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Acchan stood uncertainly on his chair, both hands planted on the dining room table and tail twitching as he watched his brother color carefully. He’d been playing in the other room because Ryuu-chan didn’t want to play blocks with him, but got bored with that, following Atsushi into the dining room when he went by with the laundry basket. “What’s an anna, annibursury?”
“Anniversary,” Atsushi corrected gently, folding towels. “It’s like a birthday, but for events, not people.” He watched Acchan’s ever-present tail twitch again as he considered this new information, before lifting his head and squinting at Atsushi.
“What’s having an annibursury?” Acchan rocked the chair he was standing on with his weight, bouncing it from leg to leg. “Do I have an annibursury? Do I get cake???”
In his excitement, Acchan canted his chair forward, which caused him to slam bodily into the table, making it jump. This in turn made Ryuu-chan’s crayon skid across the paper, creating a dark streak through his coloring. Atsushi steadied the pile of towels before it could topple over. “Acchan,” Atsushi scolded mildly, “watch what you’re doing, please.”
Ryuu-chan stared at the stray mark on his artwork in consternation before glaring at Acchan. Atsushi looked up in time to see Ryuu-chan wing the crayon at his brother, bouncing it off Acchan’s temple with expert precision.
The impact in no way harmed Acchan, but he flinched, overbalanced on the already perilously tilted chair, and went over sideways; taking the chair with him and crashing out spectacularly across the floor. Atsushi finished folding the towel as Acchan started to wail. “Ryuu-chan, you’re supposed to use your words when you’re upset.”
“No,” Ryuu-chan muttered petulantly, selecting a new crayon from the box and scribbling angrily over the Acchan-induced mistake, ignoring his crying brother lying dramatically on the floor with his tail trapped under the chair.
“Yosh, yosh,” Atsushi murmured, setting the chair upright. “You know better than to rock on the chairs like that, Acchan. Look, your tail is fine, not even a bruise.”
Acchan remained seated on the floor, still sniffling loudly. “Ryuu-chan threw a cr’yon at me,” he mumbled through his tears.
“Yes, I saw,” Atsushi said. “And he shouldn’t have. But you also shouldn’t have been rocking the table while he was trying to color. I think you both owe each other an apology, hm?”
Standing upright and snotty from crying, Acchan held his poor, injured tail in front of him and looked the perfect picture of dejection. “Sorry I wrecked your picture,” he mumbled, pressing his tail against his mouth as a shield.
“Very good,” Atsushi said, patting him gently on the head. “Ryuu-chan?”
Ryuu-chan looked down at his brother from his booster seat, looked at Atsushi, and went back to coloring without speaking a word.
Acchan’s eyes immediately started watering again, building to a fresh tantrum, and Atsushi stood. “Ryuu-chan.”
“No,” Ryuu-chan said without lifting his eyes from his picture.
Akutagawa could hear the wailing before he’d even opened the front door to the apartment. He took his time taking his shoes off in the genkan in the vain hope that the cacophony would cease before anyone knew he was there, but the volume did not diminish in the slightest.
Acchan was seated on the couch in the main room, clearly in his designated time-out spot. He was crying loudly, eyes red-rimmed, but staying put. The weretiger and Ryuu-chan were not visible from this angle, but he could clearly hear Ryuu-chan wailing as well from the other room. Acchan saw him as he came around the corner and flung himself at Akutagawa, clinging tight to his leg and crying directly into his trousers. “Daaaaaad,” Acchan wailed. “Ryuu-chan was MEAN to me!!!”
Not infrequently did Akutagawa fondly remember a time when he didn’t have to deal with small children that had no upper limit to their volume or oozed fluid from every orifice at the slightest provocation. “What did you do to Ryuu-chan?” he asked, but this was the wrong question because Acchan immediately began to cry louder.
Unimpressed by the display, Akutagawa remained stationary as a very haggard Atsushi appeared from down the hall. “Oh, good you’re home,” he said, clearly relieved. Glancing down at Acchan, he continued sternly, “And why are you off the couch?”
“D-dad said—” Acchan hiccupped.
“Back on the couch,” Atsushi said firmly, and miserably Acchan released Akutagawa’s trousers and climbed back to his time-out spot. “You will sit there until I tell you otherwise, Acchan.”
Acchan nodded, still crying.
“What happened this time?” Akutagawa followed Atsushi into the kitchen. The laundry remained half-folded on the table, and there were papers and crayons scattered everywhere. “Were they fighting again?” He frowned. “I shall put a stop to this.”
Atsushi pinched his nose. “How long are the terrible twos supposed to last, again?”
“They are nearly four.”
He groaned softly, crouching to pick up more crayons, the remaining ones that had not been ground into the floor by two rolling, biting, scratching children. “Ryuu-chan refused to apologize again, when Acchan apologized immediately, and they both went at each other like, well…” Atsushi laughed, head down, still sounding exhausted despite himself. “Kinda like we used to. Without drawing blood, at least.”
Akutagawa started folding the remaining towels out of habit, watching Atsushi, whose shoulders were slumped as he collected torn paper and bits of crayon. “It’s natural, that they would fight,” he said. “Do not blame yourself, weretiger.”
Atsushi let out a soft noise of acknowledgment. “Sorry you had to come home to this mess. How was your sister?”
“Recovering well.” Akutagawa allowed him to change the subject for now. “And trying not to show how much she enjoys having Higuchi fuss all over her about it.” Atsushi chuckled, and Akutagawa smiled softly. “She was apologetic about not being able to take the children this weekend, though she is insistent they visit soon.”
“I hope you reminded her we’d much rather she be in one piece than available as a babysitter,” Atsushi said, dumping Ryuu-chan’s crayons back into their container. He took the laundry basket from Akutagawa, placing it in its usual home above the washing machine.
“Is it me,” Akutagawa said, holding the towels, “or has it grown a few decibels quieter?”
“I’ll take Acchan,” Atsushi said. “Will you check on Ryuu-chan, please? All I wanted was for him to apologize for throwing things at his brother. He didn’t even have to accept Acchan’s apology, I don’t know why he turned it into a whole thing.”
“Because he’s you,” Akutagawa said softly, amused. Atsushi looked back at him, puzzled, and Akutagawa breezed past him with the towels. “I will speak with Ryuu-chan,” he said, and Atsushi watched him disappear down the hall.
The room that the boys shared was dark. It was split down the middle, with a small bed against each wall—someday, when the boys were a little bigger and less prone to rolling off their mattresses in the night, the beds would be stacked as a bunk bed—but for now they remained separate, with a small amount of play space between them.
There was a lump in the center of Ryuu-chan’s bed. The child had wrapped himself in every available blanket, a behavior that Akutagawa himself recognized, armoring himself against the world.
