July 2016

Yokohama

Atsushi sat at the steps, watching and listening for movement below. The gray walls cast a cool chill in the room, causing him to shiver. He was not a child anymore and if he so desired, could go down in the kitchen and warm up a pot of tea or coffee. Instead, he pulled his knees up to his chest and waited.

The moment he was waiting for came when Dazai emerged from view, shrugging on his coat. Without glancing up, Dazai sighed. "Go back to bed, Atsushi. It's still early."

Atsushi rested his chin on his elbow. "I have to lock the door."

Dazai pulled the keys from his pocket, twirling them in his finger. The keys jingled merrily in the morning silence. Finally, Dazai looked up and smiled. The early morning sun cast an orange glow, giving his hair a honey-gold hue. His eyes glittered, and his smile was warm and real before it masked into his usual jovial grin. "No need. I've got you covered."

Atsushi scooted forward on the edge of the steps. Four years ago, he would have raced down the steps and clung to Dazai. He would have hugged him, trying to bury that aching fear blooming within his chest.

Now, he hesitated, nearly grown and experimenting with new boundaries.

He chewed the inside of his lip. "Be safe, Dazai."

Dazai smiled before the door closed behind him, and Atsushi was alone.

He was too awake to go back to bed, and the thought of having any caffeine in his system now left him anxious. Standing up, he trudged to the kitchen and sat at the table. The blinds were pulled up to reveal the garden outside, and Atsushi stared at the many potted plants, wondering if Dazai knew that Atsushi would wait up for him and that was why a pot of warm milk was brewing on the stove.

Eventually, he would have to get ready for school. Eventually, he would have to skim over the flashcards Akutagawa had painstakingly prepared for him. But right now, he curled up on the couch beneath the morning sunbeam with his warm cup of milk.

Somehow, he was still rushing out of the door like he was late. Somehow, he was sprinting down the sidewalk, hopping onto the public bus before he was sprinting again towards the building.

He searched for a familiar dark-haired teenager, but knowing Akutagawa, he was probably already in the school hallways. Atsushi didn't get a chance to talk to him before class started.

By the time the day had stretched on, Atsushi was emerging from the building, breathing in his last day of school. His gaze swept over the crowd of teeming students before he saw Akutagawa at the front, moving away to walk home.

Atsushi had noticed the lack of the motorcycle waiting on the school grounds. It was often the talk amongst the girls at school about the mysterious rider who picked up Akutagawa at school everyday. The air of mystery created intrigue and set Akutagawa on a different pedestal for the girls. But Atsushi knew the slightly less unimpressive truth and could not see what there was to gush about.

But today, there was no motorcycle, which meant Chuuya was not here, which meant that Akutagawa would be walking home by himself.

Gripping the straps of his bag, Atsushi debated on the risks of walking home with Akutagawa. Atsushi knew of the rules. Akutagawa was a stickler for those rules. He was afraid of one slip up ruining everything, hence the forbidden act of walking home together.

But Atsushi felt that it was fine. Dazai would still be at the agency. There was no risk of anyone finding out. He didn't know about Chuuya and Akutagawa, but he wouldn't know if he didn't ask.

Atsushi hurriedly caught up to the lone figure on the edge of the road. His bag bounced against his back, yet he was at Akutagawa's side in no time.

"Hey, how are things?"

Akutagawa was silent. "It's quiet. The shop is closed because I cannot legally perform ink on anyone."

"So you're alone…" Atsushi drawled. At Akutagawa's look, Atsushi shrugged. "I'm just saying, I'm alone too."

"Good grief. You're going to destroy the shop in your boredom."

"And I was thinking about making pancakes," Atsushi continued, ignoring the jabs.

"And you're going to give yourself diabetes," Akutagawa finished with a huff.

"Well then," Atsushi exclaimed. "Seems like I'll need someone to monitor me and my self-destructive tendencies."

Akutagawa shot him an exasperated look. "What are you, eight?"

