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They had literally just returned from a mission. It hadn’t even been ten minutes, and they were already arguing.
A certain bandaged detective—admittedly the one who had forced the partnership between the pair—leaned against the doorframe, rubbing his temple in a rare mixture of exhaustion and mild annoyance. He had spent the whole day observing their compatibility throughout the numerous missions they were assigned, and needless to say, they spent more time arguing than actually working.
Somehow, the job always got done.
Earlier that day, for example, Atsushi had been screaming at Akutagawa to stop flicking his dagger around—specifically at him—while clearing the obstacles. Meanwhile, Akutagawa, who somehow managed to stay calm while yelling, fought back with the fact that Atsushi was too slow on his feet and easily distracted, adding that it was the reason they had ended up having to chase their target in the first place.
Dazai sighed, wondering if he’d need a drink after the amount of cortisol these two were making him produce.
And most importantly, he wondered how he was going to annoy his lovely dog next.
Speaking of which, his red-headed partner was currently lecturing the Rashomon user, telling him he shouldn’t attack the Weretiger for no particular reason.
(At this, Dazai quietly scoffed.)
Chuuya then turned to the younger white-haired detective, immediately scolding him for provoking Akutagawa in the first place.
Chuuya had tagged along to make sure Dazai actually supervised them instead of wandering off like a stray cat, while also ensuring their yin and yang subordinates didn’t attempt to murder each other.
Chuuya: “Oi, Mackerel! Aren’t you gonna say anything?! This stupid weretiger provoked akutagawa and you won’t lecture him?!”
Dazai rolled his eyes, looking at Atsushi and sighing. He approached the three, placing a hand on Atsushi’s shoulder. He glanced at Akutagawa, whose expression hardened with a glare to where Dazai’s hand made contact with Atsushi’s shoulder, before turning to look at his younger subordinate.
Dazai: “Atsushi. It’s not good to provoke your partner. But I don’t really blame you, Chuuya acts the same.”
Chuuya: “HAH?! What are you talking about, you asshole!?”
Dazai chuckled, Atsushi doing the same quietly, before looking at Akutagawa with a reluctant expression of forced sorrow.
Atsushi: “I’m…sorry…Akutagawa.”
He practically mumbled it, but the small smirk that quickly formed on the other’s face said he had heard it anyway.
Akutagawa: “Can’t hear you, Jinko. What was that?”
Atsushi glared at him, trying to muster up as much heat as he could into it. He took a deep breath in and mumbled it a little louder.
Atsushi: “I said…I’m sorry…Akutagawa.”
Akutagawa: “A little louder?”
Atsushi: “I SAID IM SORRY, YOU EMOTIONLESS VICTORIAN GHOST!”
Akutagawa’s face held a tiny but triumphant smile, eyes following Atsushi’s figure as he stormed out of the hotel room. Dazai and Chuuya both chuckled, reminding Akutagawa they were still here as well.
Akutagawa: “That’s the first time Jinko has called me that.”
Chuuya turned to face him, patting the younger’s head affectionately, reminiscing about doing the same thing to the boy a few years ago.
Chuuya: “At least he can apologize. This shitty bastard never apologized for anything he said or did.”
Dazai gasped dramatically, holding a hand to heart like he was physically wounded by that comment. Akutagawa stared at his old mentor’s overreaction.
Was this really the same man that had made him endure all that ‘training’ years ago? How had two years in a weak agency changed him so much?
He wouldn’t be lying if he said that was probably for the best.
Dazai: “How could you, hatrack! Your words crush my heart!”
Chuuya chuckled, a part of him finding him and Dazai’s banter familiarly endearing — no, he’d never say that out loud to a soul. He glanced at the conflicted expression on Akutagawa’s face, and took a deep breath in.
Chuuya: “Well, me and the mackerel are gonna go out for a drink. You two are gonna be the death of us due to how much stress we gain taking care of you. On another note, the weretiger will probably come back soon, so stay here, okay?”
Dazai nodded approvingly, more than happy to leave their grumpy subordinates behind. Before Chuuya could protest, he grabbed his partner’s wrist and dragged the loudly protesting executive out of the hotel room, shutting the door behind them. Akutagawa could even hear Chuuya’s complaints outside the room for a minute. But before they left, Dazai gave Akutagawa a small, mischievous wink, one Akutagawa wouldn’t understand until later.
