reached the old building.
"I have to go. I hope your pain gets bett—" Just as he was opening the door to leave, Atsushi interrupted.
"No."
"What do you mean 'no,' Jinko?" Given the way Atsushi spoke, he had expected a snarky remark, but Atsushi simply lowered his head.
"I don't like sleeping here all alone," he began. "Could you keep me company until I fall asleep, at least?"
"..." That caught Akutagawa off guard; all he could manage was a "Say what?"
The other man seemed to take this as a defeat, not even meeting Akutagawa's eyes as he stepped aside.
"It must be a weird thing to ask an enemy—someone who only wants to keep you alive so they can kill you later, definitely," Atsushi replied. "I'm not forcing you; I just don't want to spend another night staring at the ceiling, terrified that if I close my eyes, I'll see things I don't want to see."
"And you think my presence would make it any better?" the dark-haired man asked; it seemed almost like a piece of morbid irony, something out of an old dark comedy.
"Better than being alone," Atsushi grimaced.
And so, Akutagawa found himself dragged into yet another awkward moment with his rival; he called Gin to let her know he’d be back late.
"Is everything okay? Did the 'undead ability' cases spiral out of control again?" Gin asked from the other end of the line.
"It’s nothing major, but it’s going to take some time," he reassured her, glancing sideways at Atsushi, who was bringing a futon into the room.
"Alright, good work then," Gin said cheerfully, and Akutagawa said goodbye. "It's just until I fall asleep," Atsushi repeated; he sounded somewhat anxious, even though it wasn't "a big deal."
"You've said that about five times already; if you keep it up, I'm leaving."
He spoke as he lay down on the futon on the floor. The lights were off, leaving only the background noise—likely the wind outside making faint sounds against the old building's roof tiles. Akutagawa stared up at the dark ceiling, which was becoming increasingly hard to make out; the darkness and silence grew heavy, yet not uncomfortably so. After a good few minutes, Akutagawa felt strangely relaxed, his eyelids growing heavy and begging to close as he listened to the Tiger’s breathing beside him. The rhythm had steadied—a sign that he had likely already drifted off; he must have been exhausted to fall asleep so quickly.
Akutagawa stood up; since Atsushi was asleep, there was no reason to remain there—until his gaze fell upon the other man, curled up in the fetal position. His hair was a silvery tangle where only the black strands stood out in the dim light, and the scars on his arms and legs were exposed; he seemed more at ease revealing them to Akutagawa. There was a strange air of domesticity to the scene—tending to each other's wounds, cooking together, shopping, and now sharing the same room—something worlds apart from the relationship they’d had just a month prior. He couldn't quite wrap his head around it, yet seeing Atsushi like that fascinated him. He felt like a predator watching helpless prey, choosing not to strike but to offer gentle comfort—even while keeping Atsushi trapped in his web. Even if it was for the sake of protection, Atsushi seemed to be handling life alongside Akutagawa well—a fact that stirred a confusing mix of emotions in the young man's mind. Fighting the urge to walk away, he stepped closer, now seeing up close the marks—left by that "Ability"—that seemed to have spread all the way to Atsushi's neck. He leaned against the bed, watching him and barely breathing so as not to wake him; resting his hand lightly on the mattress, he took hold of Atsushi’s hand and traced a small callus on its surface—just as he had done the night Atsushi fell asleep sobbing on the sofa. He planted a soft kiss there; it felt like something that needed to be done—to leave a mark of care, even if that care was something ugly and twisted, etched into the scars of someone who had suffered so much. He remembered when Atsushi had told him he was strong—and that Dazai recognized it; it was the same feeling he had now. He was kissing scars left by someone else. He intended to pull away, but was caught off guard when the Tiger-Man’s arm—still heavy with sleep—yanked him forcefully down to lie beside him (apparently, even in his sleep, Atsushi possessed immense strength). He could have pushed him off using Rashomon, but chose not to. It was strange—the body that should have been warm was cold, yet he could still feel Atsushi’s breath against his neck. He didn't know why he was allowing himself to be held so tightly by Atsushi (just as he didn't understand much of what he did for him), but he felt Atsushi’s body tremble and held the hand resting on his chest.
"Are you having a nightmare?" he asked quietly, unsure if he should wake him.
He was met with a tighter squeeze and worsening tremors.
"Akutagawa..." he began. "May I?"
Despite his entire body trembling, his voice came out flat—a tone that sent a strange sensation spreading through Akutagawa’s body.
Atsushi lifted his face just enough to be nose-to-nose with Akutagawa; their breath mingled in the close proximity, and his expression was barely readable in the dark. Atsushi didn't know what was driving him to do this; his rationality was clouded by something beyond his control.
Hunger.
Ordinary food wouldn't satisfy it; he could feel the tiger growing restless—it had become more aggressive ever since he was struck by that ability.
He leaned in, their lips brushing, until he felt the other’s sharp teeth tear into his already wounded lip and sink in, their mouths finally locking completely. Akutagawa didn't push him away; he simply let himself be kissed as his lip bled and the other seemed to savor the taste of the blood. Akutagawa found himself smiling amidst it all. It felt wrong; he didn't know why Atsushi was doing this—Atsushi was likely confused by the situation and misinterpreting things. He felt as though he were taking advantage of the moment, knowing there was no chance of this being a romance born of normal circumstances. The pressure on the wound made it bleed more, but Akutagawa couldn't have cared less.
He ran his hand along Atsushi’s neck, pulling him closer; one of Atsushi’s hands was transformed, clutching the pillow as his claws tore into the mattress.
It was all incredibly intense, until Akutagawa felt tears streaming down the other’s face.
He pulled the albino away when he felt them; Atsushi—now weeping, with blood running from his mouth (Akutagawa hadn't even realized the wound had worsened to that extent)—began to apologize. "I... I don't know why I did that."
"I didn't mean to."
He kept repeating the words.
The dark-haired young man coughed slightly and covered his mouth, keeping his gaze fixed downward.
"Idiot—I don't know what screw came loose in your head, but pull yourself together." Akutagawa shifted on the bed; his face was flushed, yet he tried his best to show that the moment had somehow affected him. "Why did you do it? Were you tasting my blood?"
"I'm sorry..." He kept repeating.
But he couldn't deny the satisfaction he felt the moment he tasted that metallic flavor—it was sweet, after all—and he kept biting down to get more. Atsushi felt embarrassed; he didn't know if it was the Ability or the Tiger, but the way it had happened felt strange. He tried to pull away from Akutagawa as much as possible, moving to the far end of the bed.
But the dark-haired man pulled him back with Rashoumon.
"I let it happen, didn't I? So there's no reason for that reaction."
"Huh?" He looked back, confused.
"Go back to sleep, Jinko." He positioned Atsushi beside him; he didn't actually touch him, but he arranged things so Atsushi would be comfortable.
Atsushi didn't answer; his breathing was ragged, so all Akutagawa could do was wait for him to compose himself.
The wind outside had died down now—perhaps an omen of something new to come.