Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The apple rested in his hand. Long fingers curled around it, just brushing the fruit’s smooth surface. They barely touched it as though it was made of glass and would break with too much handling.

Atsushi stared at the apple hungrily. It looked clean, cleaner than anything he’d laid eyes on in a long time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten fruit that wasn’t riddled with wormholes or rotting patches. How long had it been since he’d eaten something that wasn’t in the form of mush in general? A week? More than that? He had a hard time remembering that far back. 

“You can take it,” the man offering the food to him said as he stretched a bandaged arm a little further between the cell’s bars. “You look half-starved.”

Atsushi stumbled off the bench in the back of his prison and staggered forward before snatching the apple from the man and biting into it. The juice filled his dry mouth, the crunch delightful between his teeth. It felt like ages since he’d eaten anything he could actually enjoy. The man who’d handed him the apple stood there silently, watching him. “Th-thank you,” Atsushi said, wiping apple juice from his chin, leaving a sticky layer on his skin. 

“Do you know why you’re here, boy?” He asked. His voice wasn’t quite gentle, but it also wasn’t harsh. He had bandages winding up his arms and neck, and some covered one of his eyes. 

Atsushi swallowed before responding. “No.”

“Really?” He said although he didn’t sound surprised in the slightest. “You don’t remember anything of when you were transformed?”

“Transformed?” Atsushi tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

The man wordlessly pulled out his phone, flipped it open, and held it up so Atsushi could see the screen. The boy stared at the phone, watching a video of a white tiger ripping apart cars and mauling men with guns. He remembered the threat of the tiger in the orphanage and how it had decimated the food supplies and land. “The tiger…” Atsushi murmured more to himself than the man before him. 

“Shh! Shh!” The man shushed him quickly, pressing a finger to his lips. “This is the best part.” Atsushi squinted at the small screen, straining to see what was happening. He could make out a man, the one that stood in front of him actually, walking calmly up to the big cat. Atsushi held his breath as he watched. A flash of blue light took over the screen and Atsushi blinked from the light the phone gave off. When the light cleared, the tiger was gone and a boy laid unconscious on the floor. “Recognize this person?” The man asked.

Atsushi shook his head, having a hard time seeing the picture clearly. The image was zoomed in. And the boy nearly stumbled backward as he recognized the choppy, uneven bangs, grayish-white hair, and ragged clothes. “Th-that… That’s--”

“Yeah, it’s you,” the man said with an amused tone, though his smile didn’t reach his uncovered eye.

“Wha-- How?” Atsushi raked his fingers through his hair, hiding his face behind his forearms. He trembled, trying to piece everything together. “No, that can’t-- No,” he muttered, trying to deny it, but the tight feeling in his chest seemed to confirm his worst fear. 

“So,” the man continued as though the child before him wasn’t hyperventilating. “Now you’re in prison for that little stunt.” Atsushi flinched, lowering his arms. “The city’s deemed you a major threat. If you had any control over it, you’d be semi-protected, but that’s not the case here.” His eye glimmered.“You’re scheduled to be executed in,” He paused to glance at the time on his phone. “Fifteen minutes.” His voice was cold, but not cruel, just… detached. 

Atsushi gazed up at him with terrified, wide eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words didn’t reach the air, they remained in his throat, suffocating him. He choked on them, coughing up bile and whatever little filled his stomach. 

“Hmm,” the man mused dully. “Probably should have held off on giving you the apple.” Atsushi wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, still retching. His stomach heaved when all the information hit him again.

He was that tiger. He’d killed the livestock. He’d demolished the storehouse back at the orphanage. Atsushi felt his breaths come out in rapid, uneven bursts. He was going to die, executed…

“However, I can show you a way out.”

Atsushi coughed, trying to clear whatever remained in his throat. “What?” He asked desperately, pulling himself to the bars and pressing himself against them. 

The man smiled. “There are three options here for you. One, we can leave your fate in the hands of the government, see if you make it out alive.” Atsushi shrunk back a little. “Two, I can make it look like you escaped and you can go about your life. Worst case scenario, you get hunted down again and shot dead.”

“Shot dead?!” Atsushi yelped.

The man gave him a smile, no light reaching his eye. “Three, I’m in need of an apprentice. If you become my subordinate, I can teach you to get a handle on your ability.” Atsushi’s muscles tensed. “The choice is up to you, of course. Choose whichever you want.” When the boy didn’t say anything, the man released a breath. “I don’t want to rush you, but if you don’t make a choice in two minutes, I might just leave your fate to the government.” 

Atsushi stumbled forward, panicked. “N-no!” He curled his hands around the bars. “I’m just-- I--” He lowered his head and swallowed hard. “Please,” he managed, his voice slight and shaking. “I don’t want to die.”

The man looked at him. His expression of indifference remained unchanged even after Atsushi’s outburst. “Make your choice,” he said coldly. 

Atsushi didn’t know why he was trembling, but he could feel his knees wobble beneath him and his hands shake on the bars. “I’ll become your subordinate,” he said softly. 

The man in front of him clapped his hands. “Excellent,” he replied with that smile that didn’t quite touch his eye. He turned away from Atsushi, his long coat flying out behind him.

“W-wait!!” Atsushi yelled, his voice echoing off the cinder block walls. 

“Calm down,” the man responded calmly, not turning around. “I’m just making some arrangements so that tiger turns into nothing but an urban legend. You’ll get out of here soon enough.”

“Who are you?” Atsushi asked, baffled by what he meant by arrangements.

The man actually turned around this time. “Right, how impolite of me, forgetting introductions and all.” He made a slight, mock bow. “I am Dazai Osamu, Port Mafia executive.” He grinned again. “And your name?”

“N-Nakajima Atsushi,” the boy managed through his dry throat. 

“Very nice to meet you, Nakajima Atsushi,” Dazai concluded before turning his back to his new subordinate and leaving the room. 

Atsushi felt a lump form in his throat, all he could do was slump against the bars as he watched the man walk away. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like he’d just made a huge mistake. 

/-/-/

An hour passed. Or so Atsushi thought. He wasn’t sure if it was really that long or if time seemed to slow down for him with the knowledge that he’d die soon. What if that guy, Dazai, suddenly changed his mind about Atsushi and left him to get put in front of a firing squad?

He scrambled to his feet when footsteps echoed through the prison. The movement brought on a wave of vertigo and he staggered forward, clutching the bars to steady himself.

“Look at you,” Dazai’s voice said. “You’re actually up and everything.” Atsushi breathed a sigh of relief. So, he hadn’t been abandoned by this man… His knees gave out from under him. “Hmm…I spoke too soon.” Despite Dazai’s obvious disapproval, Atsushi lowered his head, exhausted and relieved, too much so to care about what Dazai had to say about it.

There was a loud creak and Atsushi jumped. He looked over to see Dazai standing in front of the open door of the cell. The boy pushed himself off the floor and left the cell, his legs shook like a leaf in the wind. Hunger wasn’t doing him any favors, but he still managed to stay upright and follow Dazai to a car. 

“Ummm…” Atsushi began after sitting in silence for a while. “What kind of work will I be doing?”

Dazai shrugged. “Well, we’ll need to train you first. You’re far from having a handle on that ability of yours. We might start you off on something small… Assassinations maybe.”

“Assassinations?!” Atsushi yelped. For a second he thought Dazai was kidding and almost tried to laugh, but there was no joking light in his eye… There was no light in his eye in general. Dazai, his new superior, was completely serious. Atsushi’s hands got sweaty, and he felt them begin to shake. He tried to calm himself down, taking a deep breath. “I-- I can’t…” He began. 

“You’ll get used to it.” Dazai had nothing more to say on the matter.

Atsushi’s stomach clenched and for a moment, he was scared he’d wind up retching his guts out again. “I can’t… I didn’t know…” He struggled to find the right words. “I can’t kill people,” he said weakly after a few moments of silence.

Dazai sighed at this. “You’re making me be the adult here, aren’t you?” He groaned, squirming around in his seat, stretching boredly. It was then that Atsushi saw how young Dazai actually was. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen. Perhaps it’d been the darkness of the prison or the desperate state he’d been in that made Dazai look so much older in his eyes. Now, on level ground with Dazai, Atsushi could make out a certain youthfulness in his face and a slight whine in his voice. 

“Not in the mood for this,” Dazai muttered more to himself than to Atsushi. “Oh well,” he yawned. “Guess this is what the boss meant when he said taking on another apprentice would require responsibility.” He snapped back into a stiff posture, and turned back to Atsushi, suddenly looking dead serious again. “You made a commitment to joining the Port Mafia, you’ll learn to kill.” Atsushi flinched at the detached nature of Dazai’s voice. His face darkened, a gleam coming to his eye. “And when you’re ordered to kill or capture or fight, you will do as you’re told.”

Atsushi found himself wringing his hands, squeezing his fingers tightly to keep himself from shaking. “Can I be let out of this deal?” Atsushi said quietly. 

“Afraid not.”

“Please?” He asked, his voice growing weaker.

Dazai groaned again, leaning his head against the back of the seat. “You made your choice.”

“But I didn’t--”

“Know what you were getting yourself into?” Dazai finished for him. “You didn’t ask before you agreed to that option, and that is on you,” he concluded easily. Atsushi opened his mouth to protest, but Dazai cut him off. “Face it like a man,” he said, clapping a hand on Atsushi’s shoulder as though he was being supportive. “What are you? Eleven? Twelve?”

“Fourteen,” Atsushi responded, his face growing red. 

Dazai tilted his head. “Really? I could have sworn you were--”

“I’m fourteen,” he muttered. 

Dazai’s eyes didn’t shine with disapproval and he didn’t lash out at his new apprentice for interrupting him. “You’re sure?” Atsushi looked away and nodded. “Well, anyway, you’re old enough to stick to your word.”

The car stopped. “Huh,” Dazai said, looking out the window. “Looks like we’re here.” He tapped Atsushi's shoulder again. “Come on,” he ordered, his voice bored. 

Atsushi’s eyes darted around when he got out of the car, trying to piece together where he was and where he could run. “Don’t even try it,” Dazai said, not even looking at Atsushi. He stretched his arms above his head. “If you’re caught running around here, you’ll either be killed on sight or dragged back to the boss, in which case I’d have to come in to pull you out of another prison.” He glanced at Atsushi. “Please don’t cause me any trouble, okay?”

Atsushi looked around again before giving up. “Okay,” Atsushi replied, his voice barely more than a whisper. Bile collected in his throat as he let his shoulders drop, resigned to his fate.

“Good,” Dazai concluded, leading the way to his apartment. “I have a spare bedroom, you’ll stay there.” Atsushi followed silently, shuffling behind him. Dazai glanced back at the boy, but said nothing. Atsushi maintained his distance, biting his lip and trying to keep from fidgeting. 

The spare room was simple. Composed of white walls, a dusty bed, and a window, it looked slightly less impressive than a cheap motel room. It wasn’t as though Atsushi needed much to get by, and compared to the orphanage, the room was better than anything he’d ever lived in. Dazai pushed the boy forward lightly and Atsushi stumbled into the room. “Hey--” He turned and was cut off by the door slamming in his face. 

“Try not to take it personally, Atsushi-kun. The window’s practically sealed into the wall and I’m pretty sure it’s indestructible,” Dazai said from the other side of the door. Atsushi stared at the door in front of him, his hand on the doorknob. He jiggled it experimentally; it turned, but the door itself wouldn’t budge. “Relax. I’ll let you out tomorrow. I’m just making sure you don’t tear apart my apartment if you transform.” Atsushi banged on the door, more or less indignant by the turn of events. Dazai sighed. “Don’t be so melodramatic. Once we get that ability under control, I can leave the door unlocked. Think of it as training wheels or incentive or something like that.”

“But--”

“If you trash your room, you can clean it up in the morning,” Dazai said simply before Atsushi heard him retreat from his door. 

His knees knocked together and for the second or third time that day, Atsushi found himself getting weaker. He sank to the floor and leaned on the door, breathing deeply to calm down. Out of one prison and into another… He thought despairingly.

Chapter Text

“Atsushi-kun, wake up,” Dazai’s voice said above Atsushi’s head. He struggled to open his eyes, squirming in the bed and sending up clouds of dust. “Some time today, Atsushi-kun,” he said, flicking the boy between the eyes. Atsushi bolted upright just in time to see Dazai leave the room. “The shower’s across the hall, change of clothes by your bed, food in the kitchen. Don’t take long.”
Atsushi felt more grateful than he probably should have. Perhaps it was the fact that he hadn’t bathed in more than a week and had hardly eaten anything substantial for just as long. He was still wobbly on his feet, stumbling every few steps. His hand was braced against the tiled wall as the hot water ran over him; his legs trembled under him. I should’ve eaten first. He realized he got slightly lightheaded.
He wolfed down his breakfast like a wild animal. “Slow down,” Dazai said from behind him with a cup of coffee in his hand. “You’re going to wind up retching if you go too fast.” Atsushi obeyed, forcing himself to actually chew his food.
“I haven’t had real food for weeks,” he muttered through a mouthful of rice.
“Pretty obvious,” Dazai responded. He took a sip of his coffee. “You looked like you could hardly hold yourself up when we left the prison last night.”
Right, the prison… Atsushi thought, which lead right back to his main concern: His new job here. Dazai had made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t about to let Atsushi leave… or make excuses for not killing someone when he was told to. He didn’t want to bring it up, not when he sensed he’d get the same response as last time he brought it up.
“Worried about killing?”
Atsushi jerked back. Dazai smirked knowingly. “H-how did you know?” Atsushi asked.
Dazai chuckled slightly. “You’re going to have to learn how to hide your thoughts, Atsushi-kun. Your face is an open book.” Atsushi blinked, and Dazai gave him a displeased frown. “Emotions are a dangerous thing to show here. Be careful.”
Atsushi nodded, doing his best to keep his face blank. “Better,” Dazai said, though his voice wasn’t quiet approving.
“You said I’d be your apprentice…” Atsushi began. “What did you mean when you mentioned ‘training’?”
Dazai shrugged. “Maybe some strength exercise so you aren’t this scrawny forever.” He finished his coffee. “Primarily gaining control over your ability.”
“How long will that take?” Atsushi asked, daring to speak up.
“Who knows? For some people, controlling an ability comes as naturally as breathing. My last apprentice and I fall into that category.” He paused. “Others, like yourself, aren’t that lucky and it takes more time and effort to get there.”
Atsushi didn’t say anything for a moment, wondering how he was supposed to tame this thing that he hadn’t even known about until twelve hours ago. He wasn’t quite sure what to say after that.
“Assuming you’re anything like the legends of weretigers,” Dazai continued. “You only transform in the moonlight. It’s possible you’d change if you faced enough stress or felt threatened, but that’s still a bit unclear.” Atsushi swallowed hard, getting a bad feeling in his stomach when Dazai mentioned him feeling threatened. There had been something about the way he said it, like he was planning on seeing how far he’d have to push Atsushi to make him change.
“I don’t think that would--” Atsushi began, stopping suddenly when Dazai gave him a sharp look. He pressed his lips together, looking down.
“Go ahead,” Dazai prompted, waving an arm. He put his empty coffee mug on the table.
“Uh…” Atsushi struggled for words. “I… um… Can’t--”
“What? You’re going to have to finish your sentence for me to understand you.”
Atsushi took a deep breath in, trying to figure out what to say. “I would have turned a lot more.” He wrung his hands, hesitating. “The orphanage-- I felt very threatened...normally…”
Dazai shrugged. “Maybe you grew a tolerance to that and weren’t really threatened anymore.” Atsushi looked up. “If you didn’t think you’d die there, the tiger probably wouldn’t feel the need to come out.”
His mind flashed back to all the times he was sure his body would be hauled out of orphanage in a bag. Atsushi shook his head. “I was pretty sure I was going to die…” He muttered.
“Hmm…” Dazai looked up at the ceiling. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out later.” He rose from his seat, leaving his mug on the table. He walked past Atsushi, and patted him on the shoulder. Atsushi winced at the touch; Dazai didn’t pay his flinch any mind. “Let’s go, there’s some stuff we need to take care of.”
***
“Hold still,” Dazai ordered.
Atsushi tried. He tried to sit still as the doctor-- Or so Atsushi figured, he doubted the woman who was trying to stick a needle into his neck had ever been to med school.
“Atsushi-kun, we’ve been here for twenty minutes. This is getting ridiculous.”
Atsushi bit his lip. He’d been okay with the needle going into his arm or shoulder, despite his discomfort. He was surprised he’d handled that so well even. Needles scared him as it was, and remembering the times the headmaster of his old orphanage had mercilessly injected something into his arm didn't help his nerves.
The syringe near his neck was different, it didn’t have liquid in the chamber. He couldn’t help but feel like he really didn’t want whatever was in there in his blood. “What’s this one even for?” He asked in a low voice.
“You needed some vaccinations,” the doctor explained. “You just need this last one. Please cooperate.”
Atsushi was still struggling with cooperation in general. Dazai sighed impatiently before grabbing the syringe from the woman.
He didn’t mince words with the boy. He grabbed Atsushi’s neck roughly and tilted his hand, forcing Atsushi to bear his neck. Then, he jabbed the needle through the boy’s skin before Atsushi had a chance to panic. He knew he felt something under his skin, something unnatural and uncomfortable. He gave a slight sound of pain, but was otherwise quiet. Dazai flung the syringe in the doctor’s direction, but he didn’t release Atsushi.
“I don’t have the patience for this, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai said lowly. He kept his hand still on Atsushi’s neck. “Stop acting like a child.” Atsushi flinched as his grip tightened slightly, and for a moment, he was sure Dazai’s hand would reach for his throat and crush it. The dangerous glint in the man’s eyes only heightened his fears.
Then, the hand dropped from his neck. Atsushi suppressed a sigh of relief. He reached up to touch the spot where something had been injected. He couldn’t feel anything, a slight bump, maybe, but that could have been his imagination getting the best of him. Dazai let him calm down for a moment. He stuck his hands in his pockets and took a seat in one of the chairs by the door.
“Hold on,” the doctor said suddenly, taking Atsushi’s wrist and pulling his hand away from his neck. She wiped the drops of blood away with an alcohol soaked cotton ball. Atsushi didn’t feel the familiar sting. “It’s healed,” she muttered. Dazai made a slight sound of interest, but remained where he was.
“Ow!” Atsushi yelped when the doctor tore the band-aid she’d placed over one of the injection sites. “Why?” He squeaked, glancing at the bright red marks on his arm. They were already fading.
“Dazai-dono,” the doctor began respectfully. “Would you mind if I do a little experiment on your apprentice?”
“How little?”
The doctor held her finger and her thumb an inch apart as though it was an accurate indication of how little her experiment would be. Dazai raised his eyebrow. “The heck is that supposed to mean?” He questioned.
“Tiny.”
Dazai shrugged. “Nothing permanent,” he said boredly, turning away.
Atsushi stiffened. This can’t be good… He thought nervously. “Ummm… What--”
The doctor grabbed his hand and dragged a scalpel across the tip of his index finger. He made a sound of surprise and tried to pull away, but the woman had a grip of iron. It cut cleanly, forming a red line in his skin, and it burned slightly. He scowled indignantly though the tiny laceration didn’t hurt nearly as much as any of the abuse he’d suffered in the orphanage. He hardly noticed the sting of his miniscule wound.
“It’s gone,” the woman remarked. “Healed in seconds.” Atsushi glanced down at his fingers as the doctor wiped away the remaining blood.
“That’s a handy bonus to turning into a huge carnivorous cat,” Dazai murmured without feeling. He didn’t seem at all surprised or interested.
The doctor, on the other hand, was ecstatic about such an ability. She went off on a tangent, listing all the possibilities. Atsushi’s gut twisted, he didn’t completely know why he felt so unsettled by her excited chatter, he could hardly understand what she was saying as she spoke about a mile per minute, but a few words gave him a bad feeling. Words like “experiments” and “testing” and “drugs.”
Dazai was unfazed by her rush of words. He waved her away when enthusiastic rambling went on for too long. “I pulled him out to be my apprentice, not a test subject,” he said casually, gesturing for Atsushi to come with him. The boy hopped off the cot and stood by Dazai. “Besides, what makes you think I’d be so willing to hand this one over to you after losing my last apprentice?” He smirked at the doctor’s disappointed face. He turned away, and Atsushi jumped, rushing to catch up with Dazai.
“Ummm…” He wasn’t sure if he should have been asking, but the question burned in his mind. “What happened to your last apprentice?” Atsushi would normally try to avoid asking such a personal question, especially to someone like Dazai, but the man didn’t act remorseful or like he wanted to bury the memory.
“I’ll tell you later,” he replied in an easy tone as they walked down the hallway. “It was nothing of note if that's what you're wondering.”
“Oh.” Atsushi didn’t say anything for a moment. “Where are we going now?”
“Just to a training area. You don’t know how to fight yet, and it’s high time you learned.”
Atsushi glanced down a his new clothes, they weren’t much suited for fighting. The fabric was stiff, and he wasn’t sure how he’d move so easily in them. Even his ragged outfit from the orphanage would offer a better range of motion.
“Definitely not the most comfortable, but chances are you’ll be wearing this a lot. Best to learn in them.” Atsushi nodded, but kept his head mostly lowered. “I know you’re meek by nature, but really, keep your head up. If you were low enough on the food chain here, keeping your head down would be encouraged. As the apprentice of an executive, however, looking down isn’t good conduct.”
“Okay,” Atsushi responded, lifting his head.
Dazai suddenly threw an arm around Atsushi, and pulled him closer. Atsushi yelped in surprise as Dazai yelled, “Chuuya! I have an apprentice now!” He smiled and pointed at Atsushi as the boy panicked and stared at him in confusion. “You still don’t have an apprentice, Chuuya!” He practically screamed across the room to a man with a red ponytail and expensive looking hat. Well, he seemed a bit young and the title of man was probably a little generous, he was about Dazai’s age, and quite a few inches shorter. “Why don’t you have an apprentice yet?”
“Shut up, Dazai!” He yelled back from the other side of the room. Atsushi glanced around, no one seemed surprised by their exchange. The redhead, Chuuya, looked at Atsushi, who was subtly trying to inch his way out of Dazai’s hold. His teacher was not letting him go that easily. “Your new apprentice won’t make it a week. He’s smaller than Akutagawa-kun was.”
“Smaller?” Dazai questioned, grinning impishly. “Like you can talk. He’s only fourteen and about as tall as you.”
“What did you say?!” Chuuya strode over to them angrily. “I will freakin’ murder you in front of the kid!” Atsushi jumped back at his voice.
Based on the way he’d said it, Atsushi could tell that he was dead serious about his threat. Chuuya glanced at the boy for a second. His eyes were enraged, Atsushi tensed and looked down. Please don’t hold anything against me because I’m apparently his student now. Atsushi begged silently. I didn’t want this. I just wanted to live and this was the only choice that seemed safe.
“Hey,” Dazai muttered, ignoring Chuuya’s death threat. He lightly slapped Atsushi on the cheek. “Remember what I said about keeping your head up?” Atsushi’s posture went straight and rigid. His teacher sighed, and looked back at Chuuya. “Yeah, he’s… still a work in progress… Picked him up yesterday.” He smiled, his fingers on Atsushi’s shoulder growing tighter. “Point is: I have a student and you don’t.” He seems to take a crazy pleasure in the livid face Chuuya is making. “Why don’t you have an apprentice, Chuuya?” He taunted, that grin growing wider on his face.
“Like I would want an apprentice!!” Chuuya bellowed. He gestured to Atsushi. “Did you just grab another orphan off the streets and say he’s your student?”
Dazai laughed. “Don’t forget where you came from, Chuuya.” He casually blocked a punch Chuuya threw at him, his face unchanged. “Besides,” he said, quickly pulling Atsushi down with him to dodge a roundhouse kick that would have shattered their skulls. “Give me some credit.” He pointed to Atsushi again. “I actually pulled this one out of jail. As my partner, you should know that I’m one for variety.”
“Jail?” Chuuya looked at Atsushi skeptically. It took all of the boy’s control not to stare at his feet. Chuuya smirked.“I highly doubt this kid’s been to jail.”
Dazai shrugged. “Doubt me if you want to, but that’s what happened.”
“Then what did he do? Does this runt even have a gift?” Chuuya squinted at Atsushi’s silverish hair and multicolored eyes. If anything, those would indicate him having an ability. Atsushi began to take a step back, but Dazai still had a hand on his shoulder, his fingers digging deeper.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” Dazai smirked. “It’s fun to see you try to figure stuff out without my help.”
“You know what? Forget it,” Chuuya remarked, throwing up his hands. “I don’t even care.” He stormed off.
“Sure you don’t,” Dazai muttered. He didn’t release Atsushi right away as they watched Chuuya walk away. “He’s so easy to mess with.”
“Why?” Atsushi mumbled, trying to free himself from Dazai’s grip. His teacher glanced at him and let him go.
“Mainly because it’s fun to piss him off.” He patted Atsushi’s shoulder. “You served your purpose well. Did you see how annoyed he looked?” Dazai started walking again, and Atsushi hesitated for a second before following. “I’ll give him a few days to find that tiger video. Always fun to see how he reacts though agonizingly predictable.”
Atsushi furrowed his eyebrows. “And he’s your partner?”
“Well, it’s not like it was my choice,” Dazai responded boredly, shrugging his shoulders. He waved a hand dismissively. “Anyway, we’re doing some training today. Nothing very intense. We’ll focus on your ability later.”
****
It started with Dazai standing a distance away from him, arms crossed, serious expression on his face. “Try to tackle me,” he ordered.
Atsushi tilted his head. “Huh?”
Dazai sighed. “Come on, Atsushi-kun, it’s not that hard to understand. I’m telling you to attempt to pin me down. I already told you that you’d be learning combat. Just do what I tell you.”
Atsushi felt a chill at the last sentence, but nodded. He came running at Dazai, and the second he got within a foot of him, he could see the cold light in Dazai’s one unbandaged eye. It was scary. It was disapproving. It was bored. Atsushi’s arm was grabbed, and he wasn’t quite sure of what happened after that, but he was aware of the sensation of falling and the impact of hitting the padded floor hard.
Gasping for breath with his face pressed against the floor, Atsushi tried to fight against Dazai’s hand that held his wrist against his back without effort. “You had absolutely no plan of what to once you got to me,” he said as Atsushi struggled to free himself, but Dazai’s grip was like steel. He tightened his hold on Atsushi’s wrist. “Kindly stay still until I’m done talking.” He stilled, and Dazai explained all the things the boy did wrong in his attack. He finished in about three minutes, and then let Atsushi up.
“Alright,” Dazai said, clapping his bandage hands once.
“Again.”

Chapter Text

Dazai could remember when he was Atsushi’s age. Of course, he’d been more strategically gifted and better in combat at that point, but he could still see the similarities between himself and his student. Atsushi definitely had potential, more than his previous apprentice, but still not much as Dazai had four years ago. At the age of fourteen, Dazai had already taken more than a few lives. He was still prepping Atsushi just to fight.
There was another thing.
Atsushi was fidgety about staying in the Port Mafia. Neither Dazai nor Akutagawa had been like that. They had accepted their fate with little more than a nod. They’d understood what they had to gain there. Akutagawa had wanted a reason to live, like Dazai had, and the Port Mafia was the best option for them.
His new student, however, didn’t seem to want the same thing. It was subtle and occasional, but Dazai noticed Atsushi’s eyes darting around when they were outside. He never ran or even took a step in whatever direction he was looking in. A casual slap on the shoulder from Dazai normally brought him back to the harsh reality they lived in. He’d flinch, take in a sharp breath, and stop trying to figure out an escape route. Dazai never said anything about it, he didn’t need to. The simple slap on the shoulder was enough to remind Atsushi of three things:
There was nowhere he could run without the Port Mafia finding him
He would be severely punished if he pulled a stunt like that
There was no place to return to
***
Atsushi picked up one fact rather quickly: Dazai was a hard teacher. Based on the first few encounters he’d had with Dazai, he didn’t know why he didn’t figure that out before the training started. The fact that he healed at an exceptional rate didn’t help him. It only meant that Dazai didn’t pull any punches in training.
“I need you to actually try if you want to make progress, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai said, his voice toneless and unamused. He held Atsushi’s wrist tightly, his grip threatened to fracture bones, which wouldn’t be the worst of his injuries.
It’d been a little more than a week since their first training session, and in that time, the only real improvement Atsushi had made was figuring out how to will his wounds to heal abnormally fast, and even that skill was spotty and depended on several factors like his mental state, his concentration, and the levels of adrenaline in his bloodstream. Of course, there was always the issue of Dazai interfering thanks to his nullifying ability. Occasionally, if he was less than pleased with Atsushi’s performance, he’d grab his wrist, and let him bleed or feel sick for longer than needed.
“I am trying,” Atsushi responded, flinching as Dazai’s free hand collided with his head. His ears rang painfully, screaming in his brain. His teacher released him, and his hands immediately went up to head protectively.
Dazai gave an exasperated sigh and let his student recover on the floor. Atsushi’s blood spotted the ground and his lacerations gushed crimson fluid, Dazai’s touch delayed healing.
“Up. Now.”
Atsushi got to his feet, knowing that staying on the ground would get him into trouble. His legs shook initially, and he felt like he’d collapse, but he stayed up. The shaking calmed. If he focused on his injuries, they’d probably start healing in a few minutes, assuming Dazai didn’t make physical contact with him in that time frame. His teacher gave him a few minutes for the nullification to wear off. “You literally just stood there and let me hit you,” Dazai remarked as Atsushi’s bruises faded. “You can’t just rely on your healing factor, Atsushi-kun. I’m telling you that you have to actually fight.” He flipped the switchblade he’d been using for training in his hand boredly.
Atsushi wiped sweat from his forehead, wincing as he touched a bruise that wasn’t yet healed. Most of the training sessions were just Dazai beating him. Hitting someone back was still unfamiliar. Back in the orphanage, he’d taken countless punches without trying to retaliate. Fighting back would only hurt him more.
Living and training with Dazai was still weird to Atsushi. His teacher never hesitated to strike him during training, which Atsushi hated, but wasn’t anywhere bad as the punishments in the orphanage. Dazai said it kept him on his toes, which was important in combat.
There was a second thing Atsushi learned about Dazai after a little while of being trained by him: The man protected him.
Of course, he didn’t see it at first. Finding safety from someone who made him bleed on a near daily basis was not easy. However, when meeting some of the other people in the Port Mafia, he could put that together.
It all started with that doctor who stuck needles in him that first time. She didn’t pester Dazai about trying to figure out Atsushi’s healing factor after that day. Other members of the physiology loving community were a bit more persistent. A few days after Atsushi got vaccinated, a handful of people came up to Dazai, asking about his new apprentice. They weren’t interested in his progress or him as a person, Atsushi could tell by the way they looked at him like he was a puzzle for them to solve. Their stares and eyes scared the heck out of him. Those gazes emitted a nearly inhuman desire to tear him open regardless of his protest.
“I want to see his limits, for science,” a strange man said in a very loud voice one time. “It would just be a few incisions. Very easy dissection. I just take out some bone marrow, get a good look at his heart, maybe take some spinal fluid if it seemed necessary,” he continued excitedly. Atsushi shifted his weight from one foot to another, feeling fear constrict his lungs. The man laughed from the pure elation of the idea of cutting the boy open and examining his organs.
Atsushi felt frozen by his gaze. It was as though he was planning out each and every cut he wanted to make in Atsushi’s skin and muscles. In reality, that’s probably exactly what he was thinking.
Dazai grabbed the back of Atsushi’s shirt collar and dragged him backward. He pulled his student behind him, so Dazai stood between the boy and the dissection obsessed man. “Forget it, Kajii,” he said, crossing his arms.
“But--”
“You’re not dissecting my apprentice,” he remarked firmly. “Most of the things you vivisect die on the table.” Atsushi peeked out from behind Dazai’s frame, looking at the disappointed look on Kajii’s face. The boy released a slight sigh of relief.
“He has better chances. If he heals immediately, he’ll live through it. Imagine all the mysteries that a little research could solve! All the things that could come of a handful of simple dissections!”
Atsushi shuddered, and immediately retreated behind Dazai when Kajii made eye contact with him. Dazai sighed without interest. “No,” he said with a yawn. “Exactly what made you think I would agree to such a proposal?” He didn’t give Kajii time to answer before he walked past him, his apprentice following closely behind him. “Oh, just so you know,” he said over his shoulder to Kajii. “That was a rhetorical question, I have no interest in your answer.”
“Who was that?” Atsushi asked, wringing his hands nervously.
“He’s an ability user. Has a weird obsession with science and watching things die.”
Atsushi swallowed. “Why did he want to--”
“Cut you up and stare at your internal organs?” Dazai cut in.
The way he’d phrased it sent unpleasant chills up Atsushi’s spine. Why did he have to say it like that? He thought, but answered, “Yeah… That.”
“Some people are just freaks like that.” Dazai glanced at Atsushi with his peripherals. “Quit wringing your hands, you look like a nervous wreck.” Atsushi dropped his hands to his sides. “Your quick healing is a bit of a disadvantage here. There'll be people who want to play with that and understand why it happens. Any science enthusiasts here have taken a rather… obsessive interest in your healing ability.”
Atsushi swallowed hard. “Oh…”
Dazai sighed boredly. “Relax, Atsushi-kun. They won’t lay a finger on you unless I give them permission. Pissing off an executive would mean dire consequences.” He turned to Atsushi with a grim expression. “But I will give them permission if you don’t keep up in training,” he threatened before continuing on their path and humming a tune he made up. Dazai’s lighthearted humming did nothing to ease the tension Atsushi felt with that last statement.
***
But, back to the original point: Dazai was a hard teacher. The fact that Atsushi lived in his apartment didn’t help matters at all. Whenever he left for a job, Dazai would leave Atsushi in his room with the door jammed from the outside so he was stuck there until his teacher let him out. Atsushi quickly learned that he had to be weary of Dazai at all times, even in their down time at in the apartment. The training never stopped.
His endurance was always being tested, his reaction time evaluated, and his combat skills criticized.
He must have been getting better… He thought so. Dazai used less harsh words to describe him over time and Atsushi took that as a sign of his improvement. Despite that, his teacher never let up. Atsushi got so irritated with the random attacks that he actually started to protest at one point, but with a few well place punches and words, Dazai put him back in line.
The apprentice would casually be pouring boiling water into a small, foam cup of instant noodles, and Dazai would strike out of nowhere. It wasn’t uncommon for the scalding water to spill onto Atsushi’s skin. He’d give a cry of pain as Dazai still tackled and immobilized him, and somehow remained unburned by the hot water.
It took him a minute, but after writhing and eventually managing to ram his head into Dazai chest hard enough, his teacher released him. Atsushi knew it as he put distance between himself and Dazai, the man had let him get away. He didn’t know why for sure, and he couldn’t say he cared. His burns from the boiling water felt hot and feverish on his skin, the heat reached his bones. Atsushi was panting, his muscles taut, his eyes narrowed, his burns screaming.
He didn’t take his eyes off of Dazai, not even to look at the angry red marks on his arms. His teacher would take advantage of any and all distractions.
“Tell me what you’re going to do next, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai said, letting his muscles relax calmly. Atsushi wasn’t fooled by that, not like last time. It was one of Dazai’s favorite strategies: Seem defenseless and lash out in a millisecond.
Atsushi swallowed hard, trying to form a plan. His burns weren’t healing thanks to Dazai’s ability, and he was having a hard time forcing the healing process. He cursed mentally. Atsushi was taking too long with this. Dazai would attack at any second. He needed more time for his injuries to heal.
He groaned. “Why do you always have to do this, Dazai-san?” He asked, waiting for the burns to heal. “I just wanted to eat dinner.” The burns were shrinking. “Did you train your last apprentice like this too?” He didn’t plan on the question working to distract Dazai; he was too smart for that. If anything, Atsushi just needed a few extra seconds to heal. Running away wasn’t an option in these situations.
“No, Akutagawa-kun didn’t live here,” Dazai responded as though he didn’t see what Atsushi was doing. “I’m trying out some new teaching methods with you. Trying to keep things interesting.”
The swelling from the burns were going down, it was a slow process at the moment though. “What happened to him?” Atsushi asked, stalling for time. “You said you’d tell me and never got around to it.”
A few more seconds for the burns to heal.
Dazai smirked. He’d seen through Atsushi’s strategy from the beginning. “A bullet lodged itself in his brain,” he said nonchalantly before getting serious again.
The red burns had mostly faded. They still throbbed, but Atsushi couldn’t care less as he attempted to fight off Dazai. He made it three minutes before he was pinned to the floor with Dazai’s knee pressing into the space between his shoulder blades, digging into his trapezius muscle.
“It’s funny you thought I could be distracted by something like that,” Dazai’s voice came from above him.
“I didn’t,” Atsushi managed through his shortness of breath. “It was the best thing I could think of,” he admitted.
Dazai shrugged and let Atsushi up. “You’re still at a disadvantage, generally. Against me and against anyone else you may fight.” He sighed melodramatically. “Training you is such a process. We’d be further along in this if you just figured out how to control that tiger.”
Atsushi stiffened at the mention of the tiger. Occasionally, Dazai let the topic slide, and that’s how Atsushi preferred it. He wanted to forget about the beast inside of him. He wanted it gone. “I’m not sure how to,” he replied quietly. “I can’t will myself to change, and I don’t remember whatever happens when I’m in that state.”
“We can still use that,” Dazai remarked. Atsushi shuddered at the thought of it, at the image of some wild, bloodthirsty tiger tearing through people’s bodies. He’d wake up, soaked in blood, unsure of what he’d actually done. “Hey, it’s your choice,” Dazai muttered, clearly enough for Atsushi to hear him. “Assuming you don’t figure it out sooner or later, we could use the trigger of the full moon and put you on missions then.”
“No,” Atsushi murmured, more to himself than to Dazai. His voice was soft and scared.
“Then pull it together, boy,” he ordered before turning his back on the apprentice. “My previous apprentice was somewhat in control of his abilities. Like yours, his gift was destructive and had a life of its own. He figured it out.”
Atsushi swallowed. “Did that actually happen to him? The thing with the bullet…”
“Yes,” Dazai said callously, turning over his shoulder to look at Atsushi. A scary glint lit his eye. His voice was a new sound of remorseless, one Atsushi hadn’t heard from him before. The temperature of the room seemed to drop a few degrees when he added,“It went straight through his skull and killed him instantly.”

Chapter Text

“So, you got a new apprentice?” Odasaku said as he tipped his drink into his mouth. “How is he?”

Dazai shrugged. “He definitely has more potential than Akutagawa-kun did, but in some ways, he’s the complete opposite.” He took a swig of his beverage and slammed the glass on the counter. “It’s kind of frustrating. The boy won’t embrace his power, he’s absent minded when I’m trying to teach him hand to hand combat, and he acts like a child often.”

“Huh,” Odasaku hummed. “I’m sure he’ll figure it out sooner or later. You wouldn’t have taken him in if he was incapable.”

“True,” Dazai replied, not mentioning that Odasaku would have taken him in if he’d found him. He bobbed the ball of ice in his drink boredly. “Once he figures out his ability, I’m planning on take him out for a first mission.” He swallowed another mouthful of alcohol. “So, anyway, how was your day, Odasaku?”

***

Atsushi had a bit of an ability to guess when he would have a good day or a bad day within the first few minutes of waking up. He had a bad feeling that morning. The first few minutes weren’t awful, just the normal grogginess and fatigue that were there every morning. He knew for sure that this would be a bad day when he stood under the shower for a few minutes. The water had started warm like always, and when he’d begun to rub soap on his skin, it’d turned icy.

He jumped back, almost slipping on the wet ground. His hair was matted with shampoo and he was still covered in soap. The water was so cold that it hurt to touch. Atsushi gritted his teeth and reluctantly rinsed the soap from his body before quickly shutting off the water and drying off. Even when he was dry, the cold stuck to him, like a layer of ice under his skin

Dazai raised an eyebrow at Atsushi, who looked like a mess. Half of his head still had shampoo on it, he wasn’t fully dressed as he was still buttoning up his dress shirt as he came into the kitchen.

“You know your hair still has soap in it, right?” Dazai remarked boredly, turning down to read the newspaper in front of him.

Atsushi ran a hand through his hair and reddened. “The--uh… The water went cold.” He turned around so he could rinse the remaining soap out of his hair. Hopefully, there would be some warm water for a few minutes so he could rinse off properly.

“I know,” came Dazai’s casual response. “I shut off our hot water to the shower.”

“Why would you do that?” Atsushi asked, still shivering. He wanted to say more or raise his voice, but it felt too early to get a beating for stepping out of line.

“Because,” Dazai began. He took a sip of coffee, blinking a few times as he did. “You’ve been here for a little more than a month, haven’t bested me once in hand to hand combat, haven’t shifted into a tiger on purpose, and haven’t kept very good control over the beast when the moon’s out.”

“What--”

“In other words, hot showers are for winners,” he finished before downing the rest of his coffee, and looking at the empty mug. “I need another,” he mumbled sullenly. Atsushi blinked, about to protest that making him take cold showers wasn’t fair or reasonable. “Atsushi-kun,” Dazai muttered. “Not now, alright? There’s more training today. I’m somewhat hungover. I don’t feel like listening to you whine about it right now.” He filled his coffee mug, and took a gulp of it. He glanced back at Atsushi, who still stood there with soapy hair and unhappy expression. “Go rinse off,” he ordered, waving his apprentice away.

Cold water hitting Atsushi’s head felt almost painful. He tried not to shiver in the icy streams of water over on him, but that was getting harder by the second. The bones in his fingers ached as they ran through his hair, and the cold seemed to linger under his skin, even after he shut the water off. The inside of his skull hurt as though he’d gnawed on something frozen. His legs shook and for a second, he wasn’t sure if he’d go into shock or throw up right there. He glared at Dazai when he came out, which his teacher didn’t seem to care about in the slightest.

***

“You know, I wouldn’t have to do this if you just put more effort into your training,” Dazai mentioned as they walked to headquarters.

Atsushi suppressed a groan. “I’m trying my hardest, Dazai-san,” he murmured in response, using his hand as a visor to keep the sun out of his eyes. He glanced at Dazai’s bandaged hands, ready to dodge if his teacher decided to strike him for making such a poor excuse.

Dazai didn’t hit him, not this time anyway. He simply hummed a tune of his own creation that Atsushi was painfully familiar with at this point. “Just watch your step, child,” Dazai said in a low tone. He managed to make his voice sound ominus and tired at the same time. “This isn’t the place to make excuses, nor is it a place to be weak.” His eyes faced straight ahead rather than at Atsushi’s face. “I will hand you over to the lunatics who want to vivestect you if you keep trying my patience.”

Atsushi never doubted him when he said that, but Dazai repeated that threat several times in the past week. So, at some point, Atsushi probably determined that it was a hollow threat in his subconscious. He still flinched whenever Dazai mentioned it, but he didn’t feel the rush of fear in his veins as he used to. Dazai was intense and he did hit Atsushi regularly, but the student liked to believe that the man had his limits of what he was willing to do in the name of Atsushi’s training.

“You’re transforming today,” Dazai said bluntly when Atsushi didn’t say anything. It was an order, not a question or a request.

Atsushi blinked. “What?” He stammered. “But--” He nervously wrung his hands before quickly stopping because he knew that Dazai would reprimand him for that. He dropped his hands to his sides. “I can’t will myself to change, Dazai-san,” he said quietly.

“So you’ve stated,” Dazai muttered.

Atsushi pressed his lips together indignantly. “Do you not believe me?” he asked, feeling blood rush to his face.

Dazai shrugged, stepping a fair distance away from Atsushi to ensure he wouldn’t nullify the boy’s ability. There was always the possibility that Atsushi would try to “accidentally” stumble into Dazai so he’d have an excuse to evade this lesson, or at the very least delay it. That would be troublesome.

“Just try,” he ordered boredly. “Now.”

His hands balled into fists. Atsushi didn’t know how to let the tiger out, nor did he want to unleash it. Thoughts ran through his head of how to avoid using his ability. He’d rather lock that part of him, the tiger, away and forget it existed. He stood there like a deer in the headlights. He hardly saw anything in front of him, his gaze was dead and scared.

Bang!

The silence shattered like glass with the sound of a  gunshot instantly. Atsushi jumped back, blinking as though finally realizing where he was. Dazai sighed, aiming a pistol in Atsushi’s direction. That had been a warning shot.

“So,” he began in a toneless voice. “I figure there are a few triggers for your transformation.” Atsushi looked at his face, staying silent, his blood felt frozen. “Well, I’m just guessing here, but I’m thinking they are moonlight, fear, and pain.”

There was a difference… There’d been a difference between all what Dazai had threatened him with before and this. No one had ever pulled a gun on Atsushi. He felt his hands begin to shake. Something seemed to claw his stomach, like an extreme version of getting a bad feeling in one’s gut. “Y-you’re not actually going to kill me…. Right, Dazai-san?”

“Admittedly, I never planned on killing you,” Dazai responded, not lowering his pistol. “If I did, it wouldn’t be here. I don’t feel like leaving the cleaning crew with such a mess.”  

It was too early to heave a sigh of relief. He stared at Dazai’s finger resting on the trigger like the action was as natural as breathing. The sound of Atsushi’s pounding heart kept a staccato rhythm in his ears.

“When I pulled the gun on you, you almost transformed. There’s a feline look in your eyes. You’re stopping yourself, Atsushi-kun.” He didn’t say another word before he pulled the trigger and sent a bullet through Atsushi’s shoulder.

He collapsed, screaming as his hand clung to his bloodied shirt. The wound burned like the red iron poker had been shoved through his soft flesh. He swallowed hard, willing the bullet hole to close up. The tiger clawed at him from the inside. The animal wanted to taste Dazai’s blood and crush his head in its jaws despite how impossible that was. He fought with it, harder than he’d ever fought in his life. Atsushi hated it. He hated the gaping holes in his memories whenever he turned.

“Let it out now, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai ordered, getting closer to Atsushi.

This wound was taking forever to close. The bullet was embedded in his shoulder, and wouldn’t come out on its own. The tiger’s power conflicted within him. It was getting too powerful for him to handle. He writhed against it.

“Oh, come on. It doesn’t hurt that much,” Dazai’s voice seemed to hover above him. Atsushi blindly reached out for him, to grab onto him, to calm the wild beast inside of him. “Nice try,” Dazai remarked, sidestepping Atsushi’s hand. “You can’t ignore this. The tiger isn’t going to magically behave or disappear if you keep pretending it doesn’t exist. You need to take control of this.”

Atsushi looked up as Dazai took aim at him again. “Please… No.” Dazai’s eyes didn’t show a hint of emotion. “Please,” Atsushi said again, his voice shaking. “I don’t want this.”

Bang!

A second bullet lodged itself in his leg.

“Understand that I’m trying to help you with your tiger problem, Atsushi-kun,” he said above Atsushi’s cries. “You can’t get a handle on your ability if you don’t face it right now.” Atsushi shook his head, tears gathering in his closed eyes. Dazai groaned. “If you’re going to be this stubborn, I’ll put a bullet through your stomach.” He leaned down, prepared to back away if Atsushi reached for him again. “You know how much that will hurt? It could be a very slow, very painful death. I didn’t plan on killing you, but I certainly have no qualms about it.”

The boy looked up at him, his face contorted in pain. His hands didn’t raise for Dazai’s nullification. He gazed at his teacher with fear in his eyes.

“I’ll give you until three.” Dazai took a step back and aimed his gun for Atsushi’s abdomen.

“One.”

Atsushi looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Two.”

Dazai’s one uncovered eye didn’t show any mercy.

“Three.”

The tiger leapt out, Atsushi shrieked as his body glowed and seized uncontrollably. He was aware of it this time. He could feel it take over his body and he could feel its emotions. Unadulterated rage.

But… He was still conscious. He understood what was happening. It was weird. He’d half expected to black out right when this happened, but he still stared at Dazai, who gave a smirk. “See? You can do it if you try.”

The tiger felt rage. Atsushi felt rage. He lunged in sync with the tiger to rip Dazai’s throat out. Dazai dodged, smiling darkly as Atsushi growled and bared his teeth. “Try to kill me if you want,” he said, not bothering to put distance between himself and the huge carnivorous cat. “Did you already forget that I’d nullify your ability instantly?” The tiger let out another angered growl, and sat down. “That’s it then?” Dazai muttered. “I had more hope for you, Atsushi-kun. You didn’t strike me as the type just to give up.” He raised the gun again, and the tiger rose, shying away to the other side of the room.

Dazai shrugged. “Can you revert? Assuming you don’t want to be a huge cat forever, that would be useful to learn.” The cat growled again and leapt at him. Dazai dodged, keeping his pistol trained on the tiger. “I’m not solving all your problems for you. Figure it out.”

Atsushi clawed at the ground frustratedly.

“The tiger is apart of you,” he said seriously. “Listen to it, understand it, defeat it.”

It took a good half hour, but Atsushi eventually managed to revert to human form. By the time it was done, he was physically and mentally spent. He came back, sprawled out, face down on the floor. He rolled onto his side and clutched his abdomen, breathing hard. Pain stabbed at his insides, like the tiger was tearing through his body from the inside. It seemed even more aggravated than before. He pressed a fist to his mouth a coughed, feeling it come away wet and warm. He cracked his eyes open and stared at the spot of blood on his hand.

“That took longer than expected,” Dazai said from above him. He laid a hand on Atsushi’s head, forcing the tiger back into darkness. The boy gave a relieved breath, letting blood seep between his lips. “Up,” Dazai commanded in a low voice.

Atsushi didn’t want to get up, but the tone Dazai used left no room for argument. He got to his feet slowly, his body felt broken, like he had fractures all over. Bones seemed to grate against his muscles and other bones. He flexed his arm experimentally, wincing as he felt something shift under his skin. He bit back a yelp when Dazai fixed his eye on him.

“You shot me twice,” Atsushi murmured under his breath. His hand went to his shoulder as though it was still marred with a gunshot wound. The betrayal he felt showed in his tired, pained eyes. Atsushi never considered himself close to Dazai. The man was a mystery. Aside from the things Atsushi heard about Dazai’s previous apprentice and Dazai’s status as the youngest executive, he knew next to nothing about him. However, there had been a sort of trust there. Now, he stared at his master with narrowed eyes.

Dazai inhaled slowly, and Atsushi winced as though that signaled an incoming strike. He didn’t hit him, Dazai simply put a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down.” Confliction played on Atsushi’s face as he debated shying away from Dazai’s touch. He ultimately decided against it.