Instead of flipping on the light, Akutagawa sat on the edge of Ryuu-chan’s bed. The bed creaked alarmingly, and Ryuu-chan’s Rashomon lifted from the outermost layer of blankets; a curious dragon head in soft yellow, with a palm tree pattern that made the ability look faintly ridiculous. After a brief inspection, Rashomon collapsed back into the blanket, and Ryuu-chan did not emerge.
Akutagawa sat in silence on the edge of the mattress and did not offer an immediate rebuke. He could faintly hear Atsushi in the kitchen, starting dinner; and no additional wailing or further tantrums were heard from the main room. There was a solid chance that Acchan had worn himself out enough that he fell asleep.
“Whatever your brother did,” Akutagawa said finally, “you were not wrong to be upset.”
The bedding rustled, and a small, dark head finally appeared. “Acchan’s stupid,” Ryuu-chan mumbled, eyes red-rimmed. “An’ clumbsy. He ruined my picture!”
“And you settled that matter, did you not?”
Ryuu-chan scowled. “Dad said we aren’t supposed to fight.”
“Oh, you’re absolutely going to fight.” Akutagawa leaned back on his hand. “I imagine you and your brother will fight often, after all, your father and I fight. It’s not the end of the world to quarrel with someone. Just use your words, not whatever you have in your hand at the time.”
Akutagawa looked down at Ryuu-chan, who seemed to be considering this quite intently. “You threw a lamp at Dad last week.”
The children were supposed to be in bed at that time, and Atsushi had caught it, preventing the crash and the mess; how did he know about that? Akutagawa managed not to grimace. “And I was wrong to do so.”
“Dad wanted me to say sorry but it’s NOT my fault and I’m NOT sorry!” Ryuu-chan burrowed back into his blanket cocoon, and Akutagawa frowned. He put his hand atop the mound and his Rashomon, the stronger of the duplicate abilities, sifted through the fabric, and it fell open around the sulking child.
Rashomon gently scooped Ryuu-chan and placed him on Akutagawa’s lap. “I do not need you to be sorry,” he said, finally. “Weretigers like your father and brother are idiots. They mean well, but they are very, very stupid, and sometimes you must apologize even though you feel wronged. Your behavior was inappropriate today, even if your feelings were hurt. Do you understand?”
Ryuu-chan frowned at him, chewing on his bottom lip as he processed this. Then he smacked both of his small hands against Akutagawa’s chest abruptly. “Don’t call Acchan stupid,” he said forcefully. “That’s mean! He’s not stupid, he’s my brother!”
Surprised, Akutagawa released him when Ryuu-chan wiggled violently in his arms. The child slid to the floor and ran determinedly out of the room, wobbling a little on the turn. A solid thirty seconds passed before he heard Atsushi say, loud enough for him to hear, “he told you WHAT!?” and Akutagawa pushed his hand through his hair and stood up.
Well, at least the children didn’t seem mad at each other anymore. His husband, on the other hand…
Akutagawa could feel that Atsushi was glaring at the back of his head when he brought the last of the dishes into the kitchen. Once freed from their booster seats, both boys had sprinted into the main room and were immediately engrossed in building something out of blocks, all quarrels long forgotten. Akutagawa watched them play from over the countertop as he started the dishes.
“I can’t believe you told Ryuu-chan we were stupid,” Atsushi muttered, unwilling to let it go like his children. He scraped the last of the plates into the bin before setting the dirty dishes at Akutagawa’s elbow.
Akutagawa looked down at the plate he was washing, as if he could see his reflection in the murky dishwater. “Taking the focus off himself was enough distraction to forget what he was angry about,” he said, simply. “Ryuu-chan wants to protect his brother. Even from me.”
“I don’t like it,” Atsushi said, and Akutagawa shrugged, handing him some dishes to dry. “Don’t do that again. No one needs to be the enemy.”
“I can’t help but know how his mind works, weretiger. Even if I don’t remember being so young, I can reasonably intuit how he will react." He glanced down over the countertop again, watching Ryuu-chan hold a toy car in the air and drop it into what appeared to be an arena made of building blocks. Acchan laughed and made explosion noises. “He is still much like me, despite how his life path has diverged.”
Atsushi bumped his shoulder into Akutagawa’s, standing side by side with him. “It’s not a bad thing, you know,” he said. “Him growing up to be like you.”
Akutagawa looked down again, watching the ripples in the foamy water. “I want better for him, than that,” he said softly, and rinsed another plate. Atsushi continued to dry and did not respond again.
Acchan tugged on the spiked tail of his dinosaur jammies, perched on the edge of his bed, and watched Atsushi tuck Ryuu-chan in. “You both will be on your best behavior for Chuuya-san and Dazai-san this weekend,” he said, glancing back at Acchan with an eye that caught the light from the hallway and glinted. “Right?”
Ryuu-chan nodded obediently, clinging tight to his selected stuffed animal of the evening. “But you won’t be gone long, promise?”
“Not long,” Atsushi said, kissing his forehead. “Just two nights. But you’ll have so much fun with your uncles, you won’t even miss us.”
Acchan wriggled under his covers when Atsushi came to tuck him in as well. “I’ll miss you! I’ll miss you lots!!” He scrunched up his face when Atsushi kissed his forehead as well. “I won’t forget either.”
“I’m sure you won’t,” Atsushi said, amused. He stood in the doorway for a moment and looked at the children in their beds, Acchan yawning huge and showing off teeth far too sharp for a child and Ryuu-chan already curled around his stuffed animal. “Sleep well, both of you,” he said fondly, turned off the lights, and closed the door.
Akutagawa was sitting on the couch, feet on the coffee table as he half-watched the television, volume low. Atsushi nudged his legs with his knee, and Akutagawa grumblingly dropped them, even as Atsushi sat next to him on the couch, placing the tray with tea for both of them on the table where Akutagawa’s feet had been resting.
“Done with lectures for the day?” Akutagawa asked, amused, and Atsushi rolled his eyes, leaning against Akutagawa and putting his head on Akutagawa’s shoulder. Akutagawa settled his arm around Atsushi, content.
“Shut up,” Atsushi muttered and closed his eyes. “It’s been a long day; I can’t wait for them to be over this phase.”
Rashomon rippled softly off his clothing, picking up the tea Atsushi had made him. Akutagawa carefully took a sip of the perfectly sugared tea without jostling Atsushi and smiled, resting his chin against Atsushi’s head.
“For all the screaming and wailing,” Akutagawa said, “I’ve never known such peace.”
Atsushi let out a large, contented sigh and smiled.
Atsushi woke to the feeling of a small hand gently pushing against his cheek. Without even opening his eyes, he muttered, “It better be daylight,” and heard the distinctive sound of Acchan giggling before the bed shifted and tiny feet scampered off, escaping the bedroom.
