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“What are you reading?”
Akutagawa looks up from the page and turns the book over to look at the cover. “101 pet facts,” he tells Chuuya.
“Why?”
“Because I’m bored.”
Chuuya looks around at the nearly empty lobby. “Go home, then,” he says, sounding more like he’s asking a question than anything else.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Gin kicked me out for screeching like a banshee while they were gaming. They said I’m not allowed back until I’ve learned my lesson.”
Chuuya raises his eyebrows. “I gather from the fact that you’re sitting here that you didn’t learn your lesson?”
“No. I will most certainly do it again.”
Chuuya raises his hands in surrender. “Whatever. You can sleep on the couch in my office if you want. I’m leaving.”
“Good night,” Akutagawa says, going back to his book. “Male cats are more likely to be left-pawed . . . I knew that bastard was a glorified cat.”
Akutagawa gets caught staring, but it doesn’t deter him. It does make Atsushi bristle, though.
“What?” the weretiger eventually asks.
“Nothing. I just noticed that you’re left-handed.”
Atsushi squints at him. “What does that have to do with anything? You’re supposed to be doing recon.”
“You’re writing everything down. What, do you not plan to share? Dazai said we should work together. See, I even let you sit in the car I’m using. The least you can do is share your notes.”
Atsushi clutches his little notebook to his chest and glares at Akutagawa. “You’re being weird.”
“Coming from a weretiger, I find that to be a somewhat weak insult.”
“Stop staring at me!”
Akutagawa continues to stare. He wonders what other cat traits Atsushi has. He thinks back to the book he’d read the other day when Gin kicked him out of the apartment. He recalls that while cats can follow fast motions easily, they often don’t notice slow movements, not registering it at all.
Very slowly, Akutagawa reaches out.
“What are you doing?” Atsushi asks when Akutagawa pokes his cheek, keeping his gaze on the warehouse they’re staking out.
“Testing your reflexes.”
“Right . . . Do I need to call someone?” Atsushi turns to look at him, so Akutagawa withdraws his hand. “Or do you just naturally get weird when you’re bored?”
“I am not bored. I’m conducting an experiment.”
Atsushi stares at him for a moment before shaking his head and turning back to the warehouse. “It’s been three hours with no movement. How sure are we that this is the warehouse we need to watch?”
“The information came from one of our informants and your arrogant detective seemed satisfied that this is the correct warehouse.” Akutagawa is only vaguely paying attention to the warehouse. Figuring out where Atsushi ends and the cat begins is far more interesting. “You’re lucky you don’t have blue eyes, you know.”
“Huh?”
“White cats with blue eyes are prone to deafness.”
Atsushi stares at Akutagawa for a long moment. “Are you high?”
“No. Why?”
“Y- nevermind. Can you please just focus? You’re distracting me?”
“You find me distracting?”
Atsushi glares at him. Akutagawa imagines the tiger tail swishing wildly, given that he’s probably getting on Atsushi’s last nerve at this point.
“Fine. I will conduct my experiments another day.”
Atsushi sighs when Akutagawa folds his arms and stares out the windshield, fixing his gaze on the warehouse.
What a bore.
“Did you get kicked out again?”
Akutagawa looks up from his book. “Yes.”
“Screeching again?”
“No, I threw Gin’s shampoo out the window in the middle of an argument and the bottle broke so all the shampoo went everywhere and now they have to get a new bottle.”
Chuuya tilts his head. “You really are quite a weird kid under all that scariness you project.”
“Yes, and I prefer to keep it that way, please. People would stop listening to me if they knew what I do at home.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Chuuya says, miming zipping his lips shut. “Is that the same book?”
Akutagawa nods.
“Why are there tabs in it now?”
“I marked the things I want to try.”
“You got yourself a pet?”
“Something like that.”
“Well,” Chuuya says, readjusting his hat, “feel free to sleep in my office again. I’m off.”
“Take care.”
Akutagawa goes back to his book. “Not all cats love catnip . . . hmm.”
He bookmarks the page.
Akutagawa stares down the long blade of Demon Snow.
“Atsushi,” Kyoka says, keeping her gaze on Akutagawa. “I think you have a visitor.”
Atsushi rounds the corner from the kitchen and stops in his tracks. “What are you doing in my window?”
“Conducting an experiment,” Akutagawa says simply.
“You can put Yuki away,” Atsushi tells Kyoka, patting her shoulder.
She narrows her eyes at Akutagawa before retracting her ability.
“It’s late,” Atsushi says. “Go home.”
“I can’t, Gin kicked me out.”
“Again?” Atsushi sighs as shakes his head. “Well, you can’t sleep here. There’s barely room for two in this dorm.”
“I have no intention of sleeping here. I told you, I am conducting an experiment.”
“What sort of experiment?”
Akutagawa thrusts a bag of catnip in Atsushi’s face. All it does is make Atsushi raise his eyebrows and stare with something of concern.
“What are you doing?”
“Interesting,” Akutagawa says, shaking the bag in front of Atsushi and still getting no response. “Good night.”
And he leaves before Atsushi can ask him what he’s doing a third time.
“What’s up with him?” Kyoka asks.
Atsushi sighs. “I think we’re better off not bothering to find out.”
“Do you purr?” Akutagawa asks randomly.
Atsushi stares at Akutagawa. “What?”
“What do you mean, what?”
“I mean, what kind of a question is that? What brought this on? What is the matter with you? What happened to your immense dislike for talking to me?”
“That’s too many questions,” Akutagawa says.
“Okay, what’s gotten into you, then?”
“I told you already; I am conducting experiments.”
Atsushi stares at Akutagawa for a long moment in silence before turning back to the front and watching the warehouse through the windshield.
“Well? Do you?”
“Do I what?” Atsushi all but snaps, watching the warehouse for any signs of movement.
“Purr,” Akutagawa says.
“I’m not answering that.”
“Hm.”
Atsushi glances at his side and sees Akutagawa take out a little notebook of his own. Something tells Atsushi that it’s got nothing to do with the recon they’re supposed to be doing.
“Oh! They’re moving something!”
Akutagawa snaps his notebook shut and reaches for the binoculars. He hands a pair to Atsushi, who is surprised to find himself catered for.
“Is that the weapon?” Atsushi asks.
“It looks about the size.”
“Are they moving it elsewhere?”