“Yes, I did,” he confirmed. Atsushi bit the inside of his cheek at the way Dazai had said it. “I know it hurt, but I had no plans to kill you.” Atsushi didn’t seem to take solace in the statement. “Atsushi-kun,” he said in a serious voice that somehow sounded comforting in Atsushi’s ears. “I push you this hard because I want you to live.”

“Huh?”

“You turn into a white tiger, you can annihilate nearly anything in your path,” Dazai intoned. “There are people hunting you, people who want to exploit your ability and hurt you. If I don’t push you to your limits now, do you know how easy it would be for them to take you?”

Atsushi blinked. “Hunting me?” He repeated quietly.

“Yes,” Dazai said darkly. “People far scarier than this organization.” He sighed theartically. “We can’t use all of our resources fending them off. That’s why I’m training you like this, so you’ll be able to stand on your own two feet.” Atsushi stared at his wide eyed, stunned by this new information. “That’s it,” Dazai concluded in a hushed voice. “Understand?”

Atsushi nodded, fully convinced by the explanation.

“So, Atsushi-kun, what triggered it?” Dazai had a dull glint in his eye again. “Would you say it was the pain or the fear?”

Atsushi swallowed hard at the perfectly fresh memory. “The fear,” he said, his mouth as dry as paper. The pain had definitely moved the process along, but the fear was the true cause for his shift.

“Great,” Dazai remarked curtly, walking away. Atsushi scrambled to catch up with him, whenever Dazai went somewhere without feeling the need to barricade Atsushi in his room first, it meant he expected the boy to follow. “We’ll keep working on it then.”

****

Atsushi followed Dazai more closely than usual as they walked down the corridor. He had a new aura about him. He seemed even more trusting than he normally was.

Dazai suppressed a grin effortlessly, keeping a stoney expression on his face. His apprentice really was gullible, which in reality, was a problem in itself. For now though, he’d go on believing that he was being protected from people who planned to use him. The truth was, he was already being used.

Chapter Text

“You neglected to mention your apprentice, Dazai-kun,” the Port Mafia boss mentioned when Dazai reported back from a job.

Dazai shrugged. “What about him?” There was no urgency to unjam the door to Atsushi’s room, but he’d rather do that than talk to Mori much longer. “He’s progressing well, better than my last apprentice. However, he’s still nothing to write home about.”

Mori casually rested his chin in his hands. “Strange you would say that. I heard a rumor.” The grin on his face was enough to make normal people shudder, but Dazai didn’t so much as blink. He’d grown used to that smile.

Dazai’s face remained impassive. “Did it have any importance? Groundless rumors are quite common in large organizations.”

The boss shrugged as though he was losing interest in their conversation. “Just something about his regenerative abilities.”

“Oh,” Dazai replied, sounding just as bored as his boss. “That.” He didn’t care to stay in the office much longer. He glanced down at Elise scribbling on the floor. “His heals at an impressive rate, but for now, that perk is wasted on him. I’ll make use of it when he gets out in the field.” He turned to leave.

“At some point I would like to conduct a little experiment,” Mori remarked when Dazai took a step forward. The executive was well aware that his experiment wouldn’t be quite as small as the doctor’s had been when Atsushi had been vaccinated and injected with the transmitter.

“Understood.”

***

Atsushi stared up at the ceiling tiredly. He wasn’t sure what time it was and he couldn’t bring himself to care that much. Dazai was gone again, and for the moment, he had the apartment to himself. It would have been a lot more meaningful if he wasn’t stuck in his chamber.

It didn’t matter that much. With every passing hour, he grew more fidgety. In the first few hours of being alone, he managed to read a little of the book that Dazai had left him with. Then, he paced the floor, tried to sleep, and slammed his body into the door. Nothing came of it except for a sore shoulder.

***

“ What’s going on?” Atsushi asked.

“What makes you think anything’s going on?” Dazai responded, his face betraying no emotion.

“You didn’t wake me up.” He glanced around the kitchen. “And… I don’t know… Everything feels… quieter…”

Dazai shrugged. “Very observant, Atsushi-kun.” He glanced out the window boredly. “If you must know, we in the Mafia tend to work at night. You’re doing your first job tonight, and you’re pretty worthless when you’re tired.”

“First job?” Atsushi flinched as he spoke.

“Relax, it’s simple, not far out of Port Mafia territory, I’ll be right there.” His eye remained bored and dead. There was no reassuring smile. Dazai simply ended with, “All you have to do is follow orders.”

“Uh… Okay,” he murmured. Atsushi shyed back slightly, he had a bad feeling about this. “Will I have to…” His voice trailed off, not wanting to say what he was thinking.

“We’ll see,” Dazai replied. They ate breakfast in silence, though Atsushi didn’t have much of an appetite. He still ate though since he was all too familiar with having little in his stomach.

“What time is the job?” Atsushi asked after a long, solid silence.

“When I come back from another thing I have today. It’ll be late.”

“That means--”

“Yep,” Dazai said easily, rising from his seat and grabbing Atsushi’s shirt to pull him up. “You’ll be staying here while I’m gone.”

“Room or the rest of the apartment?”

Dazai chuckled. “It’s entertaining you had to ask.” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Room.” Atsushi made a sound in the back of his throat without meaning to. He hated staying his room for the whole day. It was boring, and the walls always seemed to cave in around him. It wasn’t the orphanage or the jail, but his room was still a prison of sorts. “I’ll throw a book in there for you. Quit being a child.” He gestured to Atsushi’s prison room. “In. Now.”

The boy gave a resigned sigh and stepped into his room. As promised, Dazai tossed a book in after him before jamming the door shut.

He sat on the bed and curled in on himself once he heard the door slam shut as Dazai left the apartment. Dazai hadn’t given him a clear answer, but he’d expected that. Dazai never gave clear answers, but the response had been simple enough to decipher.

In a matter of hours, Atsushi would have his first kill.

****

Atsushi sat in the car, lacing and unlacing his fingers. Dazai was probably annoyed with him for that. He couldn’t stop though. “You--” He had to swallow before trying to talk again. “You never told me what this job was,” he said softly.

“Hunting down a traitor. He hasn’t made it far. Easy.”

That didn’t ease Atsushi’s nerves. He could read between the lines. This mission was not just a job; it was a point to be made. This is what happened to traitors. If he left, he’d be hunted down and… He didn’t know what came after that, but whatever it was, he’d find out soon.

“Am I supposed to turn into a tiger for this?”

“Probably not. You’re training hasn’t been great, and you don’t do very well with hand to hand combat. It’s far too likely that you’d rampage if you turned.” Atsushi held back a sigh of relief. “This is going to be quick, quiet mission. We go in, get him, leave. Understood?” Atsushi nodded. It didn’t sound so bad when his mentor said it like that, but he didn’t dare believe that for a minute.

“I’m going to have to kill someone, aren’t I?” Atsushi whispered so softly that his mentor had to strain to hear him. He hadn’t wanted to say it out loud, he hadn’t even wanted to think about it.

“It’s possible,” Dazai replied easily. Atsushi gulped and stared at his hands that may soon be bloodied. “Look at me, Atsushi-kun,” he mentor ordered after a minute. The tiger raised his head and looked at Dazai in the fading daylight. “I’ll tell you something about the Port Mafia, child. It’s bigger than the handful of people you’ve met.”

“I know tha--”

“I’m not done speaking.”

Atsushi tensed and fell silent.

“There are ability users, people like us who can protect themselves.” He paused, seeming well aware that Atsushi was holding onto every word Dazai was saying. “Then there are people who can’t. People who will die if this traitor hands out our information, people with children at home.” Atsushi blinked in surprise. “Everything we do is done to protect our city and our people.” His hand went to his student’s shoulder. “You must remember that, alright?” Dazai’s voice was soft, his tone the gentlest that Atsushi had heard from him.

The car stopped, but Dazai hadn’t moved. His fingers were firm on Atsushi’s shoulder, not enough to hurt, but there seemed to be a sense of urgency in his touch. “I’ll remember, Dazai-san,” Atsushi replied with determination. The corners of Dazai’s lips quirked up, resembling some kind of smile.

“Good.” His hand rose to Atsushi’s head and ruffled his hair. The boy flinched when Dazai made contact with his head. He half expected his teacher to curl his fingers into his hair and yank it as the headmaster of the orphanage had on several occasions.”It’s time to go.”

***

“Umm… Dazai-san,” Atsushi began nervously, squirming in an armchair.

“What is it, apprentice?”

“What are we doing here?”

Dazai turned a page in a book he’d plucked off the shelf. His eye read the kanji on the page with disinterest. “Waiting for our traitor to get home.” He clicked his tongue boredly, and returned the book to its home on the shelf. “The guy has terrible taste in literature.”

“But why are we here?”

“I just told you.”

“I mean,” the boy spoke up. “Why would he come back here? If he was on the run, wouldn’t he leave everything to get away from the Mafia?”

Dazai reached for another book, muttering something about hoping it’d be better than the last one. “Normally, that’d be accurate. This guy though, he’s not too smart. He’s selling some of our important information to people who could use it against us. There are tiny transmitters on almost every paper that belongs to the Port Mafia. We tracked the files here.”

“Oh,” Atsushi murmured, having to admit that that was pretty stupid. “But how do you know the actual files are here? Couldn’t he have removed the transmitter?” He glanced at the apartment door, waiting for movement. The tiger waited to pounce on its prey. He shuddered at the feeling of it.

“Well, we found all of them here for one thing.”

Something dropped into his lap and he suppressed a yelp. He glanced up to see Dazai leaning over the chair, looking down at him. He wondered for a second how Dazai had crossed the room so fast without his notice, but shrugged it off.

“Go on, take a look,” Dazai said, grinning encouragingly. His tone sounded like a suggestion, but Atsushi was smart enough to know it was an order. He could see the darkness in Dazai’s eye.

Atsushi swallowed hard, and obeyed. A picture of a glowing white tiger stared back at him when he lifted the cover of the file. Under that was general information about him: name, age, height, weight, ability. There was something so cold about seeing it there in black and white, like he wasn't quite a person.

“He took information about me…” Atsushi said, suddenly grateful that he'd been sitting.

Dazai nodded grimly, and turned the page. “Had he continued with his plan, it’s possible would have been abducted and sold to a different organization.”

Atsushi shuddered. “Why?”

His teacher sighed and turned another page. “We’ve been over this, Atsushi-kun. You turn into a tiger. You’re dangerous when you get out of control. I’m sure you’re no stranger to the cruelty of the world.” His eye was darker, and his iris seemed glinted dark red. “Believe me when I tell you that it can get much, much crueler.”

Atsushi nodded, his mouth felt as dry as paper. His hands shook when he looked at the tiger again. “Is this the reason this is my first mission?”

“It played a factor, yes.” Dazai shrugged. “Don’t panic so much about it. It’s possible that once you get started, all of this will get easier.”

The comment didn’t calm Atsushi’s nerves at all. He still squirmed when Dazai walked across the room and looked at him. “It’ll be soon now, Atsushi-kun. Some portion of this will be practice for you. I want you to focus on a single aspect of your power at a time.”

“What do you me--”

“If he runs, try to use the tiger’s speed. If we lose him, hunt him down with the tiger’s sense of smell.” Dazai glanced at the door. “Right now, see if you can hear him.”

Atsushi stared at him, only partially understanding what he was saying.

“I said right now,” Dazai repeated. “Did you miss that part?”

“No,” Atsushi stammered, his mind flashing back to the gun in Dazai’s hand pointed at him. “Just… How do I do this?”

“Hey, I just nullify abilities. How would I know how to control the angry tiger in your psyche?”

“I don’t know…”

Dazai groaned, “Do I need to hold a gun to your head?” His hand made it halfway to his gun. Atsushi flinched, jumping up from the chair and darting to the other side of the room. “I can, you know. I have a pistol on me.”

“Please don’t,” Atsushi squeaked. “I-I’m trying…” Dazai dropped his hand and watched his apprentice with a bored eye.

Sweat collected at Atsushi’s hairline. His stomach twisted into knots. Calling on the tiger’s strength wasn’t something he did at will, not yet. Generally, it felt like summoning the dead; it was something that should not ever be done, but his arguing with Dazai scared him more.

Footsteps. Atsushi’s eyebrow twitched when he could make out the sound of footfalls. They weren’t on the same level as him and Dazai. One… maybe two floors down.

“You can hear him then?” Dazai asked, observing the concentration on Atsushi’s face.

“I-I can’t tell if it’s him, but there’s someone below us… They’re coming up.” His eyes opened when the thuds of shoes against stairs pounded in his ears. “It might be him.”

The thudding of shoes on the floor got louder to Atsushi. They got closer. They approached the door. He became aware of Dazai’s raised eyebrow, and nodded to confirm that the person he heard was their target. His mentor smirked and leaned against the wall. It came as no surprise to either of them when the door swung open.

“Ah,finally,” Dazai remarked casually. “We thought you’d never show up.”

The man dropped whatever he was carrying, backed away, and broke into a run. Dazai made no move to pursue him, he glanced at Atsushi. “It would be ideal if you could get him before he leaves the building. Being outdoors will make tracking him harder.”

Atsushi blinked, his brain working too slowly. He bit his lip when the Dazai’s words finally registered. Dazai’s hand went down to his gun again, and in Atsushi’s sheer panic, he ran after the traitor.

The chase didn’t last long. Atsushi had never prided himself on being athletic, but after all of the physically demanding training he’d been faced with, a few muscles that had failed him in the past were stronger. He was still scrawny, and Dazai made sure to occasionally mention that fact.

His target was not built for straining activities. Maybe he’d been in the field once, but Atsushi could guess that he’d moved to desk work rather recently. Muscle memory remained intact, but he’d weakened significantly. That didn’t mean Atsushi had an easy time subduing him. He thrashed when Atsushi tackled him. The boy took a fist to the jaw, but dug his nails into the man’s skin. He took more punches, but compared to the strikes he took from Dazai, they felt like nothing.

The man was nearly twice his size and Atsushi could barely manage to keep him a a choke hold. The boy took a few hits to the face. His nose drizzled blood. He forced his arms to go more rigid around the man’s neck.

It felt like an eternity.

Between the terrible gagging sounds, the pain in his head, and body slams into the wall, Atsushi felt like absolute crap. He finally allowed himself to relax when the man’s thrashing slowed and he fell to the ground. Atsushi waited an extra few seconds to make sure he remained unmoving before he released the guy’s neck. Blood trickled from his nose and his ribs felt broken. For the moment, Atsushi wanted nothing more than to curl into the fetal position and sleep.

“Took you long enough,” Dazai’s voice came from the end of the hallway.

Atsushi bit back a snide remark about Dazai doing nothing to help him. He’d get backhanded for sure if he talked back. He simply wiped his nose with his the back of his hand, smearing the blood all over his face. Dazai didn’t comment on the state his apprentice was in. He simply grabbed a pair of handcuffs from his coat pocket and tossed them to Atsushi, who wordlessly locked them into place around the traitor’s wrists.

***

The man had begun begging for his life as soon as he woke up. His voice was weak, desperate, and trembling. Dazai laughed at his attempts to bargain his way out of death, and at one point he leaned over the back seat and said something along the lines of, “Well, you should have considered that before trying to betray us.”

Atsushi sat rigidly, desperately trying to tune out the somewhat one sided conversation between his mentor and the condemned man in the back of car. Dazai didn’t care enough to comment on his apprentice’s behavior, and for that Atsushi was grateful. He found himself at a hard spot. He wanted this torturous car ride to be over, for the pleas and crying to stop. However, he knew that once they stopped and exited the vehicle, something even worse would happen. His hands shook as much as their captive’s voice when he thought about whatever was coming next.

***

The car ride was over too quickly. “Here we go,” Dazai said in a hollow tone. He suddenly looked a little less human to Atsushi. He wasn’t smiling darkly, nor did he don a serious expression. Dazai had an empty grin plaster on his face. His eyes were bored like nothing in the world was worth a second look.

Atsushi got out of the car, he wanted to hug his arms and try to calm himself down, but let his upper extremities hang at his sides. Now was not the time to further catch Dazai’s attention by doing something that would earn reprimand. He didn’t know exactly what was coming, but he knew his fear arose from common sense.

Yokohama was asleep. They’d driven to a quiet place, somewhere a distance from people. Somewhere few would awake to the sound of a gunshot or screams.

Dazai opened the trunk of the car, grabbing the traitor by the arm and yanking him out. Atsushi winced when he hear something, the man’s arm maybe, pop from its socket. Dazai paid no attention to the screams.

“So,” he began as he effortlessly kept the struggling man in his grasp. “Atsushi-kun, you’ve been working with us for a little while.” Atsushi bit his lip, almost hard enough to draw blood. “I think it’s time you see a mafia execution.” He continued to drag the man further from the car despite his protests. “It’s not that hard. You’ll catch on pretty quickly.”

“Please,” the man cried. “I don’t want to die!”

Dazai chuckled. “Looks like you and I the exact opposite then.” He gestured Atsushi over to give him a hand. When Atsushi didn’t move, Dazai smiled. “Come on, Atsushi-kun,” he said with a cheerful tone that Atsushi had learned to be weary of. “Don’t be a traitor.” His voice was joking and light, but Atsushi picked up on the threat. Dazai would be willing to put Atsushi down right here.

His body was numb, but he somehow moved to dig his fingers into the traitor’s arms as Dazai directed. “Good,” Dazai said when he saw the terrified reluctance on Atsushi’s face. He dragged the man toward the sidewalk. “One thing you have to remember,” Dazai said, addressing Atsushi. The boy gulped and looked at his mentor. “We’re dogs of the Port Mafia.” He kicked the man’s feet out from under him and forced him to bite the curb. “And this is how we put down strays.”

He brought his foot down on the man’s head.

Howls of pain tore through the air. They screamed in Atsushi’s head, and he know that he’d never be able to forget those screams and the sound of his bones breaking, his ligaments tearing. That noise would find its way into his nightmares along with the orphanage headmaster and the tiger.

Dazai turned the man over, which only seemed to make the screams grow louder. Atsushi could only stare at the face that had once been normal. He slapped his hands over his ears, trying to banish the screams from his brain. He willed his eyes to close, but they didn’t. Now… The man’s face was horribly disfigured, the mandible detached and unhinged in a bloody, broken mess. Something hard pressed into Atsushi’s chest, he pulled his eyes from the bleeding, screaming traitor on the ground.

Dazai pushed a gun to Atsushi’s sternum. “Go on,” he said, his voice almost drowned out by the screams and Atsushi’s hands clamped over his ears. “Finish the job.” When Atsushi remained frozen, Dazai tugged one of his hands from his ear and made him curl his fingers around the firearm.

“I-I ca--” Atsushi began, his hand trembling in Dazai’s firm grip. He could feel tears rising to his eyes.

“We don’t have time to argue about this, Atsushi-kun.” Dazai guided the boy’s hand and the gun to the man writhing on the ground. “Three times, through chest.” Atsushi whole body shook now, his legs threatened to give out any second. “I started it for you,” Dazai reminded. Atsushi shut his eyes and shook his head vigorously, but his hands remained on the gun, poised to blast holes though the man.

“Atsushi-kun,” Dazai said, coming closer to Atsushi’s ear so he could be understood through the wails of agony. “He’s a million miles from innocent. He’s killed more people than several serial killers. He wanted to sell you.” Atsushi took a deep, shuddering breath in. He needed only one more little push. “Remember what I told you earlier. Why we have to do this. What we are protecting.” A pause. “ Do it.” He took a step back so Atsushi would feel he was being given space.

The boy’s hands shook and tears streaked down his face. He stood there so long that Dazai considered using a more forceful method of persuasion.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

The shots rang through the night air. Atsushi’s form was shaking like a leaf on a blustery day. Dazai blinked, but his surprise disintegrated in seconds. He smiled. The gun tumbled from Atsushi’s hands and clattered on the pavement. His head hung like he was confused on what just happened.

Dazai shrugged off his coat and laid it over Atsushi’s shoulders. The boy flinched at his touch. “Welcome to the Port Mafia officially, Atsushi-kun.”

The words were something that perplexed Atsushi more than Dazai perplexed him. Those simple words made him want to cry or hide or curl up and die. Those words reminded him of the fact that he would most like to undo. He was a murderer now. He wasn’t even a decent murderer. His hands had been shaking so badly that the bullets hadn’t pierced the traitor’s heart and killed him quickly. They had been out of order and spread out. The man was still alive, laying on the pavement, slowly bleeding out. HIs breath came out in a wheeze, which didn’t last long, but took too long to silence regardless.

At the same time, Atsushi felt immense, almost unrealistic relief. He’d found a place . Somewhere he was allowed to live. Somewhere he could belong .

What sort of face was he supposed to make?

Tears pricked at his eyes, but the corners of his mouth tugged upward. Were these tears of shame or guilt? Were they tears of joy? Was he smiling? Or… Was his mouth forming a grimace?

Atsushi couldn’t figure it out. He lowered his head further, letting his uneven bangs obscure his expression. His hands clung to the black coat over his shoulders, pulling it tighter around himself. It was big on him, and hung over him like a cloak. The folds covered him, and seemed to bury him. Atsushi shook under the coat, feeling like he was being drowned and being protected. And for reasons he couldn’t quite decide on, he cried the whole way back to the Port Mafia headquarters. For the moment, Dazai made no comment.

Chapter Text

Life in the Port Mafia seemed to get less scary. Atsushi found it was like getting doused with cold water on a hot day. It was a shock at first. It hurt initially. After that, there was complete numbness. Then, he’d get used to the feeling. The numbing was a slow process though.

The painful stage didn’t end when he got to bed the night he killed the traitor. He’d cried himself to sleep that night, and felt like crap the next morning, but his eyes were dry. Dazai raised an eyebrow at the distraught expression on Atsushi’s face. The boy rubbed nonexistent tears from his eyes when Dazai’s gaze seemed to get more intense. “I couldn’t sleep,” he murmured in response to the question in Dazai’s eye.

“They always say the first night’s the hardest,” his mentor said hollowly. It was as though he’d never felt that throbbing ache in his chest on his first night. Almost like he was quoting a text and not speaking from experience.

“Was it the hardest for you?” Atsushi asked quietly, his voice was nearly inaudible.

“Not really.”

“Oh…”

He didn’t make any move to find something to eat in the fridge or pantry. Atsushi was plenty hungry, but he couldn’t bring himself to think about food.

It happened every few minutes; that mangled, bloodied face came into his head. It appeared every time he closed his eyes. Phantom screams echoed in his ears whenever he allowed his mind to wander. Atsushi took a steadying breaths in when his hands shook as they had when they held the gun.

No. He couldn’t eat, not without getting sick from reliving that memory again and again and again. Atsushi swallowed hard when he realized how nauseous he felt when he didn’t even have anything in his stomach now. He couldn’t eat for now, not without heaving it up and looking like a weakling. He just told himself he wasn’t hungry. He’d eat later when he could get over his problems.

“You’re training with Chuuya today, just a heads up,” Dazai said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Chuuya?” Atsushi echoed, squinting.

“My partner. Angry, short redhead with the hat. You met him when you first came here. Remember?”

“Umm… Oh! Yeah, I remember him,” Atsushi said with a straight face. He paused, trying to get a better image of Chuuya in his head. “Why’s he training me? I thought he wanted to kill you… and therefore, by extension, me...”

Dazai chuckled. “Make no mistake, he was reluctant.” When he got a questioning look from his apprentice, he explained. “I popped into his apartment the other day and got him to agree to it while he was drunk.”

Atsushi’s gaze focused on the new bandage on Dazai’s face. “Is that--”

“Yeah,” Dazai muttered. “He threw a wine bottle at me… And a chair, but I dodged that.” He boredly stretched his arms and groaned. “Anyway, as much as I hate him, Chuuya is the top martial artist in the Port Mafia. Your hand to hand combat skills are lacking.” He waved Atsushi away. “Get ready, go to the training room, and if you come back wearing a stupid hat, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

Atsushi’s blood ran cold at the threat. He stared at Dazai, trying to determine if he was joking or being serious. He normally took everything Dazai said seriously, but now he was having some trouble distinguishing the tone.

“I was kidding, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai said with a half laugh and dead smile. Atsushi nodded tiredly, his face not entirely convinced as he shuffled away quietly. “Or was I?” Atsushi heard him mutter under his breath. The boy released a breath, brushing it off.

***

Atsushi arrived in the training room. Chuuya glanced at the clock with a sneer on his face. “You took your time getting here, brat,” the man said with annoyance.

Atsushi blinked. “Dazai-san said I was supposed to be here at noon.” He was supposed to have at least five minutes before training began. He put it together after thirty seconds. “Ohhh! Dazai-san told-- okay, that makes sense now.”

Chuuya groaned. “First he gets me to watch his apprentice, then he decides to waste my time. I wish I could say he’s being unbelievable, but this is normal for the idiot.” He turned to address Atsushi directly. “I almost feel like I should feel sorry for you since you ended up with him for a master.”

The boy managed a faint smile as he felt his stomach clench with hunger. “Well, he’s the reason I’m still alive, I guess.”

Blue eyes squinted at him. “Forget it,” he said, cracking his neck. “The bandage freak’s wasted enough of my time.” Faster than Atsushi’s eyes could track, Chuuya was in the air, ready to strike. Atsushi hit the floor to avoid taking the full force of Chuuya’s kick. He rolled to the side, pushing himself to his feet. He narrowly missed another hit. He was feeling lightheaded with hunger, not nearly as bad as the orphanage, but he’d skipped lunch and dinner the day before, and he’d denied himself breakfast that day.

Atsushi tried to attack him, even call upon the tiger’s power. His hands shook as the beast inside of him refused to respond. His stomach growled painfully, but he ignored it to the best of his abilities.

They were about the same height. If he could just tackle Chuuya, he’d possibly have a chance. He dodged again. The cinder block wall crumbled under a gloved fist. Okay… Maybe not… Atsushi decided as he protected his face with his arms.

“Come on, kid. You’re killing me,” Chuuya said, dusting off his gloves. “You can’t hope to finish this lesson as long as you keep running.” He hadn’t quite lost patience yet, but Atsushi could sense that he was getting irritated. “I know about the tiger. Why don’t you let it out?”

Atsushi’s mouth went dry at the thought of letting the tiger take control of him again. “Uhh…” One of the few times he actually wanted to summon its power, and the dumb beast stayed huddled in the corner of his brain like a frightened animal. No, Atsushi thought when he focused on the tiger. He’s not scared. He’s just outright refusing.

Stupid tiger! He yelled into his psyche.

A hand slammed against his shoulder and tossed him against the wall. “What’s the deal?” Chuuya asked as Atsushi gasped for breath. “I know you’re under Dazai’s supervision, and he sucks as a martial artist, but you should be showing more progress than this. ” He gestured to the boy’s weak form. “He wouldn’t keep you around if you didn’t respond to any of his teachings.” His grip loosened. “So, what’s the problem?”

“Umm..I-I don’t--” Atsushi stuttered. He was cut off by a long, hungry growl. Chuuya blinked, Atsushi reddened and looked away.

“That’s it?” Chuuya asked in disbelief. “You failed this badly the whole time because you skipped breakfast? Does that idiot not feed you?”

Atsushi didn’t say anything, too distracted by the awkwardness of the situation to do much.

“Well?!” Chuuya snapped. Atsushi flinched. “Answer the question.” The severity in his voice left no room for disobedience.

“I-It’s not because of Dazai-san,” Atsushi squeaked, shrinking under the man’s glare. “It’s my fault. I d-didn’t eat this morning… Or last night...”

He thought he saw Chuuya’s eyebrow twitch before he gripped the back of Atsushi’s neck and dragged him out of the room. His fingers dug into Atsushi’s neck, poking against his styloid process. The boy let out a slight whimper.

“I’m sorry,” he said as Chuuya dragged him along. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong, but he was willing to beg and apologize until his superior released him. Maybe Chuuya would listen to his apologies and pleas, unlike Dazai. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Shut up,” Chuuya ordered as he released Atsushi’s neck and grabbed his shirt collar. “Relax, it’s not like I’m going to do anything to you.”

He pulled Atsushi into a cafe; they remained in Port Mafia territory. “Sit down,” Chuuya said as he roughly pushed him into a booth. “Stay,” he commanded severely before turning and walking away.

The boy whimpered, remembering how the wall had broken under Chuuya’s fist. He wasn’t thinking straight, and was even more confused of why Chuuya had taken him to a cafe of all places. If he was going to beat Atsushi’s lights out, why would he do it in a coffee shop? He took a breath in and sat up.

The whole place had a nice ambiance. It was quiet, but people still chatted in casual tones. Atsushi almost felt calm for a moment.

Chuuya slid down into the seat across from Atsushi. The weretiger flinched. “Geez, will you calm down?” Chuuya muttered with annoyance. He pushed a small bento box into Atsushi’s hands. “Just eat that so we can go back to training.” He took an impatient sip of his coffee, and gestured to the food.

The boy was hungry, but as always, that flash of a memory went through his head. That mangled jaw and broken body filled his mind. He covered his mouth with his hand and waited for the nausea to pass.

Chuuya raised an eyebrow. “It’s not the best cuisine out there, but that’s no reason to be picky.” He gestured to the bento box. “We don’t have all day.”

“That’s not it…” Atsushi lowered his head.

“Are you sick?”

Atsushi shook his head. “I… umm....” He could feel his face heating up when he thought about it, even more so that he was even thinking about saying it out loud. Chuuya would call him weak if he heard, Dazai would berate him, he’d lose the one place he’d managed to find.

“What? Freaking say it already!”

“I went on my first job,” Atsushi blurted. When Chuuya prompted, more words spilled out against Atsushi’s will. “I killed him, and now I see that face every time I close my eyes, and I feel sick.”

Chuuya stared at him for a minute before setting down his coffee and sighing. “I’m gonna have to play therapist here, aren’t I?” He spread his hands out on the table. “He was a traitor, and that’s what all traitors have coming to them. You were helping the whole Port Mafia.”

“But… I killed him…”

“You get used to it. I know it seems bad, and probably freaks the heck out of you, but that’s the truth.”

“I--” Atsushi began.

“Starving yourself won’t do anything to help,” Chuuya said, cutting him off. “In fact, I’m pretty sure eating helps calm you down.” He reached across the table and popped the lid off of the bento box, pushing it in front of the boy again. “Just take a deep breath and eat something. You’ll get better.”

Atsushi’s hand shook on his chopsticks. Swallowing hard, he brought a grain of rice to his lips. Chuuya looked irritatedly at him as if scolding the boy for eating a bare minimum. Atsushi winced before placing a piece of chicken in his mouth. The shaking slowed after a few more bites of his meal. Atsushi’s shoulders began to relax slightly.

“Feeling better?” Chuuya asked when Atsushi had finished.

“Yes,” Atsushi said, bowing slightly. “T-thank you, Chuuya-san.”

The man blinked at him before chuckling. Atsushi stared at him inquisitively. “You’re almost the exact opposite of Dazai’s last apprentice,” he explained.

The mention of Dazai’s previous student made Atsushi pause. He’d always wanted to ask about him, but whenever he brought it up to Dazai, the issue got waved away. He could sense that it wasn’t a sensitive topic, but still, it seemed to be avoided whenever possible. “Did you know him?” Atsushi asked quietly.

Chuuya shook his head slightly. “Not well. Dazai shoved the boy off on me to train occasionally. Had a weird ability.” Chuuya paused to take a sip of coffee. “Dazai pulled him off the streets. You could see it. He always had this blank expression on his face.” He took a moment to look Atsushi up and down. “You’re lucky you heal quickly. Dazai definitely isn’t easy on his students. Akutagawa-kun was normally covered in bruises. He shot him a few times too.”

Atsushi winced, feeling a twinge of sympathy in his chest. He was lucky to have the tiger’s healing ability, goodness knew if he would even be alive without it.

“Shame he died,” Chuuya muttered, not without feeling. A moment of silence passed between them before Chuuya rose from his seat and gestured for Atsushi to follow. “Let’s get back to training.”

Chapter Text

Atsushi’s hands were curled into fists at his sides; it tended to be a habit now since Dazai seemed to get annoyed whenever he wrung his hands. Dazai wasn’t saying anything, which Atsushi wasn’t sure to take as a good or bad sign.

“Where are we going?” Atsushi said when he dared to ask.

Dazai didn’t even spare him a glance. “The boss wanted to see you.”

He froze, feeling fear creep into his stomach. For a few moments, he couldn’t bring himself to move. His teacher didn’t stop for him. “Atsushi-kun, come on. We don’t have all day.”

The boy scrambled to catch up with Dazai. “Why does he want to see me?”

“Remember that job you went on a few days ago?” His teacher said, casually stretching his arms above his head. “Turns out the body was contaminated… or it could have been… Some disease that has some very dangerous effects on ability users.” He lazily glanced back at Atsushi. “This is really just a check up just to make sure you’re alright. Plus, the boss is the best doctor here, and apparently he’s a bit miffed that I haven’t introduced the two of you yet.”

“Oh,” the boy said in a low voice, getting the sense that needles would possibly be involved in this check up.

Getting poked with needles is better than dying because of a blood borne pathogen. He reminded himself as he followed Dazai. The uneasy feeling in his stomach still grew. The hallway they walked seemed winding, only making him more nervous.

His mentor snapped, a signal for Atsushi to look at him. “You’ll refer to him as ‘boss’ and speak only when spoken to. Do not be as fidgety as you normally are. That will reflect badly on both of us.”

“Okay,” Atsushi responded meekly. He kept his eyes forward, fighting that ever present urge to stare at his feet. He knew that Dazai noticed. The man noticed everything. He noticed when Atsushi had something on his mind, when he’d had a hard time sleeping the night before, when he was struggling with keeping the tiger quiet.

Atsushi’s eyes wandered to the sides of the corridor. He blinked, and swallowed past the lump in his throat. “What are the cages for?”

“Animal trafficking.”

His skin felt prickly under his shirt as he stared at a cage that was large enough to hold the tiger. His ability growled inside of him. Atsushi distractedly tried to placate the beast, but keeping him quiet wasn’t easy. The animal thrashed at the cages, he lashed out at the harsh antiseptic and preservative fumes.

A hand clasped around the back of his neck. Atsushi sighed as the tiger retreated, snarling before he silenced himself. If he’d had to endure the tiger’s growling and clawing for another minute, he’d have turned and ran. He didn’t move his hand even after Atsushi thanked him.

“I never took you for the type to get attached to your mentee, Dazai-kun,” a smooth, cold voice said. Atsushi flinched and turned away from Dazai to look at the owner of the voice.

Dazai didn’t remove his hand from Atsushi’s neck. His fingers tightened. His grip didn’t quite hurt yet, but it was plenty uncomfortable. He curled a finger so his nail dug into Atsushi’s skin. It was all the boy could do not to yelp.

“Boss,” the executive began. “This is my new apprentice.” He added Atsushi’s name almost as an afterthought. His index finger tapped against his student’s neck-- a signal. He dropped to his knees, bowing his head before the Port Mafia’s leader. The hold on his neck lessened slowly, taking a while for Dazai’s hand to let go of him.

“That’s not necessary,” the boss said, though Atsushi could sense that it absolutely was necessary. “On your feet, Atsushi-kun.” He obeyed, hardly daring to look into the man’s eyes. “I am Mori Ougai, the Boss of the Port Mafia.”

Atsushi felt like he was being crushed under Mori’s wine colored eyes. His lungs wouldn’t fill with air on command. He didn’t know why. The boss didn’t look dangerous or scary. At least nowhere near as scary as Dazai when they were training. There was just something so scary and dangerous about him.

“Have you adjusted well to the Port Mafia?”

The boy blinked, surprised that he’d be addressed directly. He was used to his superiors speaking to Dazai only when they were side by side. They’d talk like he wasn’t there, and he’d just stared ahead, eyes forward, shoulders stiff. “Yes, Boss. Very well.”

It wasn’t completely true, but he was adjusting.

“The stomach was out of the body,” Dazai cut in smoothly before putting a hand on Atsushi’s head. Somehow it felt… smothering. The action wasn’t caring or painful, but it was definitely meant to mean something. Keeping the tiger quiet? “He got some of the G.I. fluids on his hands.”

“Ah,” Mori said, his eyes leaving Atsushi. “That’s quite a hazard.” He looked back to the boy, putting hand on his shoulder, his grip firm. His fingers seemed to travel on him as though he was trying to map out the bones in Atsushi’s shoulder and neck. Something about the way he touched him felt unnerving. “You ought to be more careful,” he admonished in a calm tone, the heel of his hand bearing down on Atsushi’s clavicle. The boy had to suppress a shudder when Mori’s fingers seemed to search out his acromion. His touch was cold, focused on gathering details.

Atsushi swallowed hard and nodded. A sigh of relief nearly escaped him with Mori withdrew his hand. He felt Dazai’s hand leave his head, but there was still that lingering numb feeling. He couldn’t feel the tiger, which would normally be a relief, but there was something so defenseless of not having the beast in his mind. From about that point, Mori didn’t speak to Atsushi much more. He discussed some assignment with Dazai.

…

Atsushi sat on a hard table, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. It was uncomfortable to say the least. He squirmed under the stethoscope and the blood pressure cuff. No one commented on the sheer number of scars on his body. He could sense their eyes on the scars, probably knowing exactly how he got every one of them. Something about other people seeing the scars he hid under his clothes made him feel like crying. He didn’t like to look at the scars himself. He definitely didn’t like his mentor seeing them, even less a stranger looking at them.

I can hardly breath. He thought, the smell of formaldehyde making his head spin. Ugh, he thought as he began to squirm. It’s suffocating. The tiger growled from inside of him. It appeared the beast hated the smell just as much.

“Atsushi-kun, hold still,” Dazai said, a mix of irritation and boredom in his voice.

Mori frowned as he pulled a pair of latex gloves on. “Be a bit more patient with the boy, Dazai-kun. It’s fair to be a bit nervous.” He put his hands on either side of Atsushi’s rib cage. Atsushi tensed as Mori’s thumbs pressed against his midsection. His fingers ran over the old poker scars on his abdomen. It stung, and he trembled. The doctor didn’t comment on it.

He withdrew his hands from Atsushi’s sides. Atsushi couldn’t help but breath a sigh of relief, an action that earned him a sharp look from Dazai. He blinked, half sure Dazai would give him hell at their next combat training session. Atsushi turned away from him, propping himself onto his elbows.

“There’s one last thing,” the Mafia Boss said.

Before Atsushi could ask what that last order of business was, Mori slashed a scalpel across Atsushi’s shoulder. He yelped, feeling the burn of sliced skin. There was a ruthlessness in his eyes that Atsushi hadn’t quite identified earlier. He swallowed hard, letting the laceration mend itself.

This again... He thought tiredly. Looking back, he didn’t know why he hadn’t expected something like this. He bit his lip. It’s over now. Dazai will probably give me beat me to a pulp later, but the worst is over.

“Fascinating,” Mori said cooly as he reached for the spot where he’d cut Atsushi. “I’d like to see more of this ability.” Atsushi blinked, nearly trembling from the cold of the room and look on Mori’s face. “Lie back down, Atsushi-kun,” the doctor instructed.

He hesitated, feeling the tiger rage against the idea of having more knives in him. Atsushi must have sat there longer than he thought because Dazai clicked his tongue and calmly said, “Atsushi-kun, do it. Now.”

It was Dazai’s voice that sent the tiger over the edge. Mori must have sensed it because he grabbed Atsushi’s shoulders and wrestled him back down to the table. The scalpel was positioned between his finger and thumb so it cut into Atsushi’s flesh as he forced him onto his back. The boy cried out in pain as the blade scraped against bone.

A bandaged hand gripped his hair and yanked his head back. His skull felt like it cracked against the cold table. An exhausted feeling took over with Dazai’s touch. He was suddenly several times weaker than he was a second ago.

“You took long enough, Dazai-kun,” Mori said when Atsushi’s struggling died down to an exhausted, pathetic squirming.

Dazai didn’t respond with a sarcastic comment as he so normally did. Atsushi felt Mori’s hands release him, and heard him ordering Dazai to keep him still. Bruises marred the places where his fingers had been. He summoned enough energy to reach up and grab Dazai’s hand on his hair.

“Please, Dazai-san,” he wheezed. Tears were rising to his eyes now. He didn’t know what exactly Mori planned to do to him, but he understood that it would hurt like hell. Dazai wasn’t a warm person by any means, but even he had to have something resembling a soft spot for his own apprentice, right ? It was the only rational Atsushi could come up with.

Dazai’s bandages were rough under Atsushi’s fingertips. He struggled to turn his head to watch a man in scrubs wheel a cart of sharp looking tools. His eyes widened for a second before he began to struggle with renewed vigour.

“Dazai-san, please let go.” He could hardly get the words out of his dry mouth. “Please!” He begged uselessly, digging his nails into Dazai’s hands.

“Stop that,” Dazai ordered, slapping Atsushi’s hands. He sounded bored, like a tired parent reprimanding his child for the millionth time. At that moment, Atsushi could see his reflection in Dazai’s cold, unfeeling eye. He looked so small, so insignificant. So...expendable.

“It’s a surprise he’s made it this long under you care, Dazai-kun,” the doctor said boredly as Atsushi’s kicking legs were restrained and held to the table with an unyielding strap.

No!

The strap rendered Atsushi’s legs utterly useless. He flailed his arms wildly, doing the best he could to keep the doctor and whatever assistants he had at bay.

Please, no!

The tiger was sleeping thanks to Dazai’s touch, but Atsushi had instincts of his own. He knew he had to at least try to fight them off. His will to survive or his fear compelled him to yell and beg and squirm.

Let me go!

Mori’s hand grasped one of his wrists. “After all,” the doctor said, tightening a restraint around Atsushi’s wrist. “You put a bullet through Akutagawa-kun’s skull after only a few months.”

The boy froze.

“A bullet lodged itself in his brain.”

“It went straight through his skull and killed him instantly.”

He moved his head as much as Dazai’s hand would allow and looked at his mentor. Dazai’s face was as cold and unreadable as ever, but something felt different now.

He’d killed his own apprentice.

Mori chuckled at the horror-struck look on Atsushi’s face. “You never knew, boy?” The Mafia boss questioned. “Your mentor never told you how he’d looked his previous apprentice in the eyes and pulled the trigger at point blank?”

Atsushi felt Dazai’s hand leave his forehead.

“In all fairness, Boss, he was quite fidgety when I found him.” Dazai paused to boredly blow air into a latex glove, inflating it like a balloon. “I didn’t want him to shut down on me.”

There was a moment--a single, delicate moment-- where that shadow of trust Atsushi had had in Dazai, that slight feeling of safety, shattered like thin ice. It crumbled like an autumn leaf underfoot.

Atsushi shook on the table, trembling with fear or with tears or with rage.

“Be at ease, Atsushi-kun,” Mori said, looking down into Atsushi’s scared eyes before reaching down to brush his bangs to the side. The boy flinched from his touch, and he paid it no mind. “It won’t take long,” he assured, though Atsushi could find no authenticity behind his smile and words. “Though I may add on an extra few minutes since you were so belligerent.”

The weretiger’s eyes dulled. He could feel the beast fighting to escape from its flesh prison.

It hurts…

Mori lowered a scalpel to right below Atsushi’s rib cage. It cut. It sliced easily through skin and superficial muscles. Screams tore through the air and echoed off the walls.

It hurts!

“I’m just going to get a look at some of your insides, Atsushi-kun.” He pushed aside the skin and muscles to have a clear view of his organs. “I’ll put you under in a little while.” He ran his thumb against Atsushi’s cheek bone to wipe away a tear, leaving a streak of blood and serous membrane on his face.

I can’t breath!

Please stop!

Atsushi writhed against his restraints. His hands seized before claws sprang from his fingernails. He turned more and more feline with every passing second. The clean laceration on his abdomen mended, sewing itself back together. Bloodcurdling cries shifted to howls of rage.

“Dazai-kun! Now!”

Strong fingers trapped his forearm. His claws vanished, and Atsushi gasped, coming back to his senses. He blinked, breathing hard before struggling again. “Please don’t…” He managed, his voice coming out in a pained whine. He tried to beg and grovel his way out, but something blocked his airway. He tensed, turning his head to the side and retching up bile and whatever had been in his stomach. Dazai made a sour face when Atsushi had finished heaving. Bile and whatever he’d coughed up stuck to his cheek and clung to his hair. He shuddered, more tears rising to his eyes.

I want to die.

Make it end.

“Dazai-san,” he forced out, barely hanging onto that thread of hope that Dazai would stop this torture. He blinked away tears frantically, and gulped down acidic tasting saliva. “Please.” He didn’t know what else to say. His words felt like a desperate, fearful prayer.

His teacher didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look down at him. Dazai’s grip turned bruising on his forearm.

“Let’s try this again,” the boss said smoothly. Atsushi instinctively tried to curl in on himself, but couldn’t thanks to the restraints. “If he starts to go into shock, let go of him and let the tiger heal himself.” He looked down into Atsushi’s frantic eyes. “You’re quite special, Atsushi-kun,” Mori said, his voice low. He gripped the boy’s chin gently. “You’re the first ability user I’ve seen who heals himself this quickly.”

I can’t breath.

I’m dying.

It’s over.

Mori shifted his hands to Atsushi’s abdomen.

“Not again,” Atsushi whispered, his voice hoarse from vomiting and screaming. The air was thick with the stench of puke, blood, and formaldehyde. He could hardly breath. “No more.” Dazai’s grip didn’t falter, unyielding as Atsushi weakly pulled against him. His moans and whimpers of protest fell on deaf ears.

The doctor positioned his scalpel just above Atsushi’s navel and punctured his skin and muscles. Atsushi bit down on his lip to keep from screaming. He loosed his pitiful cries when Mori dragged the blade upward, cleanly tearing through his skin as though it was paper.

Pointed tools prodded around his abdominal cavity, carefully and efficiently peeling away fascia and pricking his organs. Young, agonized screams echoed through the Port Mafia’s hallways. He writhed on the table, desperate to escape.

“Careful, you wouldn’t want me to nick an artery, now would you?” Mori grabbed his chin again as though to get Atsushi’s attention though the boy was in too much agony to hear anything above his rapid heartbeat and screams. More fluids smeared on the boy’s face. “Will you be good for me, Atsushi-kun?” He reached around Atsushi’s stomach, liver, and pancreas to brush his fingers against his diaphragm.

I’m dying!

White hot pain flooded Atsushi when the doctor’s gloved hand made contact with raw, unprotected muscle. He screamed. Then he was unable to breath at all. His lungs wouldn’t take in air.

I’m dying!!

“Respond, Atsushi-kun.”

Can’t breath!!! Can’tbreathCan’tbreathI’mdying!!!

He fought for a gasp of air, but his lungs seemed to reject it. Black spots crawled across his vision, but he could make out Mori’s demented smile. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.” The doctor withdrew his hand.

Atsushi took in lungfuls of oxygen, coughing and trembling. His vision blurred out and started to fade.

His breaths were getting shallower with each moist respiration. He was losing oxygen fast. Atsushi’s cries of pain quieted; he’d lost the energy to make a sound. Any light remaining in his eyes faded, and the horrible pain dulled slowly. He was numb, unable to feel the stab of the surgical instruments.

I’m dying…

Chapter Text

Atsushi was lucky he’d passed out half way through Mori’s exploratory surgery.

Even Dazai, the demon prodigy of the Port Mafia, had felt his stomach churn when he’d watched. Atsushi’s guts had been spread out on the table. A handful of his small intestine to his left, and a bit of his colon hanging out to his right. His chest had been opened up to offer a clear view of his cardiovascular system. Atsushi’s face was peaceful and his heart had returned to a steady pace, for the moment.

He still had dried blood on his face and vomit in his hair. The image was strange. He almost looked like he was sleeping in a pile of his own blood and gore.

“This will likely sell quickly,” Mori said, observing the kidney he’d taken. Dazai didn’t believe that taking Atsushi’s kidney was completely necessary, but he didn’t question the boss’ actions.

He still held his apprentice’s arm. Atsushi wasn’t struggling anymore; his arm laid limp on the table.

“Can I let go of him now?” Dazai asked, his fingers had gone numb awhile ago.

Mori put Atsushi’s entrails back into place and aligned the bones that had been broken in the process before he allowed Dazai to release the boy’s arm.

It took a few minutes for the nullification to wear off and for the tiger to start healing Atsushi’s body. His cut apart sternum melded back into a single bone, his ribs healing any damage that they’d taken. Soon after that, the skin that had been cut through knit itself back together. He could hear Atsushi sigh in his sleep. It was the same sort of sigh Dazai heard from him after a rough training session. Despite the horrific experience he’d just endured, that sigh almost sounded content.

“You found an interesting one, Dazai-kun,” the boss commented. “If he was a normal person, he’d most likely die in a few hours.” He peeled off his gloves before he glanced at Dazai and gave orders. “Stay with him until he wakes up. Inform me of any changes in his condition.”

“I have to stay?” Dazai whined. “But, it could take ages for him to wake up.”

Mori didn’t seem to care. “You’re a patient person. You can take it.” He shrugged. “You can call one of your subordinates and have them bring you a book or something.”

Dazai frowned, holding up his phone. “I can’t call anyone, the reception down here sucks.” He wrinkled his nose. “And it reeks in here.” Dazai glanced down at his poor excuse for an apprentice. The boy was breathing easily despite the smell.

“I have faith in your ability to sit still for awhile.”

He boredly dragged a chair beside the surgical table, and pulled out his phone as his boss left. It’s gonna be a long few hours. He thought as he began to text one of his men to bring him some supplies from his apartment.

It took multiple attempts, but his phone somehow managed to get some bars and get the message out.

/-/-/

To say that Atsushi felt like crap when he woke up would be putting it mildly. Everything that was physically able to feel pain hurt like hell. His bones groaned with every movement. He felt like his guts had been torn from his abdominal cavity, tossed into a blender, and poured back into this body.

Absolutely sickening.

The memory of Mori digging through his innards and Dazai keeping the tiger quiet ran through his head. Everything still hurt, he was familiar with the dull ache the tiger’s healing power left behind.

He moaned quietly, bringing a hand to his forehead to ease the pain that shot through it. His fingers met something crusty and dry as he dragged his hand down his face. The lights had dimmed since he’d last been awake. The lack of light didn’t fully ease the pain in his head, but he was sure that it was better than if he’d opened his eyes to glaring lights above his head.