Once he was certain the children had vacated the room, Atsushi rolled over and picked up his phone from the nightstand, pulling it off the charger. “At what point do they start sleeping through the night?”
Akutagawa didn’t move. “At the rate we’re going, puberty.”
Atsushi pushed both palms into his eyes, counted to thirty, and sat upright. There was barely a hint of gray light eking in around the drawn curtain. “I’ll get some coffee going,” he grunted, and Akutagawa rolled over finally, covering his head with a pillow.
“Good MORNING~” Dazai’s voice sang throughout the apartment. Acchan immediately popped up on the couch, hooking his arm over the back and waving excitedly as Dazai rounded the corner into the main room.
“Dazai-oji! Dazai-oji!”
Atsushi was lying facedown on the carpet in front of the couch, Ryuu-chan running a car along his back like a racetrack. “Oh dear,” Dazai said, leaning forward, both hands in his pockets. “Atsushi-kun, are you dead?”
Atsushi rolled his face on the carpet. “I personally changed the locks this time.”
“Oh, did you? I don’t recall.” Dazai nudged Acchan aside on the couch and seated himself, looking down at Atsushi with interest. Ryuu-chan was giving Dazai a look of mild distrust, but didn’t stop running the toy car along Atsushi’s shoulder.
Finally, with a groan, Atsushi pushed himself to his knees. He ran his hand back through his hair and eyed Dazai. Then he held his hand out. “Key.”
“It gets so expensive changing the locks as often as you do, doesn’t it, Atsushi-kun?”
“Key.”
Dazai made no move to retrieve his method of entry, and Acchan, tired of being ignored by Dazai-oji, decided to do the move that Atsushi had taken to calling “the big elbow” directly into Dazai’s lap. The noise that Dazai made at impact was recompense enough, Atsushi figured, and watched as Dazai wheezed, managing to stay upright as Acchan made himself comfortable on Dazai-oji’s lap.
Ryuu-chan lifted his arms, and Atsushi picked him up automatically, setting him against his hip as he watched Dazai’s face turn colors. “Acchan, come on,” Atsushi said. “Are you all packed for your trip?”
Acchan sprang upright, which involved his heel landing in a very sensitive spot with all of his weight, and Atsushi turned his head to watch Acchan sprint obliviously toward his shared room before looking back at Dazai, who had folded in half on the couch.
“What’s wrong with Dazai-oji?” asked Ryuu-chan.
“Everything,” Atsushi said, amused, and carried a puzzled Ryuu-chan to his room to get their backpacks.
By the time Dazai had recovered enough to limp down the hall and join them, Atsushi had Ryuu-chan and Acchan both in their matching dinosaur backpacks. He handed off the overnight bag to Dazai, who looked at it with a raised eyebrow. “Extras, in case of accidents,” Atsushi said softly, but Acchan’s sharp hearing picked it up right away.
“I’m BIG,” Acchan yelled. “I don’t HAVE accidents anymore!!!”
Ryuu-chan frowned. “You wet the bed last week.”
“NO I DIDN’T!”
“You were all wet and got in bed with me.”
“NUH-UH, you dreamed that!”
Atsushi patted the duffel, wincing slightly at the rising volume of the argument between the children. “For accidents,” he repeated, now largely drowned out.
Dazai nodded his head and clapped his hands. “Guess what?” he yelled, and Acchan and Ryuu-chan immediately swiveled in his direction, eyes wide. “Chuuya-oji just wet the best last night. But” he closed one eye and grinned, holding his finger to his mouth. “It’s a secret. Don’t tell him I told you!”
Ryuu-chan and Acchan looked at each other, eyes still wide. Atsushi sighed as they scrambled out of the room. “You do realize they’re going to tell him immediately, right? We are in a ‘no secrets’ phase.”
“I’m counting on it,” Dazai said lightly, duffel bag under his arm as he followed the kids out. “No Akutagawa-kun today?”
“He got called in again, so they said goodbye before he left.” Atsushi frowned, standing in the genkan as the kids worked at putting on their shoes. “I wish he’d tell me what he’s up to. Chuuya-san went to so much trouble to let him cleanly exit the—” Atsushi looked down at the kids, who were both paying close attention to his every word, and trailed off instead of finishing the thought.
“Ah, Atsushi-kun, Akutagawa-kun has your best interests at heart. I’m sure he’s fine.”
Atsushi nodded in agreement, then crouched, holding out his arms. Both Acchan and Ryuu-chan immediately ran into his arms, hugging him tight. “Best behavior,” he reiterated, and got a sullen chorus of “yes, dad” in return.
“Chuuya will take good care of them,” Dazai promised, and Atsushi raised an eyebrow as he held the door open.
“And what about you, Dazai-san?”
“Mm. Hookers and blow?”
“Dazai-san.”
“What’s blow?” Acchan asked.
“What’s hookers?” Ryuu-chan asked.
“We’re going to have a lot of fun this weekend,” Dazai told them, and the boys cheered. Atsushi sighed and considered again calling off the trip, but instead waved as they disappeared down the breezeway to the stairs, Dazai following sedately behind. Atsushi watched for a long moment more, the breezeway empty, and their excited voices faded out before he finally closed the apartment door.
This time, when Akutagawa opened the door to the apartment, the silence was strangely oppressive. He looked at the empty spot where the kids’ shoes were usually piled, exhaled, and set his own shoes in their normal spot. “I’m home,” he called before he came around the corner.
He could hear Atsushi in the kitchen but couldn’t see him right away. “Welcome home,” Atsushi responded.
Akutagawa left his keys and phone on the table and stepped into the kitchen. “You didn’t have to make dinner tonight; I figured we could go out—” and trailed off.
Atsushi was wearing an apron, and only an apron.
It was a ridiculous frilly thing, and he didn’t recognize it—Atsushi certainly hadn’t worn it before. The apron was made of a soft material with frills that ran along the edges and the straps, and the ties were knotted loosely, hanging delicately just over the sharp lines of Atsushi’s ass. Akutagawa just stared.
“Really?” Atsushi said, looking over his shoulder. “If you wanted to go out, you should have said something this morning, I wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble—” He didn’t get a chance to finish his thought and laughed when Akutagawa pinned him to the counter with his body, kissing his bare shoulder, hands settling on his hips. “Hello to you too.”
“Weretiger,” Akutagawa murmured into his skin, heart thudding in his chest. There was a routine to coming home these days, children to scoop into his arms, fights to settle, messes to tidy—he knew today it would just be him at Atsushi, but to be greeted with this…his head was spinning.
Akutagawa slid his hands over Atsushi’s waist, tucking them between the apron and skin; Atsushi hung his head and inhaled at the press of fingers seeking lower before nudging Akutagawa back with his hip. “I’m cooking,” he said pointedly, spatula in hand; without looking behind him Rashomon clicked all the burners off on the stove.