Atsushi and Akutagawa follow the crate being carried and loaded into a truck.
Akutagawa lowers his binoculars. “Put your seatbelt on and text Dazai. We’re following them.”
“Won’t they hear the car?” Atsushi asks, doing as he’s told.
“Don’t be daft. The Port Mafia can afford electric engines. We’re completely silent and if I don’t turn the headlights on, we’re almost invisible too.”
“Isn’t driving without headlights dangerous? And illegal?”
Akutagawa stares at Atsushi.
“Right. The mafia doesn’t care much about minor laws. Or my general safety.”
“Exactly. Text Dazai.”
Atsushi does just that and lifts the binoculars again to count how many men enter the truck.
“Do you hiss?” Akutagawa asks after they’ve been following the truck for a few minutes.
“Akutagawa, what is going on with you?”
“It’s just a question. Feel free to decline answering, but just know that I will find out through other means.”
Atsushi isn’t sure what other means Akutagawa is thinking about, but it makes him shudder in mild fear. “Fine. I do, but very rarely.”
“What about purring?”
“I’m still not answering that one.”
“Fine.” Akutagawa glances at Atsushi’s binoculars. “You know those have a night vision setting, right?”
“I don’t need that.”
“Oh? Interesting.”
“Don’t make notes while you’re driving!” Atsushi screeches.
“Rashomon can steer for five seconds, jinko.”
“Right, because she can see the road while you’re looking at your stupid little notebook, huh?”
Akutagawa shuts and pockets his notebook. “It’s a stretch of straight road.”
“What are you even writing in there?”
“It’s scientific research.”
Atsushi rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”
With the information Atsushi and Akutagawa provided the agency, Kunikida was able to pass the message on to their client and the weapon was seized, the gang arrested and the Port Mafia no longer had an interest in the case. Thus ended their long term assignment and Atsushi figured he should be able to go a few more weeks without needing to see Akutagawa again — at the very least.
“Atsushi. You have a visitor.”
Atsushi puts the last dish on the rack to dry and wanders into the main room, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. He stares at Akutagawa in the window. He can only form one exhausted thought. “Why?”
“Do you drink?”
“No, I’m underage. What kind of a question is that?”
“He’s an insane lightweight,” Kyoka, the little traitor, says. “Dazai let us all taste a little bit last time the agency went out to dinner. Why are you asking if he drinks? Are you going to ask Atsushi out on a date?”
“No.”
Atsushi scowls. “I take offense to the way you said that.”
“I don’t care for your offense. So, you’re a lightweight?”
“So what if I am?” Atsushi folds his arms. “What’s it got to do with you?”
Akutagawa nods and begins muttering to himself. “So, it’s not poisonous but it is . . . more effective? Faster effective? That’s grammatically incorrect. . .”
“Atsushi?” Kyoka asks when he storms past her to the window.
Atsushi shuts the window. He hears a dull crash and smiles, listening to the sound of Akutagawa cussing him out from the ground.
“He deserves it,” Atsushi tells Kyoka defensively.
She shrugs. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Do I have to?” Atsushi damn near whines.
“You’re the only one without an open case,” Kunikida says.
Atsushi looks at the folder on his desk like it’s diseased. “But this has Port Mafia involvement all over it. That means I’ll probably run into Akutagawa and I swear to God, I am two seconds away from murdering him.”
“Ah,” Dazai sighs from where he’s leaning back in his chair, eyes closed. “Young love.”
“Can I have that?” Atsushi asks Kunikida, gesturing to his pen.
“This?”
“Thank you.”
Dazai falls off his chair when Atsushi throws the pen at his face, catching him square on the nose. Kunikida snickers.
“I don’t even like him!” Atsushi cries. “Not all of us follow certain mafia individuals around like lost dogs because we’re in love with them!”
“Don’t say that,” Dazai says from the floor. “You’re going to offend Yosano.”
Dazai gets a second pen to the face, this one from Yosano herself. Atsushi and Kunikida snicker.
Atsushi expects the usual greeting he gets when Dazai purposefully pairs him up with Akutagawa. It’s often a disgruntled “Oh, it’s you,” or something ruder, but when Akutagawa inevitably finds Atsushi poking around the remains of a building that burned down in the middle of nowhere, Akutagawa’s greeting is nothing short of puzzling.
“Oh, hello.”
Atsushi drops the plank of charred wood. “Who are you and what have you done with Akutagawa?”
“What, am I not allowed to say hello to you?”
“You are, you just never do.”
“Well . . . I felt like saying it. Have you figured anything out?”
Atsushi scowls at Akutagawa. “Why should I share my investigation with you? The mafia may be interested in arson cases like this, but that doesn’t mean I have to work with you.”
“No,” Akutagawa agrees, “but wouldn’t it get done faster if we cooperated?”
Atsushi hates that it makes sense. “I’ll share only if you tell me why the mafia is interested.”
He expects to be met with resistance of some kind at least.
“The arsonist isn’t as sporadic as your client, the police, has led you to believe. It certainly seems like the arsonist is targeting buildings which have no relation to one another, but they’re all owned by associates of the Port Mafia. Of course, the personnel on our payroll are conventionally covering that bit of information up to keep our name out of it, but I trust you won’t share it because you don’t want anyone in the law enforcement to know you’re working with the Port Mafia without their knowledge. In short, we’re interested because it seems like this arsonist has a bone to pick with us.”
Atsushi blinks at Akutagawa. He hadn’t expected an answer, let alone one that extensive. “O-oh. Well, I just received the case this morning, so I don’t have much for you, but judging from the remains at this site, it’s safe to say that the arsonist knows what he’s doing. The smoke alarm system was deactivated and the sprinklers were disabled. I’m no expert, but I know gasoline when I smell it.”
“Were you able to determine where the fire here started?”
Atsushi scratches his head. “No, but I’m going to reach out to the forensics department at the police station to see if they can get someone in here as soon as possible.”
Akutagawa holds his cell phone out. “Or I could just call a detective on our payroll to get forensics out here within the day?”
Atsushi stares at Akutagawa for a moment. “Give me one second,” he says before turning around and pulling his phone out to text Kunikida.
To: Detective Dad
Hey is it morally ok if I use the mafia’s payrolled detectives to expedite results on my arson case?
More importantly, am I allowed to regardless of the answer to the above question?