Atsushi stared at the ceiling, feeling some sense of shock come over him. He couldn’t quite place what the feeling was. He was no stranger to fear and pain, but the sensation that took over his body and mind was worse than anything he could recall in his fourteen years. He’d grown up without love, without knowing the sound of laughter, without understanding the feeling of safety. And yet--even with such a past-- he’d never felt so scared, so... vulnerable as he had when he laid on the cold, hard table with Dazai and Mori looming over him.

There’d been another emotion he’d felt too.

What was it?

“It took you over four hours to wake up,” yawned a familiar voice.

Atsushi bolted upright, which turned out to be a huge mistake. He pushed his fist to his mouth before turning over the side of the table to heave up bile. His throat and eyes burned from the acrid taste and stench of it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, blinking in disgust at the brownish yellow liquid that puddled on the floor.

He heard a sound of disdain from Dazai. “Mori-san said that might happen,” he muttered. Atsushi blinked tears from his eyes and looked at his mentor. “Something about all your digestive organs shifting.”

What was that other emotion he’d felt before he passed out?

His teacher looked over his messy, shaking form with a disinterested eye. “Glad we can finally head back now.” He rose from his seat and kicked the metal folding chair he’d been sitting in half heartedly. “The chairs here are so uncomfortable.”

Atsushi remembered what he’d felt.

He finally managed to put a word to the feeling.

Betrayal.

“Get dressed,” Dazai ordered boredly, gesturing for Atsushi to retreat to the other room where his clothes were.

The boy slowly, carefully swung his legs over the edge of the table. He looked back at Dazai for a moment. Then he balled his hand into a fist, throwing it straight for his teacher’s face.

The punch never found its mark. Dazai caught Atsushi’s fist in his bandaged hand and stopped it an inch before it hit his cheek. The executive smirked, making no move to force Atsushi to lower his hand. “What’s this now, Atsushi-kun? Raising a hand against your superior?” His eye scanned the boy’s betrayed eyes and chuckled darkly. “Looks like you do have some hatred in your heart after all.”

Atsushi struggled against him. He struggled to actually hit Dazai, and then he struggled to free himself from the man’s grip. His hands were like iron clamps, unyielding and restrictive.

Dazai’s fist hit Atsushi full in the face before he could see it coming. The punch sent him tumbling backward off the table. He hit the tiled floor with a solid thud as well as various crashing sounds from a rolling table of medical instruments he’d fallen into. If he hadn’t been hurting before, he definitely was now.

Blood trickled out of his nose, the nasal cartilage for sure broken. His whole head, as well as every scar on his body, throbbed in time with his heartbeat. The towel that’d been used to offer him some coverage had miraculously stayed in place.

Dazai slowly, calmly circled around the table to stare down at his apprentice. “My, my, Atsushi-kun. That must have been the first time you’ve thrown a real punch in your life.” He crouched down to Atsushi’s level. He was smiling that same smile he’d worn when he first introduced himself to Atsushi. That smile where the light didn’t reach his eye. “Whatever could have happened to make my shy, obedient student lash out at me in such a way?”

Dazai knew the answer.

Dazai always knew the answer to almost every question he asked.

Enraged tears rushed to his eyes, and he painstakingly propped himself up. Atsushi never fully trusted Dazai, but there had been some belief that he’d be stop dissections from happening.

“I trusted you!” He roared. Or tried to roar, the words sound like a shrill, wounded shriek as they echoed through the room. “You said I could belong here.” The last statement came out as a sort of pained squeak, and once again, that feeling of complete vulnerability and hurt took over.

Absolutely pitiful .

He’d been stupid to trust someone like Dazai.

He’d been stupid to think he’d actually found a place to belong.

He’d been stupid to believe his mentor when he’d said Atsushi would only be getting a standard check up.

He’d been so stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!!

Dazai’s face remained grinning and remorseless.

Atsushi mentally kicked himself for thinking, only for a moment, that Dazai would have a flash of regret in his eye. Or something...

Stupid! He berated himself again.

Dazai’s eye was empty. Looking into it was like looking through a window only to see a brick wall. There was nothing but cold, coarse emptiness. To top it all off, his lips were twisted into that wretched smile.

“Well, Atsushi-kun,” he said, his voice filled with the false cheerfulness that Atsushi had learned to be weary of. “That’s your own mistake.” There was no attempt at justification or apology in his voice.

Atsushi had felt anger before. He’d felt it nearly a million times in his life, but never like this. Never to the point of wanting to tear someone apart, and especially never to the point of trying to lash out against Dazai . Even in his weakened state, he struggled to his feet and launched himself at the man.

It hurt.

It hurt.

It hurt, but he was too angry to care.

“Where has this fire been these past few months, Atsushi-kun?” He asked, dodging Atsushi’s fists, though it probably wouldn’t hurt very much if he’d actually gotten hit. “All this time I’ve been trying to train you, and you were holding back.”

The boy’s punches were wobbly. His form shook as he attacked.

All it took to get him down was a well placed slap to the face. He stopped when Dazai backhanded him, his knees giving out, his blinding rage vanishing to give way to fear. Atsushi swallowed hard, looking up into Dazai’s eye. Then, he dropped his gaze to the floor. It was like waking up to him, coming out of a dream of anger to wake up in a world of shame, fear, and pain.

He’ll kill me this time... He thought, not looking up at his mentor again. He heard the shuffling of fabric before a hand gripped a section of his hair that wasn’t matted with vomit. For a second, he couldn’t breath. It was like Mori was pressing a hand to his diaphragm again, cutting off all means of breathing.

“Well, now I know what we need to work on in training,” he started, his voice making Atsushi flinch and squeeze his eyes shut.

Why did I have to be an idiot and try to attack him? Atsushi thought, his body beginning to tremble. Dazai’s hand loosened on his hair; his fingers dragged back and forward through silvery white strands. It was so unsettling, so threatening. Atsushi’s muscles twitched, instinctively trying to get away from Dazai, but he remained in place.

“Up, Atsushi-kun.” He withdrew his hand from Atsushi’s hair before reaching for his arm and pulling him to his feet. His fingers felt coarse and calloused. “Just get dressed so we can go home.” Something dark showed in Dazai’s eye. “I’ll reprimand you for your tantrum later.”

/-/-/

For once, the icy water didn’t feel so bad. It was a bit chillier than room temperature.

Or so he would guess.

Atsushi felt numb. He felt numb even without the cold water.

Stiff fingers forced their way through uneven bangs, working the strands apart, working the vomit out. He tore through it furiously, though the process was still slow.

Then, he just watched the foggy water stream into the drain. Dried blood and membrane stuck to his skin like a parasite. He scraped it away, staring at the brownish pink tinted water roll off his body and swirl down the drain.

No matter how he scrubbed at his skin, no matter how much soap he lathered onto himself, Atsushi still felt like he was covered with a layer of bodily fluids.

Absolutely disgusting.

Just thinking about it again made him feel like puking again. Like after he’d first killed someone, but this time was so much worse.

How many more times will they do that to me? He thought, sitting under the freezing spray of water. As long as the tiger was capable of healing him, they could continue tearing his body apart as many times as they wanted. And it would all serve as another hellish reminder.

Atsushi was not a person here. He was a tool. He was a puzzle. He was an experiment. He was a wild animal. He was not a human, at least not in Mori and Dazai’s eyes.

The feeling of helplessness overwhelmed him. It cut through him like the scalpel. It made him tremble there on the shower floor.

Absolutely pathetic.

-/-/-

It was only after he stepped into his room and heard Dazai jam the door shut did he think to take a step back and try to reevaluate his situation.

Okay, he thought, desperately trying to find some new angle of looking at it. This is bad, but Dazai didn’t leave me there, so I guess that means he’s still training me. He couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he shrugged it off anyway and kept thinking it through.

How many more times would he be forced to endure a dissection?

He glanced down at his hands. His fingers were twiggy; they looked like they could be snapped with barely any effort.

I have to get out of here... He thought as his mind flashed back to moment Mori had forced his hand past Atsushi’s innards to prod his diaphragm. Words failed to express how disgusting that’d felt.

An idea came into his head. It was a naive, stupid idea, but he clung to it like a lifeline.

The tiger had caused him so much torment, but really… the beast was his. Dazai had said so himself. He’d said, “The tiger is yours to control. You lose a battle any time it takes control. You know that, right?”

He did know that.

Though he hated to do it, he closed his eyes and went deep into his own mind.

The tiger growled deeply and he almost lost his nerve.

“T-Tiger,” he began, shuddering at the way his voice cracked even in his own mind. The beast snarled at him and he flinched. Atsushi bit his lip, struggling to build the resolve to say what he had to say. “ I need your help.”

Chapter Text

To be honest, Dazai never wanted Mori to meet his apprentice.

He hadn’t wanted to hold his apprentice down so the boy could get cut open and tortured.

He hadn’t wanted Atsushi to know who Akutagawa’s killer was.

He hadn’t wanted to see such a look of betrayal on the kid’s face.

He hadn’t wanted to beat the boy to a pulp.

Dazai sighed as he kicked the doorstop under Atsushi’s door. He could hear footfalls after a moment. The boy was likely shuffling off to his bed to curl up and cry. Dazai was fairly certain he did that on a normal basis. Only this time, he didn’t hear the persistent sniffles and shaky breaths. He heard the springs in the mattress groan with Atsushi’s weight.

After a few more seconds of silence, Dazai walked away. Well, that was disaster. He thought, exhaling through his mouth. All those weeks of training Atsushi, all those weeks of growing him from the ground up, all those weeks of getting the child to begin to trust him… Now all that time was wasted, swirling down a drain like dishwater.

Despite what his apprentice must have thought, he didn’t dislike Atsushi. If anything, Dazai liked having him around. He was a far better student than Akutagawa had been, a little more independent, a little more talkative, a little more human. It was refreshing, he supposed. It was refreshing just to find someone who still had the innocence left to cry when he saw death. Just like how it was interesting to see someone who still showed weakness. Of course, it was all plenty irritating as well, but Dazai supposed everything balanced out.

He ran a hand through his hair and stretched his arms above his head. Dazai still couldn’t hear a sound from Atsushi’s room. It was unusual, but unsurprising if Atsushi had been too exhausted to stay awake crying all night.

He glanced at the clock. It was evening, the night was still young. It’d been a long day, and he wanted a drink. So, he grabbed his coat and headed out to his favorite bar.

/-/-/

“Come on… come on…” Atsushi grumbled under his breath. His hands shook like they were seizing. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His nails grew, sharpening to points. The transformation hurt, the nails tearing through his skin, the bones in his fingers breaking and reforging themselves to fit a new shape. He bit his lip hard to keep quiet.

He stared at his hands, though they weren’t quite hands anymore. They were something… Something not human, but something not yet beast.

Atsushi experimentally flexed his fingers… or claws… or… whatever they were.

He’d been mulling his plan over for the past week. The claws itched to be tested, but he curled them into fists and pulled them closer to his chest. Not yet. He thought, biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. He couldn’t risk letting Dazai know that he was actually gaining better control over the tiger. He’d taken precautions so his mentor wouldn’t find out.

If Dazai found out, he’d take precautions too. He’d find a different way to keep Atsushi there.

The claws retracted and his hands returned to normal. He felt the contents of his stomach churn as the tiger retreated. Just stay quiet in there. He thought into his mindscape. We just have to wait until Dazai is gone for long enough to run. That was the plan at least… Wait for Dazai to have to go on a trip and leave him on his own for a few hours, then break down his door and run out of Mafia territory.

Then… He’d figure it out later. Maybe he’d hide for a few weeks and suppress the tiger and find a low wage job somewhere in the city. All that mattered was that he could get away from Dazai, away from Mori, away from the Port Mafia.

He sat on the bed, resting his head against the bed frame and pushing his normal, human hand through his hair.

The experiments haven’t been too frequent and none seemed to be as bad as the first, but none of them had been alright. Each had involved blood and cold water and nausea and vertigo and pain. It was only a matter of time before the experiments got worse or he wound up in that horrible, metallic lab for the rest of his life.

The white ceiling loomed over him. Soon… Atsushi told himself again, his eyes following a grayish spider that crawled out from the corner. It dangled down by a delicate thread, slowly dropping down onto a pile of books that had collected a fine layer of dust.

Dazai had left a handful of books with him so he wouldn’t get too bored alone in his room, but he hadn’t touched them since the first experiment.

He hardly touched the food in Dazai’s apartment, not wanting anything that man gave him.

Dazai sighed as he took a sip of tea and watched Atsushi glare at him, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. “You’re really showing the tiger inside of you, Atsushi-kun.” He gave one of his signature hollow grins. “I understand that you hate me, but you ought to eat something.” No response. Atsushi looked away, the flush in his face giving away the hunger pangs he felt.

His teacher had no problems seeing the signs, and that empty smile grew. “You know, if you don’t eat, Mori-san will run a feeding tube down your throat.” Atsushi flinched at the mention of the doctor, but said nothing. He scowled and grabbed himself some rice.

Dazai was definitely irritated with his “childish attitude” as he’d called it one time, but his teacher hadn’t done anything about it. Nothing out of the ordinary at least. He still had Atsushi practice combat, he still pummeled him every time, he still made belittling comments and said things that stung.

He had actually reprimanded Atsushi for attacking him as he said he would, but it felt lighter than other beatings he’d received. Atsushi couldn’t help but assume it was because of the immense amount of pain he was in or because Dazai could sense how close he actually was to breaking.

/-/-/

Atsushi didn’t speak to Dazai since the lab, not unless he was ordered to verbally reply. As a result, the only words he’d said to Dazai in the past week have been “yes,” “no,” and “I can’t go through it again.”

Aside from those words, he’d gone silent.

It was late now, and Atsushi watched the car leave from his window, trying his hardest to keep from being seen from outside. It was a stupid plan, but it was the most elaborate thing he could think of in his situation.

So, his great idea was to form some sort of bond with the tiger. While the use of the tiger’s power felt unstable, Atsushi figured that it would at least get him out of the apartment. Then, he just had to get out of Port Mafia territory. After that, it was all a matter of surviving and keeping the tiger at bay. He could lay low in Yokohama or leave the city altogether. Living on the streets hadn’t exactly been favorable to him, but it was a thousand times better than staying confined to his whitewashed room and under Dazai’s thumb.

He flexed his fingers, preparing himself for the stabbing pain of claws shooting from his skin. Atsushi’s hands started shaking, and he swallowed hard. One deep breath in. One long, slow breath out.

Then the pain started. He clamped his teeth down on his lower lip to keep from screaming. It shouldn’t have hurt so badly, but he found that when the tiger was less than cooperative, the transformation burned. Atsushi winced when the blue light of his ability faded, leaving him with a tiger’s paw instead of a left arm.

It wasn’t as hard to look at as it had been a week ago. The sight of it still made him swallow hard and he still looked at it with narrowed eyes. It pulled at his heart. It was a reminder of the monster he was.

He closed his eyes for a moment and turned his attention to the door.

It was a standard sort of bedroom door. There was nothing that looked particularly strong or stable. White paint, simple indentations in the wood, and a brass knob. He tilted his head at it, trying to figure the fastest way to get out before shaking his head and bringing his hand against the door, throwing his meager weight against it.

Pieces of it splintered away, a huge crack splitting in the middle. It was less his weight that did anything, but the tiger’s claws and raw muscle made the difference. He gasped, marveling at the power that he’d hardly been able to control. Even now, it wavered in his grasp, the tiger’s claws, muscles, and fur threatening to collapse on him at any moment.

Atsushi made quick work of the door. By the time he was finished, a gaping hole stood in the middle of the door. He climbed through, the tiger’s power fading, refusing to serve him further. The fractured edges of the hole pricked at his skin, drawing blood, but he couldn’t be bothered to notice.

Now, he thought seriously, as he stepped through the front door. Now, I’ll just have to be quick.

/-/-/

In retrospect, trying to run while having less than a clear plan was a bad idea. He’d managed to get out of Dazai’s apartment and a little ways away. The main issue was that he’d never been shown where the borders of Port Mafia territory were and he’d never actually figured out for himself where they were. Though Dazai had given him little freedom and very few opportunities to get familiar with everything outside of his white-walled room, Atsushi couldn’t help but grow irritated with himself for not thinking out such a crucial detail.

He managed to shake off his frustration. If he kept going in one direction, it stood to reason that he’d make out off the Port Mafia’s land at some point. It was admittedly not his best plan, but he couldn’t afford to remain there, bumbling around like an idiot.

There was another reason he had to hurry away.

Atsushi was already losing the nerve to run. Maybe it was his own self doubt. Maybe it was because of the despair Dazai seemed to pour on him. He didn’t know.

Thoughts crawled into his head, multiplying by the second, echoing in his brain.

You have nowhere to go. Even the orphanage will cast you out if you return.

Run!

Dazai-san will find you. He’ll drag you back and hand you over to the boss.

Run!

Go back to the apartment! Beg Dazai-san to keep you as his apprentice! Maybe, just maybe, you’ll make it out with only a few fractures and bruises.

Run!!

He forced his feet to move forward. Invisible spiders crawled under his shirt and along the back of his neck. Atsushi fought the urge to shudder as he slunk along the walls of buildings, trying to melt into the darkness. He flattened himself against brick when he heard footsteps approaching.

He didn’t know how far he’d managed to sneak, and he still had no idea how much further he had to go until he was safe. His heart seemed to have crawled from his chest to his throat, and it felt a lot like being strangled.

Just have to keep going…

Turn back!

Atsushi wrestled with the voices in his head, trying to get them to shut up.

“What are you doing here?!” A rough voice yelled.

Atsushi froze. Slowly, slowly turning to look at the person who’d called to him. It was one of those quick, tense-as-a-bow-string type moments. His legs moved before his brain processed the entire situation.

He bolted like the devil was on his heels. Or, even worse, he ran like Dazai was on his heels.

As far as he knew, he’d lost the guy who’d been chasing him, but he seemed to attract more attention the more he ran. Stray rocks and bits of cement fragments dug into his shoes, jabbing the skin on his feet. He ignored the pain and kept running.

Atsushi had no idea how far he’d ran, how long he’d been running, or for sure where he was. He knew that he’d run in circles, he knew that he may have very well been back where he started. He knew that, by some miracle, he’d managed to outrun his pursuers. The sky hadn’t gotten any darker, nor had it gotten any lighter, which gave him no indication of the time.

His hand flew up to his mouth to quiet his loud, ragged breaths as he concealed himself in the space between two dumpsters.

Dazai’s voice rang in his head.

Did you really think you could leave the Port Mafia, Atsushi-kun?

I really hoped you were smarter than this.

He pushed a hand through his tangled, sweat-matted hair.

He didn’t need Dazai to tell him how idiotic his escape attempt was or how much of a failure he was. Atsushi knew all of it.

Then it was his own voice in his mind.

Dazai-san’s going to kill me… for real. He’ll say I’m not worth keeping around and hand me over to be cut open. Atsushi’s body shook like a leaf. Maybe, I can stay here and run later… No, that won’t work. His teeth dug into his lower lip. IDIOT! He thought, wanting to melt into the ground right there.

A shadow covered over Atsushi, making his world appear more bleak. The boy nearly screamed as he pushed himself further back against the wall. He knew what came next. This man would grab him by the hair, pull him out from his lackluster hiding place, and drag him back to the Port Mafia’s leader. After that, Atsushi couldn’t imagine the horrors that would ensue.

But none of that happened. He just watched Atsushi with piercing eyes. Twin pistols were held expertly in his hands. The darkness made him look inhuman, like some faceless shadow with a looming, lean figure that towered in an almost unnatural way.

“Any sign of him?” Came a yell in their direction.

The man shifted, turning his body so he could face whomever was speaking to him. He moved his leg, giving Atsushi no room to try to go around him and run again. “No,” he responded. “He doesn’t seem to be in this area.”

Atsushi blinked, absolutely dumbfounded.

Is he… helping me? He thought, his brain moving too slowly. No… He’s with the Port Mafia. They don’t do that.

“Where’d that brat go?”

“I don’t know. He might have tried to go through the sewers.”

Atsushi held his breath.

“Do you think he’s a traitor or just a street rat trying to steal from us?”

“Well, if he’s from the Port Mafia,” a third voice chimed in. “Chances are he’d have the transmitter in his body. If one of the higher ups wanted to find him, they could track him without a problem.”

A gasp for air seized Atsushi’s body before he could stop it. He once again covered his mouth. Horror filled eyes glanced up at the man blocking his way. For a second, their eyes met and it was clear that the man could put together that Atsushi was a traitor.

A transmitter…

Atsushi couldn’t breathe. His brain seemed to shut down.

It’d all been doomed from the start. His escape had been damned before he’d even set foot outside Dazai’s apartment. Atsushi’s head spun, his brain thick with fog, his chest suddenly aching. Running away is impossible… I’ll never be able to leave this place alive.

What was I thinking?

What was I thinking?

What was I thinking?

What was I thinking?!

“Hey.”

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked up. The man who’d stood before him now crouched down to his level. Atsushi shrunk back.

“It’s fine,” the man said, raising his hands in some show of peace and taking a half step back. “It’s fine. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The tiger’s vision decided to kick in at that moment, and the man was no longer a faceless shadow. He had a serious expression on his face, with intense eyes and a mouth that was a straight line. However, there was something very neutral about his expression. Not blank like Dazai’s, but… neutral. Everything appeared black and white with the tiger’s sight, giving him an even more serious look.

He’d done nothing to hurt or drag Atsushi back yet, so there was a chance he was telling the truth, but Atsushi couldn’t easily imagine that.

His hands shook, the realization that had crashed down on him a few moments ago still ringing in his head.

I’ll never be able to leave the Port Mafia.

What happened next was absolutely mortifying.

He started crying.

Atsushi pushed his fist against his mouth to keep his cries silent, his knees drawing closer to his body. His face heated up. He was almost fifteen, an apprentice to the Port Mafia’s youngest executive. Weeping after his first kill was one thing, only Dazai had been there and he hadn’t seemed to care very much. Crying now was something else entirely.

He shouldn’t have been crying, especially not in front of some lower ranking member. Dazai’s disgust and irritation weren’t hard to imagine.  

A hand touched his shoulder. Atsushi flinched, shying away.

The thought of escape slipped his mind when he all too quickly realized what Dazai would do to him when he found out about this attempt. Suddenly, the knowledge that there would be some torturous form of punishment was worse than being trapped in the Port Mafia for the rest of his life.

His back pressed flat against the wall, his breaths becoming quick and deep like he couldn’t take enough air in. Atsushi felt like his ribs would crack with every inhale. Fingers curled into his hair, tearing several strands from his head.

“Breathe,” a voice said, though it sounded like it was several miles away. Hands came to his shoulders, fingers digging into his taut muscles. “Close your mouth, and breathe through your nose. You’re taking in too much oxygen.” The voice sounded calm. “I’m not going to hurt you. Try breathing out slowly.”

It felt like an eternity, but bit by bit, Atsushi’s breathing slowed and his head began to clear. He still felt a bit dizzy, the world shifted around him before coming into focus. He uncurled himself a little, but wasn’t ready to let his muscle relax.

Atsushi put his face in his hands, trying to ease the headache he had and trying to get over the humiliation of his breakdown. The man didn’t say anything for awhile. He just watched Atsushi try to recover, which was a long process.

“Why haven’t you dragged me back to headquarters yet?” Atsushi asked quietly, finally breaking the silence. From all his experience in the Port Mafia, it only made sense for this man to grab him and haul him away to the boss. The fact that he’d helped Atsushi through a panic attack was… perplexing.

“Because that would likely be the same as killing you,” the man responded plainly.

Atsushi blinked.

Of course it possibly meant he’d be executed. Anyone else he’d met in the Port Mafia wouldn’t bat an eye at that detail.

“And?” He said.

“I don’t kill people.”

“But…” Atsushi squinted at him now, attempting to determine whether or not he was telling the truth. “But, you’re in the Mafia.”

The man’s face remained serious, but Atsushi could see the corners of his mouth quirk up a little bit. “There are different kinds of people in the Mafia.”

That statement was still plenty perplexing to Atsushi, but he decided just to nod. He pulled his knees up to his chest again and rested his chin on them. What now? He thought dully.

He couldn’t run because of the tracker in his body, and he didn’t know where it was. Dazai would find him in less than a day and… He didn’t want to think of what would happen then. The man sitting across from him wasn’t dragging him back.

There was only one option.

He wiped the eyes, trying to clear the oncoming tears. “He’ll kill me,” Atsushi muttered more to himself than to the man. He almost started laughing in a hysterical fit. “I left a mess...The door has a hole in it…” He forced down terrified, confused giggles. He doubted there was any hope that Dazai would let him off the hook for pulling this stunt. “Dazai-san’s going to kill me,” he repeated in a hushed tone. Hands tangled into his hair, yanking it from his scalp. “But I have to go back,” he hissed to no one in particular. “I have to or the punishment will be that much worse and--” He shut his mouth when the man grabbed his wrists, gently helping Atsushi’s fingers release his hair.

“Just breathe for a minute,” he ordered sternly. “Don’t hurt yourself.” He let go of Atsushi’s wrists and gave him a minute to collect himself.

“Who are you?” Atsushi asked, his eyebrows raised. He couldn’t understand how this man hadn’t lost patience with him yet.

“My name is Oda Sakunosuke.” He extended a hand for Atsushi to shake. Atsushi took it and introduced himself, not knowing what else to do in this sort of situation.

Oda slowly backed away to give Atsushi a little room to finish collecting his thoughts. He ran his fingers through his tangled hair again, determined not to hyperventilate again. He drew a few long, slow breaths in before he gritted his teeth and decided to bite the bullet. Atsushi wasn’t exactly calm, if anything, he was absolutely scatterbrained. Fear and anxiety buzzed beneath his skin.

But he knew that he couldn’t hide between two dumpsters all night, nor could he run away from the Port Mafia without being tracked down and taken back to Dazai.

Atsushi pushed himself up prematurely, faltering as a wave of vertigo attacked him. His swayed on his feet, falling forward before the man caught him by the arm to keep him upright. His grip wasn’t bruising as he pulled the boy into a upright position, steadying him on his feet. Atsushi let him, still too panicked to think clearly or protest.

The man bent down to be face to face with Atsushi. “What do you plan to do?” Oda asked him in a hushed tone.

“I-I’m going to go back and hope I get a second chance.” His hands were shaking and he was holding himself. On top of that, his eyes were leaking like a cracked tea cup. He scrubbed at his face. Containing himself was all too difficult.

Going back alone would be hard. There were still men looking for him, men who would grab him and turn him in. Atsushi glanced at Oda, feeling some urge to ask for help. You’ve already troubled him enough. He reminded himself aggressively. If they find out he didn’t turn you in back there, he could be executed. You can’t ask anything of him.

“I’ll go with you,” Oda said before the confliction reached Atsushi’s face. “If they see you walking back alone, you could end up captured. They won’t do anything if it looks like you’re already captured.” He made it sound like it was no big deal despite the fact that letting Atsushi go, even if he was only going back to where he was supposed to be, could get him executed.

The teenager wanted to reject the offer, but the words died on his lips. He didn’t have the energy or time to argue with the man and he got the feeling that he’d lose that argument.

He sighed and put his arm out slowly. Oda grasped his arm in response. His grip wasn’t tight or painful. Atsushi lowered his head in a look of resignation as Oda guided him out of the hiding place.

The walk back was slow, too slow. Atsushi’s feet dragged on the pavement to look defeated. He felt pretty defeated too.

He flinched whenever they passed other people of the Mafia. Oda half dragged him, partially so their fake capture act would look convincing, and partially because Atsushi was having a hard time moving at all. His legs were shaking, his knees knocked together.

They didn’t talk on the way back to Dazai’s apartment. It was nearly silent save the slight scraping of loose pieces of asphalt under their feet.

Eventually, Atsushi’s personal eternity ended.

Well, more or less.

After a good twenty minutes of shuffling with tensed muscles and shallows breaths, they’d finally stepped through the doorway of Dazai’s apartment. Of course, the real challenge was yet to come, but Atsushi decided to focus on one thing at a time. He couldn’t think about what Dazai would do when he found the gaping hole in Atsushi’s bedroom door.

I’ll think about that later, when I can take it. He told himself, though he knew that “later” meant the moment Oda left him, the moment he’d be alone with his thoughts again.

He slowly removed his shoes, carefully arranging them as they had been before he’d left.

Atsushi found himself swallowing hard, trying to ignore the growing lump in his throat. He wanted to cry again. He wanted to sob and weep and thrash around on the floor like an upset child. He forced something that almost resembled a smiled. “Thank you for helping me, Oda-san,” he said as level headedly as he could despite the fact that tears threatened. “I could have been in a lot more trouble if you hadn’t saved me.”

He didn’t leave right away as Atsushi had expected. Instead, he quietly walked to the mess of splinters and fragments of the destroyed door.

Atsushi felt sick to his stomach when he looked at the mess. It was all just a reminder of what he’d failed to do and what was going to happen to him as a result. He set his jaw seriously, and he forced himself to try to talk again. Words failed.

Oda observed the door before pulling his jacket sleeve over his hand and swinging it open slowly. “These door hinges and frame are high quality. The door frame managed not to get damaged,” he said as the door closed. There was a long pause before he continued. “It wouldn’t be hard to take the door itself off and replace it.”

That statement had Atsushi blinking.

“Can you clean up all the pieces while I get some things?”

“Uhh…” Atsushi began. “There’s no need for you to--”

Oda gave him a look, but said nothing. Atsushi’s words got caught in his throat.

“Okay.”

He watched Oda walk away, and he was left with all the wooden shards to clean up.

For the first time in a long time, something in him felt… hopeful. Maybe it was the way Oda had spoken or the fact that he’d helped Atsushi get back the apartment. Atsushi didn’t know. It was hard to think all of it through. His thoughts and emotions felt jumbled and tangled. He didn’t know where one thought ended and another began. He too a deep breath in, ignoring the twisted feeling in his gut.

Piece, by piece, he gathered the shards of the door. Splinters dug into his hands, especially under his nails when he picked up the miniscule fragments that were too small to grasp with his the pads of his fingers. The sting of the small cuts went unnoticed.

He could have been sitting on the floor for hours, grabbing at splinters with his fingernails. Time seemed to stop.

Atsushi heard the front door open and he nearly dropped all of the pieces of the door when he flinched. “I’m back.” It was Oda’s voice.

Atsushi’s jaw dropped when he saw the man.

Oda came in with a door held under his arm, and a toolbox in his hand.

“How--” He stopped himself. “Where did the door come from?” He managed to ask.

“An apartment nearby,” he said. “The resident passed a little while ago and they haven’t gotten to clearing out his apartment yet. All the apartments are identical assuming there are no decorations.”

He pulled the door inside and gently laid it on the floor before pulling out a handheld drill and taking out the screws that held the door’s hinges in place. He talked as he worked, explaining to Atsushi how he would alter a few reports and make it seem like he’d never set foot outside the apartment that night.

His work was done quickly, and a new, unblemished door stood in front of Atsushi’s bedroom.

“Can you put the shards into that bag?” Oda said, gesturing to a small paper bag that’d been in the toolbox.

“Y-Yes,” Atsushi said, feeling as small as his voice.

Oda put his tools away and took the splinter filled bag from Atsushi’s hands. He looked back at the door and stood up. “Now it can look like you never left.”

Atsushi’s heard drummed against his sternum. Something inside of him felt warm. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, and when he thought more about it, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt that feeling. The fact that someone had gone through so much trouble for his sake perplexed him.

Atsushi was no one. He was an orphan who’d been discarded by the woman that gave birth to him. He was a coward and a child. The only redeemable thing about him was the tiger, which seemed to only make him less redeemable as it was a beast that destroyed and hurt people.

So why… Why would anyone help him?

“Why?” He asked quietly, struggling to keep his tears down. “Why are you helping me like this?”

Oda looked at him with those serious, blue eyes again. “You don’t deserve whatever punishment they’d dole out for you.”

“But--”

“You don’t deserve it,” Oda said with finality.

Something in his tone stole the argument from Atsushi’s mouth. It was a familiar, but unfamiliar feeling. Dazai spoke with such a tone that made Atsushi’s disagreement impossible, but it was because of fear. With Oda, Atsushi didn’t feel the tiger trying to tear him apart from the inside out. After spending about a half hour with Oda, Atsushi didn’t feel the need to be ready to block a hit. The only reason he felt his argument die was because Oda sounded so sure of himself, so certain while Atsushi wavered.

“Okay,” Atsushi muttered quietly.

He knew what was coming. He knew that he’d have to go into his room and get trapped in there again.

“Thank you again, Oda-san,” he whispered again, shuffling into his room. Atsushi hated that room. He hated being in the Port Mafia. He hated Dazai. However, he’d rather live with all of that than get handed over to Mori and used as a living cadaver until the tiger’s power ran out.

“Listen,” Oda said. “I’m going to try to talk to Dazai about getting you out of here.”

That made Atsushi’s heart stop.

Oda couldn’t talk to Dazai about that. It would give away that Atsushi had tried to run away and that Oda had covered it up.

He didn’t know many Port Mafia members, but he understood some of the ranks. He knew that Oda was a lower ranking member, while Chuuya and Dazai ranked quite high. Low ranking members didn’t get forgiven. Traitors were never given second chances. The memory of the man he’d shot under Dazai’s orders flickered through his mind.

He imagined Oda’s body there. His jaw smashed in, blood forming a puddle around his body, lifeless eyes blue eyes staring at nothing.

“No,” he said, raising his voice for the first time in a few weeks. “Please, don’t... I-I can’t-- Just… No.” He paused, breathing hard. “Please don’t talk to Dazai! I’ll be fine.”

Oda raised an eyebrow.

“I just…” Atsushi took a deep breath, knowing that his sudden outburst would just make it seem like he needed Oda’s protection more. “I just had a nervous breakdown tonight. The stress of training got to me and I panicked. There’s no reason to try to get me out of here.”

He wasn’t sure what he saw in Oda’s eyes at that moment. It could have been pity. It could have been surprise.

“Please… I’m begging you, don’t do that for me.” Tears began to collect in his eyes before he could stop them. “Things will only end badly if you do.”

“Alright,” Oda replied, his hand going up to ruffle Atsushi’s hair. The boy didn’t flinch at the touch. “It’s fine. I won’t start that conversation with him.”

Some part of Atsushi was shocked that someone would actually care about what he chose. His life had been so controlled in the orphanage and under Dazai’s training. He’d hardly known autonomy in his short life. He’d hardly known what it felt like to be listened to.

“Thank you,” he said weakly. His knees became shaky again. “Thank you so much.”

“It wasn’t a problem,” Oda said calmly as he placed a steadying hand on Atsushi’s shoulder.

The boy shakily made his way further into his room, collapsed on the bed, and took another deep breath. “Could you please close the door and push the door stop under it?”

He heard Oda kick the wedge into place a few times so the marks on the door looked more like the old one. “This feels like I’m locking you in,” he said from the other side.

“No, it’s fine,” Atsushi called back. “Dazai-san just does it because I have a hard time controlling my ability and he didn’t want me tearing apart his home.” Atsushi shed his clothes and found his way to the closet in the dark. “I won’t need it anymore when I get a better handle on it.” Atsushi pulled on his sleepwear and returned to the bed.

“Okay.”

There was some shuffling on the other side of the door, and Atsushi guessed he was grabbing all the evidence of the escape attempt.

“Goodnight.” A pause stretched before he spoke again. “Be strong.”

That last command caught Atsushi off guard. He stared at the new door in the darkness for a moment before responding. “Goodnight.” A pause. “I’ll try.”

And for the last time that night, “Thank you, Oda-san.”

/-/-/

Atsushi woke the next morning to Dazai yanking the blanket off his body. He stiffened when he saw him. His mentor looked at him with such a serious expression that it nearly made him tremble with fear.

“Atsushi-kun,” Dazai began with that tone that made Atsushi fear the worst.

He found out, didn’t he? Atsushi thought. He already knows everything… He’s going to kill me or hand me over to the Boss. Atsushi didn’t breath. He’ll kill Oda-san… Or he’ll force me to kill him. No...

“Hurry up and get dressed,” Dazai ordered, turning his back on his apprentice. “You’re working on controlling the tiger today.”

Atsushi blinked hard when Dazai closed the door behind him. He released the breath he’d been holding and smiled shakily.

His teacher had no idea he’d tried to escape last night. He didn’t know that Oda had helped him get back to the apartment.

For the moment, they were safe.

Chapter Text

Days passed like normal.

Atsushi didn’t talk, Dazai didn’t care.

Life kept going as though nothing out of the ordinary happened.

It amazed Atsushi to some extent. He’d torn a hole through the door and attempted to escape, before almost getting caught and returning. It felt like a million of things had happened that night, and yet nothing changed.

He tensed whenever Dazai talked to him, half expecting for him to say that he knew of his escape attempt. After a few days, that fear dulled, and he gladly accepted the thing he was almost too scared to acknowledge: Dazai didn’t know.

If Atsushi had been more accustomed to feeling proud, he’d have taken some secret pride in that fact. Knowing something that Dazai didn’t wasn’t something that happened often, if at all. But, he had no right to feel good about himself. If it hadn’t been for Oda, Atsushi would have been caught. There was no room for pride in the mix of relief, shame, helplessness, and fear.

“You know you’re going to have to talk to me at some point, right?” Dazai said one day. He was perched on the edge of his seat.

Atsushi didn’t look up from his chazuke, but his lips twisted into a scowl and he shook his head. He half expected Dazai to suddenly grab him and shake some sense into him, but his teacher remained where he was. Atsushi poked at a sliver of chicken with his chopsticks.

Dazai sighed. “You’re being a child,” he yawned, stretching his arms in front of him.

Atsushi refused to look up, and kept eating.

“Another execution,” Dazai mumbled as he got to his feet. “Be ready in fifteen minutes.” He watched Atsushi’s face, watching how the boy’s eyes widened and his face raise. A pleading look made its way to his features.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace,” Dazai taunted, that infuriating smirk pulling the corner of his lip up.

Silence stretched.

Protesting wouldn’t save anyone’s life. Atsushi wasn’t naive enough to assume he could save anyone. If Dazai actually complied with Atsushi’s wishes, someone else would be sent to put three bullets through a traitor’s chest.

Dazai’s face remained unreadable. “Fifteen minutes,” he repeated, patting Atsushi on the shoulder.

/-/-/

There wasn’t any blood on his hands, not literally at least. He still felt it on his palms and under his fingernails, gritty and sullied. He sat against the white wall, hugging himself and trying to forget the details of the execution.

Light blue. He remembered against his will. His eyes were light blue.

The woman’s eyes had been light blue. Had they not been wide and terrified, those eyes would have looked pretty. Her face would have been pretty if her jaw hadn’t been broken. Her body would have been healthy and attractive if her chest hadn’t been riddled with bullets and her bones hadn’t been broken in the preceding fight.

He took a breath in and let it out. You’re fine. He told himself, getting up. You’re fine. He didn’t feel like crying. He’d cried all his tears. Everything’s fine.

As quietly as he could, he grabbed one of the books that Dazai had left for him to read in the corner. It’d taken him nearly a month to touch them since the first dissection, but after Oda had saved him, thinking about several things became too hard for him, so he swallowed what shred of pride he had left and read them when he was left alone in his room.

So, he seated himself on his bed and read what he’d been given. Hours must have passed, and bit by bit, he felt calmer. His chest still hurt at the memories of the screams and gunshots, but for the moment, he could push that pain aside. For the moment, he could forget about the beast inside of him, about the suffocating feeling of the walls around him, about Dazai and the Port Mafia. Atsushi felt free when he got lost between the pages of a book.

Without the words and stories, freedom was such a hard feeling to find.

The door swung open slowly.

Atsushi jolted, quickly sliding the book under his bed. He didn’t want Dazai to take it as a sign of his forgiveness or submission. I just read it because I was bored. He reminded himself as if it strengthened his resolve. The thought didn’t do much for his resolve, so he pushed it to the back of his mind.

Dazai threw him a pointed look as he stepped into the room. Atsushi simply glared, his muscles tensing more and more with every step Dazai took. He was already plenty sore from the injuries he’d sustained earlier, and it didn’t take long for his muscles to protest.

His teacher didn’t seem to care, Dazai stood in front of him, less than a foot away. Atsushi stared up at him, his lips pressed into a line. Then, he got on his hands and knees, stretching an arm under the bed to pull out the book Atsushi had tried to hide. He came back up with grayish dust particles clinging to his bandages. He didn’t comment on the surprised expression on Atsushi face.  

“In the future, Atsushi-kun, treat my books with a little more respect.” He swiped a hand over the book’s cover to clear some of the dust attached to the lettering of the title. Atsushi didn’t reply. “If you abuse the privilege to keep books in your room, you’ll lose that privilege.” He brought the book up and lightly tapped it on the top of Atsushi’s head before lowering himself onto the edge of the bed beside Atsushi.

The boy hardly moved, hoping that Dazai would leave him if he didn’t react. It was unlikely, but he hated Dazai’s presence enough to imagine he’d get bored quickly and go away.

Unfortunately for him, Dazai was more persistent than that.

“You going to reply?”

Atsushi bit his lip to keep from saying anything. He laced his fingers, staring down at his hands as his knuckles turned white.

“No, of course not.” Dazai sighed boredly. “How old are you now? Fifteen, right?” His voice rang with his hollow smile. “Yeah, that sounds accurate.”

He swallowed as he looked at Dazai, not knowing where the man was going with this.

“Basically, I’m saying that you’re too old to give me the silent treatment. It’s just annoying at this point.”

No response.

Dazai clicked his tongue and raised a hand.

Atsushi tried not to flinch, for he fully expected Dazai’s hand to fly out and slap him across the face. But his hand moved too slowly for a painful strike. And he didn’t aim for Atsushi’s cheek.

Dazai’s arm slithered over Atsushi’s shoulders, his hand coming to rest on his arm. The action made the boy’s whole body tense. With fingers loosely laying on Atsushi’s arm, Dazai leaned just a bit closer to him.

“I know you tried to run.”

Everything.

Went.

Still.

Atsushi’s eyes widened. He couldn’t breathe.

Dazai’s fingertips were light on Atsushi’s arm. It was the sort of threat that could almost be confused for gentleness.

He couldn’t feel them. His body went numb. One thought ran through his mind.

Oda-san told him…

Had he really expected to be able to trust someone in the Port Mafia? What made him think he could trust anyone? What had he been thinkin--

“He didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Dazai said as if reading his mind. “He’s probably the only Port Mafia member you can trust in that sort of situation.” He didn’t take his hand off of Atsushi, his grip tightened ever so slightly. “No, Atsushi-kun, you made it plenty obvious on your own.”

That comment had Atsushi flinching away from him, but a bandaged hand held him in his place.

“For a few days, you froze up whenever I talked to you.” He held out his index finger with his free hand. “You tried to avoid eye contact with me instead of glaring.” He held up two fingers. “And you kept pressing your lips together like you wanted to keep from blurting something out.” He waved three fingers in front of Atsushi’s face. “Those things alone were enough to make me suspicious. On top of that, you weren’t great at cleaning up after yourself. I found a few weird slivers of wood on your bedroom floor.” His voice was devoid of a smile as he added, “You missed some of the smaller pieces of the door that landed in here. I’m just a bit disappointed in you for being so obvious.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, and Atsushi assumed he was about to beat him and be done with it. Or drag him away to Mori.

He didn’t do either.

“You were lucky Odasaku was the one who found you. Anyone else would have tossed you in our detention center or have brought you to Mori-san.” Dazai gestured to the door. “He was even nice enough to put his life on the line to help you cover your tracks.” There was a razor edge to his voice, something cold and scary that Atsushi wasn’t sure he’d heard before.  

He started to tremble in Dazai’s grip, too shocked with fear to question why Dazai called Oda “Odasaku.”

Dazai knew.

He knew about his pathetic escape attempt, and even worse, he knew that Oda had tried to help him hide it.

He’d probably known from the moment he’d stepped into the apartment.

That image came back again. That image of Oda lying on bloodstained pavement with a broken jaw and bullet holes through his chest. Guilt wrapped around him, feeling every bit as restrictive as Dazai’s hand.

“Please,” Atsushi managed, his voice rough from little use. He looked at Dazai, his eyes beginning to feel wet. “Please, don’t hurt him.” Dazai raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ll accept whatever punishment you choose for me, just… I-It was my fault, not his.”

He stared into Dazai’s cold, calculating eye for a minute, knowing that his pleas were likely falling on deaf ears. His teacher’s lip curled in disgust. He felt his stomach twist as he prepared himself for the worst.

He’s a traitor and you’re going to carry out the execution.

He’s already dead, Atsushi-kun.

I tried to give you a chance, Mori-san can maim you and sell you for parts until you die for all I care.

Dazai exhaled through his mouth. Annoyance colored every inch of his face.

“Don’t be daft, Atsushi-kun,” he said, disdain filling his tone. His fingers released Atsushi’s arm and lightly slapped him on the cheek. His uncovered eye narrowed. “He’s one of the few people I actually respect.”

Dazai’s words took a minute to register in Atsushi’s brain.

“What?”

“Hmm,” Dazai hummed, seeming to bore of the conversation. “I guess he didn’t tell you that part.” He shrugged. “Odasaku and I drink together every so often.”

Atsushi blinked. So, Oda-san is safe then... He thought, slumping. The tension leaked from his muscles, which seemed to cry from being strained for too long. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and face in hands. He let himself sigh quietly.

He knew it was too early to be relieved. He did recognize that Dazai hadn’t excused him for his escape attempt yet, but for a moment, he couldn’t help it.

“I’m a little offended,” Dazai said after a minute. Even in his exhausted state, Atsushi tensed. His hand on Atsushi’s shoulder tightened. “I saved you from a firing squad.” Once again, his free hand came up to emphasize his point. “I let you stay here even though you’re a danger to have around.” His voice took a darker tone that Atsushi hadn’t expected. “I kept you clothed and fed. And you repay me like this? With a lackluster escape attempt and endangering one of the few people I actually like?”

Atsushi didn’t reply, his mouth as dry as paper.

“Well?” Dazai prompted coldly. “Is there anything you want to say to defend your actions?”

The corners of Atsushi’s lips pulled downward. He hated Dazai. He hated him. “You only did those things to use me,” he managed, his throat tightening as he spoke. His anger burned and bubbled up inside of him. He tried to jump from his place on the edge of the bed, but Dazai’s grip on him tightened, forcing him to stay where he was, quaking with rage . “You’re making it sound like I took advantage of your kindness or something,” His voice rose with every word. “But everything you ever gave me was so you could control me!”

His rage kept building, making his words get louder, making him braver or stupider. His head hurt from it. Pressure built against his skull, blood boiling and breaking bone. “Would you put a bullet through my head if I stop being useful?! What--”

“Killing you would be a waste. Mori-san wouldn’t be happy with me if that happened.” Dazai’s voice was calm, and though it shouldn’t have caught Atsushi off guard, it did. He adjusted his hold on his student. “I’ll admit to the manipulation at least.” He pulled Atsushi closer, his arm tightening around the boy’s shoulder. “I suggest you listen to me very carefully, Atsushi-kun,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “I could have made just as much use of you if I’d kept you in a cage, and I still can.”

Atsushi felt the blood drain from his face, his burst of courage melting into nothing. In a matter of moments, his blood had turned to ice.

“It wouldn’t be difficult or expensive even,” Dazai continued. “As you know, the Port Mafia occasionally deals in animal trafficking. I could easily find a cage that you’d fit in.” He paused, letting that information sink in, watching Atsushi’s skin become palid. “Though, it’d be small, big enough for you to come in and out, but I’m not sure you’d be able to stand up straight.”

The boy started shaking in his grasp again. This time from fear rather than anger.

“It sounds rather dull, doesn’t it?” Dazai remarked, his fingers loosening on Atsushi’s shoulder. “Sitting alone in the dark, unable to move, waiting for me to let you out so you can be used as a tool for an assignment.” He grabbed Atsushi’s chin and forced him to make eye contact. “I didn’t intend to only use you as a pawn, Atsushi-kun. I wanted you to rise up in the Port Mafia because I believe you have the potential.” Dazai let go of Atsushi, sighing and throwing up his arms melodramatically. “But if you absolutely insist on being nothing more than a weapon, I suppose I’ll accommodate you.”

He could not go back to a place like that. He could not stay put in the stifling darkness.

“N-No!” Atsushi managed, sounding like he was drowning and gasping for air. His shoulders shook. “I’m sorry I tried to run. Please… Please don’t… I can’t...” He trailed off, staring at his hands because it was easier than staring at Dazai’s unfeeling eye. “I don’t want that,” he whispered.

Pleas and grovels had never gotten him far with Dazai, but he’d never fully lost the habit of begging for mercy in desperation. His eyes began leaking again, and he didn’t bother to wipe away the tears.

“Atsushi-kun, look at me.”

Atsushi obeyed immediately.

“Don’t pull a stunt like that again.”

Atsushi nodded.

“Will I have to threaten caging you in the future?”

Atsushi shook his head, his throat too constricted to talk. Instead, his lips moved to form a nearly silent “No.”

“Good,” Dazai said, raising a hand to pat Atsushi on the head. He wasn’t blind to the way Atsushi winced at his touch, nor was he deaf to the frantic gasp Atsushi took in. “I’m glad that order of business is settled.” He rose from the bed in one fluid motion. “I’m getting a drink.”

He paused when he reached the door, glancing back at his apprentice crumpled with defeat on the bed. “Huh, I guess since you busted a hole through the old door, you can control your powers well enough.” He smiled. “So, you don’t need to be barricaded in here anymore.” He glanced at his feet and boredly kicked away the doorstop. “That’ll be something to get used to.” He backed up a pace. “You’re making progress.”

Atsushi didn’t move for an hour after Dazai left. He remained on his bed, curled into a ball.

It was surprising to say the least.

He should have been bleeding.

He should have been bruised.

He should have been handed over to Mori.

Yet, none of that happened.

He was lucky.

He was so, so lucky.

At the same time, he was trapped.

Somehow, he was so much more trapped ever.

/-/-/

The sunset soaked the city in a scarlet light. Dazai pushed the door open. The scent of liquor greeted him like a close friend.  

Like normal, he took a stool at the counter and ordered a drink, tapping his fingers against the ball of ice in his drink before taking a sip.

The scraping sound of the door opening filled the bar.

“So,” Dazai said, bobbing the chunk of ice in his drink before looking up to see Oda. “What did you think about my apprentice?”

He said it as casually as saying “hello.”

Oda didn’t react, his face remaining neutral. Nearly as unreadable as Dazai’s face.