Atsushi rolled his eyes. "You know what? Be that way. More pancakes for me." He purposefully flounced away toward the bus stop, only for Akutagawa to stand by his side and give him a long look. Atsushi kept his gaze firmly ahead, biting the inside of his cheek to fight the smile.

Akutagawa sighed as the bus pulled up. "Idiot," he muttered.

Squeezing into the seats, Atsushi hugged his backpack close. The glee he felt the last five minutes depleted once he realized that he might be spending another dinner alone.

Akutagawa grabbed Atsushi's hand, pushing his sleeve back. Atsushi grumbled at the intrusion but otherwise stayed still as Akutagawa observed the tattoo.

"Nice," Akutagawa noted. He turned Atsushi's wrist to observe it from different angles. "The colors are still there."

Atsushi raised an eyebrow. "Were you worried?"

Akutagawa shrugged. He continued to stare at the tattoo for a bit before he dropped Atsushi's hand. He went back to gazing out the window.

Atsushi flexed his fingers, glancing down at the tattoo. He had been able to wear it without worrying about getting caught, and he enjoyed the freedom. He realized that Akutagawa constantly looked at the tattoo because he himself could not have it. He was living vicariously through Atsushi.

The bus came to a stop and they both got off. Atsushi glanced at Akutagawa before sighing loudly. "Well, I'm off. Those pancakes are not going to make themselves."

He only heard Akutagawa's grunt when he ran off. The smell of flowers reached his senses first. Contrary to what he had said about preparing the pancakes, Atsushi took care of the flowers first. While the shop was still closed, he had the orders to check and flowers to maintain.

With his chores taken care of and his things put away, Atsushi grabbed an apron and began piling things together for his impromptu early dinner.

Pausing in his whisking, he heard a soft 'thud' come from his bedroom. Sighing, he continued with his stirring until he heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

Atsushi sighed. "You know, the ancient Egyptians created these things called 'doors,' which were believed to open connections between the land of the living and the afterlife. Modern people use them to enter rooms like normal beings."

"Fascinating," Akutagawa huffed, gliding down the stairs. "But this is not a normal situation."

Atsushi whirled on him, shaking the spoon. "Not if you continue to enter through my bedroom window!"

Akutagawa stared at him. "What are you doing?"

Atsushi brightened up. "Pancakes!"

Akutagawa hummed and rifled through the pantry, ignoring Atsushi's indignant scowl. "Having such a heavy carb and sugary breakfast two days in a row isn't good for you."

Atsushi folded his arms before remembering he was holding a batter covered spoon. "Says who?"

"Says everyone." Akutagawa straightened up with a bag of prunes and nuts. He stared at the pan. "I thought I smelled smoke."

Atsushi rolled his eyes, flipping a pancake. "You're going to eat this since you're here."

"Be mindful of the sugar," Akutagawa quipped unhelpfully. "Baking has to be precise."

Atsushi rolled his eyes. "A little extra sugar won't ruin it."

Akutagawa hovered near the fridge, holding the bag of prunes as he watched Atsushi meticulously pour the batter onto the pan. Dazai had bought the prunes and nuts for Atsushi under the assumption that they were his favorite snacks. In truth, Atsushi felt like he had to always have them in stock to 'bribe' Akutagawa to come over.

The sizzling of the pan filled the silence in the kitchen. The warm, sugary sent calmed Atsushi senses, though he kept glancing at the door, waiting for a familiar jovial voice to break through the silence. It wasn't often that Dazai sometimes had to stay over at the agency. In fact, Atsushi was woken up on a handful of occasions in the middle of the night with a phone call and a status. All scenarios ended with stitches, blood, and survival. Still, despite the lucky chances, Atsushi knew that the agency's profession had a low mortality rate.

He glanced at Akutagawa. "Hey…do you ever wonder…if they will walk through the door-"

"No." Akutagawa's answer was abrupt. "I never do. Chuuya always comes back." He sipped his tea. "And often with more bodies to bury."

