Chapter Text
Ryuunosuke felt weightless, as if the air around him was passing straight through his molecules like he wasn't there. His eyes might have been open but he wasn't sure; everything was pitch black. It was silent too. Ryuunosuke may as well have been drifting within a black hole, sinking into a void absent of all sight and sound and smell. Perhaps this was death – simply an endless nothingness.
The only confirmation he had that he was still a solid, physical being was a tight grip around his right wrist. "Atsushi?" He tried to call out, but he couldn't hear his own voice so maybe he never said anything at all.
There was only emptiness.
Until the void suddenly collapsed in on itself. Or maybe it happened slowly? Or maybe Ryuunosuke simply fell through a crack?
Whatever way it happened, Ryuunosuke found himself submitting to gravity once again, his back pressed into a smooth, hard surface by a large weight on his chest. Light danced behind his eyelids and the distant sound of birds and car engines trickled into his ears. Something soft tickled his jaw.
Atsushi's hand was still wrapped around his wrist.
Ryuunosuke forced his eyes open, allowing the sun to blind him as he was forced to adjust. Once he'd blinked the spots out of his vision, he was finally able to look down and discover that the annoying fluff brushing his chin was in fact a mop of white hair, and the weight on his chest was none other than the were-tiger to whom he was still attached.
Ryuunosuke didn't breathe. This was far too close, wasn't it? All would be forgiven if he shoved the younger man off of him. It wouldn't even be questioned. It was strange, but the detective almost found himself enjoying the feeling of the closeness. Perhaps that was wrong. After all, the two had been trying to kill each other just six months prior.
Maybe he'd let it slide. Just this once. Atsushi didn't have to know.
"Ryu?"
Ryuunosuke's heart jumped. His face felt warm all of a sudden. A fuzzy feeling like pins and needles took over his body. Oh dear, was he having a heart attack?
Atsushi shifted above him, one hand pressed against his chest while the other remained locked around his wrist. The younger man pushed himself up, using the other's chest as leverage, causing Ryuunosuke to let out a wheezed groan.
Atsushi's eyes blinked open. The gradient of yellow and purple met stormy grey and the two were frozen for a few moments as Atsushi blinked the lingering drowsiness out of his system.
When it finally clicked for the were-tiger that he was lying on top of his once mortal enemy, faces inches apart his face turned pink and he squealed, "I'm so sorry!" As he quickly scrambled off.
"It's fine," Ryuunosuke forced out as he too sat up, ignoring the way his wrist felt cold in the absence of Atsushi's hold. He pulled his gaze away from the blushing were-tiger and directed it to the surroundings.
They were on a rooftop, overlooking a small apartment block, the sea of the Port in the distance, glistening in the mid-day sun.
"Did...did we make it?" Atsushi asked quietly, as if he feared the answer.
"Well," Ryuunosuke began as he studied the surroundings in greater detail, "it's certainly Yokohama."
But definitely not their own. The landscape around them was tranquil to an extent. It lacked the fire and screams and destruction their home had become.
"Then let's find him," Atsushi said, determinedly, his mouth set in a grim line. But Ryuunosuke could see the fear and pain in his eyes.
His hand moved to rest on top of the younger's before he could think to resist. Atsushi turned to him, eyes wide in shock. It was too late for Ryuunosuke to back down though (not that he'd cower from a stupid were-tiger), so he squeezed Atsushi's hand. "It will be fine," he reassured. The secret subtext of 'you will be fine,' went unsaid.
If Ryuunosuke didn't know any better, he'd have thought he saw the shine of tears in Atsushi's gaze – the man was unused to reassurance and genuine kindness coming from anywhere other than his loyal friend Kyouka. Ryuunosuke meant it though. He wouldn't have allowed Atsushi to face the Man in Black again if there'd been any other choice. The were-tiger had been recovering well from the poisonous wounds inflicted on his soul by the leader of the Port Mafia. Ryuunosuke vowed that he wouldn't allow the White Reaper to be drawn to the surface by any one other than the were-tiger himself – especially not him.
After a moment of silence, Atsushi pulled his hand away and stood. "We should be as quick as possible," he said, gaze fixed on the horizon. "We aren't sure if time passes differently between the worlds."
Without waiting for a reply, Atsushi took a running leap off of the building, feline limbs propelling him into the air as his dark grey coat billowed behind him like a cape. Ryuunosuke followed suit, using the tendrils of Rashomon to rocket himself across the gap to the neighbouring rooftop.
Atsushi grinned at him as he landed. "I'll race you to the Agency?" He suggested, the tantalising taunt hanging in the air between them like a carrot on a stick.
Ryuunosuke smirked in response. "If you think you can keep up, Jinko." He didn't stick around to hear Atsushi's spluttered protests at the nickname. The race was on after all. And Akutagawa Ryuunosuke didn't lose to silly, overgrown cats.
.•°•.
Atsushi hovered by the door, hand raised to knock but not committed to the action. Every muscle in his body had tensed, like the tiger was ready to leap out to enact his fight or flight.
Ryuunosuke hovered behind him, composed, bored even. But Atsushi could see through his partner's stone-faced demeanor. He could smell the nervousness in the air, see the clenched fists hidden in the pockets of his trench coat. They hadn't worked together very long, but they fit together like they'd known each other their whole lives. And maybe they had in a way. No one understood Atsushi's past and fears the way Ryuunosuke did. The two would always be connected by shared pain in a way Atsushi and Kyouka weren't. Not in a stronger way necessarily, just different.
Four cubes of sugar.
This world was very different, certainly, and the two had known that going in. But it was a very different thing to actually experience the differences. They hadn't known what Dazai-san had changed in their universe after all.