“You’re the only one who wouldn’t drag him back to the boss, and go so far to install a new door.” They sat in silence for a moment. “Thanks for that, by the way,” he mumbled, drumming his fingers against the counter. His one uncovered eye narrowed. “It would have been a shame to lose him. There’s so much potential there, you know? He just needs to accept his place in all of this.” He paused, and in a far less serious voice he added, “Plus, it would have been irritating to call someone to replace the door.”

“He was panicked when I saw him… Hysterical even,” Oda interjected softly. “What you’re putting him through can’t be good for him.”

Dazai shrugged, taking a larger sip of his liquor. “He’ll be fine. Overall, he’s more resilient than he looks.” He stretched his arms out before turning back to Oda. “He seemed okay after I talked to him about his little venture outside. A bit shaken because he probably thought I didn’t know, but he’s alright. No hyperventilating, so that’s good.”

Oda didn’t say anything for a minute, his face still hard to read, but his brows were furrowed. “What did you--”

“Relax,” he interrupted quickly, sensing what Oda was about say. “I didn’t punish him. I didn’t even lay a hand on him.” He trailed off, but spoke up again. “Well, I did lay a hand on him, but I didn’t punch him or throw him across the room or anything extreme.” He played with his ice in his drink. “Just gave him a stern talking to.”

Some tension in Oda’s shoulders eased. It was one of those miniscule details that most people would miss. He kept his face neutral, his eyes still piercing.

Both went silent for a few minutes, drinking and letting their minds wander a bit.

“Are you going to try to convince me to let him go or keep the promise you probably made to Atsushi-kun?”

Oda didn’t speak.

Dazai didn’t say anything either.

“Okay,” Dazai replied to silence.

“Don’t hurt him, Dazai. Just… Don’t hurt him. It won’t end well if you keep pushing him like this.” He sighed, taking another sip. “You could end up with another Q on your hands.”

Dazai hummed with disdain at the mention of Q. “True,” he muttered. Yawning, he traced the rim of his glass. “I had considered that possibility. The last thing the Port Mafia needs is another like that child.” He shrugged, smiling slightly. “I’ll take measures to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

They both took long swigs from their drinks.

“Enough about Atsushi-kun,” Dazai declared, slamming his drink on the wooden counter melodramatically. “When do you think Ango’s going to show up?”

“I don’t know,” Oda said, agreeing to change topics. “He’s taking his time.”

Chapter Text

Atsushi collapsed on his bed, exhaustion tearing at his muscles and darkening his vision. He buried his face in the pillow, ready to sleep for all eternity.

This had been a routine for him for the past few weeks.

Dazai hadn’t given him so much as a full eight hours to sleep or much opportunity to eat. Atsushi was running on empty. The tiger was only semi-helpful. Even a supernatural beast needed rest and food on a regular basis.

He rolled onto his back, that simple action making him feel dizzy and more disoriented. He was asleep almost as soon as he closed his eyes.

“Come on, Atsushi-kun. Up.” Dazai’s voice dragged him from his sleep.

How long had he slept? An hour? A little more than that? He had slept hadn’t he? Or did he just remember a long time of laying down with his eyes closed?

Then, Dazai’s hand dragged him from his tired thoughts. He gripped the collar of Atsushi’s shirt, pulling his out of bed in one quick, smooth movement. “I can’t wait for you all day,” Dazai said as Atsushi blinked blearily at him. “Get ready to go, more training today.”

He shoved Atsushi away from him, causing the boy to stagger and struggle to regain his balance.

If it wasn’t one thing, it was another.

Suddenly, there were a bunch of missions to carry out. Suddenly, he was severely behind on his training. Suddenly, he was too busy to sleep.

Dazai was plotting something. Atsushi couldn’t tell what though. But it was clear to him that his mentor was keeping him busy, giving him just enough time to sleep and enough food to eat to still function. It was confusing, and Atsushi didn’t bother to try to figure out what Dazai could be up to. It was nearly impossible to follow Dazai’s train of thought, and besides… He was too tired for that.

On the bright side, since his constant training and most of Dazai’s responsibilities took up so much time, he hadn’t been forced in the lab for awhile.

He didn’t remember much of the last time he’d been cut open. He had bits and pieces of the memory, but nothing solid. It had felt the same as any other time. He’d been dragged in, restrained, operated on, passed out, and woke up with sore limbs and an aching head.

Something must have happened in that last time.

Something...

Atsushi couldn’t exactly figure out what yet. He knew because when he’d finally opened his eyes that time, he’d still been hooked up to a heart monitor, an oxygen mask had been strapped to his face, and there was someone there with Dazai.

He hadn’t said anything, he simply motioned for Atsushi to follow him and began walking away.

Since then, he hadn’t been forced to endure another dissection, and instead found himself torn apart in a much less literal sense. It definitely wasn’t pleasant, but Atsushi found himself painfully grateful for that.

What happened that time? He asked himself occasionally. Atsushi wanted to know, but he didn’t dare ask Dazai. He sensed too much risk of being put back under the scalpel if he brought it up.

So, he simply took it. He trudged through long days and longer nights. He learned to work through the haze in his mind. He adapted as much as he could.

Atsushi rubbed his eyes, skin still corpse cold and hair still damp. The frigid shower helped wake him up a bit. His muscles still ached under his skin, but the fog in his mind dispersed.

“Training?” He muttered, looking to his teacher.

“You’ll see when we get there.”

That can’t be good.

He didn’t say much more than a little sound of understanding. He’d given up on not speaking to Dazai. After their last little talk, Atsushi found himself less than willing to test the limits of Dazai’s patience.

Eventually-maybe after a few weeks-the schedule Dazai kept him on steadied. It didn’t solidify at all, but at some time that Atsushi couldn’t quite pinpoint, he’d stopped being deathly tired. He didn’t try to sleep in every free moment he had anymore. Sleep hours were forever irregular, but nowhere near as bad.

Despite no longer being confined his room, Atsushi remained there for most of his free time. It was still white-walled, dusty, and felt like a prison of sorts, but at the same time, it was almost his.

He couldn’t quite claim ownership over the room, not really. Everything in that apartment belonged to Dazai. Atsushi couldn’t forget that.

However, Dazai was less likely to go into that room. He was more often in any other room. So, Atsushi stayed there.

There’d been maybe two or three times that he’d tried to sit in the kitchen or the living room or anywhere aside from his room, but Dazai either been there or had sauntered in right when Atsushi was getting comfortable.

Even without locks or barricades or violence, Dazai had once again driven him into that nearly empty room and kept him there. Hiding himself away in his room was better than being too close to Dazai, so Atsushi had accepted it.

Atsushi learned something rather quickly: It was never a good thing when Dazai called him.

Getting called out from his room nearly always meant a job. It hardly mattered what type of job it was. Atsushi hated them all. Every job Dazai had ever had him work had involved fighting and gunshot wounds and pain and blood. And on top of tha--

“Atsushi-kun, come out here.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, shifting on his bed, and running a hand through his hair. Atsushi suppressed a groan because Dazai would likely be less than pleased if he heard a sound of protest. “Coming,” he called back in an exhausted voice, pushing himself off the bed and padding after Dazai’s voice.

He found Dazai flipping through a book with mild interest. The man didn’t look up from his page. Atsushi pressed his lips together slightly, tightly clasping his hands together behind his back.

“I’m going to be gone on an assignment for a day or so,” he said, turning a page. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Atsushi shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Am I just staying in the apartment again?” He asked with little inflection in his voice.

Dazai had left for assignments before, and he generally had just left Atsushi stuck in his room and had sent a subordinate to let him out every few hours so he could grab something to eat or use the restroom. As much as Atsushi had hated getting battered and bruised from training, being confined to his room like that seemed just as painful

“No,” Dazai said before he shut his book and looked back at Atsushi. “We’re past that point now, Atsushi-kun.”

“What?”

Sighing, Dazai put his book to the side and laced his fingers. “Well, you can’t expect a day off every time I have to leave you behind. Your training is progressing and we can’t stop everything just because I’m not here.”

A familiar knot formed in Atsushi’s stomach. He didn’t quite know why, but he was nervous.

“Then what am I doing while your gone?” He asked with a dry mouth.

“Shadowing,” he answered with a clipped tone. “I’m leaving your training to a subordinate for a little while.”

Atsushi didn’t ask who this friend was, it wasn’t as though he knew anyone in the Mafia, save the few he’d met.

Dazai reached to his side to grab a pen and scrap of paper, and he scribbled something down on it. He rose from his seat, drawing himself to full height. He pushed the folded up piece of paper into Atsushi’s hand. “That’s the time and address you’ll meet him at.”

He wasn’t done talking. Atsushi knew because Dazai was still standing right in front of him, looming over him like a dark spirit. If he was done talking, he’d have turned on his heel and have been walking away or going back to his seat.

Reluctantly, Atsushi looked up at him, fully aware of how he needed to tilt his neck to look his mentor in the face at this angle.

“Understand this now, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai began, his eye shining darkly. “You will not be a burden to him. You will follow his orders. You will not complain about my teaching methods, nor will you speak ill of the Port Mafia. I like to believe you’re smart enough to know that without me reminding you, but after that stunt you pulled a while back, I’m not completely sure.”

Atsushi swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling like he was shrinking down to a speck of dust under Dazai’s glare.

He never missed a chance to bring up Atsushi’s failed escape attempt. He never missed a chance to remind Atsushi of how stupid and sloppy it had been. It stung every time he mentioned it, further opening the wounds that took forever to heal.

“Am I understood?” Dazai’s eye bore down on him, smothering any rebellious spirit Atsushi had left.

“Yes, Dazai-san,” he muttered, lowering his eyes. The paper crumpled between his fingers.

No more words were exchanged between them. There was nothing left to be said. Atsushi returned to his room when Dazai took a few steps away from him and returned to his seat.

Atsushi flopped down on his bed, and rolled onto his side. He glanced at the scrap of paper Dazai had given to him. Just a Dazai had said. It was just a time and an address. He sighed. It shouldn’t have been surprising that he didn’t know where the location was. It wasn’t as though he ever managed to get out much.

I’ll have to find a map to figure this out. He thought, feeling idiotic for never learning any of the streets or landmarks in the city. Though, that was more a result of Dazai keeping him in the apartment all the time and never sending him off independently. So, he supposed that it wasn’t completely fair to blame himself. It didn’t make him feel better about anything, but he tried to shrug it off as he got up again to look for a map.

/-/-/

Atsushi could say with pride that he had managed to get to the meeting place with getting turned around only twice on his way there.

He couldn’t feel much of the pride at that time, as he was too distracted with who he’d wind up meeting.

He wouldn’t mind training with Chuuya again. The man was hot tempered and loud, but he was so much more human than Dazai was. It was all in how he allowed Atsushi to read him, how emotions so often showed on his face. In a cold place, where everyone he’d met seemed blank or empty or neutral, he found himself just a bit more comfortable to find someone he could understand better.

Unfortunately, he knew that it wouldn’t be Chuuya training him today. Whenever Dazai went on a mission, Chuuya was normally with him. He’d never seen them in action, but according to rumors he’d managed to pick up, Dazai and Chuuya were an unbeatable team.

Atsushi leaned against a brick wall and crossed his arms. He was a bit tired, not as badly as he had been. Blinking blearily, he scanned the street for whoever was taking over his training for today. He assumed it would be one of the subordinates who he’d often seen following behind Dazai. One of the men who carried guns, wore dark suits, and always had sunglasses. He had never talked to any of them, nor did he ever know any of their names, so he could only imagine meeting one of them like this would be awkward.

He exhaled through his nose before rolling his shoulders slightly, slowly trying to work out the kinks and aches.

“Hey,” a voice said from next to him.

He jumped, meeting intense bluish gray eyes.

Atsushi’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Oda-san?!”

“How are you?” Oda asked.

Atsushi blinked a few times, before responding. “I’m okay. Tired, but everything’s been fine lately.” He looked up at the man, fully feeling a certain kind of spark light up his eyes. It wasn’t a feeling that he was used to, but it felt exciting and unfamiliar and warm. Atsushi forced his face to look a bit more dignified. “I’ll be glad to learn from you today.”

The sincerity in his own voice surprised him. Like the spark, like the pleasant buzz of relief and excitement running through his veins, it was something he rarely came across.

“What do you expect to learn from me?” Oda asked.

Atsushi hesitated. “I don’t know,” he admitted quickly. “Dazai-san just sent me here and said that I’m supposed to meet his friend here and shadow him for the day.” His fingers laced and unlaced. He didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“His friend, huh?” Oda mumbled. “Not a word I use lightly.” He looked down at Atsushi again and shrugged his shoulders. “Then, I suppose you’re coming with me on a few errands today. It’s probably not as exciting as Dazai’s training though.”

Their job could be watching paint dry for all Atsushi cared. Anything would be better than Dazai’s harsh training methods.

He followed close behind Oda. He set his jaw, trying to look as neutral as Oda. It didn’t work.

They didn’t speak for a few minutes. Atsushi’s hands fumbled with the hem of his shirt.

Was silence like this normal?

So many of the interactions Atsushi had were often steeped in silence. He normally spoke only a few words in conversations with Dazai, and Dazai’s subordinates ignored him most of the time.

“Thank you for not telling Dazai-san,” he said quietly when he got tired of messing around with his shirt. “He still found out, but…”

He trailed off. Atsushi had no idea how to finish that statement.

Oda slowed down and stepped to the side, positioning himself so his footsteps aligned with Atsushi’s. “What exactly did he do about it?”

Atsushi glanced at him, a bit perplexed. For as far back as he could remember, he’d always been behind people, dragged or shuffling quietly. He didn’t know if Oda falling into step beside him was an indication that he needed to slow down or keep his pace. There were no gestures signalling him to take a few steps back, so he simply hoped that he made the right decision. “Not much,” he muttered. “Dazai-san just scolded me and told me not to do something like that again.”

“Did he hurt you?”

Atsushi didn’t have to look back in his memories. He couldn’t forget that conversation. He was too scared to ever erase that from his thoughts. “No,” he mumbled. “He didn’t do anything. He slapped me in the face, but not hard at all.”

“Hmmm…” A look of disdain crossed Oda’s face for a split second. Then, he was back to being neutral.

Was that a complaint about Dazai’s teaching?! Atsushi thought frantically. He told me not to do that!

“It really wasn’t hard! It was more like a tap, I swear!”

Oda raised his hands, trying to calm Atsushi.

Atsushi took a shaky deep breath. Oda hadn’t told Dazai before, so it was possible he wouldn’t tell him now.

“You could have mentioned that you were friends with him,” Atsushi mumbled.

Oda shrugged. “It’s not a word I drop that frequently.” He glanced at Atsushi with those intense blue eyes. “It didn’t seem relevant at the time.”

“Okay…” Atsushi awkwardly rubbed his neck, unsure of what else to say. He swallowed hard and tried to think of something to fill the the silence. “What do you normally do, Oda-san?” He asked.

The man raised and lowered one shoulder. “I do whatever they need to do.” His face and voice were serious, but there was something that relaxed the tension in Atsushi’s shoulders. “Anything except for killing. Defusing bombs, collecting payments for Port Mafia protection, things like that.”

Atsushi could have laughed. Ages ago, before he’d been taken in by Dazai, all those things would have sounded crazy and scary and dangerous. Now, those jobs sounded several times less terrifying than the man he spent nearly every day.

“What are you doing today?” Atsushi asked quietly.

Oda gave a slight hum. “Today is looking like a pretty slow day. If we get a call about something, we’ll handle it. For now, it’s just a few normal errands.” He turned a corner before slipping into a grocery store.

Oh. Atsushi thought as he slowed a bit, falling back to trailing behind Oda. When he said “normal errands,” he actually meant… normal errands.

It’d been a long time since he’d gone to something so normal like a grocery store. Dazai’s pantry was almost always full, or at least it provided most of his meals. The last time he’d been to such a mundane place was when Chuuya had dragged him to a cafe and gotten him to eat.

It was strange to him, to be in a place that was so ordinary, a place where people--people who didn’t kill or hurt others as a career--went. It made him feel less normal by contrast. Being surrounded by normal people, and being the only one who wasn’t at all normal. Like a stain on otherwise pristine fabric. He wasn’t supposed to be among other people.

“Do you want anything?”

Atsushi blinked, torn away from his thoughts. “I’m sorry, what?”

Oda held up a bag of candy. “Do you want anything?” He gestured to the shelf of junk food.

“Umm… No thank you,” he muttered, some sort of shock tearing through him. There was something so unsettling about eyes being on him. Nothing good came of people looking straight in his direction.

“You’re sure?”

Atsushi nodded. He was deep in debt to Oda as it was. The last thing he needed was to owe him money as well.

Oda went back to grabbing food off the shelves. Several bags and boxes lined his shopping basket. All of it, brightly colored and sweet or salty.

Atsushi blinked at it all. It was the kind of cheap food that he’d never eaten. The orphanage had rarely provided things that were so sugary.

Bland and bitter nutrients that were often hard to swallow and difficult to digest. Atsushi could remember getting the occasional candy, but that was rare for him since the headmaster and all the other people on staff threw all their hatred at him. He remembered eating a few of the candies back then. The candy wasn’t anything special, just something sweet with no distinct flavor. Just sweet. Nothing more than empty calories that tasted like raw sugar, lacking anything substantial.

Atsushi followed closely behind Oda, still taking in the sites of the grocery store. They didn’t go near the fresh produce or the fruits, which Atsushi had no problems with.

The memory hit him harder than expected when they passed by the fruit section and he found himself looking at the apples. For half a second, he was back in his cell, wearing ragged clothes, hungry, and desperate to stay alive. And in that moment, all he could see was Dazai, his bandaged hand outstretched between the bars, offering him a shiny, red apple.

If only…

If only he’d rejected Dazai’s offer. The apple and the position as his apprentice alike.

He should have taken his chances with escape. He’d likely have been shot dead as Dazai had predicted, but it would have been better than what he’d been forced to do in the Port Mafia. If he’d just taken that chance, he wouldn’t have blood on his hands now, he wouldn’t have been trapped under Dazai’s thumb.

“Are you okay?”

He looked up at Oda, forcing his deepening frown from his face. “I’m fine.” He tried to grin, but the muscles in his face didn’t seem to work.

“You just turned white as a sheet,” Oda responded.

“I just--” He glanced back at the fruit section. “Really don’t like apples,” he muttered. The words sat in the air awkwardly, sounding so stupid there. Atsushi wished he could take them back. He sounded so weak and so whiny. How was he supposed to explain why he’d said that? It sounded so idiotic.

“Okay,” Oda said, steering Atsushi to the check out counters. “We won’t get any apples.”

Atsushi glanced at the basket Oda carried. It doesn’t look like he was planning on getting apples. He thought, upon seeing it completely filled with junk food.

Oda didn’t press the matter, nor did he tease Atsushi about it. The topic was dropped almost as quickly as it had been brought up.

They left the store carrying two paper bags with all the stuff Oda had bought. Atsushi raised an eyebrow when he peered down into the bag he was holding.

He could never claim to be as good at making accurate educated guesses about people as Dazai was, but he wasn’t completely useless at it. Oda did not strike him as the type to down junk food. He was too well built to normally eat all the things he’d bought.

A metallic ringing made him jump. Oda pulled his phone out of his pocket, flipping it open, and answering it. Atsushi caught bits and pieces of conversation. All the words were clipped, short, and it was all over in less than thirty seconds.

“Yeah, we’re close by. We’ll take care of it.”

The call ended with a short beep.

Oda turned to Atsushi, shifting his bag of groceries into his other arm. “Let’s go.” He didn’t give anymore explanation after that. He simply tightened his grip on the grocery bag, the paper crinkling under the pressure of his arm. Then he ran.

Atsushi scrambled to grip his bag harder and push off the sidewalk to follow.

They dashed through alleyways and quieter streets. It couldn’t have been far from them, but Atsushi’s legs burned early on. He pushed through, clutching the bag against his chest.

“Okay,” he said, half tossing his bag to the side. They were in a little area behind a store. Atsushi didn’t know why. It seemed like a strange place to rush to. “We’re here.” He took wide steps to get

Atsushi followed suit, breathing hard. He swallowed hard, muscles sore and aching. “Why are we here, Oda-san?” He asked, forcing his legs to move in wide strides to catch up with Oda, who had strode over to the back wall of the store.

He half looked over his shoulder at Atsushi. “We need to defuse a bomb,” he said casually.

Atsushi jumped back at that.

“B-Bomb?!”

“Yes,” he replied with little urgency in his voice. “We need to make sure it doesn’t blow up this shop. They’re under our protection.” He didn’t gesture or call Atsushi over, but there was an indescribable something in his calm tone that pulled Atsushi to join him and look down at the bomb.

It didn’t look like the kinds of bombs Atsushi had always imagined. He’d always imagined bombs as simple black balls with a fuse that dwindled down as it burned. It was a rather old fashioned, cartoony image of a bomb.

This bomb was a small thing, a strange mess of wires, a timer that ticked down, and metal. It looked like someone had thrown it together in a rush.

For a moment, Atsushi didn’t quite process the panic. He just started at the red, glowing numbers that continued to tick down.

Then, the panic dripped in.

Three minutes and twenty seven seconds.

Enough time to run, enough time to get away.

He didn’t move a muscle though. He simply stood still, staring at the numbers.

Something flew in front of his face. Atsushi flinched back.

“Here,” Oda said, holding out a scissor like tool to him. When Atsushi didn’t respond, Oda caught his wrist firmly and pulled him closer. He pushed the tool into Atsushi’s hand and brought him forward a few inches.

Three minutes.

He came back to his senses then. “Oda-san, what am I supposed to do?!” The tool shook in his shaking hands.

Two minutes and fifty two seconds.

“Okay, okay,” Oda said lowly, his face and voice remaining completely calm. He carefully took the bomb in his hands, turning it over to expose another mess of wires. “It’s fine. Just start by cutting that wire there.” He pointed to a blue wire.

He grabbed Atsushi’s wrist again and guided his hand to the bomb. “Keep a cool head,” he said. “No good will come of you panicking. I’m right here, everything is fine.”

Atsushi tightened his grip on the tool, the wire between the blades cut, snipped neatly into two. Some sense of accomplishment came over Atsushi when he looked at it. It didn’t feel totally right, considering how he’d simply squeezed that handles of a pair of wire cutters and had freaked out while doing it. His heartbeat had managed to drop to a steady rhythm, though he still felt the hard, painful pump of blood under his sternum.

“Good,” Oda said, tapping Atsushi’s wrist with his index finger to get his attention. “But you’re not totally done yet.” He released Atsushi and pointed to another wire. “Now cut that one right at the base of the actual bomb. As close as you can get.”

Atsushi obeyed, his hands steady this time. He clipped the wire where Oda instructed.

“One more.” Oda slipped his finger under a red wire and told Atsushi where to cut.

It cut as cleanly and as simply as the other wires. And suddenly, everything was done.

“Nice job,” he praised, taking the wire cutters from Atsushi’s outstretched hand.

Getting told he’d done a good job from Oda felt so different from getting praised by Dazai. For one thing, Oda definitely offered more praise than Dazai did. Whenever Dazai did commend Atsushi for something, it always felt like a backhanded compliment of sorts. That, or it just felt like outright sarcasm. Both were less than pleasant.

Atsushi rose on sturdy, but shaky legs, following after Oda as he retrieved his grocery bag.

“Oda-san,” he said, glancing at the bomb that Oda still held, probably to dispose of it soon. “Why would someone put a bomb there? It’s just a shop.”

“They’re protected under the Port Mafia, they pay use to keep them safe.” He sighed. “It was likely someone’s intention to take out that source of income. Some higher ups will likely look into it later.”

“Oh,” Atsushi muttered, still staring at the dull, blank timer on the bomb. He pulled his bag closer to him. There was still a buzz in the back of his brain, his muscles taut.

“I know,” Oda said when a black car pulled up beside them. He passed the bomb into hands that reached out from an open window and exchanged a few words with the man in the car. The car drove off within a few seconds. Oda turned back to Atsushi. “It’s a little overwhelming.”

“Where are we going now?” He asked.

“You’ll see in a little bit,” Oda replied.

That sort of phrase had never been good in Atsushi’s experience. When Dazai had said it, it meant training would half kill him.

But… When Oda said it, something felt very different.

Something felt… better.

/-/-/

They arrived at a small curry restaurant. Atsushi was still confused of why they were there. Oda wouldn’t tell him, which made him more exasperated rather than uneasy.

“Why are we--”

“You’ll see.” He glanced at a window on the second floor. “They probably already saw us, so this won’t be much of a surprise.” He lightly ran up a flight of stairs that led to the upper level of the home before looking over his shoulder and gesturing for Atsushi to follow him.

He hesitated as he climbed the steps.

Oda-san doesn’t kill people, so it can’t be that. He thought nervously. Is this place actually an enemy hide out or something? He remembered how Oda carried guns, and started to wonder if those would play a role here. The thought made the hairs on the back of his neck raise, it made his skin prickle. Are we going to fight someone?

“Just so you know,” Oda began quietly. “Four, possibly five, kids are going to pounce on me as soon as I walk in there. So,” he said, taking Atsushi’s bag and placing it against the wall along with his own. “Just be prepared for that.”

“Wait--What?”

Oda put his hand on the door knob. “Just watch,” he whispered.

Then, he opened the door and walked in.

It took all of three seconds.

Two kids jumped out from under a table that was pushed up against the wall. Two others jumped from under the covers on the top bunk, attacking him from above. Oda caught them both in his arms and toppled over when they wriggled in his grasp. He landed carefully, so both the children and him would be unharmed.

Atsushi peered in from the doorway at a complete loss of what to do. He was serious… Atsushi thought as he struggled between stepping in or staying where he was.

“You can come in,” Oda said as the two children in his arms climbed a bit higher so they’d be on his shoulders.

Atsushi suddenly felt self conscious, which was a bit ridiculous all things considered. But regardless, he felt like a child again, out of nowhere.

Oda’s words didn’t have that scary something under them like Dazai’s. Atsushi couldn’t sense a command hidden in his voice, but at the same time, some part of him felt like an invitation was really an order deep down. So, he shuffled in, feeling out of place.

He’d only set foot in the room when something barrelled into him.

“Enemy reinforcements!” He yelled with a huge smile on his face. The other child who’d been wrapped around Oda’s leg leapt at him. He grabbed both of Atsushi’s legs.

He couldn’t stay upright. Atsushi fell over. The fall wasn’t hard, but it managed to come as a surprise. He yelped as he went down, hitting the floor. The kid tried to pin him down with his light weight.

There was no hostility in this attack. It was just play. It was the kind of play he’d seen other children in the orphanage do when they weren’t being watched by the staff. He’d seen restraint in those movements back then, careful not to actually hurt the other child. There was little restraint to be found in the boy who tackled him now, but there was little skill there, and Atsushi clearly had the advantage.

So, he gently wrestled the child’s arms now and eventually let himself get pinned down--though he could get up any time.

“You beat me,” he said to the kid. He let his arms flop on the ground melodramatically. “You win.”

“Kousuke,” Oda called from the other side of the room. “Is it polite to tackle people you don’t know?”

The boy--Kousuke-- climbed off of Atsushi and turned pink. “No,” he said, looking everywhere but Oda’s eyes. “What do you say?”

He looked back at Atsushi, suddenly looking sheepish. “I’m sorry I tackled you,” he muttered.

Atsushi almost laughed. The change in Kousuke’s tone catching him completely by surprise. “It’s okay,” he said, smiling. He pulled his legs under him and slowly got up.

Oda introduced him to the kids. Kousuke, Katsume, Yuu, Shinji, and Sakura.  Atsushi tried to commit the names to memory. He wasn’t great with names, and he knew he’d need a few reminders.

Their eyes on him made Atsushi feel a bit skittish. He saw the way those kids looked at him. It was more or less the same way he looked at Oda... More or less…

They were looking up at him with some sort of admiration in their eyes. He didn’t know why. He hadn’t done anything that merited admiration. He’d done a lot of things that merited the opposite sentiment. But they didn’t know that, and they didn’t need to. They were just children, and there was no need for them to think about how terrifying the world could be.

So, he smiled and told himself that it was he wasn’t as terrible as he knew he was.

“He brought candy!” One of the kids--Katsume, if Atsushi recalled-- yelled.

Oda half dove to grab the candy before the kids could get their hands on it. He held the bags in out hand far out of their reach.

“No,” he said, looking down at them. “Did you have lunch yet?”

“Yes,” they said in unison.

Oda’s eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Sakura said brightly.

Oda gave a half laugh. “Nice try.” He booped Sakura’s nose. “You guys are terrible liars.”

Atsushi watched, feeling slightly out of place. The moment was a reminder of how he was simply an observer. He didn’t belong in this place.  

“Go get some lunch from the old man, then you can get candy.”

“Okay,” they muttered, brightness a bit dampened. They began to shuffle away, but then dashed down the stairs.

He turned to Atsushi. “We haven’t had any food either, have we?”

“No.”

“Come on, let’s get some curry.”

“Okay,” Atsushi said, standing up a little straighter.

Oda stared him down for a moment, making Atsushi feel a bit smaller. “What are you thinking?” He tilted his head. “You have a strange look on your face.”

Atsushi hesitated. What was he supposed to say? That he felt so intensely out of place here? That he was terrible and he wasn’t sure how to be around children?

“Ummm…” He began, “Are they your kids or…” He fell back on an easier question.

“They’re orphans,” Oda responded.

The surprise must have showed on Atsushi’s face.

“There was a… conflict a few years ago,” he began. “They lost their parents then. So, they’re staying here. I can’t do too much to take care of them or raise them given the line of work we’re in, but I do what I can.”

Atsushi bit his lip, suddenly far away.

Why couldn’t he have found me? He thought, taking a deep breath in. Why couldn’t he have picked me up before the orphanage had? Atsushi thought. Why couldn’t he have found me before Dazai did?

He imagined being pulled out of the dark by Oda. He tried to imagine living with the kids, and it was hard for him. He supposed he’d live with them, read with them, help them with school since he was older. He wasn’t sure what people did with their siblings. The children at the orphanage would not be considered his family by any mean. They’d shunned him, they’d singled him out to get points. They weren’t his family, they weren’t his friends.  

He thought about how the kids seemed happy, clean, and fed. The things he had only wished for when he was a child. He remembered how it felt to have a certain darkness in his eyes, how it felt to have bruises and cuts on his body, how it felt to have no hope.

These children had none of those things. He couldn’t find the shadows under their eyes or the painfully expressionless faces that he was so used to seeing in children. They were all smiles and light and excitement. They conspired to get candy together, played together, and just lived their lives together.

He, or maybe it was the tiger, sensed the warmth in this place. It was so unfamiliar. He hadn’t felt the warmth in the Port Mafia and he hadn’t felt it in the orphanage.

Oda frowned at him, not quite disapprovingly, but it was like he could tell that something was still off.

“I know there’s more,” He started to say.

Why did Dazai have to find me? Why couldn’t you have picked me up instead?

Atsushi didn’t speak.  

Oda shrugged. “But, it’s alright. I won’t force it.”

Atsushi sighed, helplessly grateful.

Oda brought Atsushi back downstairs to meet the restaurant owner, whose name Atsushi couldn’t remember for the life of him.

The owner put a plate of curry in front of Atsushi.

It smelled strongly of spices. Atsushi wasn’t completely sure what to expect from curry. He’d never eaten it before. He could hardly remember the last time he’d eaten something that wasn’t ramen. Atsushi eyed it for a minute, watching Oda eat him in his peripherals.

He scooped up a spoonful, and ate it.

It took all of five seconds for the heat to hit him. His face turned red and he could feel sweat bead on his forehead. He took huge breaths of air, trying to cool himself.

Atsushi glanced back at Oda, who ate his lunch without blinking.

“How?” Atsushi breathed, feeling like he was exhaling fire.

The kids were looking at him, giggling among themselves. “He’s turning red,” Sakura commented.

He tried to take a breath to cool his mouth, but he couldn’t get the burn from his mouth.

“This will help,” the owner said, pushing a glass of milk across the counter to Atsushi.

He drank it, forgetting to breath. It soothed his throat and mouth. He laid it down on the counter, hanging his head. “It’s so hot…” He muttered.

“If you want a milder curry, I can get that for you,” the man offered again.

Atsushi shook his head, and smiled. He’d been hungry ages ago. He knew too well the feeling of an empty stomach, and as long as the dish was edible, he’d take it.

Ringing broke through the peaceful ambiance.

Oda flipped open his phone and answered the call.

“Hello?”

Atsushi could only partially make out the words from the other end of the line. It was hard to focus on hearing it when he still felt the burn of the curry remaining in his mouth. What he heard was, “Random question: --------- happen to --------- my apprentice?”

He stiffened, recognizing the tone too quickly.

Dazai…

Oda’s eyes glanced at Atsushi before he got up and stepped out of the restaurant.  

Atsushi’s blood was running cold, just from hearing that voice.

“Are you okay?” Someone, Atsushi couldn’t tell who, asked. “You went white.”

“I’m fine,” he said numbly, swallowing another mouthful of curry. Heat filled his mouth and he found himself caught off guard by that. He breathed hard and grabbed the glass of milk again. The burn of the curry filled his chest, and he felt better now, clear headed.

He took a breath in and managed a smile again, turning to the kids, who all looked at him with concern. “The curry is just really spicy.”

That made them laugh.

/-/-/

“What is it?” Dazai snapped into the phone. “I’m in the middle of something here.” He held his phone between his shoulder and his ear. His hands were occupied with a handheld game console. He glanced over at Chuuya who was pressing buttons just a furiously in the other seat.

“D-Dazai-san,” a subordinate began. “Your apprentice never showed up at the meeting place.”

“Hmmm…” Dazai hummed, spamming a button to shoot at his partner’s avatar. “Are you sure you didn’t just overlook him in the crowd? He’s pretty small.”

Dazai felt Chuuya glance at him for a second before he had to defend against an intense attack. “Chuuya, that isn’t fair. I’m multitasking here,” he whined.

“It’s not my fault you have something to deal with,” Chuuya half yelled back, so Dazai didn’t actually hear what his subordinate had to say.

He pressed his ear harder against the phone, told Chuuya to shut up, and said, “Say that again.”

“I’ve been here for an hour, Dazai-san, and I’ve seen no sign of him.”

That made Dazai pause his game, much to Chuuya’s dismay.

“You can’t just stop the game because you’re a sore loser!” He remarked.

“Will you shut up for a minute, Slug?” He hissed back. “I’ll destroy you in a minute, just have a little patience.” He straightened his posture, his voice turning to the tone that he reserved for interrogations and threats. “Do you suspect he tried to run?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Chuuya frown.

“I can’t say for sure, Sir.”

Dazai sighed deeply, hating that his game was getting interrupted for this. He massaged his temples with a finger and a thumb. “Alright, I’ll call you back with his location in a few minutes.” He hung up with a quiet beep.

“What happened?” Chuuya asked.

Dazai gave him a raised eyebrow as he put his game to the side and clicked a few buttons on his phone, getting Atsushi’s location in a few moments. “Why do you care?” His tone sounded judgmental at best.

“Maybe because I actually like the kid.” He glared at Dazai. “I wouldn’t blame him for running away from you. You’re not a good teacher.”

Dazai waved Chuuya’s comment away, looking harder at his phone.

“Huh, that’s an odd place to run to.” he muttered to himself before punching in a few numbers.

Dazai held the phone to his ear, drumming his fingers against his leg. He listened to the drone of the ringing.

“Hello?”

The corners of Dazai’s mouth tugged up. “Hi, Odasaku. Random question: Did you by chance happen to pick up my apprentice?”

There was a short silence and the sound of a door closing in the background. “Yeah,” Odasaku replied. “I ran into him earlier and he said that you were having him learn from one of your friends.”

“Hmmm,” Dazai sighed. “Some things must have gotten lost in translation. He was supposed to meet with one of my men.” He paused. “What all did you do?”

“Not much.” Static shifted on Odasaku’s end. “Defused a bomb. The usual.”

Dazai sighed. “It hurts to hear that my apprentice is living my dream.” He put his phone between his ear and shoulder again to grab his game. “You get to have exciting jobs, and I get stuck behind a desk or investigating stuff or--” He paused to let his words sink in for dramatic effect, turning to his partner as he spoke. “I end up having to work with Chuuya.” He clicked the tongue. “It’s the worst!”

“You’re the worst,” Chuuya shot back, twisting against his seatbelt to kick Dazai in the shin. Hard.

He grunted before responding. “Oh, Chuuya,” he said, his voice dripping with mock surprise. “I forgot you were there.” He leaned slightly closer to Chuuya, the phone still close to his face. His voice dropped to a whisper as though he was telling a secret. “Because your so short.” Dazai pulled away as soon as he said it, but still earned himself another sharp kick to his shin.

He unpaused the game, attacking Chuuya’s avatar before Chuuya was ready.

Chuuya gave a surprised squawk as his health bar dropped from green to yellow. He cursed and leaned over his console, hitting the attack button repeatedly.

“Do you want me to bring him back?” Oda asked after no one said anything for a minute.

Dazai didn’t reply for a few moments, focused draining Chuuya’s health. He closed his eyes and sighed once he’d beaten Chuuya. He laid the console on his lap and held his phone with his hand since his neck was getting tired from staying tilted for so long. “If he’s no trouble to you, keep him for the day. He’d probably learn more from you than the guy I was planning on sending him with anyway.”

“Alright.”

Dazai hung up without another word.

Chapter Text

Dazai found Atsushi sitting in the living room.

Atsushi was leaning against the wall, a book propped up on his knees. He scrambled to his feet when Dazai took a step forward, surprise flashing in his eyes when he took in the sight of Dazai’s unbandaged face.

A look of fear crossed Atsushi’s face after a moment. It was small, a tiny downward twitch of his lips and a little flicker in his eyes.

He could smell the blood.

He could smell Odasaku’s blood that stuck to Dazai’s skin and stained the bandages on his hands.

Atsushi didn’t often look into Dazai’s eye. He avoided eye contact when he could. He seemed to hate the void he always saw behind Dazai’s eye.

His apprentice didn’t look at his eyes initially. Atsushi never looked Dazai in the eye if he could help it. Atsushi tended to squirm when he saw the utter numbness that darkened Dazai’s face.

Dazai wasn’t feeling so numb now. His eyes stung, his chest hurt, and his throat was so constricted that there may as well have been a noose around it.

Atsushi seemed to hesitate for a moment, likely thinking through whether or not he should say something. Dazai wasn’t much a fan of hearing Atsushi talk, but at the same time, he got irritated when Atsushi refused to talk. So, the boy knew to tread lightly.

“Uh… What--”

“Atsushi-kun,” Dazai said lowly.

Atsushi’s mouth shut with a sharp click.

“Odasaku is dead.”

Atsushi didn’t often look into Dazai’s eye. He avoided eye contact when he could. He seemed to hate the void he always saw behind Dazai’s eye.

He stared hard into Dazai’s eyes now. His eyes were scanning and searching, possibly trying to understand. Dazai could read every thought as though it was written on his forehead.

What do you mean he’s dead?

Did you kill him?

How did it happen?

He didn’t move for a minute. Only his eyes shifted as though searching for the truth. They moved this way and that way, never once leaving Dazai’s eyes as though if he looked hard enough if he searched without ceasing, he’d manage to read his answers in his mentor’s eyes. It was a strange sort of variation of his normal behavior.  

Dazai had become so used to seeing the panic in Atsushi’s eyes whenever they made eye contact. Now… it was something else, something that even Dazai had a hard time identifying. But he recognized that the look in Atsushi’s eyes was something sad and broken and enraged all at once.

His apprentice didn’t speak.

Atsushi blinked once… twice… before swallowing hard and turning on his heel. He half ran to his room, slamming the door behind him so it shuddered on its hinges.

Dazai sighed and sat in the cacophonous silence before he heard muffled sobs.

Somehow, in a way he couldn’t quite understand, he was grateful to hear the crying. It drowned out the deafening silence that was somehow so much louder than the silence he’d grown so used to in his apartment.

He pinched the bridge of his nose for a minute, trying to ease the headache he’d had since hearing that final, echoing shot that had ended Odasaku’s life. Pain still pulsed behind his eyes, and he sighed.

Dazai wanted to die.

Now more than normal if that was even possible.

But he didn’t have time to think about that at the moment. He had a friend’s instructions to carry out.

/-/-/

Atsushi wasn’t sure when he’d stopped crying and had fallen asleep, but he must have.

The floor’s groan woke him.

It was some time between very late and very early.

He rubbed his eyes, disoriented and feeling like he hadn’t slept at all.

Atsushi found himself in the clothes he’d worn that day. His face felt abnormally warm and tear tracks had dried out trails under his eyes. He’d cried himself to sleep.  

It took him a moment to notice the other presence in the room.

“Dazai-san?” He muttered, staring at the figure in his doorway. His mentor looked more like a shadow than an actual person because of the light behind him. Seeming to just be an outline of a person, any facial features were too dark to make out.

Dazai said nothing. He took a step closer.

Danger! Danger! Danger! His brain screamed. He didn’t move.

Another step, Atsushi shifted. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His skin felt prickly.

Everything after that seemed to speed up, as though someone had clicked a fast forward button. Dazai was suddenly at the edge of Atsushi’s bed.

Now that he was closer, Atsushi could make out a few details that had been too hazy to make out through the tired fog that covered his mind.

Dazai hadn’t replaced the bandages that normally covered his eye.

He had his shoes on.

A scalpel glittered in Dazai’s hand.

Atsushi’s mind cleared immediately.

He pushed himself to his feet, his body seeming to move in slow motion.

Then, he dashed.

He tried to at least. Dazai must have been expecting that because he caught Atsushi by his shirt collar and yanked him backward.

Atsushi fell back, choking from the sudden constriction around his neck. His body hit the floor with a thud. His head cracked on the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut as a haziness took over his brain again. He groaned, trying to prop himself up on his elbows, forcing himself to ignore the angry throb in his skull.

Dazai didn’t give him the chance.

Something--Dazai’s knee, he guessed--slammed into Atsushi’s sternum. It hit him hard and fast. His heart pounded harder. His ribs creaked under Dazai’s weight. A whimper escaped Atsushi’s mouth before he could stop it. His eyes once again squeezed shut. He squirmed under Dazai’s weight, his arms rising to put up a fight.

He pushed Atsushi’s arms down before his hands brushed against Atsushi’s neck.

His body jerked, and he tried to fight off Dazai’s hands.

He wasn’t successful by any means.

“I haven’t tried to run!” Atsushi cried as he struggled. “Dazai-san, please! I obeyed every order you gave me!” Tears were rising to his eyes now. His fingers were aggressively wrapped around Dazai’s bandaged wrists, trying to fight off the hands that were reaching for his neck. “Please don’t kill me!”

His mentor yanked a hand from Atsushi’s grip before slapping his hand down on Atsushi’s mouth. The scalpel he’d set to the side at some point was suddenly back in his hand. He held it just above Atsushi’s eye.

The boy went still. His pupil shrunk at the blade.

“Shut up,” Dazai hissed under his breath. “Or we’ll test how fast the tiger can heal your eyes.” Atsushi turned his eyes to Dazai’s so he wasn’t looking at the scalpel, trying to look around it. Dazai’s eyes flashed with a threat. Slowly, he took his hand off Atsushi’s mouth.

Dazai’s fingers went to Atsushi’s neck. He ignored the way Atsushi flinched under his touch. He pressed the pads of his fingers to the side of Atsushi’s neck, carefully skimming his fingers up and down.

Atsushi shut his eyes, Dazai’s weight on his chest making it hard to breathe. His ribs were cracking, his fingertips going numb and cold.

His fingers stilled before he prodded a spot a few times.

Something hurt under Dazai’s fingers.

Atsushi began to open his eyes when he felt a sharp pain in his neck.

He started to squirm again.

“Quit squirming or I’ll cut something important.”

“Careful, you wouldn’t want me to nick an artery, now would you?”

Atsushi’s body froze against his will, suddenly feeling like Mori was pushing a hand into his guts and innards.

It was scary how he could hear Mori’s tone in Dazai’s voice. When he heard that subtle tone in Dazai’s voice, he couldn’t move.

“There we go,” Dazai said in a hushed voice as he pushed his fingers past a few layers of skin.

“What di--”

Dazai shushed him, putting a bloodied finger in front of his lips. He held up a tiny metallic thing before shifting off of Atsushi’s chest and leaving the room.

The transmitter? He thought, his mind cloudy.

He didn’t realize it for a minute but he was trembling, trembling so intensely all over. The incision mended itself after a little while. His pain ebbed away, but he didn’t move a muscle. His room felt colder than it had a few minutes ago.

“Atsushi-kun,” Dazai called, his face appearing in the doorway.

There was something weird about seeing him with both eyes. It was like seeing three eyes on anyone else.

That single eye had always unnerved him to some extent. In reality, it had probably been the least unnerving thing about Dazai.

Now, seeing Dazai with two eyes managed to feel unnatural.

Dazai flicked his fingers, a clear signal for Atsushi to follow him.

He swallowed hard and obeyed, this neck still throbbing where Dazai had sliced his scalpel. His shuffling steps were quiet against the floor.

Dazai’s hand was on his shoulder. Atsushi flinched, taken by surprise. The grip wasn’t rough, but it could switch to wrenching at a moment’s notice. It was a grip that told Atsushi that he was to listen and follow Dazai’s instruction to the letter.

“Stay close, be quiet.” Dazai paused before releasing Atsushi’s shoulder and grabbing his chin to make him look into his eyes. Atsushi shuddered. “Stay close.”

He turned his head, pulling himself out of Dazai’s grasp before he forced himself to nod.

His head was spinning.

Dazai handed him his coat, the coat he’d earned when he’d had his first kill. “Put this on.” He had an unfamiliar smirk on his face when Atsushi obeyed him. “We have a few things to do.”

What’s happening?

“Come on.”

Maybe there should have been more questions asked, a little more resistance put up, but he simply followed behind his mentor.

They walked in silence.

Exhaustion wore heavily on Atsushi’s body and mind; he hardly felt like any of this was real: Dazai pulling out the transmitter and forcing him out of the apartment at this ungodly hour. The part of being forced out of the apartment wasn’t that weird though, he was used to that. The transmitter piece was the last thing he would expect.

There was something unfamiliar in Dazai’s gait. Atsushi couldn’t quite determine what it was. Maybe… there was something a little more strained. Not just in Dazai’s step, but everywhere. His mouth seemed to be set in a hard line, his posture was straight as opposed to the usual relaxed and occasionally slouched position.

And his eyes still seemed weird to Atsushi, dark and haunted as they were… they weren’t quite as empty now.

“Here we are,” Dazai said, yanking Atsushi from his thoughts.

They weren’t anywhere special, just a parking garage that wasn’t far from Mafia headquarters. Each space was packed with sleek, shiny cars.

Yet another strange thing to happen that night. Atsushi had never seen Dazai drive a car, and every time he was driven somewhere, the driver had always been waiting outside the apartment.

Dazai didn’t explain anything, he simply told Atsushi to stay where he was before rolling under a car.

It took Atsushi a few minutes to convince himself to say something. Then, shyly, “Dazai-san, what are you doing?”

“I was wondering when you’d ask,” Dazai replied from under the car. He shifted so Atsushi could see his eyes glint in the darkness. “I’m setting a bomb under Chuuya’s car.” He retreated under the car again.

“Why?!”

“Because I don’t like him.” He said it like the answer should have been obvious to Atsushi. “It’s not that hard to put together,” he added boredly before crawling out from under Chuuya’s car.

“But he’s your partner…” Atsushi muttered, trying to build some weak defense for one of the few people in the Port Mafia who he didn’t hate.

“Was,” Dazai said, already walking away and pulling Atsushi with him. “Besides, he’d do the same to me.” When Atsushi resisted, Dazai gave his arm a sharp tug. “Odds are he’ll live. You haven’t seen him when he’s serious. He just doesn’t die.”

The uncharacteristic frustration in Dazai’s voice and aggressive yanks on his arm had Atsushi giving up on resistance. His eyes still hurt from crying so much and pain shot through his head every time he blinked. Atsushi’s fingers were going numb from Dazai’s grip, his shoulder aching with every harsh yank. He was in no shape, mental or physical, to fight Dazai right now.

He managed to wrench his arm away from Dazai when they were out of the parking garage. His grip had definitely left a mark. The bruises would be gone after a few minutes of not touching Dazai, but it still hurt.

“I won’t run,” Atsushi murmured when Dazai threw him a warning glance in the darkness.

He felt Dazai’s eyes on him, scanning over his face. “Good,” he said. For a moment, that seemed to be the end of the conversation. Then, “It looks like you actually have learned something from your first attempt.”

It shouldn’t have been surprising that Dazai made that sort of comment, he’d done it before, and for all Atsushi knew, he’d do it every time he had the chance. And it still stung when he mentioned it.

As far as Atsushi knew, Dazai enjoyed it. He seemed to like reminding Atsushi of how big of a failure he was, and how badly he’d failed to run.

Atsushi looked down at his feet. Yeah… I guess I’ve learned. He thought as he forced himself to keep walking, that whole terrifying night flashing through his head in a bitter rush. The man who’d helped him that night was gone, and he still had no idea how Oda had died or why.

Was it because of Atsushi in some way?

Maybe Mori had found out about the escape attempt and how Oda had made it look like nothing had happened at all.

Maybe that was why he died, all because of a stupid act of desperation on Atsushi’s part.

It was a rough hand on his shoulder that pulled him from his thoughts.

He blinked, the world suddenly coming into view. One foot was on the sidewalk, the other off the curb. Horns blared and headlights flashed.

Dazai’s hand tightened on his shoulder and pulled him back. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. “I take my eyes off of you for one second and you almost walk into traffic.” With crossed arms and an annoyed expression on his face, he looked a little younger than he normally did.

Atsushi expected a strike, a backhand, an irritated grab.

Nothing came. Dazai didn’t touch him.

“Come on,” he said, his fingers inching a little closer to Atsushi’s arm so he could drag him alone, but he dropped his hand and simply made a waving motion that signaled Atsushi to follow him.

Atsushi blinked. Had Dazai just… hesitated?

But Dazai never hesitated. He never stumbled over words and his hands never faltered. At least not in the time that Atsushi had seen him. Just like everything else that was happening that day, it was weird.

He still followed. He walked behind Dazai quietly, keeping his eyes on his shoulder, and staying a few steps behind.

It was a long, silent walk after that. Atsushi forced himself to stay present so he wouldn’t have any more moments where his feet moved before he knew where he was going. Dazai already seemed testy, there was no need to push him any further.