“Yes,” Akutagawa murmured, chin resting on his bare shoulder. “You most certainly are.”
“You like the apron, then?” Atsushi hummed cheekily, and Akutagawa lifted his head, Atsushi turning in his arms. His cheeks were dusted rosy pink, endearingly so and Akutagawa framed his face with both hands, kissing him. “I knew I kept it for a reason.”
Akutagawa sank to his knees in front of Atsushi, listening to his breath quicken when Akutagawa lifted the hem of the apron and pressed a kiss to the inside of his thigh. Atsushi drew the apron back with both hands, eyes shining under the kitchen lights, revealing the rising arch of his magnificent cock. “Beautiful,” Akutagawa murmured, running his thumb along the underside, eyes on Atsushi’s face as the flush darkened there.
With his other hand, Akutagawa tugged the hem of the apron free from Atsushi’s hands, letting it fall over his head, tenting back and masking his movements from Atsushi’s eyes. Now he could only catalog the sensation of Akutagawa’s lips on his skin—traveling up the inside of one thigh and down the other, only the barest brush of his fingertips across the hot flesh of his cock.
Akutagawa reveled in the small noises Atsushi made; self-stifled despite being alone in the apartment. He was sensitive, the muscles in his legs jumping each time Akutagawa’s breath skated over them. Akutagawa pulled one of his legs forward, sliding it over his shoulder and squeezing Atsushi’s cock with one hand, the other slipping between his legs and behind to press the pad of his finger inside, where it was already warm and wet.
“Did you,” Atsushi breathed, a second finger slipping inside effortlessly. “Weretiger.”
Atsushi’s hand pressed to the top of his head through the apron, fingernails almost points, digging into his skull through the fabric. Akutagawa slid out from underneath, eyes dilated as they locked on Atsushi’s flushed face. Without another word, Atsushi turned and braced his hands on the counter, and Akutagawa almost fumbled himself out of his pants, one hand braced on Atsushi’s shoulder as he guided him back onto his cock.
There was nothing to think about even if he wanted to; Akutagawa’s brain had been taken completely out. He kept one hand on Atsushi’s shoulder, fingers digging into the thick muscle, and braced the other on his hip as they moved together wordlessly. The only noise between them was soft grunts and the slap of bodies. They’d been consigned to the bedroom for so long, soft quiet movements that couldn’t be heard, and now even if he wanted this to last, there was no chance of it. His hand covered Atsushi’s on the counter, fingers slipping between his, gripping tight as he bit the back of Atsushi’s neck, shuddering as he crested.
“Fuck,” Atsushi breathed, weight on his elbows now, head hanging and knees trembling. His apron had caught most of the mess, but some had escaped to pattern the floor between his feet. Akutagawa braced himself again, this time to pull free, and now more fluid dribbled between them. Using a condom hadn’t even crossed his mind.
Atsushi didn’t move; Akutagawa wasn’t even sure he’d noticed. “Weretiger…?” he asked carefully, and Atsushi let out a full-body shudder before looking back at Akutagawa over his shoulder again, expression hazy.
“Can you go again?” Atsushi asked hoarsely, eyes hooded; and Akutagawa’s refractory period dinged like the oven timer.
“So,” Atsushi said, three rounds later, and both his hands in Akutagawa’s hair as he shampooed him. “When are you gonna tell me where you’ve been going during the day? Found a job you like?”
Akutagawa, head tilted forward as he sat precariously on the tiny stool, said, “You waited until I was naked to ask that.”
“Yup.” Atsushi scrubbed his scalp harder. “I have you now, Diablo. What are you up to?”
“Don’t call me that.” Akutagawa didn’t wrench his head away, but his ears flamed red. “Especially don’t let the children hear you call me that.” He turned his face down and closed his eyes as Atsushi sprayed the shampoo out of his hair. “It’s nothing important.”
“You have found a job, and you won’t tell your husband about it,” Atsushi said as he continued to wash the suds from Akutagawa’s hair. “You don’t trust me.”
Clearly stung, Akutagawa pulled away, twisting on the small stool. “You know that’s not true.”
Atsushi rose from his crouch. He wasn’t angry—which surprised even himself, actually, because he’d been ruminating on it for a few weeks, ever since these absences started. He knew without a doubt that Akutagawa wasn’t cheating on him, largely because he didn’t believe Akutagawa even thought about other people like that; but also because he trusted Akutagawa.
However, that left a whole range of mischief he could be engaging in, up to and including freelancing for the mafia. “So tell me, then,” he said, still holding the sprayer in hand threateningly.
Akutagawa looked away, face flushed.
“Illegal or embarrassing?”
Now Akutagawa faced him, somewhat baffled. “What?”
“Is what you’re doing illegal, or embarrassing?”
“It’s not illegal,” Akutagawa snapped, startled at himself, and then looked away again.
“Embarrassing then,” Atsushi said, hand on his hip. “Oh, this means it’s something good. Should I get Dazai-san on this? I feel like he’s been bored lately.”
“Atsushi,” Akutagawa said, and Atsushi groaned.
“Okay, okay. I’ll let this go for now. But,” he pointed the sprayer at Akutagawa like a weapon. “You will tell me. And soon.”
When Akutagawa looked back at him, damp and soggy, Atsushi sprayed him in the face with the sprayer. While Akutagawa sputtered in shock, Atsushi returned the sprayer to its hook and climbed into their small tub to soak, sinking into the water with only a small twinge and groan.
After another spray of his hair to ensure all the suds were rinsed clear, Akutagawa reluctantly joined him, settling in the tub with his back to Atsushi so he could lean against his chest. Atsushi sighed contentedly, wrapping his arms around Akutagawa.
“We’re a team, you know,” Atsushi said. “You can trust me.”
“I do trust you, weretiger,” Akutagawa said. “Please trust me. I will tell you everything, in time.”
“Oh,” Atsushi murmured, head tilted back. “I know what you’re doing. You’re sneaking out to be a circus performer, because Acchan decided he was going to run away to the circus, and you wanted to perfect your lion-taming act.”
“Seriously?”
Atsushi laughed, pulling him closer, hooking his chin over Akutagawa’s shoulder. “No? Maybe you finally gave in and gave that modeling company a call after that agent wouldn’t leave us alone in the shopping center—oof.”
Akutagawa dug his elbow into what he hoped was a spleen, and Atsushi’s laughter echoed loudly in the small bath.
“They’re fighting again,” Akutagawa reported, looking at his phone messages as they stood on the platform waiting for the train. Atsushi leaned into his shoulder, and Akutagawa showed him his phone, where Dazai had thoughtfully sent a picture of Chuuya, floating in the air and trying to extract Acchan from a ceiling light fixture.