From: Detective Dad
What
To: Detective Dad
Akutagawa offered
Weird, I know
From: Detective Dad
It’s fine I do it all the time when I work with the miniature demon — Dazai
IT IS NOT FINE
Atsushi stares at his phone for a moment, waiting for another text that never arrives. He figures Kunikida might be chasing Dazai down with a chair or something.
He turns back to Akutagawa. “Are you gonna make me pay for it?”
Akutagawa starts to shake his head, then stops. “You have to help me conduct my experiments.”
“What? Your weird questions? Fine, I’ll answer one question a day. Except the one about purring. Don’t ask me about purring.”
“Do you not want me to ask because you do?”
Atsushi glares at Akutagawa.
“Fine. I’ll tell Higuchi to contact the detective. I’ll have him send you a copy of a full forensics report.”
“Great, thanks.” Atsushi dusts his hands off and steps over the mess to get to the door. “I’ll send you a copy of my report about today. You can leave if you want, there’s no evidence to collect.”
“I think I’ll personally look over everything.”
“Suit yourself,” Atsushi says.
When he gets home and has dinner with Kyoka, he is somehow not surprised to find Akutagawa in his window.
“Can I start with my questions from today?”
“Fine.”
“Do you eat chocolate?”
“No, it makes me nauseous.”
“Thank you.”
“What was that about?” Kyoka asks after Akutagawa turns around and leaves.
“I really don’t want to know.”
Kunikida glares at Atsushi. “You’re working with the Port Mafia on this?”
“You never said I couldn’t,” Atsushi argues defensively, like a child who stayed up all night after being told to go to bed, but not to sleep.
“I said it wasn’t okay!”
“Yeah, but you didn’t say I’m not allowed to!”
Kunikida pinches the bridge of his nose. “You do realise that we are detectives, yes? We try not to work with criminals.”
“That’s true, however, the objective is to solve the case. If the Port Mafia hadn’t been interested in this case and Akutagawa hadn’t been there, I would have asked Ranpo to talk to his police detective friend about getting the reports faster, but then I would’ve had to purchase bribery sweets for Ranpo and that would come out of the agency’s pocket. So, really, I just did the same thing but without costing the agency anything in candy purchases.”
Dazai laughs. “You sure are something, Atsushi.”
“Yes,” Kunikida agrees, fixing an exasperated glare on Atsushi. His eye twitches. “You are a little shit.”
“Hey, you’re the one who gave me this case. I told you I’d run into Akutagawa.”
“You also said you wanted to murder him, not use him.”
“Ah, but murder is a crime.”
Kunikida’s twitching eye gets worse. “Just go to your desk.”
“Yes, sir.”
Atsushi sits at his desk and opens his laptop to find a forensics report waiting for him in his emails. “See? I got the report already.”
Dazai leans over to peer at Atsushi’s laptop. “Oh, wow. You really did. Good for you, Atsushi.”
“Thanks!”
“I need a drink,” Kunikida says and walks out of the office.
“Ooh, can I join you?” Dazai asks.
“I’m getting caffeine,” Kunikida shouts from outside, “not alcohol!”
“Oh, then nevermind!”
Atsushi doesn’t know how he ended up in Akutagawa’s apartment and from the look on Gin’s face, they don’t know either.
“Hello?” Gin says, stopping between the living room and kitchen to stare at Atsushi.
He looks up, taking in their tousled hair and the blood on their coat, before nodding. “Hello.”
“What . . . are you doing here?”
Atsushi gestures to the mess on the table, and the unoccupied laptop across him. “Working.”
“Right . . . Where’s my brother?”
“Toilet,” Atsushi says, gesturing to the hallway. “He ordered a coffee with ‘real milk’ and none of that ‘disgusting fake excuse for milk’ like I did and now he’s paying the price.”
“Shut up!” Akutagawa screeches from the bathroom. “You said you wouldn’t tell!”
“I said I wouldn’t tell anyone! Gin’s your sister!”
“This is so weird,” Gin whispers.
“Tell me about it,” Atsushi says. “Hey, you like to go stabby-slicey on people, right?”
“I- I guess?”
Atsushi holds up a photo from one of the burned buildings that contained a casualty. “Murder or suicide?” he asks, watching them study the slit on the man’s throat.
“Murder. Probably intentional and by a professional. Unless your victim was an assassin, that is. The angle is too precise for it to be suicide or done by a common criminal and-or enraged family member-slash-acquaintance.”
“I knew it,” Atsushi mutters to himself.
Gin looks absolutely bewildered.
“Thank you,” he tells them before leaning backwards to shout into the hallway. “Gin says it’s murder, so you owe me a treat!”
“Shut! Up!”
Atsushi snickers to himself as Gin leaves back the way they’d come. He can’t blame them. Atsushi’s never been in Akutagawa’s apartment before. It must be a little weird.
Akutagawa returns with a glower on his face and clenched fists. “I can’t believe you told Gin.”
Atsushi ignores him. “So, we’ve established that this one is a murder, so do we think the fire was done to cover up the murder or do we think the arsonist hit two birds with one stone?”
Akutagawa sits down. “The property isn’t in the victim’s name, but the victim did know the property owner, so I’m going to go with the latter. Our victim probably decided to visit and picked the wrong day to be there.”
“Aw, our victim.”
“Shut the fuck up, you’re so weird.”
“Says the guy who asked me if my hair falls out randomly and grows back fast enough that I don’t notice. What’s up with that, anyway?”
“You said you’d answer a question a day. You never said I had to justify them.”
Atsushi shrugs. “Fair enough. So, can we put this one down with the murder pile?”
Akutagawa moves the folder over to the pile in question and opens up the one that had been below it. He looks at the topmost photograph and gags. “Murder. Definitely murder.”
Atsushi looks at the splatter of what deduces can only be blood and brains and shudders. “It could be a suicide like the original case concluded.”
“In an isolated case, maybe. But a building registered to this man went up in flames two days prior to the autopsy report’s date of death. That can’t be a coincidence.”
Atsushi hums. “Good point. Assumed murder, then. That makes all these cases murder cases. How were they all written off as suicide or accidental death?”
Akutagawa rolls his eyes. “They were isolated cases handled by different police detectives. You’re looking at them all together.”
“Right. How does the mafia usually handle murder cases?”
“By committing them and then burying the evidence.”
