Work Text:
“That katana...during those last moments, where did it appear?”
His surroundings begin to distort, and Atsushi finds himself in the middle of rushing Fukuchi with a sense of familiarity settled in between his ribs. Familiarity, and the feeling of immense dread. There’s a twitch of Fukuchi’s brow, of his lips as well, and Atsushi immediately feels the dread increase. Something is very, very wrong.
Without fully thinking about it, instead of swiping Fukuchi’s arms off, he uses the combined power of his claws and Akutagawa’s Rashomon to tear through space -- tear through to Akutagawa, who is looking at him with an expression of confusion and a little something else. Rage, maybe. Betrayal? Either way, Atsushi doesn’t have the time to think about it too hard, neither of them do.
Atsushi collides into Akutagawa, knocking him back. He briefly hopes that he didn’t injure him further, and his hopes are mostly confirmed when he hears a venom-laced voice in his ear.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Another question that neither of them actually have the time to think about. Akutagawa seems to catch on after a split second, judging by the way his eyes widen and quickly scan the area when Atsushi begins to lift his head to get off of him.
When Akutagawa summons rashomon from his shirt, he can feel the weakness of injury beginning to wear him down, he’s not as quick as he should be. Not quick enough to wrap the fabric around the fire extinguisher several feet away before Fukuchi can advance. He crushes it right as Atsushi stands, and the fumes begin to cover the deck as Fukuchi approaches with Amenogozen raised high. Akutagawa is still stumbling to his feet when the blade comes down, directly across Atsushi’s neck.
He almost feels like he could collapse again. He might’ve, if not for the adrenaline and the need to stay alive.
Atsushi is a different story. His body slumps to the ground, one claw reverting back into a human hand pressed tightly to the wound in his neck. The sight of blood has never made Akutagawa feel physically ill before, but there’s a first time for everything, especially combined with the panicked look to Atsushi’s bright eyes. They’re always so, so bright. Even now, in the worst of situations, where his own blood is leaking through the spaces between his fingers, staining his white shirt. Akutagawa has seen the other covered in his own blood many times before, even as a result of Akutagawa’s own hand, so why?
Why does it pain him now?
He’s jerked back to the present by the sound of Atsushi coughing. Sputtering might be the better word, with how blood is coming from his mouth at the same time.
“Get up, weretiger. Are you going to lay there all day?”
He doesn’t like the panicked tone coloring his own voice either. He almost doesn’t recognize it. Atsushi glances up at him from his place on the floor, with the same glare he’s used several times before. It doesn’t have the same heat, the same way that the harsh words coming from Akutagawa’s lips don’t carry their usual weight.
Two sets of footsteps can be heard through the smoke, one coming closer to Atsushi while the other frantically begins to take off through the fog. Fukuchi seems to be desperately searching for Akutagawa, for a chance to finish them off. To finish his mission. Akutagawa does the opposite of what he’s expected to do, and comes even closer to Atsushi. His eyes are pitch black, not all that different from his usual expression, but there’s a tension to it that betrays what he’s actually thinking.
He can’t die here. Neither of them can. Akutagawa opens his mouth to speak, words faltering for just a moment.
“Let’s go, we have an opportunity to make it out of here alive.”
Instead of speaking, Atsushi weakly lifts an arm, and smacks at his leg. Smacking him away, trying to get him to back off. Akutagawa does not move, doesn’t even lift a foot. Just stares, brows furrowed as if this is the most absurd thing he’s seen in his entire life. It comes pretty damn close. Atsushi’s glare turns to wide eyes, nearly pleading when Akutagawa makes no move to leave.
“You have to go without me. We both can’t make it out of here, and you know that.”
Atsushi coughs a bit, he probably shouldn’t be talking at all, with his injury and his slowed ability to regenerate. Akutagawa feels like the entire situation is tainted with a sense of irony, not the least bit amusing, as he watches Atsushi cough into a free hand and for it to come back to his side splattered with blood.
A horrible sense of irony, for sure. He feels like their roles are reversed, like he’s watching what he normally looks like from a different point of view. It makes him wonder if Atsushi would feel the same things he’s feeling, if he was the one lying on the ground, nearly begging the other to flee. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it though, as the smoke around them starts to fade little by little. He knows that this is his last window of opportunity to leave, to find a way out.
They’re both out of time.
“Will you keep it? Your promise?”
Akutagawa is shaken out of his thoughts by the strained voice. At first, it ignites a bit of anger in his chest.