“How-?” Atsushi scratched his hand in his hair and sighed, while Akutagawa closed the app and left the message on read for the time being. “Do you think we should go get them?”
“Surely the Port Mafia can handle the tantrums of two preschoolers for one weekend,” Akutagawa said, amused. Atsushi gave him a look, and he raised an eyebrow. “Chuuya-san is capable, at least.”
“What are we going to do about them?” Atsushi said, folding his arms. “They’ll grow out of this, right?”
Akutagawa looked up as the train pulled into the station. “One can only hope.”
“Maybe we can board him at the vet,” Dazai suggested, Acchan tucked under one arm like a sack of potatoes, wailing all the while. “We don’t tell Atsushi-kun.”
Chuuya was just out of reach, attempting to put the light fixture back together, a small flashlight clenched in his teeth, and the needed screws floating helpfully around his head. He spat the flashlight out, and it switched angles for him. “You wanted kids.”
“No, I think you’re misremembering.” Acchan had started kicking, still crying loudly and trying with all his preschooler might to wiggle out of Dazai’s iron grip. “Ow, ow!” Chuuya didn’t bother looking down until Dazai actually yelped. “He BIT me!”
Chuuya watched the white-stripped tail disappear out of the room, the crying going with it, while Dazai inspected the indentations in the bandages on his forearms. “Didn’t break the skin, did it?”
“I’m still calling the doctor.”
“Stop being a drama queen and go find him before he crawls into an even smaller space this time.” Chuuya dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. The evening had started fine, with the kids playing happily while Dazai sat on the couch and spent even more of Chuuya’s money on websites he shouldn’t be on with children present; but then something had happened between the kids and Chuuya had to pull them apart; an impressive feat considering how strong a grip Ryuu-chan’s Rashomon had on his brother’s leg.
Speaking of. Chuuya frowned and looked around. “Where did Ryuu-chan go?”
“I thought you went after him.” Dazai nursed his poor, indented arm bandages, but Chuuya ignored the theatrics.
“Ryuu-chan?” He opened the door to the spare room that had been set up for the boys to sleep in. No Ryuu-chan, not on the futons or in the closet. He checked the bathroom, his bedroom—found Acchan on top of the fridge, no longer crying but curled into a small ball, tail hugged tight as he watched Chuuya suspiciously.
Chuuya popped up so he could look Acchan in the face proper. “You don’t bite people,” Chuuya told him sternly, and Acchan wibbled, eyes watery. “I mean, I fully endorse biting Dazai, but you don’t bite most people without permission. Or at least until you’ve had all your shots.”
“Dajai-oji hates me,” Acchan mumbled into his tail.
“Hey, hey,” Chuuya said. “No he doesn’t, kid.”
“Ryuu-chan hates me.” Acchan’s eyes were filling with tears again. “Ryuu-chan hates me and Da’jai-oji hates me,” he hiccupped, “and dad hates me—”
“Alright, come here.” Chuuya gently pulled Acchan off the fridge. “No one hates you, kiddo.” Acchan buried his face in Chuuya’s chest and snuffled. “I promise. Dazai’s a diii—big jerk sometimes, but he doesn’t hate you, and I know for a fact your dads both love you very much.” Chuuya patted his back soothingly. “And your brother doesn’t hate you either, even though it feels like it.”
“I don’t mean to break everything,” Acchan whimpered. “They’re accidents.”
“I know.” Chuuya continued to pat his back. “Do you know where your brother got off to? Let’s sort this out.”
“No,” Acchan mumbled. “Ryuu-chan left.”
Chuuya stopped patting his back. “Left?” he repeated, concerned. He returned to the spare room, Acchan still in his arms, still sniffling. He hit the light switch. Tilted over on its side beside the folded futons was Acchan’s backpack, unzipped all the way and spilling several toys onto the floor.
There was a conspicuous absence of Ryuu-chan’s backpack.
Acchan wiggled in his arms, and Chuuya set him down; he had spotted his toys and sat firmly on the floor, lining up the toy dinosaurs instead of leaving them scattered. “Acchan,” Chuuya said, “I need you to stay right here for me, okay?” Acchan nodded without looking up, still sniffling but focused now on his toys.
Dazai was wrapping new bandages on his arm when Chuuya burst through to the main room, turning a corner and skidding to a halt. “The front door was open,” Dazai said as Chuuya came back around the corner. “What’s wrong?”
Chuuya covered his mouth with one hand. “Ryuu-chan’s gone.”
Dazai stared at him. “You lost a kid?”
“No, dumbass, we lost a kid.” Chuuya was already in the genkan, pulling on his boots. “You stay here with Acchan; the kid couldn’t have gotten that far.” He pointed his phone at Dazai like a gun. “I am deadly fucking serious, stay here. Do not let Acchan out of your sight.”
Chuuya yanked the door closed behind him as hard as he could without slamming it and took off running down the hallway.
Atsushi hadn’t visited a ryokan overnight in some time. He stretched his arms over his head as they walked up the winding path to the old in, breathing deep the fresh, clean mountain air. The good weather had followed them, which was refreshing; he was doing his level best to put the children out of his mind for the day and just enjoy their little weekend retreat, but between the conflicts and Akutagawa’s recent secretive disappearances, the worry gnawed quietly at the back of his mind.
Akutagawa kept giving him sidelong glances, like he could read the disquiet coming off Atsushi in waves. Finally, he stopped walking and waited for Atsushi to catch up, and then aggressively took his hand. Atsushi jumped slightly at this—Akutagawa was not fond of public displays of affection—and let him drag Atsushi forward.
“Was I not walking fast enough for you?” Atsushi laughed, and Akutagawa rolled his eyes heavenward before looking over at him.
“This is our anniversary, weretiger. Perhaps you could join me for it.”
“Sorry,” Atsushi murmured. “I’m just worried about the kids.”
“I know.” Akutagawa squeezed his hand. “They’re in good…well, they’re in capable hands. They’ll be fine, they’ll grow out of this phase soon enough and make another aspect of our lives a nightmare for months on end before you know it.”
Atsushi smiled at him, tugging on his hand. “Three-word horror story,” he said, and Akutagawa raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Acchan’s drum kit.”
“Don’t you dare speak that into being, weretiger. We get enough noise complaints as it is.”
“Well,” Atsushi said slowly, thoughtfully. He’d been turning this over in his head for a long while now and raised his eyes to Akutagawa’s. “Maybe we should start looking at places where we wouldn’t get noise complaints. Maybe a little space with a yard.”
Akutagawa stilled. He looked over at Atsushi, and Atsushi smiled. “They’re only going to get bigger,” he pointed out. “And noisier. I don’t know, it’s just something to consider.”