"Oh." Atsushi fell quiet. He let the silence linger, wincing at the screech of the tea kettle against the grate.

Akutagawa's sigh was exasperated. "Do you?"

"Often," Atsushi admitted. "People don't…always come back."

Akutagawa stared. "You mean…the detectives."

"Oh, well, we haven't lost any agents. Not yet. I guess Yosano and her team are really good."

"See? Then there's nothing to fear."

Atsushi swallowed. "Yeah."

Still, he could remember the sound of gunfire, the screams of frantic children. The frantic warnings of an older sister before her cries mingled with their brothers.

Not everyone came back. He knew that.

He flipped the pancakes, monitoring them before transporting them over to a plate. "Here you go," he chirped.

Akutagawa grimaced, but he accepted the plate. Atsushi did not comment about the importance of syrup. Instead, he led a demonstration. Akutagawa chose to ignore the generous demonstration and merely placed a fingertip portion of butter on the meal.

It might have been too early to eat dinner, but Atsushi was in need of some heavy comfort food.

"Dazai tried to make these once," Atsushi admitted, breaking the silence. "He burned them. We didn't think anything of it because the smoke alarm batteries were dead. He didn't notice until the smell filled the house."

Akutagawa huffed. "No doubt you have plenty of embarrassing stories." His gaze was downward, focused on pushing his meal around the plate.

Atsushi brightened up. "I do! But you first."

Akutagawa blinked, finally looking up. "What for?"

"Embarrassing stories! I shared mine, now it's your turn."

Akutagawa looked thoughtful. Finally, he took a bite of a pancake to buy himself some time. Atsushi patiently waited.

"Well," Akutagawa started. "There was one incident when I was rather small. Chuuya took me shopping to get a few things. I was tasked with pushing the little cart around." He shrugged with a disinterested glance. "It was a child's cart. I have no idea why he thought he'd have to indulge me. But the cart was nearly empty, and I decided to grab an orange from a shelf. When I did, I turned, and Chuuya was gone."

Atsushi smirked. "Did you cry?"

Akutagawa scoffed. "On the contrary, I kept myself together. It was a small store and I figured I would run into him." He sighed, pushing back into his chair. "Then the shouting happened. I could hear it from the other end of the produce section. I managed to peek over the shelves, and I saw Chuuya arguing with a worker. He caught sight of me and…" Here, Akutagawa's pale cheeks turned pink. "He jumped over the display of apples! They went everywhere."

Akutagawa ignored Atsushi snickering. Rolling his eyes, he grumbled. "I was fine. I don't know why he was overreacting. We drew more attention to ourselves with the ruined apples and his babbling." He rubbed his temple. "I swear…it just got worse. He decided to finish the shopping even after all that. Everyone kept staring! I just wanted to go home."

Atsushi smirked. "Yeah, that was a similar case with me. But the store was bigger, and I was lost among the canned shelves. So I sat down and-"

"Cried?"

"Wailed." He shrugged, blushing. "Hey, don't judge! I think I was seven!"

"Yet I didn't cry."

"Yeah well whatever! Anyway, the worst part of it was that Dazai was looking for me, but in his frantic state, he ran right past the aisle I was in. He didn't even see me!"

"So meaningless that even when he was looking, he didn't notice," Akutagawa mumbled.

"Exactly! So I screamed louder."

"And…?"

"He found me. Duh." Atsushi shrugged. "I thought he was going to shut the entire store down."

"For you, he would have."

Atsushi hesitated. He could always catch the bitterness lingering within Akutagawa's tone whenever he talked about Dazai. Atsushi had tried to make the connection, and he wondered if Akutagawa felt insecure whenever Atsushi talked about his home life. Perhaps the relationship between him and Chuuya was not as stable and warm as Atsushi had hoped.