“Forget I asked.”
Dazai leans back on his chair and takes a peek at Atsushi’s laptop. “How’s your arson case going?”
“We’ve deduced that it’s an arson-slash-murder case, actually.”
“We?” Kunikida asks, looking up from his laptop.
Atsushi looks up too and nods. “Yeah, me and Akutagawa. He’s providing resources and intelligence, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to work with him. The more mafia resources I can use, the faster I can catch the arsonist.”
Kunikida stares at him for a few seconds before throwing Dazai a withering glare. “You corrupted him!”
“I didn’t do anything!” Dazai cries defensively.
Atsushi tunes them out. He has full police case files to read, courtesy of a detective on the Port Mafia’s payroll. It certainly is handy to have friends in dark places.
He decides to take a break when the words start blurring together. He turns the screensaver on so he doesn’t have to look at any more reports and leans back in his chair. His buzzing phone catches his attention.
From: 20 Questions
Do you randomly knock things off tables or shelves?
To: 20 Questions
I actively try not to
From: 20 Questions
Thanks
“Who are you texting that’s got you smiling like that?” Dazai asks, his tone a good indicator that he’s trying to start something.
“Akutagawa,” Atsushi says without hesitation. “He’s being stupid again.”
Dazai wrinkles his nose. “I kinda thought it was a crush.”
“I think I would be a flushing mess if I had a crush to text, not laughing internally.”
Dazai shrugs. “I guess.”
Thankfully, Dazai leaves it alone at that.
From: 20 Questions
Chazuke? — Gin
To: 20 Questions
If I ever say no to that question, I’ve been brainwashed or I’ve been kidnapped and someone is using my phone to divert suspicion.
From: 20 Questions
Moron
Atsushi smiles to himself. He can almost hear Akutagawa calling him a moron with less bite and more amusement. It’s nice to have a — albeit hair-trigger sensitive — friend outside of his coworkers.
“Absolutely not,” Tachihara says as he moves his Monopoly piece before passing the dice to Atsushi. “I wouldn’t blow up a building unless I wanted to send a message. There’s no way your arsonist isn’t trying to say something with all these attacks.”
“We know that it’s some kind of vendetta against the mafia,” Akutagawa says as Atsushi hands him the money for landing on his property before taking the dice. “We just can’t figure out why.”
“Well, who is he targeting?” Gin asks. “Politicians, law enforcement, corporate magnates? That could give you some kind of clue.”
“It’s mostly been mafia business partners,” Akutagawa says. He looks at the property he’s landed on. “Should I build a house?”
“I think you should sell me that property,” Gin says. “I’ll have all three, then. I’ll charge you the normal price if you land on any of them if you sell it to me. Only if you sell it to me before you lose all your money and you’re desperate.”
“No way! You own half the board already!”
“Then I guess I have to run you bankrupt and take all your property by force.”
Atsushi stares at the board. He’s never played Monopoly with these rules before, but then again, Kunikida tries to use his ability to make grenades when Dazai buys property so he’s not really sure what the actual Monopoly rules even are. Tachihara calls this Monopoly: Black Lizard Edition.
Gin really does own over half the board and she’s been steadily trying to buy out properties and utilities from everyone else. She even threatened to throw a full soda can at Tachihara’s face when he didn’t want to sell her his railway card.
“Oh my god,” Atsushi whispers. “It’s not a vendetta.”
“Hm?” Akutagawa says, pausing his argument with Gin to look at Atsushi. “Say something?”
“It’s not a vendetta. It’s business!”
Atsushi is aware he probably looks mad as he scrambles to get to his bag on the couch. When he turns back, the board is gone, placed on the floor behind Tachihara.
“Thanks,” Atsushi says before dropping the file on the table and pulling out the list of victims. “These are all mafia business partners, right? But you said none of them are very big partners. They don’t get as much as some other companies do, and certainly not as much as the shell companies circulate.”
“Does no one think it’s a little odd how much Atsushi knows about the inner workings of the mafia?” Tachihara muses.
“Shut up,” Akutagawa tells him. “Go on, jinko.”
“Well, if you think about it, each of them don’t get much money out of the partnership alone, but if someone were to own all the companies that these men own, it would be a pretty big percentage of mafia partnerships, wouldn’t it? Our arsonist has to be someone who tried to buy the victims out and when they refused to sell, he decided to send a message — a message that wasn’t received by the next one, so he did it again. Look, these are the first three victims.”
Akutagawa, Tachihara and Gin all lean closer as Atsushi lays out the three autopsy reports.
“Look at how number two and number three were both killed within a week of the fire to their main company buildings or homes. See how victim number one was killed within the same week as the fire and murder of victim number two. My guess is the fire was supposed to send the message but when that wasn’t received, our arsonist killed or had number one killed before moving on to number two. After that, all the victims were killed either in the fire or within a week of the fire.”
“You think someone’s trying to get a bigger stake in the mafia?” Tachihara asks.
Atsushi nods. He looks at Akutagawa. “And I’m willing to bet it’s someone who’s already in bed with the mafia, but way down on the list. Someone greedy for more. Think you can get a list of lower level mafia business partners?”
Akutagawa shrugs. “It’ll be difficult.”
“Two questions a day.”
“I’ll get it to you tomorrow.”
Gin looks between the two of them.
“Two questions?” Tachihara asks.
“None of your business,” Akutagawa snaps at him.
Tachihara raises his hands. “Jeez, sorry for having human curiosity. So, can we get back to the game, now?”
Atsushi gathers the files up and shoves them into his bag. “Yeah, but I won’t stay late because I have to get into the office early tomorrow and update Kunikida.”
“Great. It’s Gin’s turn.”
Kunikida stares open-mouthed at the person sitting on the adjacent side of Atsushi’s desk. He’s not the only one. Half the detectives in the office are staring.
Ranpo isn’t because Ranpo already foresaw this potentially happening and isn’t surprised that it did. Kenji doesn’t seem to mind. Kyoka is very used to finding Akutagawa in weird places and really doesn’t care to question it.
“This one?” Atsushi asks, sliding a page across the desk to Akutagawa.
Akutagawa slides it closer to him and scans it for a moment before sliding it back to Atsushi. “Ane-san met with him last week. He’s clear. She would’ve picked up if he harboured ill intent towards the mafia.”