A house with a yard. Enough room for the kids to each have their own bedroom. It was annoyingly, cloyingly domestic, and suddenly it was the only thing Akutagawa wanted. He looked at Atsushi, smiling warily at him, and after a moment, returned the smile himself.
“Maybe we should start looking,” he agreed, and Atsushi beamed at him.
Ryuu-chan was nearly four years old, and he was going to live with his aunties.
His aunties were never mean to him and certainly didn’t yell at him or let Acchan get away with eating all his cookies when he got up to get more water. Ryuu-chan frowned deeply, angry again at the loss of his snacks as he stood next to the low retaining wall that encircled some bushes in front of a building.
He’d come up with this plan all on his own while sitting on the floor in the spare room next to the futons, stewing over the fact that Acchan took the food off his plate like he wasn’t going to eat it! He couldn’t help that he didn’t eat as fast as Acchan did. And then Acchan had to act all hurt and confused when Ryuu-chan’s Rashomon walloped him.
It had been simple enough to pack up his backpack and sneak past Dazai-oji and Chuuya-oji while they were distracted, trying to untangle Acchan from the light. They didn’t even notice him! Pleased with himself, Ryuu-chan tugged on his backpack straps and watched all the very tall people around him. It couldn’t be that hard to find his way to his aunties, and that would show everyone. He was a big boy, and he was going to get there all by himself, except now he wasn’t entirely sure what building he’d come out of or how to find the trains from here.
And all the people were a little scary. There were so many of them.
Ryuu-chan’s lip quivered. He didn’t know where he was or how to get to where he wanted to go. He furiously rubbed at his eye and looked around again, and suddenly felt very, very small.
“You’re learning flower arranging.”
“No.”
Atsushi leaned back, staring at the twilight sky from the open-air bath. “You’re getting your driver’s license.”
“No.”
Akutagawa had his arms hooked over the edge of the bath, his back to Atsushi, and was resting his face on his folded arms. Atsushi scooted closer. “I’m annoying you.”
“Yes.”
Atsushi was silent for a while, the only noise the soft lap of the water, the cicadas, and the wind through the distant trees. Akutagawa exhaled, enjoying the tranquility for as long as it lasted…which wasn’t that long.
“You’ve joined an underground idol group.”
“Weretiger, I swear to god—”
Chuuya crouched on the edge of a fence, a faint red glow around him. The sun would set very soon—and he’d yet to pick up Ryuu-chan’s trail. The doorman of his building had been extremely apologetic at allowing such a young child to slip past him, but Ryuu-chan had managed to exit the building in a group, and no one thought anything of it at the time.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he picked up the line without looking at the caller. “What?”
“Ah,” Dazai said. “Remember that thing you said about keeping an eye on Acchan?”
It took everything in him not to crush his phone in his hand immediately. Chuuya exhaled through his nose. “Did you lose Acchan?”
“Lose is such a terrible turn of phrase. It’s not as if I’ve actively misplaced him—”
“You really better hope I get to you before Atsushi does,” Chuuya said sharply, standing up on the fence, frustrated beyond all measure. There was no reason for Acchan to do a runner on them with Ryuu-chan already missing, so this meant this had to be Dazai’s fault from all angles. “Why did he run off, Dazai, what did you do?”
There was silence from the other end of the line.
“Dazai.”
“Ahhh, I’m sorry,” Dazai’s voice sounded perfectly normal, except for the fact that he was clearly breaking up his syllables to mimic dropping out. “Y--’re br--ing -p, are y—g---g thro-- ---nnel—?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Chuuya stared at his phone as the line went dead and considered immediately calling Dazai back, but decided against it. Dazai was up to some bullshit, and he’d deal with that later; first, he had to find Ryuu-chan and, apparently, Acchan as well, hopefully both safe and intact and in one piece before their parents found out.
Dazai dropped his phone into his pocket and then turned to Acchan, seated on the couch and watching him with wide eyes. “Did you know,” Dazai said, crouching in front of him and lowering his voice conspiratorially. “You are the only one who can find your brother?”
“I…am?” Acchan had his arms wrapped around his tiger stuffy. His eyes were still red-rimmed from his earlier tantrum, but Dazai had plied him with more cookies, and now he was mostly over it and more intent on figuring out a way to earn more cookies. “How do I find Ryuu-chan?”
Dazai tapped his nose. “You can smell him. Or maybe your tiger can. Isn’t he the only person in the whole world who smells like Ryuu-chan?”
Acchan looked concerned as he thought about this. “No.”
“Not including your father.”
The preschooler scrunched up his face while he thought. “Maybe.” He kicked his feet a little and looked at his tiger stuffy. “I miss Ryuu-chan,” he said forlornly. “Is he in trouble?”
“You won’t have to miss him if you help find him,” Dazai said knowingly. “And then you’ll be a hero and get all the cookies!”
The magic words. Acchan’s eyes got very wide. “ALL the cookies?”
“All the cookies.” Dazai nodded. “But you’re going to have to do this all by yourself. I can’t even hold your hand, remember? I make your tiger go to sleep, and your tiger has to help you find Ryuu-chan. But I know you can find him, you’re the only one who can.”
This settled it. Acchan climbed to his feet. “I’m gonna find Ryuu-chan! Let’s go find him, Dazai-oji!”
Dazai straightened, hands in his pockets, and smirked. “Lead the way.”
Chuuya spotted Dazai from down the street, and it was everything he could do not to put his foot directly into Dazai’s face in the middle of the evening pedestrian rush. Instead, he caught Dazai by the back of his coat, which made him stutter in his step. “Dazai,” Chuuya snarled. “What the fuck happened? Where did you lose Acchan!?”
“Um, well—” Dazai turned away from him, or at least attempted to, but Chuuya wouldn’t let him, yanking him back around to face him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? We’ve never had any issues before watching the kids! Akutagawa and Atsushi are going to kill us both, but at least you deserve it!” Chuuya pushed his free hand up into his hair, setting his hat further back on his head. “Why are you twisting around, motherfucker?”
Dazai, still trying to free himself, looked out over the mass of pedestrians and then sighed. “Well, my darling, infuriatingly tiny slug…I had Acchan in my sights, but…….”
Chuuya stared at him. “Why didn’t you SAY ANYTHING!?” He darted around Dazai, but at this point, there was no sign of the tiny weretiger to be had amidst the crush of humanity. “Are you kidding me?”
“I’m sure they’re, um, fine—” Dazai went reflexively limp when Chuuya shook him.
“Which way?”
Dazai gestured with his hand and was nearly pulled off his feet by Chuuya, dragging him along behind.