There was a fine line drawn between them; what they could and could not ask each other. This friendship between them shouldn't even be happening considering that Chuuya was one of the most wanted men in the city.

"Does it bother you?"

Akutagawa's question startled him. "What?"

The dark-haired boy stared at him squarely. "Does it bother you that you have to hide from him?"

"Breaking one of your own rules, eh?" Despite his attempt at light humor, it fell flat. One of the many unspoken rules was to not talk about the professions of their respective guardians.

Worry niggled at the back of his mind. He didn't know much about Akutagawa's home life. He would like to think that Chuuya was taking good care of him. For Akutagawa to bring this up meant that something must be weighing on his mind. It could be many things.

Very well then, he'll play along.

Atsushi shrugged, focusing on his last remaining pieces of pancake. "Sometimes. I feel guilty. Dazai's done so much for me. I owe him my honesty at the least." He looked up. "But my connection with you does not bother me. If anything, I'm more worried about Dazai's reaction when I have to explain our…our friendship."

"You plan to tell him?"

"I'll tell him that I befriended the boy next door, the one who lives in the tattoo shop and doodles in his free time."

Akutagawa placed his fork down. "You could get in trouble if you are caught associating with me."

Atsushi frowned. "Why? You're not a criminal."

"You are aware that our main income doesn't come from tattoos," Akutagawa said.

Atsushi stared at him.

Akutagawa let out a breath. "We…I mean, Chuuya was-"

"I know. I've seen his picture at the Agency."

"Does it bother you?"

"Yeah, it does," Atsushi started. His gaze was focused on his folded hands, ignorant of Akutagawa's pensive stare. "But I'm not friends with Chuuya. I'm friends with you."

Akutagawa huffed. "Well that's foolish."

"I think it's foolish for us both to believe that Dazai and Chuuya are unaware of each other's presence." At Akutagawa's sharp stare, Atsushi elaborated. "I mean, they'd both be sorry excuses for a detective and mafioso to let the other slip by unnoticed. Especially since we're neighbors."

"Impossible," Akutagawa retorted. "We wouldn't be coexisting if that were the case."

"Maybe there was a ceasefire?"

"Not with…not with the mafia." Akutagawa looked away. "Not with Dazai."

Atsushi frowned. "Dazai's a mere detective. Maybe the mafia does not consider him worth the trouble." Now if it was the president…then Atsushi could see where there would be some issues.

Atsushi leaned forward. "But why are you so worried? Did something happen between you and Chuuya?"

Akutagawa snorted. "Forget it. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Atsushi frowned. "You brought it up!"

"And I'm done with it." Akutagawa's chair scraped against the floor as he pushed back.

Atsushi sighed, feeling the careful line within the sand indent itself further. It wasn't enough to drive a wedge between them, not if Atsushi had anything to say about it. "Would you like to help me pick out the flowers?" At Akutagawa's stare, Atsushi held up his hand to show the tattoo. "I mean, you gave me a tattoo. I'm going to give you a bouquet."

Akutagawa sniffed. "I can get flowers at the store."

"Don't you dare say something like that!" Atsushi gathered the plates (and Akutagawa's mostly untouched food) and marched back towards the kitchen. "That is blasphemy here in this shop."

"Fine, but I want to pick out my own flowers. And I don't want to hear about any of the nonsense mystical messages behind the flowers."

Atsushi rolled his eyes. "Animal."

Despite his attempt to remain distant, Akutagawa ended up hovering over Atsushi's shoulders. Atsushi made sure to work in the back with the windows open to overlook the personal garden. Akutagawa's hands remained firmly stuffed in his pockets, and Atsushi could imagine those slender fingers flinching to contain any nervous twitch.

Atsushi handed him a pair of snippers. "Here, I'll need your help to cut a few flowers."