“Damn, okay.” Atsushi scratches a name off a list and drops the sheet on a pile.
“What are they doing?” Dazai whispers.
“Working,” Kunikida whispers back. “I think.”
“I’m going to get coffee,” Akutagawa says, standing up and leaving. Atsushi just hums and continues working.
“Hey,” Dazai whispers urgently once the door closes. He scoots his chair closer to Atsushi and shakes his shoulder. “Hey, what’s happening here?”
Atsushi looks up and glances at Akutagawa’s corner of his desk. “Hm? Oh, I asked the president if Akutagawa could come in to work on the case because Gin’s got a job at the apartment so I’m not allowed to go over because apparently my nose is already too far into mafia business and Gin says it’ll get chopped off if I know too much, and I sure as hell am not visiting a mafia board room. They might lock me in there or something.”
“And he said yes?” Yosano asks almost incredulously.
Atsushi shrugs. “We outnumber Akutagawa here. He won’t try anything with so many of us all in the same office. Plus, he behaves better here than at the apartment, where he throws things at my head if I ask a question he thinks is stupid.”
“You . . . you go to his apartment?” Dazai asks.
“Yeah? Where else are we supposed to work?”
Dazai stares at him.
Atsushi takes a moment to revel in the sight of a stunned speechless Dazai. It only gets better when Akutagawa returns with a paper cup of coffee in each hand and several tendrils of Rashomon floating around him with more paper cups and a brown bag like a demon bearing gifts, and Dazai’s mouth actually falls open.
“Thanks,” Kyoka says when a plastic cup is placed on her desk.
“Don’t mention it,” Akutagawa says as he takes his seat and hands Atsushi one of the cups he had in his hands. “Ever. I mean it.”
“Okay. Anti-thanks.”
Akutagawa glares at her. She sticks her tongue out at him.
“Ooh, powdered donuts!” Ranpo says when the brown bag is dropped on his desk. “Anti-thanks, Akutagawa.”
Atsushi snickers when Akutagawa turns at the speed of light to glare at Kyoka. She keeps her head down, sipping on her smoothie and her shoulders shake ever so slightly.
“Is this poison?” Kunikida eventually asks.
Akutagawa looks at him like he’s stupid. “No, if I wanted to poison you, I would secretly slip it into a drink you acquired yourself. That is a triple shot espresso.”
“I got a strawberry milkshake!” Kenji says happily. “With strawberry pieces!”
“What’s that?” Tanizaki asks, pointing to the drink on the desk beside his own.
Akutagawa looks at his watch. “The weretiger says your sister always returns to the office around this time. The bubble tea is hers.”
On cue, Naomi pops in.
“Aw,” Atsushi says, “I didn’t know you paid attention when I talk.”
“I always pay attention when people talk to me. You just say garbage all the time so I never bother to respond.”
“Is there poison in mine?” Dazai asks with a tinge of hope in his voice. Kunikida gives him a glare for it.
“No,” Akutagawa says without looking at Dazai. “You get a chocolate milkshake. I hope you’re lactose intolerant, asshole.”
Atsushi hides his face behind his hands when Dazai gives him an incredibly betrayed look for laughing.
Eventually, the office settles into the normality that is Akutagawa Ryuunosuke sitting among them, buying coffee, working quietly with Atsushi. The pair of them have sorted their list of mafia business partners into people in the clear, the victims, suspects, and potential victims, based on the minimal conversation coming from the two desks.
“Atsushi,” Dazai sings, “will you do this report for me, too?”
Akutagawa looks up, curious to see if Atsushi will drop their case to help Dazai.
He doesn’t.
Atsushi gives Dazai a long stare before, without breaking eye contact, reaches over and pushes Dazai’s pen holder off his desk. He stares at Dazai, as if silently asking him what he’s going to do about it.
“Atsushi,” Kunikida says, sounding like he’s trying to scold Atsushi, but probably thinks Dazai deserves it.
Akutagawa takes out his little notebook to write something down that Atsushi really doesn’t care to figure out. Kyoka tries to peek into it, but Akutagawa slaps his notebook shut, pockets it, and watches Dazai start to pick his pens up.
“Should we do interviews?” Atsushi asks Akutagawa. “I mean, if this were my own case, I’d probably speak to potential victims to gauge how at risk they are, but you’d know better when it comes to people that deal with the mafia.”
Akutagawa blinks, tearing his gaze from Dazai sullenly picking his pens back up. “Uh, yeah, but you do them. They’re more likely to give up someone threatening them to you than to me. They might think I’m trying to cut them off from the mafia like a dead branch.”
Atsushi nods. “Great, can you scope out the suspects while I do that, then? The guilty party would be more afraid of you than me.”
Akutagawa nods as well. “Sure.”
Atsushi yawns and stretches. He glances at the clock before shutting his laptop down and tidying up the case file. He bids everyone goodbye and leaves with Akutagawa in tow.
“Do you think Gin is feeling for sushi?” Akutagawa asks.
“Nuh uh, you already agreed to buy udon for me and Kyoka. You can go get sushi after you buy dinner for me and Kyoka.”
“That was weird,” Kunikida says when the door closes.
“But not as rare as you might think,” Kyoka says.
“Aren’t you going with Atsushi?” Tanizaki asks.
“I’ll leave with Kenji. Atsushi is going to do grocery shopping first.”
No one asks any more questions, but that may be because no one knows what to ask.
“Hi,” Gin says when Atsushi and Akutagawa enter the apartment uncharacteristically quietly.
“I don’t like your boss’ business partners,” Atsushi says. “One lady told her secretary to kick me out so she literally kicked me out.”
“Three of them shot at me,” Akutagawa huffs. “Obviously I didn’t get shot, but I’m very offended.”
Gin rolls their eyes fondly. “Oh, my little babies. Are your feewings hurt?”
Atsushi and Akutagawa both glare at them.
“For all the trouble,” Atsushi says, “we did manage to find the arsonist. I let your brother handle him because of the personal grudge against the mafia.”
“I didn’t kill him,” Akutagawa says when Gin looks at him.
“Whatever. I finished my work early and I got bored so I messed around with some recipes. Behold,” Gin says, gesturing to the table laden with food, “uh . . . look, it’s edible and that’s all you need to care about.”
Atsushi lights up immediately. “Thank you, Gin,” is all he manages to get out as he practically sprints to the bathroom to wash his hands.