Acchan wrinkled his nose in disgust. Dazai-oji was right; he could smell people if he paid very close attention, and no one smelled exactly the same, but they all really stank a lot, and he didn’t like it very much. He wandered down the street, focused entirely on the smells and not really paying attention to where Dazai-oji was; instead, trying to pick out that familiar scent that he was used to having by his side at all times.
Ryuu-chan who could color so well and knew all the dinosaur’s names already and could count to a hundred and could tie Acchan’s shoes for him and was always, always there next to him. His lip trembled for a moment, worried that maybe Ryuu-chan wouldn’t be there with him anymore and that thought was Big and Scary; but then he caught the faintest whiff of something familiar and turned around.
He didn’t mean to make Ryuu-chan mad at him. It just kind of…happened, sometimes. Acchan didn’t mean to do a lot of the things he did; they always just happened. He crossed the street at the light and didn’t even have to hold anyone’s hand, but once he left the crosswalk, he could really smell Ryuu-chan now, and wound his way through the stone plinths that stood on the sidewalk to block bikes from easily riding into the park.
It was dark, under the massive trees. The bright lights from the street didn’t quite filter through, and it would be scarier, except Acchan could see very well in the dark sometimes and right now he could see a swing rocking slowly back and forth, with a small figure sitting on it with their back to him, the tips of their shoes barely scuffing the earth.
Tiny rounded tiger ears poked through Acchan’s hair in his excitement, and he bolted forward on four feet. “Ryuu-chan!”
Ryuu-chan stood up on the swing, his ability wrapping around him and forming defensive, rounded spikes—but when he realized it was Acchan, his Rashomon collapsed completely. This did nothing to protect him when his brother threw his entire body weight at him, knocking him off the swing and into the dirt beneath in a full body hug. “Ryuu-chan! I’m sorry!!!!”
Ryuu-chan’s eyes were wide, and there were tear tracks on his face; he’d clearly been crying in the dark. He held onto his brother like he couldn’t believe that Acchan had found him.
Acchan blubbered. “I’m sorry I’m such a bad brother!” He sat up and smudged the dirt on his cheeks, crying again as well. “Dad says I have im…imp…dad says my tiger does it and I don’t know how to stop him yet.”
His brother blinked at him, but held his arm in a death grip, both sets of tiny fingers curled into his shirt. “I want to go home,” he said softly, ducking his head. “I’m sorry I made everyone worry. I’m scared, I just want to go home.”
Now given something to do, Acchan nodded and beamed. “Dazai-oji is with me! He told me I’m the only one in the WHOLE WORLD who can find you! Because of my tiger.” He nodded again and pulled Ryuu-chan to his feet. “I’ll always find you.”
Ryuu-chan rubbed his palm into his eye, smearing the dirt on his face as well. “Always? Promise?”
“I’m your brother, I’ll always find you.” Acchan looked back at the entrance of the park, expecting Dazai-oji to be there waiting for them, but he wasn’t. He frowned and tugged Ryuu-chan after him. “Dazai-oji!”
There weren’t quite as many people on the sidewalk now, the major rush having subsided, but there were still plenty of people about. Acchan stood just outside the park, beside the plinths that were slightly taller than they were, and held Ryuu-chan’s hand as they looked up and down the street.
“Where’s Dazai-oji?” Ryuu-chan asked.
“Uh-oh,” Acchan said.
“Stop cheating,” Atsushi said, aggravated, picking the ball up from where it had rolled against a wall. Akutagawa made a noise of disapproval from behind him, and when he straightened and turned around, Akutagawa only held one paddle. “Cheater.”
“Sore loser,” Akutagawa said mildly, one hand covering his mouth and the table tennis paddle held loosely in his other hand.
Atsushi glared at him. “Using your ability is cheating.”
“I did not.”
“You had three paddles.”
His hand could barely contain the smirk. “I believe all those old head injuries are coming back to haunt you, weretiger. Perhaps you should speak to your—” Akutagawa didn’t even flinch as the ping pong ball came for him, aimed square between his eyes—but his ability was faster, Rashomon striped like his yukata, wrapped around the additional paddle.
Atsushi ducked at the ability-assisted return, the ball pinging off a vending machine somewhere behind him, and glared at Akutagawa over the edge of the table.
“Seven-two,” Akutagawa said, and spun his paddle in his hand.
It was dark out, which was scary, but Acchan had his hand, so Ryuu-chan would be brave. He stubbornly led the way, face scrunched up as he tried to figure out which of the many, many buildings was the one where Chuuya-oji lived.
He hadn’t paid that much attention when they got off the train this morning, because it was HIS turn to ride on Chuuya-oji’s shoulders and that made him Tall…or at least, taller than Acchan. He still had to look up at Dazai-oji, who was carrying their duffel bag on his shoulder and had his nose in his phone.
He remembered some trees near the entrance, and there was a cluster of restaurants down an alley that smelled nice, but it seemed like every other building they passed had something similar. Acchan had one hand on his stomach, frowning. “I’m hungry,” he said.
“I’m tired,” Ryuu-chan said, and Acchan looked at him. He was tired and felt like he was going to cry again. They were lost. “Can’t you smell Chuuya-oji like you could me?”
Acchan wrinkled his nose. “Chuuya-oji and Dazai-oji smell like smoke.” He pointed across the street. “There’s lots of smoke over there too. Lots of things smell like smoke, it’s gross.”
“Oh.” Ryuu-chan wibbled, eyes bright. He was hungry too, now that Acchan said that, and everything smelled good. He couldn’t wrap his head around smelling all the smoke, he barely noticed it.
“Oh, my,” an unfamiliar voice said. “Isn’t it a little late for you to be out on your own?” He turned with Acchan to see a woman with an umbrella tucked under her arm. She had clearly come up the sidewalk behind them and had stopped when they had.
Ryuu-chan’s lip quivered again, but Acchan said boldly, “We’re lost!”
“Lost?” she crouched, holding the umbrella over her knees, so she was on their level. “Where are you going?”
“To Chuuya-oji’s,” Ryuu-chan said shyly.
“And where’s that?”
“I don’t know.” Ryuu-chan wanted to hide behind Acchan but didn’t.
“If we knew we wouldn’t be lost,” Acchan chimed in, and the woman smiled.
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t be. Let’s see if we can’t find him together, okay?” Acchan nodded enthusiastically as she straightened and tucked her umbrella under her arm again. “There’s a place just over here where we can sit down and figure this out together.”
“Is there food there?” Acchan asked, and Ryuu-chan tugged on his hand sharply as they followed the woman down the street. “What? I’m hungry!”
Chuuya leaned against a wall and was contemplating whether or not they should reach out to the local police box to see if they had any reports of preschoolers wandering around when his phone vibrated in his pocket. As Dazai was smoking guiltily like a chimney beside him, he immediately pulled out his phone and prayed he wasn’t about to have to lie to Akutagawa’s proverbial face about the location of his children.