So, he stayed behind him, stayed where he was supposed to be. He didn’t even consider slipping away. Dazai may he been acting strange, but he would probably notice Atsushi’s absence. He may have been distracted, but he was still Dazai.

For a while, Atsushi’s whose world was more or less composed of little more than Dazai’s back and sounds of Yokohama at night. He didn’t look past Dazai, so he had no idea where he was being led, but he followed all the same.

When Dazai suddenly stopped, far enough from main roads that the noise was several times quieter than what it’d been before, Atsushi knew they were at their destination or at least a destination.

He carefully shifted his weight from one foot to another to look past Dazai.

“This is as good a place as any,” he muttered before grabbing his coat by the shoulder and dragging it off his back, his fingers leaving creases and wrinkles in the stiff fabric. He dumped it into an empty trash can and sighed. “Atsushi-kun, give me your coat.”

Atsushi blinked but managed to comply quickly enough. He pinched the sleeves and pulled the coat off. The night air had been warm when they’d left the apartment, and he had almost felt overheated in his coat. Now, a breeze seemed to carry a chill that cut through his clothes and skin, so cold that it made his fingertips go numb and goosebumps crawl up his arms.

He bit his lip and pushed his coat into Dazai’s hands, and he suddenly wished he could yank it back on.

Atsushi’s coat received the same treatment as Dazai’s. It was dropped in a heap on top of his mentor’s coat.

Atsushi’s eyes flicked from Dazai to the coats and back again.

He glanced back at Atsushi, throwing him a look that the apprentice had no hope of reading. Dazai’s hand reached down into pants pocket before he pulled out a small book of matches. Atsushi watched bandaged hands strike the match. He watched the flame dance for a second. Then, he watched the lit match fall into the trash can.

The fabric caught fire immediately. Orange flames ate every thread, leaving ash behind. The sound and smell of burning clothing hit Atsushi hard. Smoke filled his nostrils and crackles filled his ears.

He didn’t know what was going on, but at the same time, he understood everything.

No one had ever told him any sort of significance in the coats, but he knew there was something about them. Dazai had placed that coat on his shoulder when he’d first killed someone. Atsushi remembered that feeling… The heaviness of the coat, the sturdiness of the fabric as it fell over him, as it drowned him and protected him all at the same time. He’d finally had a place to belong.

Now, it burned, sending up gray clouds that made him cough and made his eyes water.

He glanced at Dazai again.

His hands were in his pockets, his mouth set in a stiff line. He took a deep breath, likely inhaling smoke. Dazai’s eyes were dry and his voice was somehow clear.

“Atsushi-kun,” he began.

Atsushi tore his eyes from the flame and looked up at Dazai through the haze of smoke.

“Consider this our resignation.”

Atsushi gasped, only to start hacking when his lungs took in the smoke. “What?!” He wheezed.

Dazai was already walking away, giving a sardonic laugh, “You sound exactly like my last apprentice.”

“Dazai-san!” Atsushi ran to catch up with him. “What do you mean ‘our resignation?”

He stumbled over his own feet when Dazai turned to look at him. Falling backward when Dazai’s hand raised to hit him. He didn’t even manage to get to his feet, he half crawled backward in a panic.

Dazai sighed again, lowering his hand and crouching to be down at Atsushi’s level. He grabbed the boy’s wrist when he tried to curl in on himself. “First of all, use your brain for once. This is not a good place to be shouting out stuff like that.” He pulled Atsushi up. “We can discuss this later.” He glanced at the fire. It was running out of things to burn, aside from a handful of cellophane wrappers and food scraps and used napkins, the trash can had been nearly empty before the coats had been tossed in. “It won’t be long before that draws attention.” Another sharp pull. “We’re going. Now.”

He staggered when he made it to his feet with Dazai’s urging.

It was as though nothing had happened after that. Dazai went back to keeping a tight hold on Atsushi’s wrist like he’d run away at any moment. Atsushi experimentally tugged his hand back, but that was met with Dazai’s grip tightening and a sharp look.

Atsushi suppressed a sigh, resigning himself to his fate. He was tired and confused as it was. So, he gave up his resistance and let Dazai drag him through the city.

/-/-/

The motel room was cramped.

Not that Atsushi really minded. It was better than the orphanage and it was just managed to be bigger than the old bedroom he’d lived in back in Dazai’s apartment. It was composed of just two beds, a bathroom, and a tiny kitchenette.

But for Atsushi, it was all completely livable. He’d survived worse, and he was used to surviving on the minimum.

He pulled his knees closer to his body and glanced at Dazai with his peripherals.

It would be easy to live in a place like that motel room on his own, but living there with Dazai right there would be so much harder. There was something so anxiety-inducing to be that close to him for so long.

“So,” Dazai said, plopping himself down on a chair, “We left the Port Mafia.” His voice was softer than normal like he was thinking too deeply to say anything at an average volume. He laced his fingers, leaned forward, and looked at Atsushi, who was pale and curling further in on himself. “We’re going underground for now.”

Atsushi raised his head a little so he could look Dazai in the eyes. His mouth was dry when he looked for something to say.

Dazai rubbed the back of his neck, seeming to try to work a knot out of his muscles. “Atsushi-kun, hand me that magazine,” he said, pointing to a worn magazine left on the nightstand that stood between the two beds.

He slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed, muscles stiff and painful to move, grabbing the book and crossing the room.

When he held it out to Dazai, a bandaged hand shot out and caught him by the hair. He yelped but didn’t fight to pull away. Dazai dragged him closer.

“Just because we left the Port Mafia doesn’t mean you can go off alone. You’re still my apprentice, and you will listen to me.” He paused, tangling his hand in Atsushi’s hair a little further. “Is that clear?”

“Yes,” he whimpered, his muscles staining from the angle he was at.

“Good,” Dazai said in a clipped tone. He pulled the magazine from Atsushi’s hand and released him.

Atsushi backed up. He turned on his heel and shuffled away to the bathroom. He didn’t actually have to go, but there was a door and there were walls separating him from Dazai. He needed some space to himself, especially right now. Just a room of his own away with Dazai out of his line of sight.

He shut the door quietly before trying to take a minute to calm down. The wall creaked a bit as he leaned against it and slid down until he was sitting.

Then, he just tried to breathe. His mind was buzzing unhelpfully, making his ears ring. He couldn’t take in oxygen, he felt like he was suffocating, dying. Atsushi took deep, uneven breaths, trying to pull air into his lungs.

And suddenly, he was back between two dumpsters, in a dark night, trapped. But this time, like all other times but one, he had no one at all. Oda’s hands weren’t pulling him back to reality; he wasn’t there to speak to him in his calm voice.

He felt like an idiot because he’d hardly known Oda. All he knew about him was that he was the only kind person he’d ever known, he’d taken in orphans, he’d liked curry, somehow-- he’d been friends with Dazai. It was stupid to half expect Oda to come help him.

Dazai had pulled him out of the Mafia. He should have been happy, but he couldn’t find a reason to be happy. Everything was too confused and dizzying and rushed. His head felt like it was going to explode.

Calm down. He thought as his breathing quickened. Calm down…

Breathe. He remembered. Close your mouth, and breathe through your nose. You’re taking in too much oxygen.

It took him longer to follow those instructions. Oda’s voice was hard to follow when it was just in Atsushi’s head. Eventually, though, it helped a little. The memory of Oda’s voice gave him some sense of stability. He pulled himself together after a little bit, and he slumped against the wall.

I need to clear my head. He thought, rubbing his eyes and dragging himself to the sink. He splashed some water on his face before slowly slipping out of his clothes and stepping into the shower.

Feeling hot water run over him was a shock at first; for the first several moments, it burned. Then, he reveled in it. He’d missed this.

/-/-/

Dazai leaned his head down on his hands when he heard the shower running.

He was tired, more tired than he thought he could be. Even more tired than his late night and early mornings when he was only awake thanks to caffeine and gunfire.

But, for now, everything was fine. He’d cut the transmitter out of Atsushi’s neck, attached it to a car that would be on the move after an hour, and pulled his apprentice out of there.

For the moment, they were both breathing and had a place to sleep for the night. That the most important thing for right now.

That pain he’d pushed down rose up again.

That constricting feeling, tighter than a noose, had been pushing its way to his throat the whole time he’d been trying to push it down. And his chest hurt.

For the first time in what felt like a very, very long time, Dazai Osamu-- the demon prodigy, the youngest Port Mafia executive, the genius, the man with blood that was Port Mafia black-- wanted to scream. For the first time in so many years, he wanted to scream his throat raw. He wanted to yell until his airways bled until he coughed up blood.

Until his lungs collapsed and his body refused to take in air, and he just faded away.

But that was unrealistic right now, screaming would draw attention, and attention could draw the Port Mafia.

So, he’d keep forcing it down. He’d be silent.

Dazai hadn’t shed a tear for as long as he could remember. He’d be silent.

He’d be silent.

The strangled sob came up before he could stop it. The sound hung in the air for a moment, and he sat alone with it. Then, some dam broke, his eyes started getting watery and his vision went hazy. And he just wept.

He hunched over a little and wiped his eyes, despite how much more pointless the action became with every passing moment.

He cried, shoulders shaking, a sob breaking free every few minutes.

It wasn’t exactly screaming until his lungs collapsed in on themselves, but it would do.

/-/-/

Atsushi’s skin burned, to the point where it was almost feverish, but he felt better--a little bit stronger-- than he had several minutes ago. He’d sat there under the stream of water until his skin was red and he was dizzy. He didn’t know exactly how long he’d been in there. It could have been anywhere between fifteen minutes and two hours.

He dried himself off. His mind was clearer now, and though his throat still hurt from crying and he still wanted to weep for Oda’s death, but for now, he found himself in a delicate state of peace. It was the best he’d get for right now, and he’d take what he could get.

The only thing he had to wear was wrinkled and dirty and smelled like smoke. He’d worn worse, but for now, he decided to just wrap his towel around his waist. It was uncertain whether or not Dazai would care.

Atsushi inhaled the steamy air and opened the door to the motel room.

He wasn’t ready to see it.

Dazai’s eyes were watery, his bandaged forearm swiping across his cheeks. Their eyes met for a moment, not even a second. He saw everything he never expected to see from Dazai. The weeping eyes, the tear stained cheeks, the deeply downturned mouth.

Atsushi slammed the door shut, squeaking out an incoherent “sorry” as it closed with a loud bang.

It shouldn’t have been so jarring. It shouldn’t have scared him.

It was like Dazai shedding tears had some incredibly unnatural quality about it. Seeing any sort of emotion on that man’s was frightening in a way that Atsushi couldn’t quite understand. Maybe it was because until recently Atsushi had only seen the emptiness in Dazai’s eyes, and now there was something terrifyingly alive.

When Atsushi had first met Dazai, that emptiness had terrified him because something was supposed to be there. He’d gotten so accustomed to it that now it was terrifying to see something there.

He wasn’t ready to go back out there anymore. He’d put off interaction with his mentor as long as he possibly could. Atsushi couldn’t walk back into the motel room pretending that nothing had happened. He had seen something too personal.

Dazai weeping was something not meant to be seen, especially not by him. Vulnerability did not become Dazai, so much so that such an expression on his face appeared grossly misplaced.

He’d looked so much younger at that moment, his eyes shining in the dim light, shoulders shaking with sobs. In that moment, Dazai had looked almost normal. There’d been something so human at that moment, and Atsushi had hardly ever seen Dazai as a human. He’d always seemed like something more than human at times and something less than human at other times.

I don’t want to think about this now. Atsushi thought, massaging his temples and shakily setting himself down on the floor. His head hurt, throbbing and nearly febrile.

The boy didn’t move. He sat there, his legs and waist going numb as he watched the steam on the mirror clear.

At some point, he might have fallen asleep, propped against the door, exhausted from the past several hours.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Atsushi-kun, open the door,” came Dazai’s voice, cold and hard.

Atsushi jolted awake as the door shudder against his back. He slowly got to his feet and carefully pulling the door open.

He cracked it open, giving only a tiny space so he could just see a narrow sliver of Dazai.

Brown eyes rolled and Atsushi’s stomach flipped, sensing danger. He began to close the door, but Dazai was prepared for that because he’d stuck his foot in open space.

“Try to shut it again, and I will break it down,” Dazai said, forcing the door open as Atsushi fought to keep it closed.

The boy gave up, pulling his arms closer to himself and stepping back when Dazai stepped in.

There was nowhere to run. Atsushi was within Dazai’s reach, literally.

What now? Was he going to beat that memory out of Atsushi? Would he just kill him now so he could never live to tell about the night the that Dazai, the demon prodigy, had wept like a child? Strangle the life out of him? Snap his neck? Stab him with a hidden weapon?

He shoved something into Atsushi’s arms.

“Get dressed and go to bed,” he ordered when Atsushi blinked down at the clothes in confusion. “You can’t keep the bathroom to yourself.”

There was a slight roughness in his voice that never been there before. It was likely from weeping. Atsushi made absolutely no comment on it. Dazai turned around and shut the door behind him.

Chapter Text

The worst part wasn’t having to constantly share a room with Dazai. That definitely wasn’t great, but it wasn’t the worst part of this whole thing.

It wasn’t the fact that they slept in a different place every night. 

The worst part was the nightmares. 

He still had the regular recurrent nightmare: His headmaster looming over him, reminding him that he’d never amount to anything or torturing him. He could deal with that, he’d had to deal with that for as far back as he could remember. 

Those nightmares about Dazai still plagued him, and those were… slightly harder to deal with. They ranged from Dazai berating Atsushi to Dazai holding him down so he could be torn apart. Waking up to see Dazai certainly didn’t help, but it was still something he could deal with.

The worst part, the very worst part, was seeing Oda die several times every night. 

Dazai never explained what had happened to Oda. Atsushi just knew that he was dead and there’d been blood. That was more than enough information for his brain to conjure up at least a thousand scenarios that could have happened. 

Every night, it was bombs and bullets and stab wounds. Every night, the air seemed to be thick with the smell of blood. Every night, he woke up with a start, assuming he managed to close his eyes at all. 

Eating became hard again. He doubted he could keep anything down, and he felt ill when he so much as looked at food. Dazai was less than pleased with that development.

“Eat,” Dazai ordered, shoving a convenience store sandwich at him.

Atsushi’s stomach churned at the sight of it. 

“I’m not hungry,” he replied, not looking up. 

It wasn’t a complete lie. Atsushi had been hungry before, he’d been starving before. What he was feeling now was a very mild version of that. He could endure not eating for another day or so before he’d admit to being “hungry.”

Dazai pushed the sandwich a little more insistently towards Atsushi. “You hardly ate yesterday.” He clicked his tongue. “You’re fifteen. Stop acting like a five-year-old and eat something.”

“I don’t wan--”

“Think very carefully about what you want to say to me right now, Atsushi-kun.”

The tone Dazai used was enough to kill Atsushi’s words before they could hit the air. Slowly, carefully he took the offered food. Then, something else occurred to him. “How do I know it’s not poisoned?” It came out as more of an accusation than an actual question, and regret flashed through Atsushi the second he’d spoken. 

He’s definitely going to punish me for that. 

Dazai hardly reacted. “If I wanted you dead, your body would be at the bottom of a river or corroded away by acid at this point.” He gestured to the sandwich and let the conversation drop. 

Atsushi had been pushing his limits with Dazai for the past few days, mostly by quietly refusing to eat or by not responding when he was acknowledged. 

Something in their dynamic had changed somewhat. Atsushi wasn’t completely sure what in their dynamic had changed, but he could feel that something was off. Maybe it had something to do with seeing Dazai cry. 

Where did they stand now?

What were they now that the Port Mafia was out of the picture? Dazai had said that Atsushi was still his apprentice, but really, what was that supposed to mean?

It had been strange since that night. Dazai hadn’t hit him since then; he rarely even laid a finger on him since then. Atsushi couldn’t say he wanted everything to go back to normal. Being with the Port Mafia was worse than all of the bewilderment he faced right now. 

Everything going on was just… confusing. 

/-/-/

Dazai woke up late that night when Atsushi kicked off the sheets and dashed to the bathroom in a panic. 

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair as he heard the boy retch. 

Sleep had been hard to find lately. Thinking about Odasaku and how to avoid the Port Mafia’s clutches for now weren’t very sedating thoughts. And it didn’t help that Atsushi was very verbal with a lot of his nightmares. He tossed, turned, cried, and mumbled in his sleep every night. 

Dazai could guess that a good many of Atsushi’s nightmares were about him. 

He wasn’t quite sure what the other handful of nightmares were about, and he didn’t feel inclined to delve deeper into that topic. It didn’t matter too much to him.

As far as he knew, the boy had been facing nightmares like this for a long time and at some point, it was possible he’d get past them. But for now they have to deal with it. 

It wasn’t normal for Atsushi to throw up as a result…

If the boy was actually ill, going from place to place in Yokohama would only get harder. Leaving the Port Mafia was already hard enough while dragging Atsushi along with him. 

Dazai was awake now, and there was little chance of him going back to sleep any time soon. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself up. 

If his apprentice was actually sick, it would be best to take care of it now rather than later. If Dazai found out what the problem was now, he could be quick about finding which medicine he needed and stealing it from a nearby hospital.

He didn’t bother knocking. 

Dazai found Atsushi hunched over the toilet, breathing heavily. He was pale, even more than normal. His eyes were bloodshot and teary. A small smear of vomit hung on his chin. And Atsushi was shaking hard, his skin shiny with sweat. 

His eyes seemed to go hard when he looked at Dazai. 

Those eyes were different now. He used to have soft eyes, scared eyes. That changed after so long. There was something guarded in his gaze, more than what it had been before. However, not everything had changed. He couldn’t quite hide that surge of humiliation in his eyes. 

Atsushi spat into the toilet, swallowed hard, and stood on shaky legs. Slowly, he moved to the sink to wipe off his face and rinse out his mouth. He didn’t look at Dazai, though not like how he used to avoid Dazai’s eyes with his head down and with his lip between his teeth. This time, he seemed to be trying to keep his head up and ignore Dazai. 

“Atsushi-kun, do you have a fever?”

He gave no answer as he shoved past Dazai.

Dazai caught him by the shoulder, he didn’t feel feverish. “Are you sick?” He said in a louder voice. 

“ No ,” Atsushi said, pulling himself out of Dazai’s grasp. His eyes were fierce now, narrowed and angry, but it wasn’t hard to see the shimmer of tears. He darted back to his bed before Dazai could grab him again. 

Then, he just slipped under the covers and pulled them over his head. 

End of discussion. 

A very childish way to end a discussion, but it was an end. 

Dazai let it drop. No use in making the boy hate him more. 

Besides, Dazai thought, stretching his arms and grabbing a book he’d bought earlier that week. If he has enough energy to have an attitude with me, he’s probably fine. 

Night turned to morning, and Atsushi slept soundly for the rest of the time. 

“Oh, you’re up,” Dazai commented when Atsushi let the covers come off of him. 

He stiffened. The steel that had been in his eyes that night had melted at some point over night. He was more subdued now, eyes downcast, mouth a stiff line. 

Dazai tilted his head. “Where’s all that fire you had last night, Atsushi-kun?” It was a taunt, a taunt that left his mouth purely out of habit.

Atsushi flinched, looking spent and small. For a moment, it almost looked like he’d pull the covers over his head again. 

Dazai sighed as he laced his fingers and regarded his apprentice with forced softness in his face.

“How are you feeling?”

Atsushi looked down like he’d irritate Dazai if he looked at him directly for too long. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and Dazai assumed he just wouldn’t answer, that he’d decided to go silent again. 

“I’m okay,” Atsushi muttered. 

“You understand things are different now, don’t you?” Dazai said, trying to inject warmth into his voice, which had begun to sound foreign in his ears. 

Atsushi nodded, still not looking at Dazai. 

He was terrified. 

He was scared of Dazai.

He was afraid to speak to him or even look at him. 

How was Dazai supposed to get through to him after he’d been so thoroughly traumatized… by Dazai ?

They came and went in the past week, those moments where Dazai didn’t know exactly what to do or how to handle something. He found himself hesitating a few times before, and he hesitated now. It didn’t show on his face, but thoughts coursed through his head. When he was in the Mafia, he hardly felt confliction. He’d run through scenarios and weigh the pros and cons in his head and come to a decision in less than a second. 

Atsushi needed space, Dazai decided, even though it’d been a week since they’d left.

“Good,” he said, effectively ending the conversation. 

Silence ensued for about thirty minutes. Dazai stole a few glances at Atsushi. 

The boy’s eyebrows were furrowed, a little wrinkle appearing between them as he bit the inside of his cheek with his teeth and stared hard at the sheets like he was studying them. 

Dazai dug through their small stash of cheap food and groaned. “We’re out of crab,” he muttered irritably. 

That seemed to catch Atsushi’s attention. His head snapped up and he slipped out of bed like this was the most exciting news he’d heard all week. All things considered, the week had been very dull. 

“Anything you want?” Dazai asked, tugging on a coat, his eyes still not totally accustomed to seeing tan instead of black when he looked down at himself. He pulled an adequate amount of money from a wallet of bills he kept near the food. 

“Can I go to buy it?”

“No.”

There was no surprise on Atsushi’s face, but there were still traces of disappointment. “Why not?” He asked quietly. It was a cautious voice he spoke in, hesitant. 

Dazai turned to him, narrowing his eyes slightly. Then, he walked over to Atsushi and very slowly said, “Stay here.” It was a normal threat that lacked his normal bite. “Am I understood?” He asked, looking down at Atsushi. 

“Yes,” he muttered, falling back on his bed since he likely wouldn’t be doing anything else today. 

“Is there anything you want?” Dazai repeated.

Atsushi looked up at the ceiling. “More stuff to make ochazuke.” His voice was still soft and nervous; Dazai almost hadn’t heard him at all.

“Alright.” Dazai patted his head, which made him flinch. “Remember,” he murmured, clenching his fingers slightly in Atsushi’s hair, though carefully enough so it didn’t hurt the boy at all. “ Don’t leave this suite.”

“I won’t.”

/-/-/

Atsushi watched Dazai leave their hotel from the window. He was high up and it was surprising that he could make out that it was Dazai at all, but his tiger eyesight had a decent range.

His lungs ached for the outdoor air. He wanted to feel the wind on his face and stand on the solid concrete again. 

The last time he’d been outside was a few days ago when they’d moved to their current hotel. It’d been late morning, the sun peeking from behind the clouds, the fingers of God reaching down to the city. It had been one of those days where the air had a slight chill to it, but one could be warmed by simply standing in a sunny spot and cooled by stepping into the shade. The city suddenly didn’t look so dark and ominous, instead, the entire thing was warm and beating with life. 

Then, Dazai had pulled him inside and told him to keep his head down before dragging him to their new room and pulling the curtains shut. And that was it. Now, he was back to being a spectator, and more importantly… a prisoner.

He looked back down at the people and cars several stories below him before focusing on Dazai again. The man was looking up now. Atsushi was fairly sure he couldn’t see him clearly from this distance, but his body suddenly felt cold all the same. 

Dazai made a wide sort of horizontal tugging motion with his hand. A clear enough signal. Close the curtains. Atsushi sighed before obeying the silent command. 

He would be in trouble in the next fifteen minutes or so when Dazai got back. He knew that for sure because he’d managed to get a good look at Dazai’s face as he pulled the curtains shut. 

We’re going to have a talk about this when I get back, his expression had said. 

Atsushi didn’t feel as scared of that look as he would have been a week ago. Dazai still hardly touched him save a few pats on the shoulder or head. He hadn’t hit him since… Atsushi wasn’t sure of how long ago his last beating had been, but he hadn’t been bruised since leaving the Mafia. 

It was even rare for Dazai to speak to him. Whenever they actually spoke to each other, it was something mundane like, “You take the shower first.” or “It’s late; go to bed.” or “What kind of food do we need?”

He was still perplexed by all of it, though he understood all of this had some connection to Oda’s death. It only made sense. He knew that Oda had been friends with Dazai, and remembered that the last thing the man told him before cutting the transmitter out of his neck had been that Oda was dead. 

Atsushi shook his head to clear it. He couldn’t be going over the past in his head right now, nor could he be mourning Oda at that moment. He could do that later when he had a little more space and air to clear his mind. Right now, he had to be thinking of a way out. 

Everything should have been simple, but things were never simple with Dazai. It wasn’t as though Atsushi could just slip away now as Dazai was buying groceries.

Well, he could, but Dazai would catch him before he made it too far. 

His mentor had mentioned it a few times: There was nowhere Atsushi could run where he couldn’t follow. 

Maybe that was true, and maybe it wasn’t, but Atsushi would need more than a ten-minute head start to have any chance of getting away. 

Leaving while Dazai was sleeping was an option, but that was… almost impossible to pull off, at best. 

In all the time they’d been on the run, Atsushi had only once or twice seen Dazai sleeping. It was like he wasn’t even human, the way he seemed to be awake at all hours. 

No, nothing like that would work. It all came down to time. He just needed Dazai to be gone for a long enough time so he could make a break for it. If he was careful enough and was clever enough to hide in just the right places, he’d have a fighting chance.

So, for now, he’d wait. He’d bide his time. 

Sooner or later, they’d go to a new place or Dazai would need to take care of some business that would take him at least an hour or so, and Atsushi could make himself scarce. 

His plan was terribly simple, he knew that, but it was the best he could come up with. And for now, he’d just have to work with it. 

“I thought I told you to keep the curtains drawn,” came Dazai’s voice as the door swung open. 

Atsushi looked at him with blank eyes. 

“Windows like these offer an easy target especially if you’re pressing your head up against the glass.” He dumped his groceries on the table in the front of the room. “When I tell you to do something, I expect you to listen.” Dazai made sure the curtains were securely closed before turning to Atsushi. “It’s like you’re trying to make this harder for me.”

Atsushi said nothing, just stared at Dazai with empty eyes and then looked anywhere else in the room. He hadn’t even thought about making things more difficult for Dazai, but he supposed that was just a little added bonus if he made Dazai’s life slightly harder. 

/-/-/

It took another seven days for Atsushi to get the chance he’d been waiting for. 

Dazai hadn’t made it obvious that he’d be out for longer than the usual ten or fifteen minutes he took to go grab food and other essentials, but Atsushi was observant enough to notice that Dazai was wearing more professional clothes. He normally wore little more than T-shirts and sweatpants these days. 

Atsushi pretended not to notice any change. He had his nose in a book and caught a few quick glances.

“Atsushi-kun.” 

He looked up. Dazai held a cup of noodles to him. 

“Eat something,” he said neutrally. “You haven’t eaten at all today.” 

“I--”

“Don’t tell me you aren’t hungry. You aren’t a good liar.”

Atsushi sighed and took it before stirring the broth and noodles around with his chopsticks. 

“Do you still think I drugged your food or something?” Dazai asked with a disapproving look on his face. 

“Not really,” Atsushi said flatly. “It would be a waste of time and money to keep me alive for the past two weeks.” He managed to keep eye contact with Dazai for a few moments before his gaze dropped down to his food and he dragged some noodles to his mouth.

Dazai hummed. “Quite a waste if I wanted you dead,” he agreed.

Atsushi poked at the broth when he’d finished off the noodles, a question he’d had for a while peeking out to the forefront on his mind. “Dazai-san, why did you take me with you?” He paused, forcing his eyes to look at the man. “Why even keep me alive?”

“Unimportant.”

How is it unimportant?

Atsushi said nothing, his lips formed a stiff line and he quietly watched Dazai turn his head from side to side to crack his neck. 

“If it’s really that big of a deal to you, we can discuss it later.”

“Okay,” Atsushi mumbled. 

Dazai shrugged his coat on. “I’ll be back in a little while. Stay here.” He didn’t move until Atsushi nodded.

He left without another word. Atsushi counted the minutes, guessing when Dazai would be too far to see the window. The last thing Atsushi needed was for Dazai to get the slightest hint of what he was about to do. 

If he failed to get away now, he knew that Dazai would make sure that he’d never be able to run again. Then, he’d be a prisoner without even the barest illusion of freedom.

Atsushi looked out the window, managing to see the hem of Dazai’s coat disappear out of his sight. That was good. It was all he really needed for right now. Atsushi now knew which direction Dazai had gone, and now, he could walk the opposite way. 

Grabbing all the money they had, Atsushi staggered as he felt a wave of exhaustion. 

Oh no, he thought as he swayed on his feet a little. It wasn’t a natural kind of tired feeling. It came over him way too heavily and way too quickly to be anything normal. He drugged me... He cursed quietly. For two weeks, he’d been skeptical of the food Dazai gave him, and of course, the one time he decided that he would accept it without questioning it too much… Of course, that had to be the time Dazai had drugged it!

It hardly would have made a difference either way since Dazai practically badgered him into eating every time he skipped a few meals, but Atsushi felt like an idiot for accepting the food without question anyway. Trusting Dazai always led to something bad. He’d trusted Dazai when he’d said Atsushi could find belonging in the Port Mafia, and Atsushi’s hands were bloodied as a result. He’d believed Dazai when he said that Mori was just making sure he hadn’t contracted a pathogen, and then Atsushi had been torn apart. He’d let Dazai convince him that he’d do nothing to harm him, and there Atsushi was, suddenly feeling heavy and tired. 

I have to get it out! He thought, his will to leave giving him some sort of advantage over whatever drug was affecting him. Atsushi stumbled into the bathroom, dropping to his knees in front of the toilet and squeezing his eyes shut. 

Words failed to express how much he wanted to avoid doing this, but there was no time to mull it over or whine about it. He took a deep breath in before shoving a hand into his mouth. 

He retched. Saliva flooding his mouth and tears flooding his eyes as he gagged into the toilet before finally, his previous meal rushed up. Atsushi coughed hard, clearing whatever was left of it from his body. And he felt awful. 

Of course, he hadn’t felt great before deciding to purge, but aside from the exhaustion and horror of being drugged by Dazai, he hadn’t been in any sort of pain. 

Now, his throat burned, his eyes watered uncontrollably, and his stomach ached with cramps. Not to mention the rancid taste in his mouth. 

It’s over now... He thought. The portion of the drug that had been absorbed into his blood seemed to give him some sense of unwarranted calm that he couldn’t quite shake off. He grabbed a glass and filled it with water before swishing it around in his mouth and spitting it out to clear away any remaining vomit.

Tiger, he thought, leaning against the wall. Give me some of your strength. Please don’t take over. If we make a scene, we’ll never get away from Dazai-san.

The jolt of adrenaline caught him by surprise. It coursed through him like an electric current. That tranquility vanished and he found himself left with the sound of blood rushing in his ears and a strong pounding in his chest. 

Thank you. He thought as he dropped his almost empty glass and dashed out the door. 

/-/-/

It would be going too far to say Atsushi had missed being outdoors in Yokohama at night. The night belonged to the Port Mafia after all. The city after the sunset had never been a good place for him, for that was the time when people died. That was the time when he bloodied his hands, when people screamed as their jaws were smashed in, when three shots rang out in the night. Being out at night wasn’t safe, but he had to push through, goodness knew Dazai would never give him a chance like this again. 

Atsushi decided that finding a hiding place soon would be ideal. He’d been out for nearly an hour, which felt so much longer with the idea that Port Mafia agents could be lurking behind any corner. 

It would likely take him a day of travel for him to get far enough from the city to breathe more easily. If he could just find a quiet, hidden place to sleep at night, he’d be able to head out at the crack of dawn. 

All things considered, he was feeling better about all of this. He was awake and his mind felt clearer than it had in weeks. In keeping his head down, he’d attracted no attention. And for the first time in a very long time, Atsushi felt genuinely hopeful. 

The sense of hope may have just come from the fact that this escape attempt was going far better than the last one had gone. Maybe it was a side effect of the energy the tiger had given to him. 

So long as he got out of the city before too long and he found decent places to hide, everything would be fine. 

“It’s such a surprise to run into you here, Atsushi-kun.” 

He froze.

No...

The hopefulness he’d felt was snuffed out like a flame. 

A bandaged arm laid across his shoulders. 

“Especially,” Dazai continued. “Since I told you to stay in the suite. ”

Atsushi stiffened, hardly daring to look up. Dazai looked unamused at the very least. The rest of his expression was something unfamiliar. 

There has to be a way out. He thought. If I can run through that alley and find a wa--

“Don’t try it.” Dazai’s hand tightened on his shoulder and he leaned closer. “Don’t you dare try to run.” His fingers were digging into Atsushi’s skin now, pressing down hard enough to bruise.

“Dazai-san,” he muttered, trying to sound steadier than he felt. “I can expl--”

“Idiot,” Dazai cut Atsushi off in an angry hiss. 

Atsushi swallowed hard. The tiger’s energy, the strength he’d just managed to find disappeared with Dazai’s touch. Now, he felt like little more than a shell. That was it. That was probably his last decent chance to run, and he’d failed so swiftly and so miserably.

 He picked up his pace, dragging Atsushi along with him. 

The walk back to their hotel felt both too short and too long at the same time. Atsushi’s mind was scrambled. He knew he had to prepare mentally for whatever punishment Dazai would decide on, but somehow he couldn’t. Disobeying orders, leaving the suite were lines he should have never crossed. Or he could have at least tried to be smarter about it.

Dazai was less gentle with him the moment the door closed behind them. He braced his hand on the back of Atsushi’s neck and pushed him further into the room.

Suddenly, everything there was a makeshift torture instrument. Doors could be slammed on his fingers to break them. Water could be boiled on the stove and poured over his head. Everything in Dazai’s hands could hurt him. 

He didn’t struggle as Dazai scanned the room and dragged him along. His limbs were suddenly too stiff to move. Something in his brain didn’t let him fight back. Maybe he’d been so heavily conditioned to believe that everything would be more severe if he resisted. 

Dazai released Atsushi’s neck before his hands found his shoulders. 

He shook him so hard that Atsushi’s teeth clinked together, sending pain through his head. 

When he stopped, Atsushi couldn’t see straight, every tooth hurt, and there was blood in his mouth. He must have bitten his tongue at some point. 

“What were you thinking ?” 

Atsushi looked away, swallowing down metallic tasting saliva. He didn’t answer. Nothing he said would help him in this situation. 

A bandaged hand caught Atsushi’s chin, jerking his head up. 

The expression on Dazai’s face made him gasp. 

Dazai had never been angry with him before. He’d been irritated, tired, or bored with him before and even those were emotions to be weary of, but never had he been angry. In all but one of Atsushi’s memories of Dazai, his eyes had always, always been cold. There was heat in his eyes now. They burned with rage.

“Do you not understand the position we’re in? How much of a risk we’re at?” His voice rose a little with every question. “Or did that all just go over your head?!” Dazai’s grip tightened. Atsushi’s jaw ached. 

Dazai had grabbed him by the chin a handful of times before, but those times had been different. Those times had just been a quick way to fully capture his attention. Dazai had only used two fingers and his thumb. Now, he used his whole hand, long fingers reaching up to Atsushi’s cheekbones with the rest of his hand nearly covering Atsushi’s mouth. 

“Do you want to get dragged back to Mori-san and cut open for organs?” Dazai paused, his expression shifting a little. He still looked absolutely livid, but now his face was tinged with something else… disgust. 

“Go right ahead,” he said, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “That seems to be the only thing you’re good for.”

Atsushi’s lips trembled, making it impossible for him to speak. Surely Dazai felt the shaking under his hand.

His knees buckled. Dazai pulled his hand back and Atsushi crumpled to the floor, too stunned to even cry. 

Something--Dazai’s words, his expression, the blistering heat in his voice and eyes--seemed to grab Atsushi by the throat. It was as though someone had flipped a switch and caused him to just shut down. 

So, he stayed there, on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest, his eyes open but unseeing. 

/-/-/

Dazai swore when he looked at Atsushi again. The boy hadn’t moved for the past hour. His eyes were glassy and his skin was pale. 

Well, I hadn’t meant to do that to the kid... He thought as dropped to his knees across from his apprentice. 

“Atsushi-kun,” he said, keeping his tone steady. 

No response. 

“Atsushi-kun,” he repeated, giving the boy’s shoulders a gentle shake. 

He rose his head, but it didn’t take a genius to see that there was nothing behind his eyes. Atsushi’s eyes were dull, looking more like painted doll eyes than something human. He wasn’t hearing him, not really. He was just responding to sound. 

Dazai clicked his tongue before putting a hand under Atsushi’s nose. 

He was still breathing at least. 

“Stay,” he muttered, rising to his feet and leaving Atsushi there. 

Placing a pot to boil on the stove, Dazai ran a hand through his hair. What a mess. He thought, leaving it there. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the tempest in his skull. 

He’d only made it two weeks outside of the Mafia, and he’d already so thoroughly failed at being a better person. A better person wouldn’t have bruised a panicked child. A better person wouldn’t have frightened his apprentice until he broke . 

Not for the first time in those two weeks, Dazai began to wonder if he was actually capable of doing what Odasaku had told him.

Maybe he was too corrupted to become a good man.

Maybe he’d hurt too many people and burned too many bridges to find redemption. 

Maybe he and Odasaku were cut from different cloth, and being someone like Odasaku was a goal that was far beyond his reach.

And it was confusing for him to think about. He was Dazai Osamu. He was the demon prodigy. He was the youngest Port Mafia executive, and no one got that far by messing up or being unsure of what path they wanted to take and how to go about it. 

He’d only succeeded because he had been ruthless and had made very few mistakes. On top of that, he couldn’t remember a time where he’d spoken to someone like he’d just spoken to Atsushi while he was in the Port Mafia. Dazai had always been so cold. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry and had let it show. 

Dazai released a breath, leaning his head against the wall. He felt like he was dying, but not in the way he’d wanted to. This way hurt too much. 

He felt his stomach twisting, as though someone had carved a bloody line into his abdomen and grabbed a handful of his insides. He wasn’t quite sure what this feeling was. 

Regret?

Mourning?

Hopelessness? 

He couldn’t put his finger on it, and really, he supposed it didn’t matter. He was here and he had something he needed to do. So, he did what he’d always done. He ignored the pain and focused on the task at hand. 

He looked back at the water, which was at a rolling boil now. Dazai swallowed hard, his mouth managed to taste metallic and bitter, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. He tossed a few ingredients in and scooped rice into a bowl. 

It was nothing great, but Atsushi ate chazuke every chance he got, so it was the best Dazai could make with their limited resources. 

Dazai set the food on a bedside table before returning to Atsushi. He was still unresponsive and unmoving. Slowly, he slipped an arm under Atsushi’s legs and slid the other behind his back. Atsushi did nothing. Dazai carefully heaved him up. 

His apprentice was hardly more than dead weight. His limbs limp as Dazai gathered him up in his arms. His head leaned against Dazai’s chest. 

Gently, Dazai set him down on one of the beds, propping him up against the headboard so he was sitting up. 

“Atsushi-kun,” he said softly. “Come back.”

He raised his eyes to look at Dazai, but it was clear that he was still very far away. 

“Okay,” Dazai muttered. “We’ll try this then.” He took Atsushi’s chin in one hand, prying his mouth open and slipping a spoonful of tea between Atsushi’s teeth.

The boy spewed the chazuke broth after a second, coughing hard as he doubled over. 

“Good to see you back,” Dazai said.

Atsushi tensed. Slowly, slowly raising his head to look at Dazai. 

His eyes were glazed over with fear. He was probably imagining all the ways Dazai would punish him for trying to run. And he was borderline hyperventilating as a result. 

“Hey,” Dazai said gently, dropping a hand on Atsushi’s head and pushing his fingers through silvery hair. “Calm down. Calm down. Everything’s fine.” He pulled his hand away since it wasn’t doing any good. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Atsushi didn’t look convinced, pulling his legs closer to his body and setting his chin down on his knees. His posture got the message across. I don’t trust you. 

“That’s fair,” he murmured. Dazai gestured to the ochazuke on the nightstand. “Eat something though.” 

He glared at the bowl. “I already ate.”

“And then forced yourself to vomit it up, I’m aware.” He tried to add more inflection in his voice, but that proved difficult right now. “You didn’t put much effort into cleaning up your mess.”

Atsushi shuddered, curling up a little tighter. 

“I didn’t drug this one,” Dazai said before taking the bowl and eating a bit of the rice to prove he was being truthful. “ See? It’s safe.” He laid it back down on the nightstand since Atsushi hated whenever he pushed him to eat. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, and for the first time, Dazai found the silence uncomfortable. 

“Atsushi-kun.” 

Atsushi’s back went perfectly straight.

“Pick a number between one and ten.”

“What?”

“Just pick one.”

/-/-/

“Seven,” Atsushi said, blinking.

He didn’t know what Dazai had planned, but when Dazai told him to do something, it was best that he complied quickly. 

“Seven?” Dazai responded. He chuckled. “That’s a bold choice since you don’t know why I’m asking you to choose a number.”

Atsushi’s mouth went dry. He’d chosen the first number that had come to mind. Was he subjecting himself to longer torture by choosing seven? 

“Alright then,” he said in a softer tone. “You get seven questions.”

“Huh?”

“You can ask me seven questions, and I’ll answer honestly.”

Atsushi narrowed his eyes. “You expect me to trust you?”

Dazai sighed and folded his hands. “I don’t.” He shrugged. “I’ve given you every reason to distrust me, but even so,” he leaned forward. “I’m the only link you have to the truth. Ultimately, it’s your decision to believe me or not.”

Atsushi didn’t say anything for a long time. He tucked his legs in further and let his forehead rest against his knees. 

He had seven questions that he could ask. He could get seven pieces of information that had been out of reach before. Careful thinking was key.

“What happened to Oda-san?” The words left his mouth before he could stop them, but that was okay. He wanted to know. He needed to know.

Dazai regarded him quietly for a long time, and Atsushi began to think he’d leave the conversation right there, leave him with no answers. 

“There’s a lot to talk about there,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Dazai ran a hand through his hair. “Where to start,” he muttered, talking more to himself than to Atsushi. 

It took a long time for Dazai to explain everything. Between the intense details, the long pauses for Atsushi to compose himself after crying, and the especially long pauses where Dazai wouldn’t speak, it took more than an hour.

“They’re all gone,” Atsushi murmured. He relaxed his muscles a bit, rocking slowly. “All the kids… Oda-san…” His throat was tight. Just when he thought he’d run out of tears to cry, they just kept on rising again and again. 

Dazai got up, turning away from him and leaving him alone for a minute. Atsushi leaned back against the headboard. A new kind of exhaustion came over him, and chest hurt as though Mori was looming over him, thrusting a scalpel through his sternum. 

“Here,” Dazai said, pushing a glass of water into his hand. “You look like you need it.” 

Atsushi nodded slightly, taking the water and downing it in one gulp. 

It could have been drugged, he knew that, but he couldn’t bring himself to care that much. If he slept, he wouldn’t think of Oda or the kids. He wouldn’t think of explosions or gunshots or blood. It would be a blessing if Dazai sedated him now. 

“Is this drugged?” Atsushi asked. 

“No. That would put a lot of strain on your stomach, especially considering that you threw up today.” He paused to take the glass from Atsushi and put it off to the side. “Just so you know, that didn’t count as one of the seven.”

Atsushi hardly reacted. He’d completely forgotten about the seven questions he was supposed to be asking. 

“Why did you take me with you?”

Dazai handed him the bowl of ochazuke again. This time, Atsushi accepted it. He didn’t really want to eat, but he was hungry and he needed something to banish the metallic taste from his mouth. The food was cold by now, but he’d eaten worse. 

Dazai smirked. “I told you, didn’t I? Odasaku told me to take care of orphans, and you were right there, so it only made sense to take you with.”

“But wouldn’t it have been easier to leave me behind?”

“Yes, it would have been easier, but that Odasaku wouldn’t be happy with me for doing that. He liked you a lot after all.”

Atsushi almost smiled at that. He’d liked Oda a lot. It was nice to know that he hadn’t just been a burden on the man.

“What would have happened if you had left me behind?”

Dazai raised his eyebrows. “Really? You’re going to use one of your four remaining questions on a ‘what if?”

Atsushi pursed his lips. Dazai made a good point, but it wasn’t as though he knew what else to ask. Dazai had kept him in the dark for so long, and he wasn’t sure that he really wanted to know all the details of what had been kept from him. 

“I want to know,” Atsushi said quietly. 

“Alright then.” Dazai sighed. “It’s likely that Mori would have taken you in and he’d have manipulated you, turned you into his pawn.” Dazai’s frown deepened. “He might have tried to make you like me, but more easily manipulated.” 

The thought of it made Atsushi dizzy. 

If Dazai had just left him behind, if he’d done the logical thing, Atsushi could have been twisted into something like Dazai. He wanted to deny that he’d let that happen to him. But… Look at him now. Atsushi had killed, he’d smashed people’s jaws in. He wasn’t hard to manipulate, even though he’d learned how to see signs of other people’s control over him, he realized that he was still afraid, still so fragile. And those were the traits that had made him such an easy target for Dazai. 

“I suppose Chuuya could have taken you in too,” Dazai said, interrupting Atsushi’s thoughts. “He had a soft spot for you as well, though that apprenticeship would likely fall through since he has such a short fuse.”

Minutes ticked by where neither said anything. Atsushi, unsure of what to ask, mentally unable to ignore the image of himself twisted into someone like Dazai. His mentor made no effort to distract him or fill the silence. Conversation wasn’t needed. 

“Atsushi-kun,” Dazai said.”If this is all too straining for you, we can leave it for now.”

It was strange for Dazai’s tone not to be taunting. Had it been any other day, he would have been hinting or just outright stating that Atsushi was weak. Now, his voice was soft and as sincere as Dazai’s voice could sound. 

“Atsushi-ku--” 

“One more,” Atsushi said. He looked down at his hands for a moment. “Why did the dissections suddenly stop?” When he was met with silence, he kept talking, his words tumbling over each other. “Just-- I… Something had to have happened, right? I woke up with an oxygen mask on and--” He clamped his mouth shut before he could keep rambling on and get himself more worked up. 

Dazai’s lips pressed together. Then, he sighed. “I half expected you to ask about that.”

He didn’t speak for a moment.

“Well, there’s a very simple reason for it.” Dazai looked at him, a ribbon of light from the window stretching over his face, seeming to further darken the shadows that played across his features.

“Your heart stopped. You were clinically dead.”

Chapter Text

Atsushi had flatlined on the table.

Everything was more or less normal, except this time, Atsushi had been given Curare, a drug that paralyzed his muscles but left his nerve endings untouched, so he could feel everything. He’d been told it was necessary because occasionally, the restraints made this difficult. The only reason he’d been kept awake for this procedure was in hopes that his pain tolerance would rise, which would be helpful in his future in the Mafia. 

Mori hadn’t been the one holding the scalpel. It’d been someone whose name Dazai did not care enough to remember. Being the boss of the Port Mafia, Mori was too busy to carry out every operation. 

This man might have been nervous, might have been doing this sort of operation for the first time, might have just been bad at math and had measured out the wrong dosage for Atsushi.

Those were Dazai’s guesses at least.

Though in the long run, the reason didn’t matter. 

It’d all been normal, about as normal as one of those operations could be anyway.

Then, his oxygen levels dropped. Atsushi didn’t move, he didn’t react. He couldn’t, not with the drug messing with his Acetylcholine receptors. 

Dazai released him, yanking his hand away from Atsushi like the boy’s skin had burned him. Nothing happened. The monitors still flashed warnings, and Atsushi remained as still as a corpse. 

“What’s happening?”

The medic stuttered some response about the paralysis. He shuffled to grab a syringe from a tray. “I’ll give him the agonist,” he said to Dazai, as if explaining it what he was doing was important. 

“I don’t care what it is,” Dazai hissed. “Just keep him alive.” 

He shoved the needle into a vein. 

And they waited.

They waited.

The long, shrill scream of the heartbeat monitor echoed through the lab.  

Don’t hurt him, Dazai. Just… Don’t hurt him. 

For a moment, the only thing Dazai could think of was how he would tell Odasaku that Atsushi had died. How would he explain it? Just how was he supposed to go and drink at his favorite bar if that happened? 

He could lie. Dazai was an amazing liar. 

But… he’d never lied to Odasaku. 

Mori, Chuuya, Akutagawa, Atsushi, his subordinates, the several girls he’d flirted with. He’d lied to all of them at one point or another. And it’d been easy. It’d been so easy because he hardly respected them or he didn’t like them. Knowing that someone was lower than him or hating them made lying as easy as breathing. 

But Odasaku… He would be harder to lie to. Dazai respected him too much. On top of that, Odasaku was possibly the only person Dazai wanted in his company. 

Dazai looked at Atsushi’s unmoving body and glanced at the man who was just standing there, unsure of what to do next. 

Don’t hurt him, Dazai. Just… Don’t hurt him . 

  Something came over Dazai when those words rang out in his head over and over. Something that made his body suddenly feel cold. 

He grabbed the man by his shirt collar. “Do something,” he hissed urgently before releasing him and adding, “If he dies on this table, you’ll meet the same fate.”

The medic scrambled for the defibrillator, his movements quick and panicked as he prepped the device and thrust the paddles into Atsushi’s chest. 

His body jerked when the countershock was delivered. 

The persistent, dead ring of the heart monitor continued. The flat, green line still glowed on the monitor. 

The medic blinked before shouting “Clear!”

He hit him again with the defibrillator. 

The monitor shifted. The P wave, the QRS complex, and the T wave all appeared on the screen. The long, infuriating shriek of the monitor became a steady rhythm of beeps. After a second, Atsushi filled his lungs with air. 

Both Dazai and the medic nearly slumped with relief. Well, the medic actually did slump with relief; Dazai remained standing with rigid posture. 

It was alright. Atsushi was okay. He was breathing. He had a pulse. Dazai wouldn’t have to tell Odasaku that the boy was dead.

He wouldn’t lose him because of a bad operation. 

“Make sure he’s stable,” Dazai ordered, taking a seat in a nearby chair. “It still stands, by the way. If he dies, so do you.”

The medic nodded, his face strained and pale. He carefully set an oxygen mask over Atsushi’s face, seeming to take extra care when he touched him as though Atsushi was made of cracked glass, as though one flinch of his fingertips would break the boy into a million tiny pieces. 

For a moment, Dazai couldn’t blame him for that. Because in that moment, Atsushi looked so incredibly fragile. Pale skin, slowly steadying breaths, and a small frame. His skin was almost translucent, blueish-green lines of veins showing in his arms and legs and neck. Every visible blood vessel appeared to throb under his delicate, pale skin. 