“That’s your dying question?”
Akutagawa begins to step back finally, glancing around for any signs of Fukuchi. His shirt begins to shape into his ability once more, rearing back and then smashing into the ground hard enough to create a hole just big enough for him to drop down through.
He doesn’t answer Atsushi’s question.
Instead, he casts him one last glance, letting the mask of indifference he tried hard to keep up crumble into pieces. The disappointment, the fear, the tiny pit of despair that’s begun to open inside of him comes up to the surface--he allows Atsushi one full look inside, past the barriers he’s used to keep him at bay. The one who could likely fully understand him, eventually, as he’s begun to understand Atsushi in his own ways. Atsushi merely smiles in return, a smile Akutagawa’s only seen aimed at other people in his life. Ones that were shrouded in light, ones that the weretiger cared for. For better, or for worse. Is he included in that group of people now?
He takes one step closer to the hole, locking eyes with the other one last time.
“...you’re a fool, Atsushi.”
Akutagawa sighs and drops through the hole, leaving the other behind as the smoke fully dissipates. Atsushi’s name weighed heavy on his tongue as he made his way to the submarine. To freedom.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What would be the benefit of keeping his promise, if Akutagawa chose to do so?
The thought cycles through his mind, over and over as he sits silently next to Ango. He had shown up along with a passenger boat after Akutagawa had taken his escape. Initially, Ango looked rather surprised to see him--Akutagawa wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing here either, but could assume it was all part of the strings Dazai had pulled to make any of this happen in the first place.
Speak of the devil. Akutagawa’s thoughts turn to that night in the woods, Dazai sitting upon a tree stump that made Akutagawa feel nauseous with nostalgia. He remembers bristling at the thought of being commanded to save Atsushi, especially with the command coming from his old mentor.
“You know the reason why, don’t you?”
The words echo through his head again and again, mixing with images of the events on the ship. Atsushi, taking yet another hit for him. Atsushi, lying on the ground, crimson painting his clothes. Bright eyes that always burn with determination, even in such a dire situation.
Akutagawa knows the reason as much as he wishes to deny it. What he doesn’t understand, though, is why the other man basically tossed away his life for Akutagawa. Was his existence really worth that much, with such limited time left too? Maybe, he ponders, it was because of their promise. Did Atsushi save him because Akutagawa planned to kill him soon anyway? He’s always been one to devalue his own life for the sake of others, too. Was this any different?
The thought of that being true isn’t satisfying. The thought of Atsushi dying at his hand doesn’t seem very satisfying anymore either. Honestly, it hasn’t for a while. But he has no reason to admit such things, not when their entire promise rests on that desire in the first place.
Dazai must have seen through him, though. Akutagawa hasn’t wanted to kill Atsushi for a long time, even if it took him just as long to understand that. Maybe it was just an excuse to continue finding more ways to understand the other. The other man was intriguing just as much as he was infuriating.
He sighs, brushing away those thoughts and Ango side eyes him. He can tell the other wants to say something, his fingers drumming against his legs, then reaching up to toy with the frames of his glasses.
“Out with it.”
Ango clears his throat. There’s another moment of silence, hesitation as Ango attempts to choose his words carefully.
“I’m going to assume none of this was actually part of the plan.”
Akutagawa merely shrugs. “There wasn’t a clear plan in the first place.”
Ango nods and remains silent for a while longer. Akutagawa is the one to break it next.
“There is more everyone should know, though. About that man’s true identity.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The deck is mostly quiet, save for the sound of waves crashing against the sides of the ship. Fukuchi watches the backs of the guards become dots in the distance, brow furrowed as he accepts that the other boy got away.
Well, that’s fine. He still has time, after all, and still one body to propel his plan further. The weretiger lies still on the ground, eyes closed as Fukuchi approaches with a coffin strapped to his back. He crouches, and lays the box down onto the ground beside Atsushi, lifting the front of the coffin open.
“Let me introduce you to a friend,” he says, not expecting anything but silence in return. “The Undead King, Bram Stoker-kun.”
The form inside awakens, bickering with Fukuchi until he lifts Bram out of his coffin, presenting the weretiger to him.
“A meal?” Bram looks displeased, at first. They bicker some more, the argument ending with a threat to Bram’s existence. After all, comrades or not, Fukuchi basically controls him for now.
Bram’s jaw opens wide. If Atsushi were still conscious, the last sight to grace his eyes would have been the sharp fangs of another, ready to devour him.