“He’s oddly comfortable in here,” Gin tells their brother.
“Mm.”
“One day he might end up sleeping over. You’ll let him sleep in your room, right?”
“Mm — no?! Why would I do that?”
Gin smiles. “I wonder why.”
“That makes no sense,” Akutagawa says, following Gin to the table. “Explain yourself.”
Gin slaps his hand away when he reaches for what he thinks might be a mini burger. “Wash your hands and change out of those clothes. You smell like gunpowder.”
Akutagawa scowls at them. Gin points in the direction of the bathroom.
Huffing, Akutagawa storms to the bathroom. He’s not surprised to find it empty of Atsushi and he’s surprisingly not surprised to find Atsushi digging through his wardrobe when he gets to his room.
“Can I wear this?” Atsushi asks, holding up a hoodie Akutagawa doesn’t even remember obtaining.
“Don’t you have your own clothes?”
“Gin doesn’t like it when I wear my work clothes at the table. Especially not after I landed in a dumpster.”
“Ew,” Akutagawa says, wrinkling his nose. “You landed in a dumpster? That’s gross.”
“I know. That’s why I’m borrowing your clothes. Gin will hit me if I sit at the table with dumpster clothes.”
Akutagawa gags. “Gross. Go shower. That’s disgusting, oh my god.”
“But I don’t have —”
“I’m going to throw up if you make my room smell like a dumpster. Go shower before I kick you out and eat all the food Gin made for you.”
“That is so cruel!”
“Get out of my room!”
“Okay, all right! I’m going! Can I at least get pants first?”
“Make it quick.”
Akutagawa doesn’t like the knowing look Gin is giving him. He’s extra pissed because Gin won’t let him eat until Atsushi joins them. They say it’s rude to make their guest feel left out. Akutagawa thinks they’re full of shit.
“What?” he bites out eventually.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re giving me a look. I don’t like it.”
Gin tilts their head innocently. “What look?”
“Like you know something I don’t.”
“I do know something you don’t.”
“What do you know?”
Gin shakes their head. “Can’t tell. It’s a secret.”
“You and the weretiger have secrets now?”
Gin shakes their head again. “Nope. It’s a secret from both of you.”
“Sorry,” Atsushi says as he joins them at the table, “I got shampoo in my eyes so I just sat on the floor and cried until it got out.”
Akutagawa stares at him, wondering how on God’s green earth someone so utterly dumb is reluctantly growing on him. At least when he wanted to kill Atsushi on sight, the world made sense.
“Eat,” Akutagawa says. “I can see your bones through your skin.”
“That is such a lie and you know it,” Atsushi says.
“Eat or I will eat your share.”
Akutagawa doesn’t understand the look Atsushi gives him. He smiles, but his lips barely move. Akutagawa didn’t know people could smile with their eyes.
He didn’t know Atsushi could be . . . not ugly to look at.
Tanizaki catches Atsushi in the break room. “Is that going to be a regular occurence?”
Atsushi looks down at the coffee machine. “What?”
“Bringing Akutagawa here.”
“Oh. Um, maybe? The president says it’s okay because he was well-behaved, so I guess it depends on whether he wants to or not.” Atsushi tilts his head. “Why?”
“No reason. Just curious. He’s not here today, though?”
“No, Gin put him on dinner duty.”
Tanizaki doesn’t ask what dinner duty is. “Cool.”
Kunikida catches him in the stairwell. “Will Akutagawa be joining us again today?”
Atsushi pauses with one foot on the second flight of stairs. “Uh, no . . . why?”
“Dazai is pushing my buttons a little too much today and I don’t want to say the wrong thing, so I’m going out to get some snacks for the office. I was wondering if I ought to get something for Akutagawa.”
“Oh. No, he won’t be coming today.”
“Hm. Very well.”
(When Kunikida returns after Atsushi has settled in at his desk, he hands Atsushi a pack of sour gummies without a word that Atsushi drops into his bag with a nod of thanks. Dazai squints at them the whole exchange.)
Yosano catches him in the cafe. “Say, when is Akutagawa coming around again?”
Atsushi shrugs. “I’m not sure. He seems to be busy with whatever it is he does. He might come by when his paperwork piles up. He says working at the agency office is easier than the mafia buildings or home. Higuchi and Tachihara are at the mafia buildings, and Gin and Tachihara are at his apartment. No one bothers him here.”
Yosano nods. “I see. Well, let him know that I bought those wrist guards he was looking at on the internet the last time he was here. He can come by just to try them on if he wants.”
Atsushi doesn’t know when Akutagawa and Yosano had a conversation on their own, but he nods and says he’ll pass the message on.
Dazai catches him at the end of the day, as the two of them lock up. “You know he’s part of the Port Mafia, right? He’s a bloodhound for the mafia.”
Atsushi raises his eyebrows as they begin the walk to the dorms. “I don’t see you saying anything to Ranpo or Tanizaki for playing games with Gin and Tachihara.”
“Those are games. It’s friendly. This is different.”
Atsushi squints at Dazai. “I’m not dating him.”
“Ooh, quick denial!”
“And regardless of the fact that I’m not, it’s very hypocritical of you to say that to me when you’re dating a Port Mafia executive.”
“Okay, technically, when we had our first date, I was the executive.”
Atsushi blinks. “I knew it! Tanizaki owes me a drink!”
Dazai glitches, like he’s not sure what to respond to first.
“You’re underage,” he eventually says, sounding like he’s asking a question.
“Kunikida takes me and Tanizaki out for a little drink once a month. He says drinking with us is nice because there’s no social pressure to drink a lot because neither of us can handle alcohol anyway and even if we could, he wouldn’t let us have a lot yet.”
Dazai gapes at Atsushi for a moment. “Kunikida never goes drinking with me!”
“You’re an alcoholic.”
“Atsushi!”
“What? It’s true!”
Dazai pouts like a toddler. “You don’t have to be so loud about it.”
“Sorry,” Atsushi says, not really apologetic. He knows his limits when it comes to Dazai and he’s nowhere near them right now.
“What gave me away?”
“Honestly? You look like you’re a little high every time you talk about him. You look extra wiped whenever you mention that you’ve known each other since you were fifteen. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.”
“Huh,” is all Dazai has to say on the matter. He pushes his dorm room door open. “Good night, Atsushi.”