Don’t hurt him, Dazai. Just… Don’t hurt him. 

Dazai’s head hurt. Between the angry ring of the heart rate monitor and Odasaku’s voice in his mind, his temples were starting to throb. 

I suppose I’ll have to listen to him now. Dazai thought when Atsushi’s breathing steadied and his heart rate was back to normal.

It’d been too close. Atsushi had died, albeit for a minute. 

He died long enough for Dazai to think about how to tell Odasaku that he’d not listened to his request for Atsushi to not be harmed.  

This is the last time he comes here. Dazai decided as he glanced at the medic who watched the heart rate monitor like a hawk. 

He couldn’t risk Atsushi’s heart stopping again. 

What if he quit breathing again? What if he went into cardiac arrest? What if his heart couldn’t be restarted? There were too many variables and too many risks. 

A low guttural sound pulled him from his thoughts. Dazai looked back at Atsushi, who was struggling to wake up as he always did. He blinked hard, carefully reaching to examine the oxygen mask on his face. Atsushi threw a questioning look to Dazai. “What--”

A simple flick of the fingers silenced him. Dazai said nothing, he just stood up and walked away. Atsushi pulled the mask from his face and plucked all the electrodes off of his body before sliding off the table and following his mentor. 

After that, after those few terrifying, loud, icy minutes, there’d been no mention of the lab, no mention of the vivisections 

/-/-/

“What do you mean I died?!” Atsushi exclaimed, losing his composure. 

It was the loudest his voice had been since the night Dazai had threatened to cage him. His throat burned from it. 

“Clinical death,” Dazai responded in a lower voice. “Cessation of breathing and heartbeat, as well as other bodily functions. That’s what I mean when I say you died.” Then, “And keep your voice down. This room isn’t by any means soundproof.”

Atsushi slumped over like a puppet with severed strings. “I died,” he muttered in disbelief. It shouldn’t have been this Earth-shaking to him. He’d almost died and sincerely believed that he would die multiple times. How was learning that his heart had stopped for a few minutes any different?

But the realization came crashing down on him hard and fast. He had died. He had crossed that threshold.

“The medic was able to bring you back, so it’s not like you stayed dead for more than a few minutes,” Dazai added softly.

The knowledge didn’t help that much. Atsushi’s skin felt cold and prickly as he pushed a hand through his hair and took deep breaths. 

“Calm down,” Dazai said in a voice that may have been meant to be calming, keeping his hands folded in his lap. “You didn’t stay dead, you’re alive now, and you made a full recovery.”

Atsushi looked up at him.

“It was a brush with death, Atsushi-kun,” he said lowly. “You made it out and you’re alright.” He let Atsushi stare at him for a minute, neither saying anything. “Are you okay?”

He blinked hard. “Yes.” He put his face in his hands for a moment before dragging his hands down his face as if that would do anything to calm him down. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... shaken.” He folded his hands in his lap, mirroring Dazai’s posture. “But I’m fine.”

Dazai clicked his tongue, looking at Atsushi with piercing eyes. “If you say so,” he said, his tone skeptical, like he didn’t quite believe him but didn’t want to push Atsushi too far. 

Atsushi didn’t say anything. He looked down at his hands for a moment. 

“Well,” Dazai said, clapping his bandaged hands. “You know now, Atsushi-kun.” 

They sat in awkward silence for a minute. 

What else am I supposed to ask? Atsushi thought frantically, the silence beginning to press down harder on him. For now, it was hard to choose, his brain seemed to be slow working since learning about his own death. 

“I have you ask you something now, Atsushi-kun.”

Atsushi’s back straightened. 

“Are you willing to trust me?”

Silence.

“I know… As I’ve said before, I’ve given you every reason to distrust and hate me. And I’m asking a lot of you.” He paused, his eyes traveling to the floor for a millisecond. “I’m trying to become a good person.”

A hand reached for Atsushi’s shoulder. Atsushi flinched. 

Dazai’s hand fell back. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said quietly. He didn’t try to take his shoulders again. 

Atsushi swallowed before managing a weak glare and putting a hand to his neck, his palm laying on the spot where Dazai had grabbed him to push him into the room. It was a subtle gesture, but one that he knew Dazai would pick up on. The bruises were long gone, but the feeling was fresh in his mind. 

Dazai sighed regretfully. “I apologize for that. I was stretched thin. I lost control, but that doesn’t make any of what I did or said to you okay.”

Atsushi blinked, his hand slowly sliding off his neck. 

His mentor had never apologized to him before. 

He swallowed hard, the vulnerability and sincerity on Dazai’s face still unfamiliar to him, though no longer as frightening and unnatural as it had been the night Dazai had wept. 

Neither spoke for a minute, and Atsushi realized that it was because Dazai was waiting for an answer. 

“I--uhh-- I don’t know…”

To some extent, he was disappointed in himself for struggling like this, and even more for showing it. He could have lied about it, he could have immediately refused to trust him and said that or he could have pretended to trust him and this conversation would be closer to over. 

Dazai gave him an almost sad, somewhat confusing grin. It looked plenty genuine, but at the same time, there seemed to be something mechanical about it.“That’s fine. It’s a lot to deal with. I won’t force you to make up your mind.” He paused, studying Atsushi’s eyes, which refused to meet his. “Don’t feel bad about it. Dishonesty doesn’t suit you, no matter how much I tried to force it on you.”

When had he become so used to Dazai knowing exactly what he was thinking?

“Just…” He began quietly. “Hiding from the Mafia won’t be easy, even less so if we’re working against each other.”

“What now?” Atsushi asked.

“Well,” Dazai began as though he was beginning a very long story. “I have a few plans. The main one is we join another gifted organization.”

Another?

“Apparently, there’s a detective agency. It’s small, run by a few people. We’ll be able to help people there.” He paused, taking a breath in dramatically. “Unfortunately, my history is rather sordid and we’ll need to spend two years underground.”

Can we actually make it like this for two years? Atsushi thought, glancing away from Dazai. He’d hardly made it two weeks. 

“One question left, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai reminded. He sounded tired, as though he’d been giving blood instead of answers. “Ask now or later.”

Atsushi looked down at his lap for a second, which turned into a minute, which turned into several minutes. 

It was a frustrating cycle, hundreds of questions rising in his head when he couldn’t ask them and nothing coming to mind when he could ask. 

He could leave it all here, just ignore that last question for now and ask it when he felt ready. However, he didn’t quite want to do that because in his blood, he felt like if he retreated from this and tried to come back to it later, something--some invisible something that filled their dialogue now -- would suddenly be lost. 

“Why?” He said after a long silence. 

Why did you take me in in the first place? Why did you hurt me? Why did you hold me down so the Boss could cut me open? Why did you let that happen over and over and over again? 

“Why what?” Dazai asked, but Atsushi could hear it in his tone. He knew what his apprentice was asking. 

“Why?” Atsushi said again, feeling little need to clarify his question. 

“If you’re not going to specify anything, I can only give you an answer based on guesswork.” He brought his legs up on the bed and sat with them crossed. “I honestly wanted you to get stronger. By hurting you, I expected you to become a hardened person, and the world wouldn’t be able to hurt you since you’d felt so much pain already.” He sighed, a sound that made Atsushi flinch. “That didn’t exactly go as planned since all I really did was make you resent me.”

The information didn’t lighten Atsushi’s heart at all. Somehow, it felt like it hardly made a difference to him. Dazai had said something along those lines a while ago when Atsushi was still adjusting to the Port Mafia.

“Also,” he continued after a moment. “It’s all I’ve known. I only repeated what I knew, both with you and Akutagawa.”

He said it flatly. More of a statement than an explanation or apology. 

Dazai looked at him, and Atsushi forced himself to hold his gaze. 

“Does that answer your question?” 

He nodded distractedly, a stray thought remaining in the back of his mind. 

“Great,” Dazai remarked tiredly before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing. 

He braced his hands against Atsushi’s shoulders, pushing him down so he laid on his back. 

“What--” Atsushi started to say, panic creeping under his skin. 

Dazai tossed a blanket over him before he could get up. “You’ve had a long day,” he said, leaving the bedside. “You practically shut down on me earlier.” 

Atsushi swallowed hard, the memory of Dazai yelling at him still fresh in his mind. He didn’t know why it’d made his mind go blank. There’d been something so scary about seeing the anger in Dazai’s eyes. There’d been something in his words, in his voice, that had dragged him right back to the orphanage. Right back to that dim room where he’d been beaten and screamed at and scared.

Just the memory of it made his blood run cold. 

“Get some sleep,” Dazai ordered softly. 

The springs of the other mattress groaned under Dazai’s weight. 

Still, there was something, some thought that he couldn’t quite shake. 

“Dazai-san,” he said into the dark.

“What?”

“Wh-why did you kill him?”

No answer. 

“Your last apprentice, I mean,” Atsushi added as though clarification would encourage Dazai to answer the question. 

“I’m afraid you’ve run out of questions, Atsushi-kun,” he said, rolling over in bed.

Atsushi blinked. Had he really run out of questions so quickly? And even so, wasn’t that whole thing meant to show him that Dazai would no longer leave him in the dark?

“I may be trying to become an honest man,” Dazai began, his voice shifting from almost human to something unnatural and practiced. The cold tone that Atsushi had grown used to. “But that doesn’t mean I need to explain my rationale behind removing Akutagawa from the equation. Forget it for now.” 

Atsushi didn’t speak for a moment. He needed a little time to let his body loosen up; he’d tensed up involuntarily when Dazai used that tone.

After another minute of building his courage, he turned his head to glance at Dazai, who hardly looked like more than a lumpy mass under the covers. “If I’d asked that as one of the seven questions, would you have told me?”

Silence hummed between them. 

“Yes.”

Chapter Text

Some things got better, and some things didn’t. 

After a little while, Dazai began to let Atsushi get outside for more than a few minutes, a freedom that he took full advantage of. Atsushi had stopped looking for a way out, which was less about trusting Dazai and more about being utterly exhausted by looking to escape. The need to run had diminished before too long. 

Other parts of Atsushi’s life remained constant, the most notable of which being the nightmares. 

He should have expected it. He should have known that knowing the cause of Oda’s death wouldn’t make the nightmares go away. Yet somehow he’d believed that he wouldn’t see the man die every night. Now, his dreams were just more specific. Now, he watched Oda get shot through the chest every night, and he saw the life pour out of him in vast rivers of blood. 

Worst of all, he heard everything.

The tiger’s hearing wasn’t just good at listening for footfalls and voices; he also heard all the little noises that human ears couldn’t detect. 

So, he didn’t just watch a bullet fly and see a corpse. He heard the sickening squelch of it pushing through the skin and muscles, the crunch as it broke through the sternum, and the rush of the blood leaving the body as the heartbeat grew weaker and weaker until, finally, that sound disappeared. 

Then, he’d wake up to Dazai snoring softly and the muffled sounds of the city. Sometimes he tried to go to sleep again. Most times, he’d press himself into the far corner of the room and try to read one of the books Dazai had bought for them, using the tiger’s vision to see the page in the dark, his mind intent on absorbing the words of the story to blot out the memories of his dreams. It rarely worked; at best, it just helped him breathe a little easier. 

Dazai rarely commented on it, and really, why would he? 

They’d been sharing the same space for more than a month now; he’d already had to deal with Atsushi thrashing and crying in his sleep. To him, an observer, these nightmares were no different than the ones Atsushi had had before.

They never addressed it. They didn’t want to, and they didn’t need to. 

As far as Atsushi was concerned, Dazai didn’t have to know about what he saw every night. There was nothing he could do about it, and he already knew about Atsushi’s weaknesses. Why would he want to add another one to the list?

/-/-/

“Come on,” Dazai said, standing with opened arms. “You need to learn this.”

Atsushi glared slightly. “Why?” He asked. Sleepless nights were definitely taking a toll on him. “We aren’t in the Mafia anymore. You already taught me how to fight.”

Dazai clicked his tongue, annoyed. “You really think we’re safe?” He narrowed his eyes. “I already told you that we’re still at risk here. You never really took to combat, and you haven’t had any practice in weeks, and believe me, Atsushi-kun, it shows. Come at me again.”

Atsushi obeyed, trying to punch Dazai’s smirking face. 

He failed, of course.

Dazai was right. It’d been too long since he’d gotten much physical activity. He’d never been good in a fight before, but he had been better than this. 

They continued on like that for almost an hour, with Atsushi improving slightly, but never to Dazai’s satisfaction. 

Even now, even after they’d left the Port Mafia behind, Dazai was still impossible to please. Maybe even more so now…

“Okay,” Dazai sighed, frustration showing on his face. “That’s enough for today. We’ll try again tomorrow.” He stretched his arms above his head. “There’s one more thing I want you to learn today.” He gestured Atsushi over.

He stood a foot away from Dazai, still a little scared of getting too close. Old habits die hard. 

Dazai lifted his chin a little and ran his fingers over his throat, before his fingertips touched the border of his trachea. “The carotid arteries are here. They bring blood to the brain. So,” he continued, moving his hand from his throat to Atsushi’s. Atsushi winced, even though Dazai put no pressure on his throat. “Press on it hard enough and long enough, and the attacker will pass out.” His eyes narrowed. “As I said before, we aren’t safe yet, and for now, we’ll be on the defensive.”

Atsushi met his eyes for a moment. He was getting bolder that way. He couldn’t say that he liked looking Dazai in the eyes, but he no longer shied away from eye contact.

“Got it?” Dazai asked, meeting his gaze with something metallic in his stare. 

“Yeah, I understand.” Atsushi said after a moment.

“Good.” He scanned over Atsushi’s expression. “Odasaku chose not to kill, so maybe we can follow his example from now on.”

Atsushi blinked, surprised that Dazai had actually said Oda’s name. Since a week ago, on that night when Dazai had let Atsushi ask seven questions, Dazai had hardly mentioned his friend. 

In all rationality, Atsushi half expected that Dazai would only speak of Oda. He was the reason they were both on the run from the Port Mafia. He was the reason Dazai had pulled him out of that hell. He was the only link that bound them now. And to some extent, he was the only reason Atsushi was learning how to cooperate with Dazai now.

Though, Atsushi understood well enough how it must have hurt to talk about him, about how he was no longer there, about how he’d died. He himself could hardly say the man’s name or mention the kids without his throat getting small. 

“Let’s go,” Dazai said, breaking Atsushi out of his thoughts as he started in the direction of the exit. “It’ll be dark soon.” His voice had a heavier tone to it, which Atsushi understood. 

The night belonged to the Port Mafia. 

Atsushi shuddered and followed Dazai out of the abandoned warehouse. They didn’t exchange many words on the way back to their motel room. They still didn’t speak very much at all, in fact, they’d hardly traded more than a hundred words in the past week.

/-/-/

He’d barely been in bed for more than three hours when the nightmares woke him up. He woke up gasping and shaking. Sweat clung to his hair and skin. Dazai’s breathing steadied after a moment, and he leaned his head back against the wall. 

Atsushi flinched when Dazai glanced at him, their eyes meeting for a second. He pressed his forehead to his knees before swallowing and building up the courage to look Dazai in the eyes again.

Dazai’s eyes seemed cloudy in this light, like he’d downed a heavy sedative. He blinked at his apprentice, unfocused. 

He looked down at the wrinkled covers for a moment. “Every night?” He asked, his voice a choked whisper. Even with the tiger’s hearing, Atsushi didn’t hear him clearly. 

“Yeah,” he murmured. 

Dazai ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, I’m not going back to sleep,” he said through a sigh. He swung his legs over the bed and pulled a shirt on over his head.

Atsushi swallowed before he looked at Dazai again. “Every night?” He asked carefully.

Dazai paused in getting dressed, his hands slowing as he glanced in Atsushi’s direction. “Every night,” he replied lowly. “Every single night.”

Atsushi raised his eyebrows at that since he half expected Dazai to dodge the question, and because he had never before seen Dazai struggle as he did. 

“It doesn’t get much easier,” Dazai said slowly. “But eventually, you learn to live with it.” His mouth became a stiff line. “You learn to hide it.”

“I know,” Atsushi said softly. “I’m… still learning…”

Dazai offered a wry look. “So is everyone, Atsushi-kun.” 

He pulled on his coat, and Atsushi blinked at him. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” he replied before glancing at him. “Stay here for me, okay?” 

“But, Dazai-san, it’s still night time and--” 

He was cut off by the door closing. 

Suddenly, the room was too big and too small at the same time. He still didn’t like to share space with Dazai, but without him, he was alone with his thoughts. Alone with the images from his nightmares and the screams of his thoughts. 

Atsushi curled in on himself when another thought occurred to him. 

What if Dazai doesn’t come back?

That thought had never scared him so much. But now… When it echoed in his brain, Atsushi couldn’t help but feel sickened at the thought. If Dazai left him or died out there, Atsushi would be left with no one, no shield from the Mafia, and no direction. 

Maybe he could find this detective agency that Dazai had suggested. Even then, he’d have to do that alone, and there was no guarantee that he’d find it or that the Mafia wouldn’t find him first. 

“I’m back,” came Dazai’s voice as he entered the room. 

Atsushi heaved a sigh of relief or annoyance. He couldn’t tell which it was. “Where were you?” He asked, not moving from his place. 

Dazai tossed something in his direction. He put up his hand to shield himself from it, and wound up catching it. It crinkled in his grip, and he glanced at it in surprise.

Food?

“I doubt that either of us are going to manage to sleep much tonight,” Dazai said in response to Atsushi’s raised eyebrows. He peeled to top off of a container. “Plus, I was hungry.”

He glanced back down at the cellophane bag in his hands and swallowed hard when his mind flashed to his trip to the grocery store with Oda. It had been one of the most mundane and normal things he’d ever done… Yet, it’d been something that he’d held onto, something that he thought about every now and then. 

“Are you going to eat it or just keep staring at it?” Dazai asked sardonically, though there was no bite in his tone.

“I’ll eat it,” Atsushi muttered, feeling his face heat.

He looked down at the bag again and bit his lip. 

“Oda-san bought stuff like this for the kids,” he said quietly. He wasn’t completely sure why he felt like he needed to say it. Maybe because Dazai had mentioned Oda during training and his example pushed Atsushi to do the same. Maybe because he just wanted to say something about the man so he wouldn’t become just a faded memory.

Some expression that he couldn’t quite identify flashed across Dazai’s face. 

“That’s something he’d do,” Dazai murmured. Then, he smiled slightly. “He mentioned that actually. After you shadowed him for a day, he told me that the kids were concerned that you never got any of the things he bought for them.” 

The thought made Atsushi’s heart feel warm, but at the same time, it made his chest feel tight. 

He swallowed the constricting feeling in his throat as he tore the bag open and ate a chip. 

It was salty and pleasant and seemed to melt in his mouth after a moment. Unlike anything he got to eat in the orphanage, and somehow more luxurious than the things he got to eat during his time in the Port Mafia. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Both less than willing to talk. 

Dazai spoke first. 

“What do you see at night?”

Atsushi swallowed hard, the food in his mouth suddenly tasting too salty like it’d instantly dried up his mouth. 

I don’t see how that’s any of your business.

Why do you think I would tell you about that?

I don’t need to tell you.

He could have said any of those things, and he sensed that Dazai would drop the subject. After about three weeks, they’d managed to reach a shaky peace which was partially built on mutual silence and careful distance. 

“A lot of things,” Atsushi murmured. “Oda-san, the orphanage…” His voice trailed off. 

They both heard the last, unspoken word. 

You.

And they could sense what else went unsaid. 

You hurting me.

You forcing me to kill.

You letting me get torn apart over and over and over. 

“Yours?” Atsushi croaked. 

Dazai’s face darkened, and for a moment, Atsushi was sure that he would cut off the conversation right there. It wouldn’t be the first time he took more than he gave. 

“Mostly Odasaku these days. The other ones, the normal ones… the feeling of falling or drowning… among other things, but those ones have never been too bad. I’m used to them.”

“Was tonight’s--”

“Yeah,” Dazai interrupted. “It was Odasaku.” He looked to the curtained windows as though he was looking out to the city. “I’m not sure if the nightmares will ever go back to normal.”

It struck Atsushi how haunted Dazai looked in that moment. A ghost hung behind those once empty eyes. 

“They probably won’t,” he muttered after a moment. 

Chapter Text

After a few months, Atsushi had managed to convince himself that their situation was getting better. 

He still had nightmares, he still stumbled over his words when he spoke to Dazai, but he no longer flinched at the sound of Dazai’s voice. He didn’t feel like he was walking a line between life and death whenever he looked into Dazai’s eyes. 

His relationship with Dazai was… strange. He couldn’t find any other word to describe it. He could always defer back to saying that he was Dazai’s apprentice, but the energy between them hadn’t felt like it had in the Port Mafia for a long time. He couldn’t easily believe that he was a prisoner anymore. Though Dazai didn’t give him the option to leave, “prisoner” wouldn’t be a completely accurate word to use. 

They weren’t friends. To Atsushi’s understanding, friends were meant to stand equal to each other. He wasn’t at that point with Dazai… He still had no idea where either of them stood. 

Atsushi supposed that saying they were just two people in a lifeboat would be the closest approximation. 

For now, they were just surviving together. 

After a while of living in such close quarters with Dazai, Atsushi started to pick up on the tiny, almost invisible signs that Dazai was thinking hard about something, which was often. It seemed he was always strategising.

Atsushi had felt Dazai’s eyes on him for the past few days, and despite their shifting dynamics, it was still nerve wracking. Back in the Mafia, whenever he got the feeling that Dazai was watching him, it was a bit of a bad omen since nothing good came of it.

“You were out for longer than expected,” Dazai said when Atsushi returned to their suite. He fixed him with a hard glare. “I almost went out to find you.”

“Sorry,” Atsushi mumbled, lowering his head and hugging the paper bag closer to his chest. He said nothing more. He wasn’t willing to give any of the excuses he had. 

We’ve been sharing a room for the past three months and I needed space.

I needed some time outside.

I got lost on the way back.

None of those statements would inspire any trust or understanding, so he kept them to himself. 

Dazai sighed. “You know, it’s hard to give you more independence when you disappear for so long.”

“I was only gone for an hour.” Atsushi pulled some of the groceries out of the bag. “No one saw me,” he added, hoping that would help. 

“And how do you know that for sure?” 

“I just do,” Atsushi said, frustration beginning to creep into his voice. 

He hadn’t known for sure. He just didn’t sense eyes on his back.

He expected a sarcastic response. 

Oh, you ‘just know,’ that’s safe.

Atsushi could feel his face heat. Dazai was probably right. Dazai was almost always right. However, he was tired, and it was too early in the day to have this kind of conversation with Dazai. Arguments with Dazai never ended in Atsushi’s favor, so he figured that it was best to let the whole thing drop before it escalated.

“I’ll spare you the lecture,” Dazai said after a few heartbeats of silence. “It would honestly be more of a punishment for me than it would be for you.”

Atsushi didn’t blink at that statement. Dazai hardly lectured him outside of their combat practices. Dazai had never been much for lectures, inside or outside the Port Mafia. 

They spent the next few minutes in silence. 

“How long before we move again?” Atsushi asked quietly. 

Dazai stretched out on his bed, holding his book above his face. “Not long… A few days at most.”

“Are they even still looking for us?” Atsushi asked.

It was a stupid question, he knew that. Maybe he was just sick and tired of moving from one place to another, of never being able to get comfortable. 

“Mmm…” Dazai hummed.

Atsushi sensed the kind of answer he would get before Dazai even opened his mouth. “Think about it for a moment, Atsushi-kun,” he said tiredly. “I used to be the youngest executive. I know hundreds of their secrets, and have enough information to put every member away for several life sentences. If they don’t try to drag me back, I’d be lucky if they broke my jaw and shot me through the chest.” He paused. “And you…” He trailed off when Atsushi’s muscles tensed. “Best not to get careless,” he concluded. 

Atsushi turned away, hoping Dazai would let the topic drop. 

“Other people are still hunting you,” Dazai said after a moment as though he’d suddenly decided that it was better to keep going than to let Atsushi out of this conversation. “You remember when I told you that?”

“I thought that was all a lie,” Atsushi mumbled. “You told me that when you shot me.”

“Well, it was a half truth. Not a complete lie.” He sighed and massaged his temples. “In a way, the Port Mafia offered you some protection. Other groups couldn’t easily get their hands on you while you were already claimed by a gifted organization.”

Atsushi bristled at that, wanting for a moment to deny that, to say that the Port Mafia had given him nothing aside from scars and pain and blood on his hands that never washed away. He clamped his mouth shut. Probably best to drop it. 

“I thought you said you weren’t going to lecture me,” he muttered.

Dazai shrugged. “You asked a question and I gave you a wonderfully detailed answer. It’s hardly a lecture.”

Atsushi shuffled to his bed, grabbing a book from the nightstand before flipping through it. He focused on the words on the page, not wanting to look at Dazai, not wanting to be reminded of the situation they were in, and how quickly it could all fall apart.

Tension settled in the room after a few minutes of silence, saturating the very air they breathed. It weighed heavily in Atsushi’s lungs like he’d inhaled lead. He should have gotten used to it by now. All of his possible mistakes of that day, pressed on his mind, making his head hurt. He could have given away their location… He could have been dragged back.

“I’ll do better,” Atsushi murmured, his voice so faint that he almost couldn’t hear himself speak. “I’ll be more careful.” 

Dazai glanced at him, offering him a slight nod. “Good.”

Whether Dazai believed him or not was unclear. He was as unreadable as ever. 

I don’t like this… Atsushi wanted to say. I hate staying inside for days at a time. I feel like I can’t breathe in here. He couldn’t say that aloud though; it felt wrong to complain to Dazai like that. He should have been grateful that Dazai brought him along at all. He knew he was a dead weight on the man, and grousing about how much he hated staying in hiding wouldn’t help anything. 

/-/-/

Dazai allowed him to leave the suite on his own again after ten days. 

That was ten days that Atsushi was confined to a small space with Dazai. Somehow lethargic and on edge at the same time. 

Sure, they’d gotten a little time outside of the suite, but it’d been short. It was only so Dazai could continue with Atsushi’s combat practice and to move to a new place.

Atsushi supposed he could have left while Dazai slept. He could have maybe slipped out for a few minutes if only to get some fresh air. But, as much as he’d wanted to leave, he’d decided that it would be better to follow Dazai’s instructions. Not being on thin ice with Dazai was a feeling that Atsushi wasn’t quite used to yet, but he knew that he prefered it this way. So, he’d been mostly compliant for Dazai.

So, that meant asking for permission rather than forgiveness. And every day for the past ten days, he’d received answers like, “Not today,” “No,” “No, you’re not getting Vitamin D deficiency,” and “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Don’t stay out too long,” Dazai said as Atsushi tugged on a jacket. “I know you like being outside, but the more you’re in public, the greater risk of us getting caught.”

Atsushi nodded. “I know.” He looked up at Dazai, looking him in the eyes, something he was getting more and more used to doing. “It’s just a trip to get groceries.”

“If you stay out for longer than forty-five minutes this time, I will come and drag you back here.”

 Atsushi didn’t respond to that. He didn’t know how to, and he couldn’t even tell if Dazai was joking or being serious. He sounded serious…

“Also, pick up canned crab,” Dazai called after him as he walked away. “You forgot it last time, and I had to make an extra trip out just to get some.”

“Right,” Atsushi said back.

And that was that. He’d finally get a little time outdoors and on his own. 

When he exited the hotel and walked into the gentle warmth of afternoon, he inhaled deeply. 

Ten days since he’d been able to breathe-- like really breathe-- fresh air. It felt amazing now. 

He glanced at the sky; it was covered by clouds. 

I wonder if it’ll rain. He thought as he started walking down the street. He wouldn’t mind some rain; the air was warm enough that he doubted the rain would be absolutely frigid. And getting soaked on the way back to the hotel wasn’t a terrible fate. 

/-/-/

By the time he was finished grocery shopping, the air smelled damp with oncoming rain. The clouds were darker now, hanging lower in the sky, weighed down by water. There was no doubt that it would rain now. 

He still had about ten minutes before his time was up. He wanted to use every second of his free time, but it would probably be wiser to return to Dazai before too long. He knew that if he got back late again, Dazai would scold him for it, and more importantly, Dazai likely wouldn’t let him leave their suite for weeks. So, Atsushi reasoned that it would be better to get back early.

A few minutes into his trip back to the hotel, the air had been transformed into a fine mist, which somehow managed to seep through his clothes and soak him to the bone. 

“Hey, Nakajima,” a voice said in a low tone.

Atsushi paused. Not his smartest move.

He realized his mistake immediately, and forced himself to keep walking as though he hadn’t heard his name called out by a voice that didn’t belong to Dazai. 

Unfortunately, moving quickly wasn’t enough to cover up his mistake. He’d taken all of two steps before a hand caught his shoulder and yanked him into the alley he’d been passing. 

He yelped as he was dragged, his blood suddenly feeling several degrees colder than it should have been. 

The grocery bags fell from his hands as he was shoved against a brick wall. It knocked the oxygen from his lungs. He saw dark spots as the back of his head slammed against bricks. 

Atsushi crumpled to the ground, his coordination thrown off. “I--I---” He tried to say something, but he could hardly speak. His lungs still ached. 

“So,” his abductor said, grabbing him by the hair and jerking Atsushi’s head so he was facing him. “You’re Dazai-san’s apprentice.”

Atsushi blinked at him, finally able to take in details as his vision cleared. 

It was one of those men… The ones Atsushi had never known personally. He was one of those men who had followed Dazai’s orders. One of those men who carried guns and wore suits and shaded glasses to hide their eyes. 

“Who?” Atsushi managed, hoping to find some way out of this. 

The man paused, and Atsushi swallowed hard and tried to act calmer than he felt. 

“I--I think you have the wrong person,” he blurted out. “I’m not Nakajima… I--I’m Naka sh ima.” He continued quickly, unable to slow himself down as he was on the verge of panic. “The name sounded similar so I stopped, but then I realized that you said Nakajima, and I--”

Slap!

Atsushi tasted blood. Tears flooded his eyes before he could stop them. He hadn’t been struck in a while; somehow, he’d managed to forget how it felt to be backhanded. 

“Don’t try to play dumb with me.”

Slowly, Atsushi raised his eyes from the pavement and turned to look the man in the face. 

“Your mentor defected from the Port Mafia with you in tow,” he said as though Atsushi didn’t already know that part. “How about you tell me where to find him?”

Why he phrased it as a question or suggestion, Atsushi had no idea. It was clearly meant to be an order. 

He must have taken too long to answer because the man took a fistful of Atsushi’s hair and smashed his head against the wall. 

“Answer,” he growled. 

Atsushi moaned as an ache crawled through his head. 

He swallowed down metallic tasting saliva and tried to think of something to say. 

“I… I don’t know where Dazai-san is…” he said softly, his words almost completely drowned out by the sound of light rain and the city’s noises. “I escaped on my own.”

That answer earned him a scoff and a rough blow to the head. 

He didn’t know for sure why he’d decided to lie about that. Atsushi still hadn’t figured out what Dazai was to him… or what he was to Dazai for that matter. 

Maybe deep down, he felt like he owed Dazai something… The man had taken him with him instead of leaving him to the mercy of the Port Mafia. 

Atsushi wasn’t sure…

“You really expect me to believe that you managed to stay hidden without his help?”

Atsushi glanced down at the pavement. Admittedly, it didn’t sound all that believable… even to him. 

“O-Okay… Fine,” he said, trying to sound steadier than he felt. “That was a lie… He took me with him when he left, but…” Atsushi paused, shrinking back against the wall and biting his lip. “Dazai-san left me.” His voice cracked when he said those last few words. “I don’t know where he is now.”

“That’s a little more credible,” the man said, looking over Atsushi’s soaked and trembling form. His hand curled around Atsushi’s throat. “But you aren’t a very good liar.” He sighed boredly. “I was hoping to kill two birds with one stone and find both of you today.” Then, he shrugged. “They’ll get answers out of you when there’s a proper interrogation.” 

Atsushi’s body went rigid.

It was all sinking in now, pressing against him at every angle as if he was being dragged into deep water. 

He’d been careless… too eager to get outside… too eager to have some time to himself… 

And now…

Now he was going to pay for that… This man would haul him back to the Port Mafia.

No... He thought. No, no, no, no, no….

Atsushi bit down on his lip. There had to be some way out… 

He looked back up at his captor, who had pulled out his phone and was beginning to punch in a few numbers. 

Atsushi’s body moved before his mind could. He punched the guy so hard in the jaw that his knuckles hurt. 

Then he bolted. 

If he could just reach the main street and blend in with anyone out there, he could return to Dazai and Dazai would do something--come up with a plan, and get them to safety. 

He was almost out, the ground beginning to feel slick from the rain beneath his feet.

A hand caught the collar of his shirt and yanked him backwards. 

He fell on his back, gasping and convulsing against the man’s touch. 

“I was told you wouldn’t put up a fight,” the man said, seeming to talk more to himself than to Atsushi. Then, he grabbed the front of Atsushi’s shirt before hauling him up and throwing him against the brick wall. 

Atsushi’s vision was beginning to go blurry again, black dots crawling in from his peripherals. 

A hand closed around his throat, lifting him slightly so his toes were grazing the pavement. 

He couldn’t breathe… He couldn’t breathe!

Tears began rising in his eyes again as he tried and failed to fill his lungs with air. Atsushi kicked into empty air, his heels only hitting the wall. 

The hand on his throat was crushing his airway. 

He flinched hard when he felt a pinching sensation in the side of his neck.

His vision started to go patchy.

What had Dazai said?

There was a--a vein? No! It was an artery… Right by the throat… Press on it… 

Atsushi couldn’t recall more information than that, but he had some idea of what to do… 

He thrust his arm out, trying to reach his captor’s neck. 

Never had something so close seemed so far away… 

Atsushi’s fingers could just graze his throat.

Just a little further…

Every muscle in Atsushi’s body strained to reach, to press against the man’s arteries and put an end to the suffocation. 

If I could only reach…

His vision darkened more and more with every passing second. 

Then, there was only blood. 

The hand around Atsushi’s neck went limp, and both Atsushi and the man tumbled to the ground. 

Atsushi gasped, trying to fill his lungs with air. He coughed hard, trembling as he tried to catch his breath. His vision cleared slowly, black spots retreated out of his vision.

He froze. 

Atsushi smelled blood… Lots of it. He looked down, finally seeing the corpse before him. 

He bit back a scream and scrambled back, his back hitting the wall with a thud. The sounds of the city and the patter of rain turned to buzzing static to his ears. Dazed, he looked down at his hands.

One of them was a human hand, the other… was a claw, white fur dyed red. 

Suddenly, it was like a hand was clamped around his throat again-- it was like he was being ripped apart again. 

I killed him... Atsushi thought. I killed him, his brain repeated, as though he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact without emphasis.

Atsushi had killed before… He’d shot bullets through people’s chests. But that had all felt different. That had been him following orders, reluctantly. Those kills hadn’t been a stupid mistake like this one had been. They hadn’t been a sudden loss of control.

He was going to drag you back to the Port Mafia. Some part of his brain reasoned.

Despite that fact, Atsushi couldn’t get the shaking under control. He couldn’t stop feeling how terrifyingly warm the blood was on his skin. 

The light rain picked up, and suddenly the clouds were pouring down buckets of rain. It was cold.

Raindrops trailed down Atsushi’s face, washing away some of the blood in the process.

But it didn’t wash away the smell. It hardly dulled the sharp metallic stench of blood. Instead, the scent overpowered the rain’s scent as though nature itself was polluted by what Atsushi had done. 

He shoved his fist against his mouth to stifle the wails that built up in the back of his throat. 

Blood wasn’t a new sight for him. He’d seen it and felt it a million times before now, and he’d sat in pools of it every night after he closed his eyes...And yet, he gagged and cried and trembled like it was his first time seeing it. 

Don’t look... He told himself. Just… Don’t look at it. 

Of course, the more he told himself to look away, the more his gaze fixated on the ragged flesh and reddish puddles, which were slowly lightening to a softer hue thanks to the rain. Nausea clenched his stomach after a minute, and he covered his eyes, trying to breathe past the overwhelming smell of blood. 

It made him dizzy. It made him sick. 

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, teetering on the edge of puking his guts out, but it felt like days. 

“Atsushi-kun?”

He flinched hard at the voice. Then he got ahold of himself, swallowed down the bile that seemed to endlessly rise in his throat, and looked up. 

Dazai stared down at him, his lips pressed into a fine line, his eyes harder than Atsushi had seen them in a long time. Then, he exhaled through his nose and crouched across from Atsushi. His features softened a bit, and he looked his student over before firmly taking hold of his wrists and unwrapping his arms from around his legs, unfolding him bit by bit. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” 

Atsushi nearly choked on the words when he tried to say them. 

I killed him. 

Three words. One sentence. That was all it was, all it should have been, but it felt so much bigger as if the words were physical masses lodged in his throat. 

I killed him…

“I--I…” He couldn’t get the words out. He choked on them when he got too close to putting them into the air. 

“Nevermind,” Dazai said. “You don’t have to say it.” He looked over his shoulder at the corpse with an expression that seemed to say, I can see what happened.

Atsushi slumped forward, wanting nothing more than to curl in on himself again. Any ounce of strength he had left drained out of him like water through a sieve. 

What was going through Dazai’s head now?

I should have left you back in the Mafia.

What have you done?

Looks like you finally grew the guts to kill someone.

Keeping you is too much of a risk. You’re on your own.

He’d failed so badly and so terrifically. Dazai could be thinking any one of those things and Atsushi couldn’t blame him.

“Take a deep breath,” Dazai said as he reached for Atsushi’s shoulder. His hand didn’t mould to the curve of his frame, and when Dazai rubbed his shoulder, the movement felt wooden and awkward, even so, he suddenly wanted to cry all over again. 

Atsushi bit his lip, trying to keep what little composure he still had. 

“Are you hurt?” 

He shook his head, though Atsushi wasn’t entirely sure he was being honest. Everything hurt, but chances were none of his injuries were serious. 

Dazai must not have believed him because he put a hand under Atsushi’s chin and tilted his head up, searching for cuts or bruises under the dried blood that had managed to stick to his skin despite the rainfall. 

“It’s not my blood,” he said softly, his voice quivering. Then, “I didn’t mean to…” A small, pained sound pushed its way from his throat. “I--He knew who I was and--”

“Now’s not the time to explain, Atsushi-kun.You can tell me later.”

“--I tried to do what you--”

“Quiet,” Dazai hissed, his voice suddenly sharper than it had been a second ago. 

Atsushi tensed before the trembling he’d been trying so hard to suppress worsened. 

Dazai cursed under his breath and put his hands on Atsushi’s shoulders. “Now isn’t the time, alright?” He pulled Atsushi forward a little. “Alright?” He repeated when Atsushi didn’t respond after a minute. 

Slowly, Atsushi nodded. 

“Good,” Dazai said as he started to peel off his coat, which proved difficult since he was soaked to the skin. “Your clothes are too stained for people to ignore.” He pulled Atsushi a little further forward, and laid his coat over Atsushi so it covered the top of his head and rested against his body like a cloak.

The feeling was eerily familiar. 

Atsushi followed Dazai’s instructions numbly, wrapping the coat around his body. It was warmer than he expected, still wet and cold and heavy from the rain, but the extra layer was something of a comfort as it hid his bloodstained shirt. Dazai grabbed the back of the coat, pulling it so it obscured Atsushi’s face a little more. 

“Can you walk?”

Atsushi nodded again.

He could still walk, right? Save a few bruises, his legs were fine.

Atsushi crumpled to his knees almost as soon as he was on his feet. His legs shook too badly to stay up when he tried again. 

No. I can still walk. I just--I need to--

“We don’t have time for this,” Dazai broke into his thoughts. He paused, looking to the side before picking something up off the ground. It was some kind of syringe. “It looks like he drugged you.” He looked at Atsushi. “That would explain why you can’t stand right now; it’s still running its course.”

Atsushi’s throat constricted. “No, I can--” He managed. “I just… I just… “ He didn’t know what to say. He looked down because it was hard to look Dazai in the eyes. Atsushi’s cheeks felt wet, and he knew it wasn’t from the rain.

“It’s fine, it’s okay,” Dazai said quietly like he was trying to calm a spooked animal--which to some extent-- he was. 

He got down to his knees and turned his back on Atsushi. 

Atsushi blinked, holding Dazai’s coat closer around his body. 

“Can you get your arms around my shoulders?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder. 

“I--” Atsushi stopped himself. He gave up his protest. He was exhausted, too tired to argue with Dazai. So, he obeyed, feeling increasingly awkward as he pulled himself closer to his mentor.

Dazai’s arms reached back around under his legs to keep Atsushi steady. 

“Stay still, okay?” He said when Atsushi started to squirm. 

Atsushi nodded against Dazai’s shoulder, shutting his eyes tightly when he accidently looked at the body. He felt Dazai move around a little and heard the rustle of something plastic or something along those lines. If he had to guess, he’d say that Dazai was covering the body with a tarp he’d found somewhere in the alley. 

Then they were moving. 

“Where are we going?” Atsushi asked after several minutes. 

“Another place to hide out,” Dazai replied softly. 

Dazai’s bandages rubbed against Atsushi’s temple, and he could smell that slight antiseptic scent that normally clung to bandages. His arms ached from clinging for so long. On top of that, everything still hurt. But Atsushi didn’t dare complain… He’d caused enough trouble already.

He’d killed someone out of a stupid moment of uncontrol. He’d forced Dazai to come looking for him. He’d screwed up whatever plan Dazai had had for keeping them hidden, he knew that. At this point, he was just grateful that Dazai hadn’t simply abandoned him in that alley. 

“My cousin’s first time at a bar,” Atsushi heard Dazai say to someone as the shoulder his chin rested on raised and lowered. “Who knew he’d be such a lightweight?” 

Someone chuckled and then everything was quiet again. 

It was maybe another twenty minutes before they were in yet another motel room. 

Dazai sat down on a bed, letting Atsushi off his back. 

“How are you feeling?” Dazai asked, helping Atsushi peel off his coat. 

“I’m okay,” Atsushi said quietly. It was a lie, somewhat. He didn’t feel okay. He felt like the ground itself was caving in beneath him and every second, it consumed him more and more. He did not feel ‘okay,’ but he didn’t want to complain to Dazai. 

“Alright.”

Dazai folded his hands in his lap, taking a moment to sigh. A muscle in his face twitched as if he was trying to keep from getting angry. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a little while.”

“No!” Atsushi cried, grabbing Dazai’s wrist.

The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Dazai looked almost startled. Atsushi swallowed hard and looked down, any layer of composure stripped away. “Please don’t leave…” 

It was something he’d never thought he’d ever say. He knew how desperate it sounded. And despite that, he couldn’t find it in himself to pretend he hadn’t meant it. 

Dazai sighed and massaged his temples before getting up and walking across the room to grab some towels and set them down on the bed next to Atsushi. “I won’t take too long, Atsushi-kun.” He pried Atsushi’s fingers from his wrist. “You’ll be safe.”

Atsushi doubted that he’d be safe ever again. 

“I don’t want to be alone,” he murmured, his face reddening when he said it. The full feeling of how pathetic he must have sounded and looked pressing down on him. 

“I have an errand to run,” Dazai said.

You’re going to get rid of the body… Atsushi thought, the knowledge making him queasy.

His expression must have given away what he was thinking because Dazai’s features hardened. “Do you want to come help me with it?” He asked, his voice cold and sardonic as he lost his patience for a second.

Atsushi froze. 

It took a moment before Dazai sighed again, muttered a tired apology, and got to his knees to be at eye level with Atsushi. “Just stay here, okay?” He put his hands on Atsushi’s shoulders. Atsushi flinched hard at the contact, and Dazai pulled back, his hands inches away from Atsushi’s shoulders. He dropped his hands to his sides. “It’ll be fine. I promise I’ll come back. I need you to stay put. Can you do that for me?”

Atsushi swallowed hard and pulled his knees to his chest, his muscles feeling weak and tired from the movement. “Yes.” Defeat and guilt made his chest feel tight. 

“Good boy,” Dazai said, carding a hand through Atsushi’s bloodstained hair. His hands were as they had been in the alley. Mechanical. Unsure. Fingers as stiff as a corpse’s. 

Then, he got to his feet and started to leave. 

“Dazai-san,” Atsushi managed, his voice choked. 

“What?”

His words caught in his throat for a moment. Tears made speaking hard. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. 

The sincerity of his own apology almost surprised him. He’d never apologized to Dazai and meant it. In the Mafia, he’d only say that he was sorry to try to escape a beating or as some conditioned response that’d been pounded into him in the orphanage. This time he meant it. He’d screwed up. He’d screwed up so badly, and he had no doubt that Dazai was going to pay a portion of the price.  

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated weakly when the silence weighed on him as heavily as his guilt. 

If he wasn’t a burden to Dazai before, he definitely was now.

Dazai’s eyes were on him when he looked up again. For a tense moment, nothing moved. Atsushi held his breath, not knowing what Dazai would say in response, not knowing how much those words might sting. 

He didn’t say anything. 

Dazai gave a slight nod with an expression that wasn’t impossible to read, but it was hard to decipher. 

Then, he was gone.  

/-/-/

It’d been a long time since Dazai needed to dispose of a body. He’d used to have a clean-up crew to take care of the bodies. That didn’t mean he’d forgotten the several ways one could use to get rid of a corpse, but doing it alone would take longer than he’d like. 

The pavement was dyed red, the corpse under the tarp still hadn’t undergone rigor mortis.

He squinted at Atsushi’s victim in the fading light. Claw marks had torn through the throat, leaving trails of ragged flesh. 

It was such a strange thing… Knowing that Atsushi had done this. Such brutal work done by a child… 

Dazai sighed, pulling on a pair of disposable gloves. 

Time to clean up.

If the kill had been less obvious, he could have just broken the dead man’s jaw and fired three bullets into his chest. The forgery of the Port Mafia’s method of killing would have still been discovered later during the autopsy, but it would have bought them some time at the very least. 

The way this man died though… it would take some extra effort to erase most of the evidence. 

Dazai rummaged through the bag of items he’d raided from the last hotel he and Atsushi had stayed in. He had needed to steal from the supply closets and kitchen as well, which was how he’d managed to come by a cleaver, a lighter, a hammer, a pair of latex gloves, and several garbage bags. 

Corpses weren't foreign to him by any means, but even in the Mafia, Dazai had never had to dispose of a body in such a gorey fashion. He wasn’t squeamish, but he definitely wasn’t looking forward to any of it. 

He started with the fingers, holding them over the lighter’s flame. The flesh burned, the fingerprints melting to nothing. The stench of burning skin and muscle nearly made him gag, but he kept going until all of the fingers were left charred and half destroyed. 

He did the same thing to the face, burning the skin beyond recognition. Then, he slid a garbage bag around the head before using the hammer to break in the teeth. 

Such reddish work... Dazai thought as he pounded the hammer against the skull for good measure. 

Mutilating and dismembering a corpse was the sort of work he hoped he’d be able to completely avoid since leaving the Mafia. 

Yet again, this attempt at becoming a good man wasn’t going very well.

Chapter Text

It had been a slow process, but after a few hours of being alone and letting the drug run its course, Atsushi had managed to stagger to the bathroom and wash the gore and grime from his hair and skin. But no amount of scrubbing and soap could wash away the gritty feeling that covered every inch of him. 

And that left him where he was now, curled up under the covers, his chest feeling tight, and his skin red from his aggressive cleaning. Despite using nearly scalding and then freezing water, his hands still felt warm. The feeling of the blood on his hands should have faded by now, but it was still there. It was a sickening feeling, to say the least. A dark reminder of how alive someone was before Atsushi had killed him. Knowing that the kill had been in self-defense wasn’t much of a comfort. 

Being alone suddenly felt unfamiliar. Until recently, it hadn’t been. 

Until recently, alone had been his normal, bleak and sad, but normal. Now, he could hear the ominous hum of silence. It echoed in his ears, filling his brain with static. He pulled the covers over his head to block out the sound. 

It felt like he would remain like that forever, slightly suffocated and kept shuddered in the dark and all alone. This was his prison now. This was his punishment. 

When the sound of the door opening pulled him from his thoughts, he didn’t raise his head. He already knew it was Dazai. He already knew that Dazai was spotted with blood. The smell made his nose itch and his eyes water. He nearly gagged. 

The man didn’t say anything. Atsushi heard him open and close the bathroom door before the shower started going. 

Was that supposed to mean anything? Was he too irritated to even speak to Atsushi right now? 

Atsushi stayed under the covers, his muscles tense with no chance of loosening. He stayed like that for what felt like hours. The rustle of fabric and the groan of the floor were his only indications of what Dazai was doing. 

A tired sigh. Then, the soft thud of Dazai plopping down to the floor right beside the bed. 

Atsushi remained frozen. 

He could hear Dazai’s even breathing. 

What now? 

Typically, Dazai would say something or try to prompt Atsushi to talk. 

Neither thing happened this time. Dazai didn’t speak, and neither did Atsushi. Silence reigned in the room. The silence felt louder than it had when Atsushi had been alone. Somehow, it rang endlessly in his ears, making it feel like his brain had been replaced by cotton. The stretching silence between them was absolutely mind numbing. 

Why was Dazai being silent? Dazai was supposed to speak first. He always, always led conversations. 

Atsushi considered speaking, but every time he started to open his mouth to talk, trembling set in, his throat tightened up, he couldn’t figure out what to say. If it wasn’t one obstacle, it was another. Should he apologize again? Was that what Dazai was waiting to hear? Did Dazai want an explanation? Just what did one say in this kind of situation? Every possible sentence seemed wrong.

It had to be at least an hour before Atsushi mustered up the will to say something. 

“Are you angry?” It came out weaker than he’d meant it to, not that he could figure out a proper tone to use. 

“No.”

“Then, why aren’t you saying anything?” He asked, his head still under the covers as though the blanket offered some sort of protection in case Dazai was actually angry. 

Beside him, Dazai shifted. He was quiet for a minute. Then, “I thought you needed some room to breathe. I didn’t want to force you to talk if you didn’t want to.”

Atsushi swallowed hard before slowly peeking out from under the blanket. 

Dazai could be lying, he was good at it after all. And he had every right to be furious with Atsushi. 

“I’m sorry,” Atsushi said for the third time that night. “I- I couldn’t breathe, and--” He stopped talking when his throat constricted. He had to say something, but it was so hard to figure out what he could say. Atsushi stopped trying to talk. 

“It isn’t your fault,” Dazai replied, glancing back. 