The red-haired waitress downstairs had greeted Atsushi with a smile and had huffed when Atsushi returned her greeting with a blank stare and weak wave. She'd commented on his outfit, said it looked dumb, then noticed Ryuunosuke looming in the doorway and practically screamed, raising her fists.
"I know there's a truce Atsushi, but you don't bring the Port Mafia here," she'd said.
"What!? I'd never-" Atsushi dragged the snarling detective out of the cafe and toward the stairwell, calling out apologies over his shoulder as he muffled Ryuunoske's cursing with a large tiger paw.
"Atsushi!?" She called out, sounding slightly mortified.
"Everything's fine!" He yelled as the cafe door slammed shut. It was then Ryuunosuke finally chose to retaliate. The familiar tendrils of Rashomon curled around his biceps and wrists and wrenched him away into the air. Ryuunosuke then pressed him against the wall, hand on his chest and face close enough that Atsushi could see the rings of silver in his eyes.
For a moment, everything was still.
Then his fellow detective blinked like he was refocusing on reality, his pale ears turned pink and suddenly Atsushi was Dr to the floor.
"Don't try to manhandle me again, Jinko," he said, scowling.
"Don't threaten random waitresses," Atsushi countered as he climbed to his feet.
"I'm not with the Port Mafia," he hissed.
"Maybe you are in this world," Atsushi snapped. "We don't know what's different here."
That seemed to throw Ryuunosuke for a loop. He stood there for a minute, seemingly stunned by the revelation. Then he huffed and whirled around, coat flapping behind him. Without a word, he strode away towards the stairwell and Atsushi hurried to catch him.
"You should probably knock," he said, once they reached the fourth floor.
"What? Why?"
"The Akutagawa of this world is clearly an enemy of the Detective Agency. They would most likely not take too kindly to my uninvited appearance," he explained, slipping back into his emotionless monotone.
"But why should I knock?" Atsushi asked. Was it because he would better survive an immediate attack? But Rashomon's shielding ability could hold up well under any number of the Agency's attacks.
"If the woman downstairs was any indication, the were-tiger of this universe is employed at the ADA," he explains.
Oh.
It was only then Atsushi seemed to understand Ryuunosuke strong reaction to being referred to as Port Mafia. It felt like an entire period of his life had been cut out, scoffed at, and replaced.
Still, no use dwelling. So why was Atsushi stuck in front of the door with his fist poised to knock for almost five minutes? Certainly not because he was afraid to face a reality where he was not the White Reaper. No. He wasn't afraid to face a pathetic, weakened happy version of himself. No. Definitely not. He was totally fine. Yeah. Fine.
The door swung inwards.
Atsushi should've been paying better attention really. His enhanced senses should've been triggered by the presence behind the door before it opened. There was no excuse.
Dazai-san would be so disappointed.
Although, no amount of training could've prepared him for the nauseating vertigo that came with coming face-to-face with his double.
The Atsushi in front of him was dressed in a shirt, tie, three-quarter length trousers and a belt with excess that dangled behind him like a mock tail. His bangs were lopsided (truly an awful haircut, his hair dresser should've been fired) too. The detective's eyes stared straight into his counterpart's as they analysed each other – deep, purple rims that faded to a golden yellow. Kyouka had called Atsushi's eyes beautiful once, and no matter how many times he stared at them in the mirror, he'd never understood. He did now. The eyes set into the familiar face were different from his: they were bright and lively, his soul untainted.
How funny. He'd thought he would be afraid to see the weakness of his counterpart. But in that moment, Atsushi felt irrationally jealous. He searched the other's neck for scarring or a collar and found nothing.
Weak. Pitiful. You feel sorry for yourself? Dazai-san made you strong. He gave you control. Pain means control. Pity makes you weak. Makes you weak to the murderous rage. That's why you killed him. You killed him. You killed him.
The collar tightened around his neck, spikes digging in, slicing into the flesh, keeping the tiger locked away. But it was too tight. It was crushing his airway. He couldn't breathe. Atsushi grasped at the collar but couldn't slide his fingers between the leather and his neck. He couldn't get it off. He was choking. He was going to die. He was going to die. Hewasgoingtodie. Hewasgoingtodiehewasgoingtodiehewasgoingtodiehewasgoingtodiehewasgoingtodiehewasgoingto-
"ATSUSHI!"
Atsushi opened his eyes to see his partner kneeling in front of him, grey eyes swimming in concern, whirling like storm clouds.
He couldn't breathe.
"R-Ryu-" He choked, gasping for air.
Suddenly, Ryuunosuke's hand was on his neck, slipped underneath his own where he was grabbing at the collar.
The scarf...
All he could feel, was the relieving cold of Ryuunosuke's hand on his skin. No leather. No spikes. No blood. The light wool fell away, leaving his neck bare.
He wasn't suffocating.
He forced himself to inhale.
Then exhale.
Then inhale again.
All the while, Ryuunosuke stayed right in front of him: a grounding presence. Atsushi reached up to take the hand away from his neck.
But he didn't let it go.
He held it, finding comfort in the warmth of Ryuunosuke's palm, in the calloused skin, in the fingers that curled around his own.
"Do you know where you are, Jinko?" He asked, his tone level and cautious.
Atsushi hated it. He hated being fragile and broken.
"We crossed through The Book. We're at the Agency," he recalled.
Ryuunosuke nodded, then pulled away. "You're fine then," he concluded with his usual callousness.
Atsushi gave him a smile. He could always rely on Ryuunosuke to not treat him like glass, even after a panic attack. He took his scarf from his lap and draped it across his shoulders (not quite ready to wrap it around his neck just yet). He then quickly rubbed away the sticky tracks on his face and looked up, only to find himself no longer in the doorway to the Agency, but within the office, sat down at Oda's desk watched by the other members of the Agency with varying looks of shock and confusion.
"H-hi?"