Akutagawa blinked, fumbling with the tool. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Cut the flowers for the bouquet." Atsushi led him to the garden. There was a small section of yellow daffodils, standing tall and fragile amidst the greenery. Atsushi kneeled down, gesturing. "I'm going to prune a few dead heads, but you can pick the ones you want for the bouquet." At Akutagawa's silence, Atsushi prodded. "I remember you said you like daffodils."

Akutagawa blinked. "I did. I do." He kneeled down beside Atsushi, stiff and erect.

Atsushi leapt at the first silent signal for help. Akutagawa wasn't the sort to ask for help, especially when he considered the task trivial and simple. "Here, cut below the big leaves as a guide. It's fine if the stem is too long. We can always trim them to a desired length."

Akutagawa nodded at the guidance before carefully selecting a flower. With a determined gaze, he snipped the pruners, the daffodil free in Akutagawa's hands. Atsushi smiled and turned to focus on his own task, pulling a few wilted brown flowers. When he could no longer hear the snippers, he glanced to where Akutagawa was carefully cradling his chosen bunch of daffodils.

Atsushi grinned. "What else do you want in your bouquet?"

At that, Akutagawa's gaze swept the garden, and a soft smile tugged at his lips.

At the end of the half-hour, they had blue hydrangeas, white daisies, pink peonies, and yellow daffodils. At that, Atsushi set to work organizing the colors and different flowers into a stunning bouquet. He had a ribbon and paper selected to compliment the crystal vase.

Akutagawa was sitting at the edge of the desk, watching as Atsushi meticulously set to work. "This seems like a lot more work than necessary. You can just stick them in."

Atsushi did not tear his gaze from his work. "You cannot just 'stick them in.' The colors can complement each other really well, but only if organized properly. If not, it will be a mess of chaos and a strain on your eyes. You'll miss the beauty each flower has to offer." He straightened up. "The blue hydrangeas are large and dark and can provide a perfect background. With the blue as a background, I can have the peonies fill in the center at the bottom. The white daisies will flock the daffodils, which will be in the mid center." He stepped back, admiring his work. Just as he had hoped, the bouquet was full and teaming with colorful life.

Akutagawa leaned over to sniff the flowers. Atsushi tried to hide his obvious staring, watching how Akutagawa's eyes softened and a genuine smile touched his lips. His complexion was noticeably lighter, the smile unburdening his countenance. A bolt of surprise shot through Atsushi when he realized just how young Akutagawa could look.

Atsushi glanced away, pulling off his gloves. "Where are you going to put it?"

"The table," Akutagawa answered, his soft look still lingering. "It'll be the first thing he'll see when he walks in."

Atsushi's finger rubbed at his tattoo. He didn't feel jealous that Akutagawa could share the bouquet with Chuuya, a beauty that could light up a home with a sweet fragrance, while Atsushi had to hide his tattoo from Dazai. Both were completely different works of art. The bouquet could be easily explained away while a tattoo would reveal too much about the nature of their relationship.

"How much is it?" Akutagawa asked, already pulling out his wallet.

Atsushi shrugged. "We can talk about that later. But part of the payment is that you finish your meals when you come over." He eyed Akutagawa with a stern look.

Akutagawa bristled. "I eat plenty when I'm at home."

Atsushi shrugged, turning to place his gloves away on the shelf. "Alright. But when you're here, I would like to feel appreciated by watching my food disappear."

He waited for the snide comment, only to hear none. He turned back towards the desk, but Akutagawa and the flowers were gone. Atsushi frowned. Had he really offended him about the importance of eating? Before he could call out, he heard footsteps in the kitchen before a dark head of hair and a petite face poked into the office.

Atsushi barely resisted squeaking. "N-Naomi!?" He blindly looked for Akutagawa, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. He barely resisted sighing in relief, grateful for Akutagawa's quick thinking.

Naomi smiled. "Hey Atsushi." Her soft tone set off alarm bells running through his head.

"Is Dazai-?"

Naomi blinked, startled. "Oh no! God Atsushi, no, he's fine!"

Atsushi breathed out a sigh of relief.