Their eyes met for a second before Atsushi blinked back tears and pressed his face against the mattress. 

“Feels like it’s my fault,” he mumbled, his words muffled. “I killed him.” 

“It was self-defense.”

Atsushi swallowed thickly. “I didn’t mean to,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” He fought the urge to hide his face under the covers again. “He just--He--” Atsushi cut himself off.

Dazai didn’t speak for a minute like he was waiting for Atsushi to say something. 

“I saw the wounds, you know. I know you tried to do what I taught you. You tried to escape in the most bloodless way possible.”

I tried and failed . Atsushi thought, shuddering as the bloodied corpse appeared in his mind. He could see it… He doubted he could ever forget that image. 

And… suddenly, he felt alone again. Even with Dazai sitting by him and talking to him, he felt so lonely. It was a sudden memory, and it hit him hard, that feeling of Dazai ruffling his hair and putting his hands on his shoulders. Sure, Dazai’s touch had been strange and mechanical and Atsushi had flinched, but it’d still felt human enough. It still had made him feel less isolated.

Now, Dazai didn’t make any move to pull back the covers or make Atsushi meet his eyes or awkwardly try to comfort him. And somehow, the space Dazai was giving him hurt. 

“It doesn’t change the fact that someone died because of me.” 

Dazai sighed, the first indication that he was at all irritated. “Atsushi-kun, if he’d succeeded in dragging you back to the Port Mafia, you would be facing a fate worse than death. Execution would be a mercy.” He shifted, turning his body so he sat against the wall and could look at Atsushi more directly. “If that had happened, I doubt that I could break you out of there. In the very best case scenario, it would take a while.”

Atsushi turned his head to look at Dazai, his cheek still pressing against the bed. 

Tiredness was scrawled across Dazai’s face, dark circles running under his eyes, and a soft expression that Atsushi could tell was forced. He looked drained like a parasite had burrowed into his guts and was slowly sucking the life from him. With a stab of guilt, Atsushi realized that he was that parasite, that he was the thing that was slowly eating away at Dazai’s life. 

“You didn’t kill him out of any malicious intent,” Dazai continued after a minute. “It was for our survival.”

Atsushi knew that. He knew that. He knew it was supposed to alleviate the guilt and quiet his mind, but it didn’t. It didn’t change the fact that he’d killed someone or that he’d lost control. How many more would die if the tiger took over when he panicked? How many bodies would stack up because of him?

That aside, something else weighed him down. 

“Would Oda-san be angry? I let him down, didn’t I?” 

Dazai blinked, his posture going perfectly straight. 

“He--He refused to kill people,” Atsushi continued. “And--”

“No, Atsushi-kun, no,” Dazai interrupted, his tone hushed, but sharp.“He wouldn’t be mad at you, and you didn’t let him down. If anything, he would be furious with the Mafia and the guy who tried to haul you back.” Dazai pulled his legs in, bringing his knees to his chest. The pose made him look smaller than he actually was. “He’d wanted to leave it for a long time, you know. And we left because he told me to. He wouldn’t be angry that you did everything in your power to avoid going back.” Dazai sighed, pausing for a moment. “Our situation isn’t an easy one to navigate, and Odasaku would understand that.”

Atsushi didn’t say anything. 

Dazai let out a long exhale and ran a hand through his hair. “Try to sleep, okay? We’re leaving early in the morning, pretty much at the crack of dawn, and that’ll be harder on you if you’re drained.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to,” Atsushi murmured, turning onto his front again and resting his forehead on his arms. 

“I know,” Dazai said, his tone more understanding than Atsushi had ever heard. “Just try.”

Atsushi did try to sleep. He tried. But sleeping and trying to sleep were two different things. He knew within seconds of Dazai ending the conversation that he wouldn’t sleep that night. The mattress that was probably mediocre was a slab of stone under him. His head hurt from replaying that horrible moment over and over again in his head. And it made him sick to his stomach. 

Despite that, he kept his eyes closed, forced himself to breathe somewhat normally, and swallowed whatever cries that wanted to escape him. Every now and then, he glanced up to stare at the sliver of sky that was visible in the space between the drapes. The night dragged on, feeling like it took forever, but moved too fast. He watched the light crawl into the sky bit by bit. It was around that time when a hand shook him lightly. 

“Atsushi-kun,” Dazai said in a hushed tone. “We need to head out.”

Atsushi squinted because of the exhaustion and dim light. “I didn’t sleep,” he mumbled, feeling strangely guilty about it. He sounded petulant, even to his own ears. 

“I know,” he said, putting a hand on Atsushi’s head.

Atsushi’s muscles tensed at the touch. Despite the fact that he’d wanted some kind of physical contact earlier, he couldn’t keep from flinching. It was a response that was too deeply rooted in his brain. 

“Ah, sorry,” he said, withdrawing his hand like Atsushi had burned him.

“I’m sorry,” Atsushi said back, feeling mortification at his stupid involuntary reaction. He looked down, forcing himself up and shuffling off to get dressed. 

His limbs were heavy, his movements drunken and sluggish. Atsushi was drained. 

He wanted to collapse and just sleep there on the floor, but he knew that would be stupid. He’d caused enough trouble for Dazai already. He’d thrown off Dazai’s entire plan, after all.

/-/-/

Dazai had known that he’d been out of his depth for a while, but it was really beginning to crash down on him now. Atsushi had never been completely stable before, but now, he was reaching a new level of emotional instability. 

He glanced at Atsushi as a cab drove them further out of the city. The boy looked exhausted to say the very least. His eyes were bloodshot from crying and a lack of sleep, and every so often, he shuddered like he’d been staring at something gruesome. 

Now wouldn’t be a good time to tell him. Dazai thought. Really, he guessed that there would never be a good time to tell Atsushi that he’d considered letting him join the detective agency on his own. 

Of course, it seemed like a terrible idea now, but earlier, it’d felt like a possibility. He knew that Atsushi felt suffocated in their shared rooms and suites. He knew that Atsushi craved being outside like his body craved nutrients. And, Dazai knew that despite the fact that their relationship was improving, underneath it all, Atsushi was still scared of him. Being confined with the person who had hurt him was likely prolonging the healing process. 

So, it’d seemed reasonable to give him some space and time away from Dazai. Of course, Dazai had planned to check in with him on a regular basis and keep an eye on him, but it would still give Atsushi some room to work through his problems. 

He’d also hoped that separating would keep them hidden since he’d assumed that the Port Mafia would be hunting both of them and would have a harder time locating them if they weren’t together. That hadn’t worked out of course. 

And now it was all impossible. 

He couldn’t leave Atsushi alone. Not now. Not when he was in such a fragile state. Not when he could still be hunted. 

The boy was despondent, staring at his hands without much of an expression on his face. 

Dazai leaned closer. “You should try to get some sleep,” he murmured to Atsushi. After a moment of hesitation, he put his hand on Atsushi’s arm. 

No response. 

“I’ll be here.” Then in a lower voice, “The tiger won’t take over. No one will touch you.”

Atsushi’s eyes did turn to him. They were no longer watery, but they were dull. So painfully dull. Any fire that had been in his eyes before had been snuffed out. 

For a moment, Dazai thought that was the only reply he was going to get from him. But after a minute of stillness, Atsushi nodded before pulling his legs closer to his body and resting his head on his knees. 

He might have been pretending to sleep for a little while. His muscles were still tense, his breaths still shallower than they should have been, and he shifted around a lot, trying to get somewhat comfortable in the seat. 

Dazai looked out the window, being sure to glance at Atsushi every so often to be sure he was fine. He was alright. For the moment, he was just tired and still shaken. 

They’d been in the car for a few hours, and despite his efforts to stay alert, Dazai was beginning to feel his eyelids get heavy. He blinked a few times, trying to shake off the tiredness that set into his body. He’d managed to sleep more than Atsushi had that night, but it wasn’t a lot. Atsushi’s crying had kept him awake. 

He was yanked into alertness when something bumped against his shoulder. Dazai’s muscles tensed immediately. He turned his head to see what touched him, and he raised his eyebrows. 

Atsushi’s head rested against his shoulder. His eyes were closed, but not shut tightly. The muscles in his face had relaxed a bit, and his mouth was hanging slightly open. Any sort of tension in his body and expression had softened out now, leaving him looking more peaceful than dead inside. His breathing had evened out.

Dazai remained perfectly still. He didn’t want to risk shifting and making Atsushi jerk awake. He needed his sleep after all. So, Dazai remained motionless, only loosening his muscles after several minutes when he was sure it wouldn’t disturb his student. 

He looked out the window again, tiredly wondering if Atsushi had been at all awake when he’d laid his head on Dazai’s shoulder. He would guess no. He doubted Atsushi was aware of anything at all, which was a good thing for the moment. 

After glancing at his student again, Dazai sighed and returned to looking out the window. 

Chapter Text

Atsushi didn’t remember much of his first impressions of their apartment. He’d been groggy at best when Dazai had guided him in. He remembered the relative quiet of the place and the exhaustion he felt while climbing the steps to the door. He remembered looking down at his hands at one point and feeling his stomach churn when he noticed the dried blood under his fingernails. He’d felt a shallow indentation on his temple and cheek from resting against Dazai’s coat--something he was too tired at the time to feel embarrassed about. Those were the only solid feelings he could recall. The rest was hazy. 

Dazai had steered him in, hands on Atsushi’s shoulders, pushing him further through the rooms before sitting him down and asking him if he wanted anything to eat. Atsushi had blinked at him, slowly tried to process what Dazai had asked, and shook his head. Truth be told, he had been hungry, but he didn’t want to eat. He was too tired for that. He’d pulled his knees under his chin, his heels braced against the edge of the chair. 

His mentor had allowed Atsushi to remain like that for a while as he’d brewed some of the complimentary tea they’d collected over months of going from inn to inn. He’d set a cup in front of Atsushi despite the fact that he had said he didn’t want anything. 

Both had said nothing, sitting in strained silence until Dazai had decided to point Atsushi in the direction of a bedroom with a tired “Get some rest.” 

Then a week had passed, hours and days blurred together, the passage of time losing its meaning as Atsushi’s days and nights were muddied by memories and nightmares and headaches. 

 For the first week or so, it was back to being bullied into eating and taking doses of sleeping aids and antihistamines in his food to help him sleep at night.

“You know we can’t keep doing this,” Dazai said as he stirred a crushed up pill into Atsushi's soup.

“Doing what?” Atsushi asked though he knew exactly what Dazai was talking about. 

Dazai sighed, pushing the bowl in front of Atsushi, the pill powder dissolved to nothing by the broth. “Me putting sedatives in your food, and you taking it.”

Atsushi said nothing, dragging a spoon through the thin, golden brown liquid in the bowl. 

“It’s been frequent, Atsushi-kun.” He tapped his blunt fingernails against the table, which produced a sound that set the tiger--and Atsushi by extension-- on edge.

“Does it really matter?” Atsushi muttered sullenly, his voice scratchy from disuse. “The thing inside me heals everything.”

Dazai made a displeased sound, something between a groan and a sigh. “As far as we know, Atsushi-kun, but at some point, it’ll catch up to you, and then we’ll have several other fires to put out.”

Atsushi looked down at his food, opting not to answer at all. 

His mentor gave another sigh before standing up, patting Atsushi’s shoulder, and leaving the room. 

It took Atsushi a moment to let his muscles relax as he heard Dazai’s footsteps get further away, which left him in a haze of confusion that he knew he wouldn’t be able to shake off for at least an hour. He wasn’t really scared of Dazai anymore… Or maybe he was, to some extent. 

He didn’t know. 

He didn’t want to think about it too much, not now at least. His feelings toward Dazai were a mess of tangled cords and threads and were too exhausting to sort out. 

So, Atsushi simply pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind and turned his attention to his dinner. 

/-/-/

Atsushi didn’t know what time it was when he got up. He knew it was late though, and he’d heard Dazai retire to his room a little more than an hour ago. Hopefully, he’d be asleep by now. 

Atsushi leaned against the wall, taking a moment to adjust to being upright. His blood and bones felt leaden, and his head felt as light as air. Sedatives did that to him. According to Dazai, the dosage would have been enough to put a normal person of his height and weight in a coma. Thanks to the tiger, sedatives only made him groggy, and slightly nauseous on bad days, but otherwise, it took a lot to have much of an effect. 

He stifled a groan and grabbed his pillow before creeping out of his room.

Dazai must have been asleep; Atsushi could hear his mentor’s even, deep breaths on the other side of the door if he focused hard enough. 

Good. 

The door moaned slightly when he opened it, but otherwise, it was quiet, and Dazai didn’t stir. He slipped into the room, closing the door behind him as silently as he could. Then, he crept into a corner and laid down. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d done this. He had actually started sneaking into Dazai’s room pretty soon after they’d started living in the apartment. 

At first, he didn’t know why he’d felt at all compelled to rest in Dazai’s room, and initially, he’d chalked it up to simply being used to sharing a room with Dazai. It had seemed reasonable enough. 

Then, there was a full moon. For hours, he’d sat up in his bed, pressed tightly against the corner, peering at the beams of moonlight his curtains hadn’t been able to block. And he’d sensed the tiger waiting, crouching in the corners of his mind, waiting for a moment of weakness from Atsushi, waiting for the perfect time to strike. He had been tired, drowsy, and drained from the drugs, becoming easier prey for the tiger minute by minute. Every possible outcome of a transformation had run through his head, every possible mangled corpse, bloodied body, and torn blood vessel. It had made him feel ill. 

He didn’t remember much else of that night, but when he’d woken up, early rays of sunlight were just barely touching the earth, and he was on Dazai’s floor. Dazai had been asleep and Atsushi’s hands had been clean. He had almost wept with relief right there, but Atsushi had managed to keep his composure until he’d returned to his own room. 

So, now, Atsushi found himself with a strange habit. In the long run, he supposed it didn’t really matter as long as Dazai was able to nullify his ability before it could cause any damage. He stared at the ceiling for a few minutes before closing his eyes and rolling onto his side to sleep. 

I’ll need to wake up before Dazai. He thought, trying to tell himself to sleep for only a few hours so he could sneak out without Dazai’s notice.

Dazai didn’t know anything about Atsushi sneaking into his room to sleep, and if Atsushi could help it, he never would. 

/-/-/

Of course, Dazai knew. 

Maybe Atsushi thought Dazai was a heavy sleeper. Or maybe the boy just didn’t realize just how loud he was when he slept. Either way, Dazai had known about Atsushi creeping into his room and sleeping on his floor since the first night. 

Atsushi was noisy after all. He thrashed and muttered and sometimes cried in his sleep. It was hard not to notice.

However, Dazai left it alone. He never broached the topic in conversation with Atsushi. He could think of a million ways to bring it up, and still, he never mentioned it. He could predict Atsushi’s responses to the inquiry, and none of them seemed easy to deal with. It could just complicate matters.

In any case, it didn't seem worth it. There was no actual harm in it.

Dazai knew that he had caused this. While hopping from inn to inn, he hadn’t been all that attentive to Atsushi’s needs. Sure, he’d managed to keep him clothed and fed, but mentally, he had deprived Atsushi of something. Whether it was lack of contact with anyone aside from him, fresh air, or stability, he wasn’t sure. But the deprivation had taken its toll. 

Between Dazai and no one else, the fact that he’d hardly given a second thought to Atsushi’s psychological state was somewhat… embarrassing. So much of his job as an executive was knowing people’s minds, and whenever he had assisted with interrogation, his whole strategy was just to pull the prisoner apart with words and thoughts and manipulation until they ticked. And yet, he had barely considered what Atsushi had needed. Hence why they were in an apartment rather than continuing the pattern of moving from hotel to hotel. 

That was something at least. They had a place to stay for more than a week, and Dazai expected that was some improvement, and despite the slow progress, Atsushi was improving. After about a week, he began eating normally. After a few weeks, he started talking more. 

The bigger challenge would be getting him to leave the apartment. Dazai had suggested he step out for some fresh air every so often, and every time, Atsushi looked at him with fear etched into his face as if going on the other side of the wall was a death sentence. 

For weeks, he was gentle about it. He let Atsushi dodge his suggestions and questions. And for that time, he didn’t push too hard. 

He had to draw the line somewhere. 

/-/-/

“What is this?” Atsushi asked.

“It’s money, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai said. “I know you didn’t see a lot of it growing up, but you really should know what it is and how it works.” 

Atsushi threw an annoyed expression at Dazai, which was a face that Dazai was seeing more of lately. “I know what money is. Why did you throw it at me?”

“It’s yours.”

Atsushi blinked once, twice, three times before he said anything. “Why are you giving me money?” 

“It’s yours,” Dazai repeated. “That’s everything you earned while we were in the Port Mafia.” 

“What?” He stared at Dazai in utter shock. “Y-You mean I was getting paid that whole time?!”

“Yeah,” Dazai said with some laughter in his voice.

“I thought…” Atsushi trailed off, his brows furrowing. “They just-- I never got paid while we were there. I just thought they didn’t...”

“What? That they didn’t pay anyone? No, the Mafia may be a criminal organization, but they are a business and have a payroll.”

Atsushi didn’t say anything for a minute and glanced down at the sum of all his paychecks. 

 “And you were actually getting a lot,” Dazai added. “Between being my apprentice, the assignments you went on, and how many of your organs got sold on the black market--You got a cut from every sale-- you were almost making as much as I was.”

Atsushi paled.

Ah, Dazai thought. I said too much. 

“I don’t--” Atsushi began. “I--”

“Money is money, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai said, knowing exactly what Atsushi was thinking. “If you think too hard about where it came from, you’ll end up broke.” Atsushi didn’t look convinced. “We’ll make money honestly later.”

“But--” Atsushi started, but cut himself off. “I…” He sighed like he couldn’t think of a decent argument. 

Then, he froze. “Wait, why are you giving me this money now?” When Dazai didn’t respond immediately, he kept going. “I’m not buying anything… I can’t right now.”

Dazai gave Atsushi a thin-lipped smile. “Well,” he said, stretching out the word. “Here’s the thing,” he began.

Atsushi tensed, probably sensing he wouldn’t like what Dazai was about to say. 

“You’re going to take some of your money and buy something.” He said it the same way he used to give orders. 

“No,” Atsushi said, his whole body rigid. 

“It’s more about getting to you to set foot outside really, but you don’t really own anything, so we’re multitasking.”

“No,” Atsushi said more urgently, shaking his head. 

“It’ll be fi--”

“I can’t!” He said, jumping up, sending bank notes fluttering to the ground. “The tiger will take control! I can’t do that again!” He half shrieked the words, tangling his fingers in his hair and hunching over like he wanted to just disappear into nothing. “Someone will die.”  

“Just take a minute, and--”

“NO!” 

Dazai sighed forcefully, his patience wearing thin. He tried one more time to speak rationally. 

“No! I’m not going out there! You can’t make me!”

Dazai clicked his tongue, bored of this outburst. He grabbed a handful of bills off the floor, and shoved them into his pockets before catching Atsushi’s arm as the boy tried to escape. 

“Let me go!” Atsushi yelled, struggling against Dazai’s grip. 

If they had been back in the Mafia, Dazai would have wrenched Atsushi’s arm from its socket to crush his belligerence, but Dazai avoided being too harsh. Atsushi wouldn’t likely have bruises by the end of this. 

Atsushi went from fighting to pleading to crying and back again all within the thirty seconds it took to reach the door. 

“Please,” he begged. “Dazai-san, please don’t make me! I--”Atsushi’s knees gave out on him and he crumpled on the floor, one of his arms still awkwardly staying raised in Dazai’s hold. “I can’t control it,” he murmured like he was talking to himself instead of Dazai. “It’ll hurt people… I’ll kill someone. I can’t-- I can’t--”

Dazai released his arm, knelt down to Atsushi’s level, and put his hands on either side of Atsushi’s face, effectively silencing him. 

“You really think isolating yourself is your best option? That these walls will actually do something to stop you assuming you do go berserk? I’ve seen the tiger tear through brick walls with one strike. These walls wouldn’t hold you for very long.”

Atsushi’s breaths were shallow. He didn’t respond, his eyes looking everywhere but Dazai’s face. Dazai tightened his grip slightly, making Atsushi tense and look into his eyes. 

“The only way to effectively stop it is either facing it and learning some control or locking yourself in yet another prison, you realize that, right? Is that what you really want, Atsushi-kun? Will I need to arrange that for you?”

Atsushi shook his head frantically, more tears welling up in his eyes. He weakly tried to squirm away from Dazai’s touch. Dazai knew he must have been scaring Atsushi. At some point, his voice had gone cold. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if he’d gone a step too far by more or less threatening Atsushi with incarceration again. 

Dazai sighed and let go of him. “Get your shoes on.”

When Atsushi didn’t move, Dazai stood up, so he towered over Atsushi’s small, crumpled frame. “Now,” he added, “Or we do this daily instead of a few times a week.”

Atsushi took a sharp breath in, a tremor running through his body. He looked up at Dazai pleadingly. “You--you wouldn’t,” he squeaked. 

Dazai raised his eyebrows. “You want to bet?”

It took a moment, but Atsushi took a deep breath and slowly stood and shoved his feet into his shoes. 

“Good,” Dazai said, his tone softening a little. Atsushi’s muscles were still as tight as a bowstring, but he was up, which was the important thing. “It’ll be fine,” he mumbled, trying to shift his tone.

Atsushi looked like he’d rather hide in a corner than go outside. He flinched back when Dazai cracked open the door, shying away from the shaft of light that came through as though the tiger would awaken in the sun. 

“Let’s go,” Dazai said, trying to sound upbeat. 

Atsushi didn’t budge; he pressed himself against the wall. 

“Atsushi-kun, now,” he ordered, his voice turning steely. 

He was bound to be confusing Atsushi at this point, switching between the tone he’d used in the mafia and a gentler tone. Atsushi’s eyes were glassy from the tears he’d shed earlier. 

Dazai was losing patience. Both with his apprentice and himself. 

Why was it so hard to talk to the boy these days? If he spoke gently to him, Atsushi didn’t do what needed to be done. If he spoke sharply to him, Atsushi looked at him with fear in his eyes. Dazai had been the demon prodigy , a master manipulator, he used to be able to talk people into cutting off their own fingers. So, why couldn’t he just convince a teenaged boy to leave the apartment?!

He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose as pain rolled through his skull. Then, he glanced up and lashed out. Dazai grabbed Atsushi by the collar of his shirt, giving him no time to protest before dragging him through the door. He gave him a rough shove so he fell on the porch, and Dazai could momentarily turn his back on him to lock the door. 

Atsushi looked at him with the same betrayed look he’d had after he’d been dissected for the first time. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” he said with a sigh, pocketing the key. “This is for your own good, and I know you know that.” He reached down to pull Atsushi up, but his apprentice vehemently slapped his hand away and got to his feet. It was a bold move that caught him off guard for a moment. Atsushi had only ever shown so much aggression towards Dazai all the time they’d know each other. 

Then, some of the fierce lines on Atsushi’s face smoothed out, any anger in his expression dissipating. Once again, he had the eyes of a cornered animal, and he was suddenly too frightened to be angry. His breaths became shallower. 

“Hey,” Dazai said softly, putting a hand on Atsushi’s shoulder. He tried to recall how Odasaku had comforted children and tried to figure out how to imitate him. He wasn’t sure how. Maybe being comforting was just a character trait that he didn’t possess. Dazai tried anyway. “It’s okay. I’m right here. You won’t turn. I’ll be there if you need me.”

Atsushi laced up his fingers and pressed his forehead against his hands like he was praying. He took a few deep breaths, tremors ran through his fingers. “Right,” he whispered. Another deep, shuddering breath. “Right.” 

Dazai hesitated for a moment. Was now the time to pull Atsushi along or would that be too forceful? On the other hand, would he even move if Dazai didn’t urge him forward? 

Before Dazai could say anything, Atsushi lowered his hands and raised his head. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Let’s go.” His voice broke a little on the last syllable, and his eyes were shiny like he was seconds away from bursting into tears. His hands still trembled and his muscles were still taut, but he set his jaw determinedly. 

Dazai blinked, then grinned. “Good,” he said, ruffling Atsushi’s hair, some feeling similar to pride rising inside of him. 

“Why are you smiling?” Atsushi asked, his voice slightly stronger than it had been a minute ago. 

“I’m just glad we’re making some progress.”

/-/-/

Atsushi wanted to break down crying for the first several minutes of being outside. Fear had grabbed at his throat during his conversation with Dazai earlier, and it was being maddeningly slow about releasing its grip. He kept going over Dazai’s words in his head again and again.

“The only way to effectively stop it is either facing it and learning some control or locking yourself in yet another prison, you realize that, right? Is that what you really want, Atsushi-kun? Will I need to arrange that for you?”

Both options made him painfully lightheaded. He couldn’t go back to that cage in the orphanage cellar. And he couldn’t carry the weight of another victim; his soul felt impossibly heavy as it was. Another victim, guilty or innocent, would likely break him. 

They kept passing by people… People who he could accidentally kill… Lives he could end. 

It made him feel sick to his stomach thinking about it. 

However, he had to admit that he’d missed the taste of fresh air. It was as if his lungs accepted the outdoor air more easily than the stale air he’d been breathing for the last several weeks. At some point during his self-imposed confinement, he’d felt like he’d been inhaling sandpaper with every breath. 

And he’d missed seeing the sky. 

He felt conflicted with it all, being so scared that he’d lose control again and being so relieved to see the sun again. 

Dazai’s eyes bored into him, and he avoided looking up since he knew the sort of knowing smirk Dazai was liking giving him. Atsushi was in no mood to see such a smug look on Dazai’s face right now.

He knew Dazai was right; the man seemed to be right about most things, which was more or less the reason he’d pulled himself together and willingly walked with Dazai instead of being dragged around. It’d been hard, and he wasn’t sure how long he could keep it up. 

His heart pounded harder and harder with every person they passed. His lungs hurt with the effort it took to keep his breathing even. 

No... He thought, his pulse speeding up. That weak confidence he’d managed to build up, crumbled to nothing. This is a bad idea. I’m not ready for this. Images of blood and mutilated bodies flashed in his mind. Someone will die! I’ll kill someone again! How does Dazai-san not see that?! 

“Here we are,” Dazai said as Atsushi opened his mouth to speak. 

“Dazai-san, I can’t--” 

“ Yes , you can.” His voice wasn’t harsh, but it left no room for argument. “You won’t lose control. And even if you did, I’d be right here.” He put a hand on Atsushi’s shoulder, the tips of his fingers just brushing Atsushi’s neck--skin to skin-- as if to remind him about how his ability worked. “I promise. It will be fine. You trust me, don’t you?”

Something dark crossed Dazai’s face when Atsushi hesitated. 

“I trust you,” Atsushi said after a minute. 

“Then stop panicking.”

“But that’s easier said than done,” Atsushi hissed. 

Dazai rolled his eyes. “You’ll be fine.” He braced his hand against the back of Atsushi’s neck and guided him toward a shop. 

Atsushi shuddered, remembering the last time Dazai had grabbed his neck like that, but he didn’t resist even though every one of his cells screamed at him to run. 

“Why exactly do you want me to buy something?” Atsushi asked, trying to settle his nerves down by talking. 

Dazai smiled even though he probably felt Atsushi’s trembling under his hand. “Glad you asked.” He pushed a little harder to urge Atsushi forward. “You don’t really own anything. And I believe it’s about time to start exploring some interests. Having something to your name might give you some feeling of control, which you probably need right now.” 

“You just want me to buy something? That’s it?”

Dazai shrugged. “Pretty much. But it can’t be food, and I want you to get something you actually like.”

Atsushi nodded. It sounds easy enough... He thought. All I have to do is go in, get something, and get out. He knew that would all suddenly be harder the second he entered. Then, he’d have to pass by people, pick out an item, check out, and likely engage in small talk with the cashier. And each of those steps consisted of several smaller steps. 

He closed his eyes for a moment and let out a breath. 

“I’ll be hovering by you the whole time if it helps,” Dazai reminded. 

Atsushi didn’t feel like it actually helped, but it was something. 

“Let’s go,” Dazai prompted, dragging Atsushi with him again. 

“I thought you said I needed some kind of control in all of this. Isn’t forcing me to do this somewhat--I don’t know-- counterproductive?!”

Dazai didn’t even slow down. “Fair point, but time is also a factor. When do you think you’d actually leave the apartment if this was left to you?” 

Atsushi didn’t reply for a minute. “Eventually,” he lied, his voice involuntarily getting higher

“You’re still an awful liar, Atsushi-kun.”

“I know,” Atsushi mumbled. 

“It’ll be okay,” Dazai said for what felt like the millionth time that day. His hand moved up, pushing through Atsushi’s hair before he let his hand fall to his side. “You have more control than you think.”

Atsushi took a breath and held it. It took a minute for the effect of Dazai’s ability to wear off. 

The tiger was there. Not attacking, not angry, just waiting… It set Atsushi on edge, but everything involving the tiger set Atsushi on edge, so he couldn’t say for sure if there was any danger. Still, it made his muscles tense and his breaths shallower. 

It’ll be fine… He told himself. Dazai-san is right about everything. He’ll stop me if anything happens. Dazai had shut down his power before. He could do it again. The transformation took time, and Dazai was fast. 

All reasoning said it’d be safe, that Dazai would stop him before he could cause any irreparable damage. The logic didn’t help as much as he’d like, but it was enough. 

It was all he could do to keep walking. Atsushi’s brain was buzzing like there was a swarm of angry bees in his skull. 

Focus. He thought. Calm down… Just calm down. It’s fine. The tiger was calm. Between the time of day and the lack of any obvious danger, it was probably safe. Still though, he couldn’t get his muscles to relax. He swallowed hard and kept moving. 

He glanced over his shoulder; Dazai followed close behind him. His presence was strangely comforting, something he wouldn’t have imagined several months ago. 

“Is there something specific I should get?” Atsushi questioned in a hushed tone. 

“I already told you,” Dazai replied. “Something you want, but not food.”

“There isn’t really anything I want though,” he muttered. 

Dazai groaned behind him, a sound that made his stomach flip before he remembered when they were. 

“Then something you like .” He sighed. “I don’t necessarily care what you get. Just--” He paused. “Get something.”

“Umm…” He squirmed. “O-Okay…”

He was still tense and moving was difficult, but if he focused on breathing, he was able to clear his head a little. So, he wandered aimlessly, throwing anxious glances at Dazai every few minutes to make sure he was still there. 

Pressure built up in his head with every person they passed. They’d barely been in the store ten minutes and Atsushi was so completely exhausted. 

“Can we go?” He asked. 

“Did you buy something yet?” Dazai replied pointedly. 

Atsushi raised his arms and held his hands open, partially in exasperation and partially as if to show that he didn’t have anything. 

“Then, no,” Dazai said. 

Atsushi groaned and glared up at Dazai. “But, I don’t actually need anything.”

“This isn’t about needing anything. We’ve been over this.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Several times,” he added.

Dazai’s extra little quip made something akin to guilt or embarrassment slither around in his stomach. Then, that feeling dissolved and the urge to leave replaced it. 

“Fine,” Atsushi muttered. “This. I want this,” he said as he grabbed something off a shelf without even looking. He glanced at the thing he was holding.

Dazai clicked his tongue. “You want an action figure of a TV character?” 

“Yes.” He tried to sound sure, but it came out more as a question. 

“Seeing as how we don’t have a TV, I can’t say I believe you.”

Atsushi shelved the action figure with more force than intended. It slammed against the shelf, drawing a few stares. 

“That was a bit melodramatic,” Dazai commented. 

Atsushi exhaled hard and glared. 

Dazai smiled in a way that would seem good natured to someone who didn’t spend much time with him. “You know, you’ve had a bit of an attitude for the past few weeks.” 

The comment made Atsushi’s muscles tense. 

Dazai shrugged. “Not a big deal. Just stating an observation.”

“Okay,” Atsushi muttered, not knowing what else to say. He looked down as he wrung his hands before looking around for something that would catch his eye.

What was he even supposed to look for? 

“Uh…” He glanced at Dazai.  

Dazai shrugged. 

Atsushi sighed, clenching his teeth, before turning and walking in a new direction. He wandered for a while, very aware of Dazai’s presence behind him. It managed to be both smothering and comforting, but that didn’t really surprise Atsushi. That was a fairly familiar feeling by now. 

He didn’t bother trying to pretend to like anything he didn’t care about. Dazai would know, and Dazai wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily. 

Atsushi paused, glancing at a selection of coffee mugs. He took some interest in them, drawn in by some of the colorful designs and patterns.

Overall, a mug seemed like a good enough thing to pick. It was small enough and he could claim to like one of them without it being a lie. 

Atsushi picked up a mug that had a chameleon painted on the side. Its tail curled beneath the branch it was standing on, and its painted eyes staring off in different directions. “Changes Color!” A sticker beside the painted chameleon advertised.  

He liked chameleons, or at least he had. He hadn’t given much thought to chameleons lately, but it wasn’t as though he’d thought much about things he liked lately. But, yes. He did like chameleons. 

“I want this,” Atsushi decided, trying to add some confidence to his voice so Dazai wouldn’t question him again. 

“Really?” 

“Yes.” 

“You like chameleons?”

“Yeah,” he replied, his tone growing more clipped. “Why do you ask?” 

Dazai shrugged. “You’ve just never mentioned it.”

“When do we ever talk about our interests like normal people?” 

He chuckled. “Yeah, you're not wrong there.”

Atsushi glanced down at the mug in his hands. “So, umm… I can buy this?”

Dazai shrugged and handed him some money. 

/-/-/

“So,” Dazai said on the way back to the apartment. “Why chameleons?”

Atsushi glanced at the plastic bag in his hand. He didn’t speak for a moment. His shoulders and back were sore from being tense for so long. Then he shrugged. “I liked them when I was little. I think I just liked how they changed color.”

“Huh,” Dazai replied. 

“Were you expecting a different answer?”

Dazai shrugged. “I thought it had something to do with your life in the orphanage.”

That made Atsushi stop walking for a moment. “What? How?” 

“Like,” Dazai paused before shrugging. “You were always singled out, so as a child you liked chameleons since they can blend into their surroundings, and you really wished you could do the same thing.”

Atsushi blinked. “Well,” he said, unsure of how exactly to respond to that. “That’s a dark backstory for something as simple as my favorite animal.”

Dazai shrugged again. “In my experience, some of the simplest things have the darkest backstories.”

Chapter Text

It happened gradually. So much so that Atsushi didn’t even notice until the day Dazai asked him to run to the store and buy some more coffee. He’d made it to the grocery store before realizing that he had--for the first time in what felt like years--gone out alone. The realization made his stomach twist sharply for a moment, but he had made it there, so he just bought the coffee and left as quickly as he could. 

When he made it back to the apartment, Dazai’s face was impossibly smug. A small part of Atsushi wanted to throw the container of coffee at that smirk. Instead, he dropped the grocery bag into Dazai’s lap.

“I got your coffee,” he said flatly. Then, “Something bad could have happened, you know.”

“But nothing did,” Dazai pointed out.

Atsushi sighed heavily, crossing his arms. “Something could have,” he mumbled under his breath before going to his room and shutting the door with more force than needed. His heartbeat pulsed in his skull, and the urge to punch a hole in the wall had never been stronger. He was in no mood to listen to Dazai tell him he was being overdramatic. 

He wasn’t being overdramatic. 

He was being careful.

Could Dazai not understand that other people weren’t as smart or confident or daring as he was? 

Atsushi had been lucky this time. He’d been lucky that the tiger hadn’t decided to take over. He’d been lucky, and that was all. 

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to push the irritation from his head. Annoyance was never a pleasant emotion, and he didn’t want it to let something ugly take root. So, he sat down and grabbed a book from the growing pile beside his bed. 

His blood cooled down a bit as he skimmed the pages. After turning to the last page and closing the book, he took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. He was still less than pleased with Dazai sending him off to the grocery store, and he was even less pleased with himself for running the errand without realizing what he was doing until it was too late. 

But he could get past that. 

His stomach growled and he remembered that he hadn’t eaten since early in the morning. The sun was almost out of sight now.

“You’re not still upset with me, are you?” Dazai said when Atsushi opened the door and came into the kitchen. 

Atsushi shrugged. “A little.” He padded past Dazai to rummage through the fridge. 

Dazai clicked his tongue. “It’s not as though I deceived you, Atsushi-kun. I asked you to run an errand, and you did it.”

“What would you have done if I’d lost control?” 

“You weren’t going to lose control. I know you might find this hard to believe, but your control over your ability has improved immensely in the time we’ve known each other.” He paused, pointing to the open refrigerator, “Can you hand me the leftovers?” 

Atsushi complied.

“Thank you,” Dazai said as he took the container from Atsushi’s hand. Then, “You haven’t shifted since we moved in, and you only shifted once when we were staying in motels. Several full moons, and no white tiger.” 

Atsushi opened his mouth to argue. 

“Unless your life is in danger, I doubt you’ll transform,” Dazai remarked before Atsushi could say anything. 

“But--”

“And how do you expect to function independently if you refuse to go out alone? I can’t be there all the time; it’s not practical.” 

This conversation made Atsushi’s head hurt. He knew all of that already. He knew he couldn’t cling to Dazai forever or expect to stay within his reach all the time. But that knowledge didn’t change the ice he felt in his veins when he thought about losing control again. 

“I know,” he muttered after a moment of silence. 

Dazai sighed. “Fear is debilitating, I understand that, but this is still something we’ll have to work on.”

“Okay,” Atsushi said, shutting the refrigerator door, his appetite gone. 

Dazai seemed to study him for a moment. “Well done today though.”

Atsushi paused. “Thanks,” he said after struggling with what to say for a minute. 

/-/-/

Atsushi’s room--as well as the rest of the apartment-- grew cluttered over time. He still tried to stay close to Dazai when going out in public, though less so now than a few months ago. 

It all built up after a while, all the little trinkets he decided to buy, things he liked the feel or look of. A color changing key chain, a potted aloe plant, a candle that smelled like cinnamon, a lighter for the candle, a bookmark with a chameleon printed on it. Small things like that. 

And, of course, books. 

He brought home a sizable stack of books every time he went to a bookstore, which was often.

The books varied from novels to short stories to textbooks.

“Why did you get a biology textbook?” Dazai had asked when he glanced over Atsushi’s purchase. Then, “And a literature textbook? And a health textbook?” 

Atsushi had shrugged. “I was curious about it.” 

In truth, he’d decided to get the textbooks because he had overheard some kids his age preparing for an exam in a nearby cafe and had been somewhat dismayed to realize that he had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. 

It had made him wonder if he was behind in his education. It wasn’t unlikely, he supposed. He’d been thrown from the orphanage when he was fourteen. He’d still had schooling to complete, and it wasn’t as though the orphanage had given him a quality education to begin with. 

He supposed, while not ideal, he could try to teach himself. Asking Dazai was an option, but he wasn’t sure he really wanted that. It was somewhat unreasonable since they were in a massively different situation now, but the last time Dazai had taught him hadn’t been pleasant. 

So, he bought a few notebooks and practice test books, resolved to study the material. 

It took some time, but he managed to work out a study schedule that didn’t overwhelm him, but was productive. After a few weeks, he decided that he liked it. Admittedly, biology wasn’t his favorite topic, but it felt normal . 

It was normal, right?

Normal teenagers had a few classes they didn't like. 

Of course, his situation wasn’t normal. He knew that, but somehow he couldn’t help sinking into the illusion. He liked living in his imagined reality, pretending he wasn’t hiding from the Port Mafia, telling himself he wasn’t something abnormal. It was a temporary, shallow-as-skin comfort. 

/-/-/

Atsushi laid sprawled across the floor, scribbling terms and definitions on index cards. It was a slow process, but it was calming. 

“I’m back,” Dazai’s voice called from the front door. “Can you help me with some of these groceries?”

Atsushi exhaled and abandoned his cards to help carry some groceries. When he got a glimpse outside, he was surprised to see how dark it was. He must have lost track of time. 

Dazai struggled to hold the several bags he was carrying, which made Atsushi wonder how he’d managed to carry everything over from the store. 

“I would have come with you if you’d asked,” he muttered, taking one of Dazai’s handfuls of plastic bags. “What did you buy?” he asked as he hefted his load; it was heavier than usual. 

Dazai didn’t answer any of his questions, instead, he just flexed the fingers of his free hand and said, “Ah, so glad for the help. That bag was cutting off circulation to my fingers.”

He let the matter drop in favor of carrying the strangely heavy bags to the kitchen. 

It was weird that Dazai didn’t bring him along to the store. Typically, Dazai never missed an opportunity to try to reintegrate Atsushi into normal society. Most of the time, Dazai half dragged him along on any errand, even if he could do it himself. 

“Why did you go without me?” he asked again when they started to put away the food. 

“I didn’t want to interrupt your studying.”

Then, he pulled out a bottle of liquor. 

Atsushi raised his eyebrows.

“What?” 

Atsushi shifted his weight from one foot to another. “Uhh--I don’t remember you bringing back alcohol before now.” He toyed with the hem of his shirt, not knowing what else to say. 

“Right, well,” Dazai began, pushing a hand through his hair. “Today is a bit of an exception to the norm.”

Dazai’s mouth turned downward, and his eyes looked far away. 

“It’s been a year,” he said quietly. 

“A year since wha--” Atsushi began, stopping himself when all the pieces clicked together. “Oh,” he murmured before swallowing the knot that had formed in his throat. 

“Yeah, since Odasaku died.”

They stood in silence for a few seconds. 

“So,” Dazai said, his voice returning to his normal tone and volume. It was forced. “I thought we could have a drink tonight since he and I used to drink together.”

“Umm…” Atsushi laced and unlaced his fingers. “I-I’m underage,” he murmured. 

Dazai nodded. “I know. You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to.” He shrugged. “You can do whatever you want,” he remarked, his tone neutral.

He grabbed one of the few glasses they had, opened the bottle, and filled the glass a quarter full. Atsushi assumed he would just drink it, but he didn’t. Dazai then rummaged through the grocery bags before finding a small cluster of flowers that he must have picked on the way back, and when Atsushi looked closer, he noticed that Dazai had bits of burrs and thorns sticking to his bandages. One by one, he carefully set the flowers in the glass so they leaned delicately on the rim. He gave Atsushi a dry smile before gathering up the makeshift flower vase, the bottle, and his own glass and leaving the room. 

The kitchen was silent, and Atsushi glanced around, not knowing what to do. Dazai wasn’t pressuring him to drink, and he couldn’t say he actually wanted to drink. And yet, the idea of Dazai drinking alone and mourning his friend alone didn’t sit well with him. 

He sighed to himself before grabbing his chameleon mug and following Dazai. 

Dazai’s eyes widened a fraction when Atsushi sat down across from him, and a shadow of a smile played across his face. 

He slid his mug toward Dazai to fill, the back of his hand barely brushing the glass with the flowers in the middle of the table. “Don’t give me enough to get me drunk,” he said.

Dazai chuckled, pouring what seemed like barely a drop into the mug. “Alright,” Dazai said, sliding the mug back to Atsushi. 

Then, he filled his own glass more than halfway full with whiskey, and clinked it against the glass that sat between them. “To the stray dogs,” he whispered. 

/-/-/

Atsushi learned pretty quickly that he didn’t like whiskey. He almost choked when he drank for the first time. Just the smell of it made his eyes water, and he involuntarily made a face every time he swallowed--something Dazai seemed to find funny. 

“I told you you didn’t have to drink with me if you didn’t want to,” he said when Atsushi choked down another sip. 

Atsushi shrugged. I didn’t want to let you drink and mourn alone. He thought. He didn’t say it though, he was fairly sure Dazai would laugh or get annoyed at him for thinking Dazai might need him. He didn’t want either. 

It was stupid of him to think Dazai needed his help at all. Maybe he just wanted to feel like he was helping, and whether or not he was actually helpful was irrelevant. It was selfish of him, he knew, but still… Something in Dazai’s eyes had brought him back to that cramped motel room the night they had left the Port Mafia-- the night he had seen Dazai cry. 

He glanced down at his mug, the inside had been stained dark from all the coffee and tea he drank. A fair amount of liquor still sat in the mug. He steeled himself and sipped it down. 

“Hard to believe it’s been a year,” Dazai said, filling his glass again before downing it in one gulp. He poured himself another glass once again. “I wanted to do something a little more elaborate in his memory, but that’s not really an option right now. Next year, we’ll visit his grave.”

“Okay,” Atsushi murmured. He said nothing for a moment, looking down at his mug. “How were you friends with him? You were-- uh...” he cut himself off.

“I was cruel and cold, and he was the best person either of us had ever known; how could we be friends? Is that what you were going to say?” Dazai asked without a trace of annoyance or anger. 

“Well,” Atsushi began, struggling to find a better way to phrase it. He couldn’t think of any other way. “Yeah, actually…”

Dazai chuckled. “It’s fine. I’m well aware of the kind of person I am.” He shrugged. “I thought he was interesting. He put up with me. That’s how it started at least.” Dazai furrowed his brow. “I don’t know. I cared about him; he cared about me. That’s more than I can say for most of my relationships.”

Dazai had a pensive look on his face, and with a shock, Atsushi realized that Dazai didn’t actually know why or how he and Oda had been friends. He was silent, like he had to think about it. Then, he took another sip of his liquor. 

They drank in silence, Atsushi taking little sips of his drink, Dazai downing glass after glass. 

His eyes started losing some focus before too long, and Atsushi wasn’t entirely sure if it was because of the liquor or if Dazai was mentally far away. 

It took a while, but Atsushi began to feel strangely heavy and tired. Admittedly, it wasn’t a bad feeling, but he wasn’t sure he liked it. It was a little too similar to the feeling of the drugs that had been used on him when his organs were harvested, a little too similar for his comfort.

He put his mug down, keeping his hands wrapped around it.

“You know what he told me before he died?” 

The question took Atsushi by surprise; they’d been almost silent for over fifteen minutes. 

“He told me--He told me that the void I’ve always felt won’t disappear. That no matter what I do, nothing beyond what I expect will appear. And my reason for living--Well, I’ll never find it. That was the whole reason I joined the Port Mafia--because maybe among all the bloodshed and battles, I might find a reason to live.”

Atsushi stiffened, his grip around his mug tightening slightly. He swallowed. What exactly was he supposed to say to that? It didn’t sound like something Oda would have said, but with a dull ache in his chest, Atsushi realized that he hadn’t really known Oda well enough to be the judge of that.

“Deep down,” Dazai continued after Atsushi said nothing. “I think I’ve always known that, but I tried to pretend it wasn’t true.” He took a drink again. “Then, he said to be on the side that saves people. So, that’s what we’re doing.”

“Yeah,” Atsushi said quietly. 

Dazai leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and settling his forehead on his fists. “And then he died,” he murmured, his words slurring slightly. “I did try, you know. I did try to convince him to walk away, find a new purpose, and go where that leads.” His voice was starting to crack. “He still went anyway…” 

His voice was small, and it didn’t sound like the Dazai Atsushi had grown so used to. Even after they’d left, even after Dazai had changed, he’d never sounded like that before now. Gone was the composed and calm tone that practically defined the man. 

“I should have known I would lose him…” 

Atsushi looked up at him. 

“Everything I care about,” Dazai paused to take another drink. “Slips through my fingers as soon as I have it.” He sighed. Then he looked at Atsushi as though suddenly remembering that he was still there. 

And he smiled faintly. His hand slowly extended out toward Atsushi. “At least I still have you,” he said. His hand landed on Atsushi’s head, the movement drunken, clumsy, and heavy. It was nothing like Dazai’s awkward, stiff attempts at comfort from the alley and hotel room. 

Atsushi was too surprised to try to pull away, and after the shock subsided, he realized that he didn’t want to pull away. As awkward and heavy as Dazai’s hand in his hair was, it felt real and wasn’t at all the reserved, wooden touches that he’d come to associate with Dazai. Despite the heaviness of the situation, Atsushi smiled. 

After a few seconds, Dazai’s hand slid off of Atsushi’s head like keeping it there was too much effort. Once the pressure was gone, Atsushi couldn’t help but miss it. 

Dazai barely managed to avoid knocking a glass over as he pulled his hand back; the bandages at his wrists were beginning to come loose. 

“Your bandages--” Atsushi began. 

Dazai looked down at his wrist. “Yeah,” he said boredly. “They do that.” Then, he started tugging at the loose end. “It’s warm in here anyway,” he mumbled. 

“Uhh...Maybe you should--”

He shrugged as he further unraveled his bandages. 

Atsushi shifted, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. He’d never seen Dazai without his bandages, and of course he’d wondered why Dazai always wore bandages, but not enough to ask about it. Despite the tense atmosphere, Atsushi found himself leaning forward, focusing in on the unwinding bandages. 

“You certainly seem interested,” Dazai remarked, glancing Atsushi’s way, an action that immediately made Atsushi feel guilty, like he’d been intruding on something too personal. It must have shown on his face because Dazai shrugged again. “I don’t really care if you see.”

Is that because you’re drunk? Atsushi asked silently. 

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting to see. 

Maybe some scars, maybe open wounds, maybe even two completely unblemished arms. 

He definitely did not expect the absolute myriad of scars and burns and bruises.He involuntarily made a choked sound in the back of his throat. 

Dazai stopped pulling off his bandages at the elbow. He turned over his arm, giving Atsushi a full view of the damage, letting him see all the slashes of thickened tissue, the discolored patches, and--most jarring of all-- the scars left by hot metal. 

“Yeah,” Dazai hummed when he looked at Atsushi’s gaping face. “It’s definitely not pretty.” 

“Wha--” Atsushi swallowed hard. “What happened to you?” Then after that first question, the dam broke and words spilled out his mouth before he could stop them. “Why are you so bruised? When did you get them? Why--” He cut himself off again, trying to swallow with a dry mouth. “Why do you have scars...like mine?”

Dazai looked lost for a minute, like his mind was somewhere else. “Like yours?” Then, his eyes lit up with a grim realization. “Oh, like your…” He trailed off, gesturing to his abdomen with his still bandaged hand. 

Like my scars from the red hot poker. 

Atsushi nodded, feeling the blood drain from his face as the memory surfaced. 

The dark room, the ember-like glow of the metal, the searing pain as it was pressed into his skin. 

He shuddered. 

“Well, to answer your questions,” Dazai began, pouring himself another drink. “I mostly did it to myself.” He drank slowly this time, like he was savoring every drop of the whiskey. “Didn’t want to live anymore, tried to bleed out, got interrupted.” His words were sluggish and slurred. “You get the gist.” 