“Good night, Dazai.”
Akutagawa is sitting on the tatami mats with his notebook when Atsushi enters.
“Kyoka said she’s sleeping with the farmer boy,” Akutagawa announces.
“You can’t keep kicking Kyoka out of her own dorm,” Atsushi says as he nudges the door closed and kicks his shoes off. “I don’t kick your sister out of their room.”
“I said I’d wait outside. She said she wanted an excuse to visit the farmer boy without abandoning you. I just had a question for you.”
Atsushi’s eye twitches. “Liar.”
Akutagawa doesn’t acknowledge it.
”Is that my sweatpants?” Atsushi asks.
Akutagawa hums. “You left it in our laundry. I had to fight Gin tooth and nail for my turn. It’s our sweatpants now. You have no claim over it.”
Atsushi stares for a second. “Whatever.”
It’s not like Akutagawa and Gin are all that out of line, if he’s honest. He’s actually got two of Gin’s jackets in his wardrobe because he forgot to give them back and Gin said he could have them. He also has one of Akutagawa’s shirts, but that’s just out of spite because Akutagawa said he’s not allowed to take it.
Akutagawa looks down at his notebook and flips a page, humming, before looking up at Atsushi. “Can you taste the air?”
“Excuse me?”
“I said what I said.”
Atsushi stares at Akutagawa. “I don’t — I’ve never — I don’t think so?”
“May I test?” Akutagawa asks, gesturing to a bag beside him. Of course the bastard is prepared.
Atsushi shrinks away from Akutagawa — as if he’s not standing on the other end of the room. “How?”
“With a blindfold test. Without your sense of sight, you’ll have to determine what I place in front of you to test if you can taste smells.”
Atsushi hugs his bag to his chest. “If you hurt me in any serious way, I will eat the sour gummies Kunikida bought for you in front of you.”
“Wh- you don’t even like sour gummies!”
“I am a very spiteful person. Do you promise not to hurt me for your gummies?”
Akutagawa tilts his head. “You don’t trust me, partner?”
“I. . .” Atsushi sits down. He tosses the sour gummies pack at Akutagawa. “Get on with it.”
“Thank you,” Akutagawa says after a long moment of looking at the gummies, before Rashomon blinds Atsushi — gently, softly, tenderly.
Akutagawa doesn’t really know how to be loved. It’s not something that’s ever been a concern. He knows that Gin has always cared about him in their own little way. But then again, he doesn’t think Gin knows how to love someone. He’s sure he doesn’t. So, yeah, he knows his sister cares about him, but he’s never really learned how to be loved.
So when Atsushi tosses the bag of gummies at him, it makes the fact that someone bought something for him real and he doesn’t really know how to respond.
Kunikida bought them? Why? Did he feel as though he owed Akutagawa for some reason?
Absurd.
“Get on with it,” Atsushi says.
“Thank you,” Akutagawa says, though he’s not sure what for. The gummies? Atsushi’s trust? Because it is Atsushi’s trust that he’s received with the gummies. That was Atsushi’s leverage. He said he’d eat the candy if Akutagawa hurt him and yet, Akutagawa is holding the pack.
Atsushi trusts him.
Because he brought things to smell and not a fucking blindfold, Akutagawa uses Rashomon. He sees Atsushi shiver as he closes his eyes before Rashomon winds herself over his closed eyes.
Rashomon has hurt him so much. Akutagawa has used her to hurt him and yet, he doesn’t seem afraid.
Akutagawa doesn’t know what to do with that information.
Atsushi sniffs. “Did we start yet?”
“Oh. No. No, give me a moment.”
Atsushi hums. He starts to sway, moving his head like he’s listening to something catchy.
“What are you doing?” Akutagawa asks when he notices.
“I’m waiting.”
“No, with your head. What’s all of that movement for?”
“Oh. Sorry, I’m listening to music in my head.”
Akutagawa stares at Atsushi. Maybe he’s just a moron?
He expected this new experiment to be as simple and almost clinical as the catnip experiment, but he couldn’t be more wrong.
He starts off with things that have distinct smells that even he can pick up. Strawberries, lemon, a spice or two, Gin’s shampoo.
It’s a little jarring how quickly Atsushi shouts “Gin’s shampoo!” in delight at knowing the answer when Akutagawa opens the small container, but then again, he banned Atsushi from using his own because one time, Atsushi got it in his eye and somehow managed to drop the bottle, step on it and empty it all over the shower floor all while complaining about his eye loudly enough that Gin threatened to rip his vocal chords out. So he probably recognised it because he uses it, not because he sniffs Gin.
Atsushi evidently has as keen a sense of smell as Akutagawa predicted and manages to pick out nearly every item. Akutagawa starts to get creative. He finds Kyoka’s perfume on the nightstand and brings it to Atsushi, a little amused when Atsushi takes a second.
Akutagawa accidentally gets baby powder on Atsushi’s face, which makes Atsushi gag and try to spit it out.
Cute, Akutagawa thinks. He startles himself when he realises he’s smiling. He didn’t know his facial muscles could do that.
“Get it off, Akutagawa! It’s in my mouth, ew!”
Akutagawa scoffs. “I’m not sticking my hand in your mouth, Jinko.”
Atsushi wipes at his mouth. “Disgusting.”
“You missed a spot,” Akutagawa says, trying not to smile again. Atsushi may not be able to see him, but Akutagawa can’t be sure that his stupid cat ears won’t pick up a minuscule change in his voice.
Atsushi leans forward. “Get it off before I eat it and then kill you for it.”
Being dead doesn’t sound like much fun, so Akutagawa reaches out to brush the powder off Atsushi’s chin and nose.
Atsushi sniffs. “Mm. You smell like cloves.”
Well, duh, Akutagawa wants to say. Gin made him cook. Obviously he’s going to smell like something food-y. His mouth seems to have stopped working. His brain, too, it appears, given that he struggles to form a coherent thought when Atsushi inhales deeply.
“And gunpowder. Gin let you cook after work?”
Akutagawa suddenly realises his fingers are still on Atsushi’s chin, supposed to be brushing the powder away, but frozen in place. He should really bring his hand back.
“Akutagawa? You still there?”