Naomi held out a bag. "I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by. My brother is at the Agency tonight."

Atsushi smirked. "Lonely huh?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, but she grinned. "So I'm going over to cover Aimi's shift. I'll be able to see him tonight."

"Ah, Kunnikida must be so thrilled." He brushed at some dirt on the counter. "Well…keep me informed about everything. When you can."

Naomi paused. "You know, you can always drop by."

It wasn't like he hadn't before. But he could read the unspoken signals. Dazai did not like it when Atsushi was at the Agency. Yes, it stung a bit, and he never had the courage to ask why. Still, he'd rather avoid that uncomfortable twinge by avoiding the building altogether.

But he nodded. "Thanks."

"Were you meeting with someone?" Naomi made a show of looking around, a small smile on her lips. "They sure left in quite a rush."

Atsushi blinked. "Uh…yeah. With a friend."

"I see."

Atsushi hurried toward the kitchen, ignoring her sly look. He knew not to read too much into it. The Tanizaki siblings, especially Naomi, were known for their shameless imaginations. "You hungry? I have leftover pancakes!"

"Breakfast for dinner? Sure thing!" Naomi eagerly bounced over to the table, forgetting about the topic.

But Atsushi's gaze continued to flicker over to a lone yellow daffodil, desolate on the counter. Before leaving the room, he swiped the flower, tenderly caressing it in his hands.

xXx

December 1, 2005

Yokohama

11 years ago

"Oh he is a cute little one, don't you think?"

The strange man was staring down at Atsushi with a genuine smile. Violet eyes shone with deep interest, sharp and piercing. Atsushi burrowed deeper into Dazai's arms. Outside of the shabby shack, a train shook the entire foundation, a rumbling thunder shattering his bones.

"He's tiny too," the man continued, his accent thick yet eloquent. "I never pegged you for the affectionate type, though he appears a bit too old to be yours." A sly smile was turned toward Dazai. "Unless…"

"He's not." Dazai's curt voice caused Atsushi to shrink back, but he could not move anywhere as Dazai's arms secured him into place. Which was fine because anywhere else would send Atsushi into a crying fit.

"Oh? Picking up orphans out of the goodness of your own heart?"

"I'm here to cash in on that deal," Dazai responded.

"I thought that the price for such a cash in would be steeper." The man sat back, a slender finger playing with the white scarf around his neck. "You must be really desperate."

"I'd hate to hold this over your head," Dazai responded mildly. "You're running a profitable business. No need to incur debt that will drag you down." Dazai smiled, thin and seductive. "And I am a very expensive man."

"Well then," the other responded with a laugh. "Let me see the child that has made you so desperate that you would come running into my arms."

Atsushi didn't know how to convey to Dazai that he didn't want to leave the security of his embrace. He folded in on himself, tight and desperate, clinging to the folds of Dazai's coat.

He couldn't remember a time when he had left Dazai's presence. Ever since he had been found, it seemed that he was always in Dazai's embrace. The few times when he was left alone was when Atsushi felt like he could hear everything. The loud rumbling of the train shaking the small hotel, the sound of gunshots that left Atsushi trembling in his sleep even as Dazai shushed him, and the murmur of unfriendly voices passing by.

"Don't say anything," Sakura had warned before the closet door had slammed shut on him.

And he hadn't. He had listened. He had been a good boy and stayed quiet even when his siblings were screaming and crying. He had covered his ears, biting his lip, even as the gruff voices of grown adults mingled with the cries of his siblings.

He hadn't said anything even when the closet door was pried open days later, and Dazai was staring down at him.

But now, he was scared. As the stranger held him, Atsushi was forced from his curled position. Now he was looking at the smooth features of the cold man. He trembled, feeling as if every fiber within him was pried apart and exposed for this man's entertainment. Could Dazai not see that this man was hurting him?

"Wow," the man commented. "He's smaller than I thought." He raised Atsushi up and down. "How old is he? Two?"