And as Chuuya had predicted, Atsushi slipped into the hotel room about 30 minutes later, his attempt at sneaking in failing spectacularly as Akutagawa sat in the middle of the room reading a book.
Akutagawa: “You’re so loud, Jinko.”
Atsushi: “HUH?!”
An hour later, Atsushi had brought some takeout and they sat in front of the TV, peacefully eating their noodles. It was a rare moment of peace between the two, watching some random show they had somehow both become invested in, pausing it every so often to argue about what would happen next.
To anyone passing by, it would’ve been impossible to believe these were the same two people who had nearly strangled each other an hour earlier.
Atsushi: “Okay but what if he’s the real psychopath?”
Akutagawa: “Of course not, Jinko. The psychopath is obviously the blond girl on the right.”
…
Atsushi: “Maybe you’re the psychopath.”
Atsushi had mumbled it, narrowing his eyes at the TV, but for someone like Akutagawa, it wasn’t that hard to miss. Akutagawa chuckled slightly, and turned back to the show. Not even a few seconds later, he felt a weird stare on him and turned to face his wide-eyed partner.
Akutagawa: “What now, Jinko?”
Atsushi: “YOU CAN LAUGH?!”
Atsushi stared at the older boy. His colored eyes traced the snow tipped ends of the other’s hair, watching it contrast to the obsidian strand down his own. Working together always felt like a puzzle piece snapping together, that feeling lasting even throughout their arguments and murder attempts. He figured if he told Akutagawa, the latter would label him sentimental and pathetic.
He wasn’t aware Akutagawa thought the same thing when watching the white-haired boy hold his own in a battle.
And they spent the rest of the night bantering about problems that weren’t theirs and — half-heartedly — complaining about having to work together for the coming day.
(Now let’s turn back to our favorite mentors~~)
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Chuuya was nursing his wine, watching the rich red of the liquid swirl around in a whirlpool. He was also — kind of zoned out but also a little attentive — listening to his bandaged partner as they shared their observations from the earlier hours.
Dazai: “—but in all honesty. I think they’ll do well together.”
Chuuya: “Hopefully. The Weretiger gets distracted way too easily. That low attention span of his could result in him or Akutagawa getting injured mid-battle.”
Dazai nodded thoughtfully, imagining how Akutagawa could be hurt badly (Ironic 💀) or how Atsushi could get tricked easily due to their characteristics and unfamiliarity of working in a pair.
Dazai: “But they’re strong and their abilities complement one another. It’s hard to find duos like that.”
…
“They honestly remind me of us, Chuu~ don’t you agree~?”
Chuuya chuckled. He didn’t really know what fueled that gesture. Maybe the alcohol was getting to him — or maybe it was the serene atmosphere of quiet around them — but for some reason, Dazai’s voice sounded so blissfully calming compared to how he usually found it.
Chuuya: “Don’t compare us to those idiots. They’re hopeless.”
His words had no real heat to it, almost filled with a sense of nostalgia and a strange feeling of gratitude as he thought back to their younger years, letting himself linger in memories he’d never admit he treasured.
Dazai smiled into the whiskey he was holding, watching the liquid splash around the glass like mini waves.
The waves that always reminded him of Chuuya’s eyes.
Maybe he could try to drown in those eyes instead of the cold river.
…
But of course, he’d never actually admit that to his dog. So instead he sighed softly, memories also flooding his mind as he spoke.
Dazai: “So were we. But they’re a lot more emotionally stable than we were.”
Chuuya; “I’m going to throw this wine glass at you.”
Dazai gasped dramatically, pressing the back of his hand to his head like he was about to pass out.
Dazai: “See?! Violence! I rest my case, Chibi.”
…
Chuuya: “Shut up.”
And the two men looked at each other, sharing a moment of thoughtful silence between their stares, before turning simultaneously and facing the window.
Their eyes tracked the beautiful sunset, unaware that their younger halves also stared with eyes reflecting golden. Two sets of arguments faded into this trusting, comfortable silence.
It seemed history had a way of repeating the best things.