The notification came from a number he didn’t have in his phone. He frowned and swiped it open.
The wave of relief almost made his knees go out. Instead, Chuuya slammed the heel of his palm into the closest available part of Dazai, which turned out to be just under his ribs. Dazai inhaled and choked, nearly dropping his cigarette.
“I know where the kids are,” Chuuya said, and was almost a block away before Dazai even caught his breath.
“I’ve never seen a child put away so much rice in one sitting,” Setsuko said, sitting on the bench just outside the small restaurant. Ryuu-chan was in her lap, sleeping in her arms, and Acchan was curled on the bench beside her, tail wrapped around himself. Ryuu-chan’s backpack sat at her feet.
“Yeah, he’s all stomach,” Chuuya said. “I don’t know where he puts it.” Acchan’s tail thumped a little, but he didn’t stir when Chuuya very gently picked him up. He curled immediately into Chuuya’s chest, hand grabbing the lapel of his jacket. “I can’t thank you enough for taking care of them.”
“I had no idea who Chuuya-oji could be,” she said. “But then I remembered when you helped my uncle out, and thought there’s no way, but it couldn’t hurt. Even if you weren’t the right Chuuya-san, I figured you’d know how to find the correct one.”
Dazai finally caught up, only huffing and puffing a little bit. He opened his mouth to say something obnoxious, and as if sensing it immediately, Chuuya whipped around, finger to his lips, and indicated the sleeping child in his arms.
Instead, Dazai turned to Setsuko, sparkling. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” he said.
“This is Setsuko-chan,” Chuuya said. “She’s Tanaka’s niece. And we owe her a lot right now, shit-for-brains.”
“Your nephews are very cute,” she said. “But maybe teach them where you live.”
“That will be lesson one, tomorrow, I think,” Chuuya said. “If you ever need anything, please—”
“Of course,” Setsuko said, standing and gently transferring Ryuu-chan to Dazai’s arms. “I’m glad to have helped.”
“Seriously,” Dazai’s voice, warm and near. “A hot thing like that and you’ve never—ow, don’t kick.”
“Do you think with anything other than your dick?” Chuuya-oji said sharply. Ryuu-chan yawned and lifted his head away from Dazai’s chest, squinting at Chuuya, who froze, finger out to press the call button for the elevator.
“Dad said you aren’t supposed to use that word,” he mumbled, rubbing his eye.
Chuuya-oji chewed his bottom lip but smiled. “Our secret, huh?”
Ryuu-chan nodded, eyes already heavy, and he nestled back into Dazai-oji’s arms.
Atsushi and Akutagawa had barely made it through the ticket gate and through the crush of people moving through the station when Atsushi’s ears perked. Akutagawa looked over at him, observed the rounded tiger ears poking through his silver hair, and took a step away. “Do you hear that?” Atsushi turned to ask him.
“---aaaaaaAAAD!!!”
Acchan hit him square on, wrapping neatly around his head. Atsushi staggered back into the support pillar they had stopped beside, clanging into it solidly, while Acchan shrieked with laughter, clinging tight.
Akutagawa looked back the way that the furry child-shaped missile had come, and saw Chuuya with his arm still extended, Ryuu-chan on his shoulders with both hands in the air. “Great shot,” Akutagawa said dryly as Chuuya approached them, beaming. “Maybe don’t throw our child like a bowling ball in the future.”
“That was FUN,” Acchan said at the top of his voice, having scrambled around so he was now sitting on Atsushi’s shoulders, having completely messed his hair. “I wanna do that AGAIN!”
“Not today, kiddo,” Chuuya said. He was wearing the kids’ overnight bag over his shoulder, and two small backpacks were hooked through the strap. “I don’t want to get on your dad’s bad side.”
“Where’s Dazai-san?” Akutagawa asked as Ryuu-chan’s Rashomon reached out, latching onto a tendril that Akutagawa extended and allowing him to transfer to his arms. “I’m surprised he’s not with you.”
“Ah, your boss showed up at ass-early this morning, banging the door down. Apparently, Dazai hasn’t put in an appearance at the office for at least a week, and he dragged him off by the neck bandages.” Chuuya snorted in amusement and handed the duffel off to Atsushi, who was frowning. “Did you give him my address? I mean, I know, detective agency and all, but it’s unsettling when Kunikida shows up at my door.”
“Kunikida-san liked the picture I drew for him,” Ryuu-chan said. “It was a dinosaur with glasses, just like him!”
Chuuya choked down an audible laugh; fortunately, Ryuu-chan wasn’t looking at him. Atsushi frowned at him. “Ryuu-chan, that’s not a nice thing to say.”
Ryuu-chan blinked at Atsushi and then looked up at Akutagawa, who was struggling just slightly to keep his mouth flat. “You meant the dinosaur wore glasses like Kunikida, didn’t you?” Akutagawa said, and Ryuu-chan nodded, clearly puzzled at the reaction of the adults.
“Anyway,” Chuuya said, coughing just slightly. “Kunikida said to give him a call when you got in, Akutagawa. He had some paperwork or something for you? Dunno why he needed me to tell you, doesn’t he have your number?”
Now, Atsushi turned his gaze on Akutagawa, who remained neutral. “Why does Kunikida have paperwork for you?”
Akutagawa said, very pointedly, “Thank you for watching the children this weekend, Chuuya-san. I hope they weren’t too much trouble.”
Chuuya shook his head, grinning cheerfully. “Nah, not that much trouble at all.”
Ryuu-chan walked between Atsushi and Akutagawa, holding both their hands, while Acchan rode on Atsushi’s shoulders, hands curled tight in his hair. “So,” Atsushi said, “Kunikida-san wants to speak with you?”
“You heard Chuuya-san’s message as I did.”
“Mmhm.” Atsushi stared at Akutagawa, who didn’t look at him, instead looking ahead. “Is that what you’ve been sneaking around doing, meeting up with my coworkers?”
“Perhaps.”
Atsushi sighed, exasperated. “You aren’t gonna tell me what you’ve been up to, are you?”
Ryuu-chan tugged on his hand, and Atsushi looked down at him. “Dad wants to work with you,” Ryuu-chan said solemnly.
Akutagawa said sharply, “Ryuu-chan.”
Ryuu-chan looked at him. “But that’s what you said—”
“That was supposed to be a secret.”
“Oh.” Ryuu-chan scrunched up his nose, then looked at Atsushi. “That was a secret.”
Atsushi laughed helplessly, and Acchan tugged on his hair. “Oh! Oh! I know a secret too!” He leaned to the side, his weight enough to make Atsushi lean slightly too. “We were in a park after dark and Dazai-oji lost us, but a nice lady fed us soooooo much chazuuke and I fell asleep on a bench!”
“WHAT?”