"Five."

"Really? That's not good." The man blinked those beautiful deep purple eyes. "Oh look at his little lip tremble. Has he cried yet?"

Atsushi did not hear Dazai say anything. Atsushi squeezed his eyes shut, remembering big sister Sakura's warning.

They'll find you. They'll find you!

Be quiet! Be quiet!

He felt a small tear trail down his face. A whimper finally broke through.

They'll find you. They'll find you!

All your fault. All your fault!

A chair sharply scraped against the floor.

"Give him to me."

Dazai did not even wait for the man to reply. Nails scratched at Atsushi's arms as he was roughly pulled back. Suddenly, Atsushi was warm again, and he was burrowing into Dazai's coat.

"I do apologize," the man responded, mild annoyance coloring his tone. "I just wanted to grow familiar with the child. We are to be acquainted for the next few days."

Dazai's voice was strained. "I would not want to overstay my welcome."

"Oh it is no trouble. You might be with me for another few weeks."

"And just how much debt would I incur out of your kindness?"

"Now now," the man shushed slyly. "No need to discuss the method of payment amidst young ears. We can save that for later."

Dazai's shirt was warm as Atsushi buried his face into his side. His tears were damping the whirte shirt, but Dazai didn't push him away. He could still feel the weight of that violet gaze on his back.

Atsushi was unaware of the thoughts running through the dark man's mind. He couldn't see the cracks forming around Dazai's confident mask. He could only feel Dazai's arms tighten around him as the weight of the stranger weighed him down, joyous thoughts of victory and manipulation dancing within his clever head.

.

.

.

He was rejoicing.

Oh Dazai, three months ago you had no weakness. Well, perhaps you once did, but at least that weakness could fight back.

xXx

July 2016

Yokohama

Akutagawa walked home, cradling the flowers as one would do with a precious possession. He would never tell Atsushi, but he likes spending time in his bright, vibrant presence. It was such a stark contrast to the dark road he traveled down to the equally darkened home. The house was so quiet, the untouched bedrooms within the home weighing heavily on his mind. Every creaky floorboard and hum of the fan grated on his nerves, taunting him with the reminder of what he had and could so easily lose.

Once, just once, he had asked to go back to the Port Mafia residence. He had received a firm 'no' from Chuuya.

He never asked again. Not when Chuuya slept there more than he did at the house, and not when the silence weighed on him so much that he often found himself staying awake, fruitlessly waiting and watching not like a devoted child but as an anxious animal.

The keys in his pocket jingled as he unlocked the door. He paused at the doorway. He had learned long ago that the warm, pressing feeling in the back of his neck was to never be ignored. It often followed with the movement of shadows and the sharp prick of a weapon against fragile skin. Someone was moving in the yard.

Akutagawa went still. It wasn't Chuuya. Chuuya would have no reason to lurk. If it was the mafia, he didn't know why they would be here. If they were here to report about Chuuya, he would have found them sitting in his kitchen.

He knew where the gun was. Though he hated dealing with guns, he knew how to use one.

But the gun was inside, and he was outside, and he had remained still for too long. The individual watching him would be suspicious now. Still, he had a small knife, and a knife was better than nothing.

Dropping the keys and flowers, he withdrew the knife. The shadow moved, but not towards him. It was retreating.

"Hey!" Akutagawa shouted, rushing forward. But the presence was gone, leaving him alone. The roads were empty, mocking him.

He picked up the flowers, locked the doors, checked the windows, but nothing had been disturbed. The police would be of no help, and he was not going to call Chuuya for this.

Shaking, he forced himself to breathe. The precautions Chuuya had laid out for him for situations such as this guided him, moving his body on autopilot.

But despite his fears (and hope) he received no other visitors for the rest of the night.

.

.

.

Hirotsu leaned against the dirtied brick wall, snuffing out his cigarette. Waiting and listening to the sound of passing cars nearly hid the slight change in the wind.