An absurd question, Akutagawa thinks. His hand is still on Atsushi’s face. Atsushi should be able to tell. Akutagawa knows that he clearly can tell when he wraps his hand around Akutagawa’s wrist and rubs his thumb over Akutagawa’s pulse point.
“Everything okay?”
Akutagawa can imagine the concern in Atsushi’s eyes.
Screw the blindfold test. Screw all his experiments and whatever. He wants to see Atsushi’s eyes.
Atsushi blinks at the sudden light when Rashomon recedes without warning. She doesn’t yet melt back into Akutagawa’s shirt. Instead, the ribbons hover at his shoulders, as if she too wants to look at Atsushi.
Rashomon isn’t sentient, not really, but Akutagawa wouldn’t be surprised if she gained sentience just to look at Atsushi. Sometimes he feels like he’s breathing for the first time when Atsushi puts that gaze of his on him.
“Are you all right?” Atsushi asks, tracing circles now.
“What have you done to me, jinko?” Akutagawa whispers.
“Hm? I haven’t done anything.”
“You must’ve done something.”
“You’re worrying me. You look afraid. Did — did you get a text or something? Is it work? Is it Gin?”
“It is you,” Akutagawa murmurs, his gaze fixed on Atsushi’s eyes, unable to look away. Not that he thinks he would if he were able to. “You are what scares me, Atsushi.”
“That doesn’t make any —” Atsushi pauses and his lips part in silent surprise as his eyes widen almost comically. Akutagawa thinks his mouth would fall open if not for Akutagawa’s hand. “Did you just call me by my name?”
“All I wanted to know was how much like a cat you are,” Akutagawa says. “I’ve learnt more than I was prepared for.”
“Is that what all that was about?” Atsushi smiles. “What did you learn?”
“I’ve learnt that you are a constant and a bridge that I cannot afford to burn.”
Atsushi tilts his head. “Ah. This is about the gummies.”
“In part, yes.”
“Well, you’re very well-behaved in the office. They find your company pleasant and you bring drinks for everyone when you take a break. They like you.”
Akutagawa tilts his head. “Do you like me?”
“Of course! You’re my partner. I know I’ve got Kyoka but — but you’re like my Chuuya, y’know? Dazai’s got Kunikida but Chuuya’s still his partner.”
Akutagawa feels something squeeze his lungs. “Are you even aware of what you’re insinuating?”
Atsushi’s grin is slow, conniving, wicked and amused. He terrifies Akutagawa in more ways than one, but all in pleasant ways. He leans forward, resting his chin in Akutagawa’s hand. “Shy?”
“N-no.”
“Pity. I bet you’re really pretty when you’re shy and flushed.”
And doesn’t that just do it?
“Oh! I was right!”
“Shut up,” Akutagawa snaps, finally breaking out of his little trance and snatching his hand back.
He doesn’t quite make it to folding his arms and turning away, because Atsushi catches his hand by the wrist and smiles like the little devil he is before slipping his hand down to hold Akutagawa’s hand in a feather-light grasp before lifting the back of Akutagawa’s hand to his lips.
Is it possible to be jealous of one’s own limb?
Akutagawa grabs Atsushi by the collar. “Kiss me properly, coward.”
Atsushi chuckles. “There he is.”
“What?”
“The bold little ball of unbridled rage that I so adore.”
“Y-you —”
“Yes, I adore you. I have grown incredibly fond of you as of late, Akutagawa.” He grins. “Or would you like me to return the favour and call you by your name?”
“I bet you don’t even know my name,” Akutagawa says in the poorest of attempts to maintain his bravado.
“Ryuunosuke,” Atsushi sings, dragging on each syllable in a delicious way.
“You are the worst, jinko. I had no idea you were such a menace.”
Atsushi brushes his fingers over Akutagawa’s cheek. His hands feel like ice, but Akutagawa knows that Atsushi naturally runs warm, so it must be because his face is aflame. He tugs on Atsushi’s collar and does his best not to whine.
(Gin is never going to let him live this down.)
Finally Atsushi relents. He kisses like he knows what he’s doing, which sends a spark of jealousy between Akutagawa’s ribs. Who dared to lay hands on his weretiger? Who did the universe allow to feel this indescribable —
“You’re stiff,” Atsushi mutters against his lips. “Is this not what you were asking for? I’m s-”
“You stop now and I’ll suspend you from the rooftop of the mafia’s tallest building until you beg the birds for mercy,” Akutagawa threatens.
“Easy,” Atsushi says, and Akutagawa can feel the way his lips stretch into a smile. He shuffles forward and seats himself in Akutagawa’s lap. “I just wanted to be sure.”
Akutagawa doesn’t actively do much, but he goes where Atsushi guides him instead of sitting stiff as a board. He tilts his head when Atsushi’s fingers apply the slightest pressure. He lets his hands stay on Atsushi’s hips when Atsushi puts them there. He parts his lips when Atsushi tugs on his lower lip with his teeth. He squeezes Atsushi’s hips when Atsushi slips his tongue past Akutagawa’s teeth.
Who the fuck taught the weretiger to kiss?
He does whine when Atsushi draws back slightly, just far enough for them to part.
“I can smell your jealousy. There’s no need.”
Akutagawa pouts. “I know it isn’t fair to you, but I do not like the idea that others have had you like this.”
Atsushi gives him a smile like the first rays of spring sunshine and cups his face in both hands. “There is no need. You will have all my firsts and I don’t care if this scares you, but I think you will have all my lasts too.”
Akutagawa blinks dumbly at him for a moment. “Oh.”
Atsushi yelps when Akutagawa, physically unable to contain his emotions in his own body, wraps his arms around Atsushi as tightly as he can and in trying to get impossibly closer, topples the pair of them over.
“My head,” Atsushi whines through soft laughter, even as he holds Akutagawa to him.
Akutagawa can hear Atsushi’s heartbeat beneath his ear before there is another sound. Low and rumbling, almost like warning thunder before a storm.
Akutagawa lifts his head. “What is that?”
“Hm? Oh, I do that when I’m happy and comfortable and safe.”
Akutagawa frowns.
“To answer an old question of yours, yes. I do purr.”
“Oh,” Akutagawa says again, and then he lays his head down and stays there until Atsushi insists that they get the futon out.
“You owe me a full case of chocolate,” Gin says as they take out the enemy sniper.
“Fuck!” Tanizaki cries on the other end of the call, pissed about losing both the game and the bet.