He turned over his arm again, so his palm laid flat against the table. And he prodded a particularly nasty looking bruise with his fingertips. Atsushi winced empathetically. Dazai didn’t so much as blink. 

“It doesn’t hurt,” he said, pressing it again. “Apparently, there’s some nerve damage. My motor function is fine.” He wiggled his fingers to prove it. “But, I lost some sensation in my arms. Can’t feel a thing.”

Atsushi wrung his hands, feeling a squirming sensation in his stomach as Dazai spoke. 

“As for the burns,” Dazai continued, sighing. “I got them a few months before I found you. It was a mission, I let myself get captured to gather intel on an enemy. They had the bright idea to try and torture information out of me. What they got was a bunch of dead ends and useless, outdated Port Mafia data. But, you know, I had to make it convincing for them to think they were actually getting anything useful out of me.”

He prodded a burn scar, and even though Atsushi knew Dazai couldn’t feel a thing, he felt phantom fingers digging into his scars and that burning, biting agony. 

“Joke’s on them,” Dazai said, chuckling like the whole horrible explanation was some secret inside joke between just the two of them. “It didn’t hurt in the slightest. Chuuya freaked when he saw them though.” He shook his finger in front of Atsushi’s face in an exaggerated gesture. “Don’t let the gravity control and yelling fool you, he’s the most squeamish people I know.” 

Atsushi raised an eyebrow, and leaned back in his chair, putting a little more distance between himself and Dazai, some concern rising in his chest. It wasn’t as though he had known Chuuya that well, but Atsushi doubted that he’d freaked out on account of being queasy around injuries and torture.

Dazai’s grammar error went uncorrected.

Then, his eyes twinkled with something dark and mischievous. “Watch this,” he said in a lowered voice. He grabbed Atsushi’s lighter, flicked it on, and held the flame under his bare forearm. 

Atsushi’s hand moved before his mind did. He slapped the lighter out of Dazai’s hand, sending it flying, the flame sputtering out immediately. He grabbed Dazai’s wrist in a white-knuckled grip. 

“What’s wrong with you?!” he half yelled. 

The second the words left his mouth, he regretted them. His fingers were still wrapped around Dazai’s wrist and he was acutely aware of the feeling of the scars under his palm and that he was probably leaving his mentor with yet another bruise. The look of shock on Dazai’s face didn’t make him feel any better. 

He released Dazai’s wrist. 

“Dazai-san, I’m sor--”

Dazai laughed. 

He laughed so loud and so long, as though Atsushi had just told him the funniest joke he’d ever heard. Atsushi took a step back. There was something unhinged in his laugh. 

“Ahhh,” he began when he’d calmed down a bit, “So many things, Atsushi-kun.” 

Atsushi’s breathing returned when Dazai finally stopped laughing and sank to put his forehead on the table. He cushined his head on his arms. 

“So many things,” he murmured again, the words muffled by his forearms. 

Atsushi stood there awkwardly for a minute, trying to figure out what to say. He settled on, ”A-Are you okay?”

It was an awkward way to ask, but he could think of nothing better to say. 

His mentor was silent for a minute before he propped his head up on one hand to look up at Atsushi. “Not really, but that’s normal.” With an uncoordinated, shaky hand, Dazai reached for the bottle to pour himself yet another drink. 

The defeat and exhaustion in Dazai’s voice seemed to echo through the room, and the sudden realization of how terrifyingly unguarded Dazai was made Atsushi uneasy. In the past year, Dazai had become considerably more open with Atsushi, but there was always some sort of wall up, always some sort of reservation in his tone and actions. Maybe people who hadn’t known him for very long would miss it completely, but Atsushi had seen him let his defenses down once, and that was enough to make it clear. 

What am I supposed to do now? Atsushi thought. Most of the alcohol had cleared from his system, or so he assumed. He just knew that his head felt less fuzzy than it had before and the buzzing sensation had left him. And Atsushi had been fairly restrained in how much whiskey he’d had. Dazai had not been.

He watched the man try to grab the bottle again, but miss, before trying again and accidentally knocking it over. It landed on its side with the sharp ding of glass falling against a solid surface, the spirit that remained in it rushed out, spilling over the table and onto the floor. 

Well, he supposed that would have to settle it. 

“Dazai-san,” he said, approaching slowly. “Dazai-san,” he repeated in a firmer tone. 

“Huh?” 

“You should probably stop drinking now.”

Dazai looked at him, squinting like Atsushi was too far away. 

Atsushi shifted uncomfortably under Dazai’s gaze. 

Then, Dazai folded his arms on the table and laid his head down. “I’ll be here,” he murmured. 

Atsushi sighed, unsure of how to handle this. He supposed he could leave Dazai there; the bottle was empty and it wasn’t like Dazai could drink more. But, he didn’t really want to do that. The image of Dazai sitting there, half lying across the table with loose and partially unraveled bandages overnight just felt wrong. He didn’t quite know why it felt so wrong, but it did, and that was enough for him to make up his mind. 

He finally got his feet to move forward. The smell of alcohol clung to Dazai, and Atsushi wrinkled his nose as he got closer. 

“Come on,” he muttered, slowly taking Dazai’s hand, and pulling his arm around his shoulders. 

“What are you…” Dazai slurred before trailing off. 

“Helping you get to your room,” Atsushi said a little more sharply than intended. 

He wasn’t angry, but he was tired and stretched thin. Seeing Dazai so broken down and unhinged had shaken him. Seeing Dazai hold a flame to his arm had scared him. And seeing those burns… seeing those burns had brought him back to the day he’d been tortured with the glowing poker, the day that imprint had been burned into his skin--a permanent mark that would weigh on him until the day he died. 

Dazai was lighter than he’d originally thought, still plenty difficult and awkward to move, but Atsushi felt some degree of relief since it meant that dragging Dazai to his bed wasn’t impossible. 

“You’re a good kid, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai said. The smell of alcohol got stronger when Dazai opened his mouth. He raised his free hand in a possible attempt to pat Atsushi on the shoulder or head. Then, “I’m proud of you.”

Atsushi almost tripped over his own feet, nearly falling on his face and bringing his intoxicated mentor with him. He caught himself, and Dazai, in the nick of time. 

“Really?” he responded when he regained solid footing. 

Praise from Dazai had always been rare, and it was a surprise to say the least. 

“Do you think I’m capable of lying right now?” he slurred, his head lolling forward. 

Atsushi adjusted his grip on Dazai to keep him steady. 

“Not sure,” Atsushi said. “You’re pretty good at lying.” 

It came off more aggressively than he meant it to. He didn’t want to turn away praise. He craved it, but the chances felt too high that Dazai might be lying, that he would take the words back when he was sober. Or that in the morning, he would revert back to the man Atsushi had first met. And that would hurt more than never getting praise at all. 

“Not wrong,” Dazai moaned. His feet were half dragging on the floor. “Not lyin’ this time though.” He leaned a little more heavily on Atsushi, which threw Atsushi off balance for a few seconds. 

The trip to Dazai’s room felt longer than it should have been. It was a small apartment, and the walk should have been taken maybe a minute at most. But Dazai was taller than Atsushi, and his impaired coordination had slowed them down considerably. 

It took a long time, but eventually, Atsushi managed to pull Dazai past the threshold, and they collapsed onto the bed. Dazai fell flat on his back and rolled on his side, curling up slightly. 

Atsushi sat up, running a hand through his hair. 

It was late. He wanted to go to bed, but…

He sighed. 

“Dazai-san, where do you keep the bandages?”

Dazai mumbled something incomprehensible, so Atsushi rummaged through his drawers. It felt slightly invasive, and he tried to avoid looking through Dazai’s things, though that wasn’t completely relevant since it seemed like Dazai hardly owned anything other than clothes and books. 

Maybe he was going further than he needed to, but he couldn’t imagine feeling comfortable waking up with his scars exposed. 

“Dazai-san, give me your arm.”

Dazai extended his bandaged hand. 

“Other one,” Atsushi clarified. 

Dazai sighed heavily but complied. 

Atsushi settled himself down beside Dazai’s bed, Dazai’s arm laid over his shoulder. He started securing the bandage around Dazai’s elbow. He didn’t have much experience with bandages, so his work would probably be sloppy, but it would work well enough. He paused when he came to the spot where Dazai had burned himself with his lighter. It hadn’t left much of a burn, but it would have still hurt if Dazai had any feeling in his arms.

“Don’t move for a minute, okay,” he said. 

“Fiiiiine,” Dazai replied, the word muffled by his pillow. 

Atsushi made a quick trip to his room where he kept his aloe plant, and snapped off a leaf. When he returned to Dazai’s room, Dazai was lying face down on the bed, his arm still extended for Atsushi to bandage, and neither said anything as Atsushi took Dazai’s wrist and started working again.

He tore the leaf open and spread the gel and slimy side of the leaf on Dazai’s burn before binding that part of Dazai’s arm. He didn’t have an extensive knowledge of burn treatments, but he had read that aloe helps with burns, and that was good enough for him. 

“I really hope he was right,” Dazai murmured. “About choosing the side that saves people,” he added after a moment. “Good and evil don’t mean very much to me. But he said that saving people would make the world a little more beautiful.”

Atsushi wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but he hadn’t been sure how to respond to most of the things Dazai had said tonight. 

“I don’t have a reason to live, and I don’t think I’ll ever find one.”

Atsuhi paused his work to look at Dazai. “I’m sure you’ll find a reason,” he said, trying to sound encouraging, though that was hardly a role he was used to filling.

“I won’t,” Dazai said, his voice dropping down to a whisper. “At the very least, I think Odasaku was right ‘bout that.”

The statement made Atsushi’s chest hurt. Personally, he didn’t see much of a reason for why he was alive, but he still believed that there was some reason. He had to. There had to be some overarching reason for why he was alive. 

“I don’t think anyone has a reason to live. Life is a void, and we’re all just here .” He moved his arm in a large sweeping motion to emphasise his point. Atsushi narrowly dodged getting smacked in the face. 

He grabbed Dazai’s arm again, trying to rework the bandages that had come loose with Dazai’s dramatic gesture. “Hold still,” he ordered weakly when Dazai shifted again, and Dazai stared at him with a shocked expression on his face like he’d forgotten he was there. 

“In the long run, everything we do and everything we are doesn’t matter. We all return to dust one day, and the world carries on like we were never here at all.”

The longer this night wore on, the bleaker Dazai seemed to get. 

Atsushi didn’t respond, he only held Dazai’s arm a little tighter in case he decided to gesture widely and dramatically again. He was almost done with bandaging Dazai’s arm, and while the binding wasn’t great, it mostly stayed in place, which was the best he could hope for with his limited experience. 

“But maybe… maybe we can make our own reasons.” His eyes narrowed as he spoke, his face growing perplexed like he was trying to work through an increasingly complicated puzzle. Then, he sighed heavily. “I don’t know…”

Dazai left his arm hanging in front of Atsushi, his cheek pressed against the pillow. He started at Atsushi with glassy eyes. He waved a hand in front of Dazai’s face, Dazai blinked, but otherwise hardly reacted. Atsushi leaned against the bed, drained, his arms ached from trying to wrap up Dazai’s arm. 

He didn’t move for several minutes, running over the conversation in his head. Dazai had never been so...open? He wasn’t sure if that was the correct word for it. Dazai was intoxicated, after all, and everything he said was a result of his impaired judgment. The transparency Dazai displayed wasn’t so much his decision.

A thought occurred after a stretch of silence. 

Dazai was talking… He was talking like any filter had been removed. He didn’t seem to be holding anything back. 

And Atsushi still sometimes wondered why Dazai’s previous apprentice had died. 

It was definitely more dishonest than he was used to, and the idea of finding out this way made him squirm. But, Atsushi rationalized to himself, What are the chances I’ll have an opportunity to learn what happened later? For the moment, this looked like his only chance. 

“Dazai-san,” he began, building up his nerve little by little. “W-What happened to your previous apprentice?” 

Dazai shifted under the covers, pulling back his freshly bandaged arm and propping himself up on his elbow. His eyes looked blank and far away. His hand tangled in his hair.

Then, he chuckled. It was so unlike the unrestrained laugh from earlier that night. This laughter was composed and quiet. “That’s a little underhanded for you, Atsushi-kun. You know, a year ago, I would have applauded you for that attempt,” he said, his words slurring a bit. “I’m definitely drunk, but I know what you’re trying to do.” He chuckled again before laughing loudly and bringing his hand down on Atsushi’s head. 

Atsushi finched, shame flooding him in a rush, and Dazai’s words rang in his head. 

“A year ago, I would have applauded you for that attempt.”

If they’d been back in the Mafia, Dazai would have praised him for trying to glean information off of an intoxicated man. He would have praised him for this. Atsushi tried to swallow the lump in his throat. 

“I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice. 

He’d tried to dig into Dazai’s past, into the places Dazai didn’t want him to go. Dazai had already told him about his past, and had exposed his vulnerabilities and scars to Atsushi. What right did Atsushi have to ask for anything more?

As awful as Dazai had been to him in the Mafia, he’d never forced Atsushi to go into detail about the orphanage. Or he’d kept it to a minimum at least. 

Dazai’s eyes were still on him, and he could feel the weight of his gaze. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again. 

Breathing suddenly got harder when he realized how much Dazai might hate him for trying to pry. Things had been good between them lately, or at the very least okay. Now, he could too easily imagine Dazai once again being cold towards him or just turning him loose and leaving him behind. 

“It's fine,” Dazai said, tiredly, breaking through Atsushi’s panicked train of thought. He squinted as though he couldn’t see Atsushi clearly even though he was physically touching him. His fingers curled into Atsushi’s hair slightly--an all too familiar feeling that made Atsushi tense up-- but he didn’t roughly press Atsushi’s head to the floor or yank on his hair. He pulled him forward a little. He studied Atsushi’s face for a few moments.  

Dazai’s eyes met Atsushi’s, and Atsushi felt like crying. 

“Don’t cry,” he murmured, which somehow made the tears rise more.

Right. Atsushi thought, his muscles somehow getting even more taut. He’d heard that order a thousand times before. Don’t cry. Of course he would hear it again. 

“ Don’t cry. Children who have been abandoned by their parents don’t have the right to cry.”

Yes, he’d heard it a thousand times before and hearing Dazai drunkenly repeat it made him stop breathing, and he harshly swallowed all the rising tears. They burned his throat ten times more than the liquor had. 

Then, Dazai sighed dramatically and let his head flop onto the pillow as Atsushi tried to force his tears down. “I never know what to do when you cry.” His words were a barely coherent mumble. 

Yet another statement that made Atsushi freeze, another thing that caught him completely off guard. 

Dazai hardly reacted to Atsushi’s gawking. His eyes went unfocused again, and his grip on Atsushi’s hair loosened. 

And for a horrifying moment, Atsushi was scared Dazai had died right there. But the smell of alcohol washed over him with Dazai’s exhalation. 

He rolled onto his back with a slurred, “Go to bed.” 

Atsushi released a breath, and put a hand to his head. It must have been well past three in morning. Between drinking, talking to an intoxicated Dazai, dragging Dazai to bed, and winding bandages around Dazai’s arm, he was exhausted. 

And still, he wasn’t done for that night. 

It’d been something mentioned in his health textbook, one of the dangers of drinking too much, if he remembered correctly. Drinking too much alcohol at once could cause vomiting… Not only that, but there was a chance that someone could choke to death on their puke. 

He shuddered thinking about it. It was such a gruesome way to die. 

“Dazai-san,” he said tiredly, approaching the bed again. “I’m going to turn you over, okay?” He didn’t wait for any kind of agreement, he grabbed Dazai’s arm furthest away from him and rolled him onto his side. 

Dazai moaned in response, which Atsushi took a good sign. The man hadn’t drank himself into a coma at the very least. 

He was about to leave the room, but then another thought occurred. 

What if Dazai rolled onto his back in his sleep and asphyxiated on his own vomit? Atsushi supposed it could happen. 

He hesitated for a minute before shrugging and going to his room to grab his pillow. 

It wasn’t like this was very different from any other night. The only difference was that Dazai was heavily intoxicated and possibly needed to be monitored.

Atsushi settled himself on the floor, positioning himself so Dazai was in his field of vision. 

He didn’t sleep as easily as he thought. What if something happened? What if something happened and he slept through it? And then he’d wake up to something bad?

But slowly, bit by bit, exhaustion wore away at his alert mind, and the steady pattern of Dazai’s breathing lured him to sleep. 

/-/-/

Dazai’s mouth felt like sandpaper when he woke up. 

He didn’t move for a few minutes, waiting for the headache to ease a little. When it didn’t, he crossed his arms over his eyes, making a face when he felt something slimy through his bandages.  

It’d been a while since he’d gone that hard. Even a year ago, he’d kept from getting himself that intoxicated. 

The light that crept through his curtains made pain roll through his head. It must have been around two in the afternoon at the very earliest.

He rolled onto his side after a few minutes of squinting and shadowing his eyes against the sunlight. And he stayed like that for about an hour, staring at the wall, replaying what he remembered from the previous night in his head. 

The memories were hazy at best, nonexistent at worst.

Crap. 

He forced his legs over the side of the bed, fighting down a wave of nausea and resurgence of the headache. Dazai groaned and prodded the slippery lump under his bandages before hooking his fingers under a loose loop of bandage. As awareness slowly percolated back into him, Dazai realized--with a squirming feeling in his stomach-- that these bindings were not his handiwork. 

An aloe leaf… 

The sliver of leaf slipped from its place as he relaxed his arm. And he couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised when he found a small, fresh burn. Dazai blinked, and then rewrapped his arm, leaving the leaf on the floor. 

“Ugh,” Dazai groaned again, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, and taking a few deep breaths to push down the urge to vomit. 

He contemplated staying in bed for the day and sleeping off the hangover. Or staying in bed for a week and slipping into a coma. But, he had Atsushi to worry about.

Last night must have been Atsushi’s first time drinking. He probably hadn’t been too badly affected, it took a disturbing amount of drugs to have any effect on him, alcohol likely wouldn’t be an exception. Still though, in the case that alcohol was, in fact, an exception, checking up on him would be the best decision. 

Dazai planted his feet on the floor and pushed himself up. The second he was upright, gravity seemed to press down on him harder than normal. His shoulders ached as though they were supporting a tremendous weight. 

“Atsushi-kun,” he called, walking into the kitchen, assuming his apprentice was still in his room. He stopped short when Atsushi stepped in front of him. “Oh, you’re up,” he said flatly, not managing much inflection with the roaring in his brain. 

“Y-yeah,” Atsushi said. He was bouncing on his heels slightly, muscles tensed. “I slept in a little, but… yeah, I’ve been up for a few hours.” 

Dazai looked him over, though he didn’t know what he was expecting. He looked fine.  Atsushi for sure hadn’t drank as much as him, and even if he had, the alcohol probably wouldn’t have hit him as hard as it had hit Dazai. 

“Well,” Dazai muttered. “Looks like you’re okay. Good. I am very hungover, so I’ll just grab some ibuprofen and go back to bed.” He turned on his heel, but immediately felt sicker than he’d been a second ago. He pressed his fist against his mouth and inhaled deeply, swallowing sour tasting saliva. 

He was intensely, painfully aware of Atsushi’s eyes on him. He didn’t appreciate the feeling of his apprentice watching him like this, the feeling of his eyes boring into him in a moment of weakness. 

“Are you--”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just need something for the headache.” 

Atsushi shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Uhh…” He trailed off awkwardly.

“What is it?”

“Just… You should probably eat something before you take ibuprofen.” He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. 

He was probably right. Taking an analgesic on an empty stomach could lead to stomach upset. For the moment, he didn’t want to eat; his nausea made the very idea of food unappealing. 

“And I saved a bowl of chazuke for you,” Atsushi added softly. 

Dazai paused. 

It wasn’t rare for Atsushi to make chazuke. He practically ate it daily. It was weird that he would make any for Dazai since Dazai more or less took care of all his own meals, and a good many of Atsushi’s.

Atsushi twisted a hand in his shirt, glancing to the side like making eye contact with Dazai for too long was uncomfortable. He hadn’t looked so uncomfortable around Dazai in a while. 

It took longer than Dazai would like to admit to put it together. The hangover was still at work. Atsushi was hiding something. 

Dazai sighed. “Fine, I’ll eat it.” He sat down at the table, resigned to eat despite the churning in his empty stomach. He rested an elbow on the table and set his chin on his fist, waiting for Atsushi to reheat the long cold chazuke. 

He picked at it after Atsushi set it in front of him. 

“Atsushi-kun,” he began, looking across the table at Atsushi. “What happened last night?” 

“What? You don’t remember?”

Dazai leaned back and ran a hand through his hair. “I remember bits and pieces. Most of it is hazy though. I feel like I’ve lost some time.”

“Uhh...” Atsushi rubbed the back of his neck. “You… Well, you drank a lot, we talked about Oda-san a little, you-- you took off some of your bandages and burned your arm a little, then you got kind of… existential--”

“Huh, that’s weird,” Dazai interrupted. “I normally veer into absurdism when I drink.” 

Atsushi blinked.

“I’ll explain it later.” Dazai stretched in his seat. “Anything else?”

“I tried to treat the burn with aloe, but I didn’t entirely know how to treat burns, so it might not have helped.” His voice trailed off a little, like he was scared he’d get yelled at for trying to help. 

“And I assume you dragged me to bed?”

Atsushi nodded. 

“Thanks for that,” Dazai said. “I would have been incredibly sore if you’d just left me there.”

Atsushi’s face brightened a bit with the thanks. 

“Anything else?”

And just as quickly as his expression had lit up, they darkened, but only for an instant. “Nope,” Atsushi said, eyes darting to the left. “That was it.”

What’s he leaving out?

“Really?” Dazai pressed, keeping his tone level. “That’s it?” 

Atsushi must have known he was stuck in a corner. Even with a bad hangover, Dazai could tell a lie from a mile away. 

“Yep,” he said quickly. “That’s all.” Then, he stood abruptly. “I’m actually still really tired from last night. I was up past four in the morning. I should probably go take a nap.” He turned to walk to his bedroom.

“Atsushi-kun,” Dazai said in a warning tone that he hadn’t used in a long time. 

Atsushi froze, his hand inches from the door. Slowly, he turned around to face Dazai. 

Dazai crossed his arms across his chest and gestured to the seat across from him with his fingers. “Sit.”

Atsushi hesitated for a moment before giving a resigned sigh and obeying the command. Miserably, he dropped into the chair.

For a second, Dazai considered letting this matter drop completely. Atsushi clearly didn’t want to talk, and Dazai wasn’t sure how much this actually mattered. So what if Atsushi didn’t tell him something? There were plenty of things Dazai didn’t tell Atsushi. 

However, Dazai didn’t like being lied to, especially when he had no means of figuring out the truth for himself. Additionally, he knew that he told Atsushi far more than he’d wanted to tell anyone the night before. 

“I’m sorry,” Atsushi murmured, lowering his head and hunching his shoulders as though to make himself a smaller target. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” Dazai asked. It came out a little more accusatory than he’d meant, but he didn’t try to change his tone. 

Atsushi didn’t say anything. He just shifted uncomfortably and stared down at his hands. 

Dazai sighed, and Atsushi flinched hard at the sound. 

“Listen to me,” he said, softening his tone a bit. “As long as you’re honest with me, I won’t get mad.”

Atsushi looked up at him and bit his lip. “You won’t be angry?”

Dazai shrugged. “I mean, even if I am, I won’t act on it. I’ll just press down the feeling and ignore it until eventually, I forget about it entirely.”

“That--that doesn’t sound healthy,” Atsushi replied, raising his head a bit. 

“I think we’ve established how unhealthy my mental state is.” He looked Atsushi in the eyes. “Spill.”

It took Atsushi a moment to speak, and Dazai allowed it. This was how it normally was anyway, Atsushi typically took a little time to consider his words. 

“I…” He mumbled something incoherent. 

“So I can hear you, Atsushi-kun.”

Atsushi made a face like he was in real, physical pain. “I asked about your former apprentice while you were intoxicated.” 

The words spilled out in an incomprehensible stream after that. Dazai didn’t listen after the first confession. Atsushi did this sometimes, said something, panicked, and babbled on and on until he was out of breath. Dazai thought it best to allow it, and just let him get it out of his system. 

“I’m sorry I did it. I shouldn’t have tried to get you to tell me personal things while you were drunk.” He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Please don’t hate me,” he said softly. He wasn’t crying, but he looked just on the verge of bawling his eyes out. 

Dazai pinched the bridge of his nose, his headache returned thanks to Atsushi’s frantic babbling. He really hoped Atsushi wouldn’t start crying, he always felt at a loss for what to do when Atsushi cried. 

“Calm down,” he began slowly. “I’m not angry with you.”

Atsushi took a few deep breaths in and out. “Like actually not angry or you’re burying the feeling?”

Dazai let out a short laugh. “Like actually not angry.” He sighed, “I’m not thrilled that that’s how you asked me, but I suppose you feel adequately guilty about it.”

Atsushi nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I won’t ask again, I swear.” 

“Why have you always been so curious about him?”

Atsushi looked pensive for a moment and then shrugged. “I don’t know. I always heard about him and whenever I asked, you always evaded the topic.” He paused. “It made it hard not to be curious. And when I found out you killed him...”Atsushi trailed off, biting his lip. 

I was scared you would kill me. Atsushi’s averted eyes seemed to say.

“I know,” Dazai said. “Believe me, I was quite irritated with Mori-san when he revealed that.” Atsushi’s eyes stared at him questioningly. “I knew you would never like me, but at the very least, I didn’t want you to flat out hate me. It made training you so much harder.” Atsushi squirmed with the reference to his time in the Port Mafia. “After that, I just avoided talking about him because I thought that reminding you about who I was might cause you to run away or shut down again.”

Atsushi didn’t say anything, but the look on his face suggested that he agreed with Dazai to some degree. 

“Do you still want to know?” Dazai asked. 

Atsushi stiffened and stammered. “Not really,” he managed when he finally composed himself. “I don’t think I should know after what happened last night.” 

Dazai shrugged. “It’s not a huge deal if you knew now. A lot of the reasons why I hid it from you don’t exist anymore. I don’t mind if you know now. It’s just a conversation that I would rather have sober.”

Atsushi hesitated, obviously still torn between his curiosity and his shame of asking about Akutagawa while Dazai’s judgment was compromised. 

“Sometimes things are worse when left to the imagination.”

That didn’t ease the conflict on Atsushi’s face. 

So, Dazai kept talking. 

“He was from the slums. I took him and his sister in when he was about your age.”

Atsushi froze, as though just realizing that he would actually get to hear about Akutagawa. 

“I treated him like how I treated you,” Dazai continued. “He had an ability that allowed him to change his clothes into a weapon.” He stared hard at Atsushi for a moment, trying to ignore the rolling headache in his skull. “In a way, he was the exact opposite of you. Where you try to avoid conflict, Akutagawa-kun seemed to love running headlong into it. He was violent and fought with almost no restraint.” 

Atsushi bit his lip, appearing more and more uncomfortable as the minutes wore on. 

“He had a fifty-fifty chance. Part of his ability was able to work as a defense, and he’d managed to deflect bullets before. So, in training, I’d believed that he would be able to do it again.” Dazai sighed, the sound of the gunshots coming to the forefront of his memory. “Maybe I caught him at a bad time, maybe his lung condition was acting up and he couldn’t breathe. I don’t know, but he didn’t put up a shield that time and he died.” 

Atsushi didn’t speak as though expecting Dazai to say more. 

“That’s all,” Dazai concluded.

“That’s all?” Atsushi asked. “But it always sounded like you killed him because he screwed up on a mission or-- or like you got didn’t want to teach him anymore.” 

“What? Were you expecting something more dramatic? That’s it. I can’t say that killing him was an accident since I knew shooting at him point blank would only end one of two ways… But overall, that’s all there really was to it.”

Atsushi slouched in his seat, drumming his fingers against his leg, processing the information he’d been given. 

“What happened to his sister?” 

Dazai sighed. “She was an assassin for the Port Mafia. She kept doing her job for a little while, a few months later, she came after me, and she got pretty close to killing me, but she failed and got shot down by a subordinate.” 

“Oh,” Atsushi whispered. 

“Chuuya was upset about that. He’d been fairly close with her.”

Atsushi looked down at his hands like everything he’d just learned was weighing him down. 

“So,” Dazai said. “Now you know, and you won’t have to lay awake at night wondering about it.”

Atsushi nodded. 

Dazai pursed his lips. “Atsushi-kun, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Atsushi murmured. “It just feels like a lot to digest, I don’t know why… It’s not like I ever knew either of them, but… something inside me hurts.” He put a hand on his chest and made a fist, bunching up his shirt in the process. 

“You’re an empathetic person, Atsushi-kun. I think that’s one of the reasons why Odasaku liked you so much. It’s one of the reasons training you used to frustrate me to no end.” He reached across the table to put a hand on Atsushi’s shoulder and pull him a little closer. “I’m glad I was never able to ruin that quality in you.”

Atsushi stared back at Dazai, surprised. His mouth opening and closing as he looked for words. 

Before he had a chance to get his thoughts together, Dazai ruffled his hair and pulled away. “Thanks for the food. I’m going back to bed.” 

Then, he did exactly that, grabbing two liquid gel capsules on his way back and swallowing it dry as he slipped back under the covers. 

He thought through their conversation for a few minutes, and then he promised himself that that would be the last lie he told to Atsushi. 

The part about Akutagawa had been absolutely true. The part about the boy’s sister Gin, however, had been partially true. 

The truth of it: Gin was dead-- had been for a little more than a year, she had tried to kill Dazai, Chuuya had been upset about her death, and one of his subordinates had shot her down. 

That was all absolutely true. 

The rest of the truth: That subordinate had been Atsushi. 

He was almost certain that Atsushi remembered her, but didn’t know that he remembered her. 

If Dazai was correct, she had been the fourth person Atsushi had executed. It was before Atsushi actually hated him, before Atsushi had met Mori. Atsushi was still at the point of crying after he killed someone, but had learned to keep himself composed until he had some privacy to mourn the traitors. 

Dazai had broken her jaw since Atsushi still was too squeamish to do it himself without vomiting--a detail they had discovered during his third execution-- and Dazai had said something along the lines of, “It’s a shame to ruin such a pretty face.”

Dazai remembered Atsushi, in his naivety, wondering aloud about the girl he’d killed, wondering how someone so young and delicate looking could be a murderer and such a danger to an organization like the Port Mafia. Dazai had almost laughed at the irony of that statement and told Atsushi to look in a mirror. 

He remembered then wondering about how Atsushi still wondered about things like that. Atsushi had been fourteen, old enough to know about wolves in sheep's clothing and how first impressions were rarely genuine. At the time, Dazai had concluded that Atsushi just hadn’t had much exposure to those types of people. Growing up in the orphanage, he probably hadn’t seen many people who looked kind and were actually monsters. Maybe, Atsushi had just seen monsters in his life and they had turned out to be just that. 

He was sure Atsushi remembered that night. 

He was sure Atsushi remembered every one of his fifteen kills despite never knowing the names or anything beyond the basics of why they were being executed. 

Atsushi had never wanted to know such personal details. When Dazai had tried to tell him the name of a traitor, Atsushi had covered his ears, eventually saying that he could barely carry out executions with no information, and he would definitely break if he shot someone while knowing anything personal about them. 

Looking back, Dazai probably should have nipped that in the bud. But he hadn’t. There had been a slight fascination with how innocent Atsushi had been, with how he still cried when he saw death and how he let all his emotions show on his face. In addition to that, he hadn’t wanted to rush Atsushi too much. He’d rushed Akutagawa, and as a result, he’d died. 

And now, Dazai gazed blankly at the ceiling, recalling all the little details that he’d left out. How Chuuya being upset was a massive understatement, how he could have decided against Gin dying, how Chuuya had actually pleaded with him not to kill her, and how Gin had looked pityingly at Atsushi in her last moments. 

Atsushi could never know that part of the truth. He was barely recovering from his time in the Port Mafia as it was. How many more nightmares would he have if he knew that he’d killed Gin? 

Dazai was working to become an honest man, and not telling Atsushi the whole truth was fairly dishonest. First and foremost, however, Odasaku had explicitly said to protect the orphans. And by keeping Atsushi in the dark, Dazai was protecting him. 

By lying, Dazai had protected Atsushi from the truth.

Chapter Text

For all intents and purposes, Atsushi was getting better. He was actually able to see some of the progress he was making. 

For one thing, he didn’t need half a bottle of sleep aids before bed these days. He still used a staggering amount whenever insomnia set in, but not nearly as much as it used to be. He didn’t sleep on Dazai’s floor as often as he had before, maybe every few weeks, but he’d managed to find some peace on his own. 

Additionally, Atsushi was progressing well in his studying, and he considered that his greatest achievement.

There were still good nights and bad nights, but according to Dazai, that would happen. 

According to Dazai, it was normal to toss and turn at night. 

/-/-/

Atsushi was on Dazai’s floor again. Unsurprising. The full moon was out, and Atsushi always got fidgety when moonlight could seep through the windows. Even with the blinds pulled down and the curtains drawn and overlapping each other so the beams of moonlight couldn’t make its way into his room-- even then, Atsushi seemed to sense it. 

He’d curled up a few feet from Dazai’s bed with a pillow and light blanket. 

He was muttering in his sleep again, and Dazai sighed. He wouldn’t be getting a full eight hours tonight, but it wasn’t like that was unusual. Neither of them got a lot of sleep in general. 

So, Dazai stared up at the ceiling, half listening to Atsushi’s mumbles, half trying to doze off. 

“Please, Dazai-san,” Atsushi murmured, squirming around in his sleep. “Please, no.”

So, it’s one of those nights.

Dazai sighed and closed his eyes before rolling over to glance at Atsushi. His face contorted in dreamt up pain. 

“No,” Atsushi whimpered. 

Dazai pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Nights like these were the worst. Just hours of listening to Atsushi whimper and cry and beg Dazai not to hurt him in his sleep. 

Atsushi kicked, whining in his sleep, his blanket fluttering from his body. 

“I’m not doing anything to you, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai said softly, wishing that Atsushi would quiet down. He was seriously considering getting up and taking Atsushi’s bed, and leaving him alone in the room, but he stayed where he was. He’d brought this on himself; he deserved all his sleepless nights. He reaped what he’d sowed. 

Atsushi whined, flailing his arms. 

Dazai exhaled forcefully and pressed the pillow over his face. He couldn’t actually smother himself to death with it, but he could try. 

Then, Atsushi screamed. Dazai bolted upright, tossing the pillow aside and pushing himself out of bed. 

He rushed, hoping their neighbors were heavy sleepers or the walls were thicker than they looked. Dazai clamped his hand over Atsushi’s mouth, effectively quieting, but not quite silencing, him. Atsushi squirmed in his grip, whimpering when Dazai grabbed his shoulder and shook him. 

Dazai tried to be gentle. At the very least, he wasn’t being rough with him. 

“I need you to wake up, Atsushi-kun,” he hissed, shaking him again. 

Atsushi’s eyes fluttered open, and he blinked hard a few times. Tears formed at the edges of his eyes, and then he kicked. 

He landed a hard kick against Dazai’s chest. And it hurt. It knocked the air from his lungs and he lost his grip on his apprentice. 

Atsushi scrambled back the second Dazai’s hand loosened on him. He was breathing hard, and he frantically got to his feet and fled the room. 

Dazai leaned back on his hands and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling, listening to Atsushi’s pounding, panicked footfalls before hearing a door slam shut. He took a deep breath in, trying to bring his own breathing back to normal. His chest ached where Atsushi had kicked him, and he’d probably end up with a good sized bruise there. 

You reap what you sow. He reminded himself when a twinge of annoyance rolled through him. With that thought, the irritation faded as quickly as it had appeared. 

This was his fault. His fault that Atsushi was traumatized. His fault that Atsushi was having night terrors at all. 

It would be better to get ahead of this. Knowing Atsushi, he’d probably feel guilty for this incident. He’d probably make himself scarce for the next few days, keeping his posture smaller and his footsteps quieter whenever he was in the same room as Dazai. And that just wouldn’t do.

Dazai glanced at the clock. It was well past three in the morning. As good a time as any really. It wasn’t like either of them would get back to sleep tonight. 

He took another good, deep breath in before getting to his feet and moving to the kitchen. 

Blinking when he flicked on the lights, Dazai stretched his arms. He rummaged through the pantry for a bit before he found it. 

A few months ago, Atsushi discovered hot chocolate. There had been some free samples at the store, and the boy had become absolutely enamored with it. It was one of the cheapest brands of hot cocoa mix, and Dazai could hardly stomach the stuff. It tasted like pure sugar and had about as much richness as tap water. 

But Atsushi loved it, and Dazai had needed to set limits for how much Atsushi was allowed to drink in one day. 

He made a cup of hot cocoa for Atsushi and a cup of tea for himself. He tried to think through how this would go. All he really wanted to say was that what happened tonight was worrying, that Atsushi shouldn’t lose sleep over kicking Dazai, and that none of this would be held against him. 

But it was never as simple as that. 

Atsushi would worry. 

He’d still keep his posture hunched to make himself a smaller target even though no one was going to hit him. 

He’d still lower his voice until it was bordering on a whisper even though Dazai genuinely wanted to hear what he had to say. 

He’d still hide away in his room even though he could go wherever he wanted. 

He’d still punish himself even though he’d already been forgiven. 

“Atsushi-kun,” he called, knocking on the door. “I’m coming in, okay?” 

No response. 

He put a hand on the door knob, turning it, only to find that it was locked. 

He heard Atsushi sigh behind the door. “Yeah,” he said, sounding utterly defeated. “Give me a second.” The door clicked before Atsushi pulled it open. 

He was pale and his eyes were rimmed in red, the resignation in his face making him look all the more wrung out. He didn’t stay at the door. As soon as Dazai stepped into the room, Atsushi retreated back to his bed, pressing himself against the wall and pulling his knees to his chest. 

Dazai didn’t bother turning on the lights; the light from the kitchen was good enough. 

“Mind if I sit down?” Dazai asked, gesturing to the unoccupied space on the bed. Atsushi shifted, shuffling to the side even though there was plenty of room. 

Dazai took it as an invitation and slowly settled on the bed, noticing the sudden tension in Atsushi’s body. He kept about a foot of space between them. 

“Hot cocoa?” Dazai offered, pushing a mug to Atsushi. 

Atsushi looked at him with suspicious eyes. “I already had my two cups today,” he said softly. 

“Yeah, well, it’s past three in the morning, so really it’s not the same day.” When Atsushi didn’t take it, Dazai pushed a little harder. “Either way, we can make an exception.” 

Atsushi hesitated. 

“I’m not trying to trick you.” 

He swallowed hard and finally took the mug with shaky hands. Dazai kept a grip on it until Atsushi’s hands steadied. 

Atsushi sipped it slowly, squirming and biting his lip. 

“I’m sorry!” Atsushi burst out when they sat in silence. “I’m sorry for kicking you, Dazai-san. I didn’t mean to!” 

Dazai shushed him. “It’s fine. It wasn’t your fault. You were having a night terror, and you woke up to me looming over you. It wasn’t on purpose, and at the very worst, it’ll leave a bruise. You didn’t break my ribs or damage my organs or anything.” 

Atsushi dropped his chin to his chest, taking a sip of hot chocolate before looking down guiltily at his mug. “I-I should probably tell you-- and I’m sorry-- I-I’ve been sleeping in your room…” 

“Oh, yeah, I knew about that,” Dazai said before drinking his tea.

“You knew?” Atsushi squeaked. The dim light obscured some of the finer details of this face, but Dazai could make out the mortification on his expression, and he could imagine Atsushi’s cheeks were going red. 

“I’m not that heavy a sleeper, Atsushi-kun.” Dazai chuckled. “I’ve known for a while.” 

He’d meant to laugh about it, and lighten the tension a bit, but it had the opposite effect. Atsushi bit his lip and pressed his forehead to his knees, shuddering, on the verge of tears. 

“It’s okay, really,” he said, reaching a hand out to pat Atsushi’s shoulder. But he pulled back. 

Touch was a tricky thing with Atsushi. He either leaned into or flinched away from it. He both craved it and feared it. And there never seemed to be a pattern to it. Or at least, Dazai hadn’t recognized the pattern yet. Sometimes, their shoulders would brush and Atsushi would tense up and put distance between them. Sometimes, Dazai would lay a hand on him and he’d nearly bask in it. 

Despite the fact that Dazai had been trying to reintroduce Atsushi to casual physical contact for several months, he was only half successful. 

“Sorry,” Atsushi murmured into his mug. “I won’t do it anymore.”

“It’s not much of a problem,” Dazai said. “You were scared the tiger would take control while you slept, right? Seems reasonable enough.” He shrugged. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

Atsushi stared down into his cup, his eyes carefully blank. “It was about you,” he said slowly, his voice hardly above a whisper. 

Dazai took a deep breath in. “Yeah, I guessed as much.” He paused, struggling for words. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

It sounded stupid coming out of his mouth, and it felt more awkward than it should have. And he couldn’t help the small flutter of relief when Atsushi shook his head and gulped down his drink. 

Atsushi winced and breathed out through his mouth forcefully, mumbling, “Hot, hot…”

Dazai suppressed a chuckle. “Maybe don’t drink it so fast.”

Atsushi muttered something unintelligible before leaning over the edge of the bed and putting his half empty cup on the floor. He wrapped his arms around his folded legs as soon as he righted himself. 

And at that moment, Atsushi looked so young. Even younger than he’d been when Dazai had found him over a year ago. Despite all the growth, all the struggle, he was still hardly more than a child. 

Atsushi murmured something against his knees. 

“What was that?” 

“It’s just stupid,” he repeated, his words still muffled. 

“What is?”

Atsushi swallowed hard, and shook his head like he regretted ever opening his mouth. 

“Atsushi-kun, what’s just stupid?”

“ This !” Atsushi blurted out after a moment. “Just-- All of this!” He uncurled with a lurching, too fast movement. “It’s been well over a year. And you haven’t hit me--hell, you hardly even touch me!” His hands flailed as he spoke. “And it’s just so stupid. And I hate it!” The words came out in an odd combination of a hysterical laugh and a sob. 

“Just try to bre--” 

“And--and--” His eyes shone with tears; he scrubbed at his face furiously before tangling his hands in his hair and tugging. “I’m just so sick of being afraid of you! I shouldn’t be, I know that, but-- but-- When will I stop being scared of you?” He dropped his head into his hands, finally having tired himself out. “Dazai-san,” he managed as he tried to catch his breath. “I’m sorry… I’m trying… I swear, I’m trying.”

Dazai pressed his lips together and wrapped his fingers tighter around his cup of tea. He didn’t like these moments, these moments where talking to Atsushi was essentially taking a stroll through a minefield. Even for Dazai. 

“I never doubted that you’re trying, Atsushi-kun.” He pulled his legs closer to his body, mirroring Atsushi’s posture. “It’s trauma,” he said, his voice lowering. “You can’t expect it to go away overnight.”

Atsushi released a shuddering sigh. “Not overnight, but… but after a year.” He wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I should be over it by now.” 

Dazai shifted his grip on his mug, mostly just to have something to do with his hands. “It’s not that simple,” he murmured. “You--” He took a slow deep breath in, hoping Atsushi would follow by example and slow his breathing. “You never got a real chance to recover.”

“ What ?” Atsushi said, his head snapping up. “Of course I did! The dissections stopped, and then we left… There was plenty of time--”

“Immediately after we left, you were isolated with the man who hurt you, and I didn’t tell you what was going on or why we left. You tried to leave, and I dragged you back and yelled at you. And still after that, you were kept isolated, again, with me, who had hurt you.” His voice was rougher than he’d meant it to be, so he softened it. “Your struggle now isn’t your fault, not at all. You never got time away from me. It took me forever to give you a room of your own.” Atsushi curled in on himself. “I didn’t give you space or a way to heal, and I am sorry.”

Atsushi bit his lip with a small whimper, not saying anything for several minutes. His palms pressed flat over his eyes, his fingers tangled in his bangs. 

“Is it frightening to you?” Dazai asked, keeping his voice gentle. “Me being in here with you?”

Atsushi scrubbed at his eyes again. “I don’t know.” He dragged his hands up his face and through his hair, letting his fingers catch and pull on tangles before they were out. “Not really… My head’s a little clearer now.” He exhaled forcefully. “Sometimes--” He bit his lip and cast a quick, hesitant glance at Dazai. “S-Sometimes, I look at you and all I see is the person who brought me into the Port Mafia. And sometimes--sometimes, you’re just Dazai-san.” He bit his lip. “I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice a sigh as he squeezed his eyes shut. “I shouldn’t be making this so difficult. I’ll try harder.”

Dazai suppressed a sigh because he knew how Atsushi flinched at the sound. “It’s not your fault. I told you this a year ago. I’ve given you every reason to hate and fear me. It’s my fault, start to finish.”

Silence stretched, and for a moment, Dazai wondered if somehow he’d overstepped. Maybe putting into words that he held all the blame had cemented that knowledge in Atsushi, and the boy would hate him more as a result. 

“I don’t think I hate you anymore,” Atsushi muttered. He rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand again. “I’m not sure I’ve forgiven you yet or if --or if I ever will, but… I don’t think I hate you.”

That small, hushed confession hit Dazai harder than he would have thought. He’d never fully expected Atsushi’s hatred of him to fade, and he’d certainly never expected Atsushi to forgive him. Sure, it’d been something in the back of his mind. It would be nice to not be despised by his companion, and it would lighten the load on his chest if Atsushi forgave him. But he’d accepted that it was impossible as soon as he started wanting it. 

What he’d done had been unforgivable. Most of what he’d done in the Mafia had been unforgivable. He was used to the weight. He was used to being hated. So what if the boy wished him dead? Lots of people wished him dead. Dazai wished himself dead. 

The fact that Atsushi didn’t hate him shouldn’t have changed anything. It shouldn’t have changed anything at all. 

But it did. It changed everything. 

He leaned a millimeter closer. “I know you don’t see it this way, but you’ve actually made so much progress.” 

Atsushi didn’t look at him, but his face was doubtful. He stared at the far wall, his brow furrowed, his eyes still shiny with tears. 

“And,” Dazai added after a minute. “I’m proud of you.”

Atsushi straightened slightly, his eyes going wide.

He decided to risk it and reached over to put an arm around Atsushi’s shoulders. He tugged slightly, bringing Atsushi closer to him. 

And he realized how big of a mistake it was when Atsushi’s entire body tensed. The boy’s muscles went so taut that they trembled under Dazai’s hand. 

Right…

The position suddenly brought him back to the last time he’d sat with Atsushi like this. Back when Atsushi wasn’t speaking. Back when Dazai had threatened to lock him away in the dark.

No doubt, Atsushi was thinking the same thing. 

“Sorry,” Dazai began, removing his hand from Atsushi’s shoulder. Slowly, so as not to frighten Atsushi with a sudden movement. 

But almost just as slowly, Atsushi moved. He turned toward Dazai and pressed himself against his side. Hesitantly, carefully, he reached his arms out, curling them around Dazai’s waist. Pale, shaking fingers intertwined against Dazai’s ribs, locking into place as though Atsushi expected Dazai to push him away. 

For several seconds, Dazai didn’t dare breathe as if the slightest movement would break the spell. When he had to inhale, Atsushi stayed where he was, the side of his face pressed to Dazai’s shirt. A few more seconds, and he felt the fabric dampen. 

He opened his mouth to ask why Atsushi was leaning into the man who haunted his nightmares, who’d turned his life into a living hell for a year, but he didn’t say a word. 

He knew how Atsushi would respond to that. He could easily imagine the full-bodied flinch, the quick retreat, the stuttered apology. He didn’t want to bring on that headache.

Instead of saying anything, he put a hand on Atsushi’s head. 

Atsushi’s breath hitched, and he pressed himself harder against Dazai’s side when Dazai combed his fingers through his hair. 

It was strange. All of it. 

Dazai had at one point used gentle touch as a threat, and Atsushi had known what it was. He used to tense under Dazai’s hand, not relaxing until he was well out of arm’s reach. Later, Dazai had tried-- without much success-- to offer comfort, and still a majority of the time, Atsushi tensed or pulled away. Now, he leaned into it, going almost limp against Dazai’s side. 

“You said you were proud of me,” Atsushi murmured into Dazai’s shirt. “You said it when you got drunk.”

Dazai’s hand paused. “Did I?”

Atsushi nodded. His body tensed slightly like he was suddenly aware that he had done something wrong.

He continued stroking his hair, and Atsushi went boneless. “I was scared you’d take it back as soon as you were sober. Like it was just one of those things you say when you drink too much.” 

Dazai almost chuckled at that comment. “It’s not a typical thing for me to say after drinking too much.” He brushed Atsushi’s bangs back with the side of his hand. “But I mean it.”

Atsushi leaned further into him. “T-Thanks,” he mumbled. 

Dazai said nothing in response, he just kept working his fingers through Atsushi’s hair. 

Bit by bit, Atsushi’s arms around him loosened and his head pressed heavier against Dazai’s ribs. His breathing evened out. 

He’d gotten himself in a rather odd position. Half of his body was sprawled out on the bed, his feet hanging off the edge entirely, and he was partially in Dazai’s lap.

He’d wake up with some killer cricks in his neck and back.  

Dazai considered laying Atsushi down on the bed and sneaking out before the boy stirred. He decided against it--too much risk of waking him. Atsushi was probably sleep-deprived as it was, and Dazai refused to be the cause of another problem for Atsushi. 

Because of the darkness and Atsushi’s position, Dazai couldn’t see his face, but he could imagine that the lines had smoothed out, that the pain and confusion scrawled across Atsushi’s face had eased.

Dazai rolled his shoulders, trying to get comfortable while sitting with his back flat against the wall. 

It all felt so horribly delicate. From the slow, steady breaths Atsushi took in and released to the scent of flowers mixed with the damp night air that drifted in from the open window to the cautious trust Atsushi had put in him. 

None of it would last. 

Before too long, Atsushi would wake up. In a few weeks, the floral scent would fade as the flowers did. And the trust, the peace, that Atsushi had put in him would dissolve come another day, come another night, come another nightmare. 

Dazai understood it better than most. One good night didn’t overwrite hundreds of days drenched in trauma. 

It just wasn’t how it worked. 

This night had been a step, and that was all. 

But, Dazai supposed he’d have to live with that. It wasn’t as though he had a better solution. 

So, he chose to ignore the temporariness of the peace that had settled over him and his apprentice, and he let his hand rest on Atsushi’s head.