He straightened up, welcoming the new individual. "So? What did you think?"

Gin lowered her hood. Despite the mask concealing her expression, he knew by the shine in her eyes that she was smiling. "He looks like me."

This was breaking all sorts of protocols, but after years of patience and loyalty, Hirotsu figured that Gin deserved at least a little bit of the satisfaction the sight her brother would bring.

xXx

October, 2005

Yokohama

11 years ago

The skyline was within reach. If Akutagawa were to step up to the window and press his nose against the glass, he would see the people teeming below like little black worker ants.

But he didn't. He remained standing within the middle of the room. Even the thought of touching anything caused Akutagawa much anxiety. He could tell that Chuuya practiced a high form of cleanliness. Every single glass and mirror was clean with no streak. The rugs were plush and sharp, like they were vacuumed often. Even the red roses within the various crystal vases were vibrant and fresh.

The only filthy thing within this room was Akutagawa himself. He tugged at the sleeve of his coat, feeling the griminess against his skin.

Akutagawa watched as Chuuya packed a large black bag. Every shirt was meticulously folded. The pants were in order, and despite the large amount of clothes, everything seamlessly fit together. "Where am I going?"

"We," Chuuya corrected, zipping the bag. "Are going home."

Akutagawa awkwardly stood in place, resisting the urge to fidget. Chuuya was only packing four bags. Despite the large and elaborate apartment he lived in, he was moving, and he wasn't moving much of anything.

Chuuya huffed, straightening up. "Well kid, are you sure you don't have anything else?"

Akutagawa clenched the blanket in his fist. "Where's Gin?"

Something flickered in Chuuya's gaze. "I'll find your sister. I promise."

"Where is she?"

Chuuya glanced away. "She's…she's working."

"Oh." Akutagawa knew what work his sister was doing. Dazai had him work as well, but he was still training before he could take a full load. Not unlike his sister, who adapted well to the environment. His sister would have made Dazai proud while Akutagawa could only bring disappointment and setbacks.

It was no wonder Dazai had left him.

"When am I going to work?"

"You're not."

Fear shot through Akutagawa. "I'm not?"

He wasn't working. He was only good for work. His failure must have reached Chuuya's ears, and now he was sending Akutagawa away.

His lip trembled. "Please. I'll do better. I promise. I won't get sick anymore."

He did not see Chuuya's aghast look. He feared the rejection, the moment when the guillotine would descend down on him and he'd have nothing left to hold on to.

Chuuya was kneeling before him, gloved hands cupping his face. Right, gloved hands because Chuuya could never touch anything dirty and Akutagawa was just as dirty as a sewer rat.

"You're too young to work," Chuuya said, voice unusually soft. "You're going to go to school."

Akutagawa blinked. "For training?"

"For education," Chuuya corrected. "And when you're old enough, you can decide when and where you want to work."

Akutagawa barely withheld a sniffle. "I won't disappoint you." Despite all the times he recited that, Dazai never seemed pleased with that response. Because Akutagawa always disappointed him.

Chuuya didn't seem at all pleased with that response either. He grimaced, pulling back. "Well…good." He looked away. "I'm, uh, pleased to hear that."

"Oh look Chuuya," a voice crooned. "You've made the boy nervous." A tall, slender woman silently strode into the room. Her red hair was pulled up in a loose bun, her milky warm gaze landing on Chuuya. "But really dear, are you sure you don't want to stay here? You would be within my reach. I could offer my full support."

"I've been on my own before, Ane-san. Besides, I can do this." Chuuya slammed the suitcase down, zipping it down with a finality. A warm gaze focused on Akutagawa, and he smiled. Not a cunning, sharp smile that he so often sought after, but one that was softer with no edge.

He didn't like it. What was Chuuya trying to convey to him? What message was he supposed to receive?

In response, Akutagawa gripped one of the suitcases.

"No!" Chuuya exclaimed, rushing forward. In the abruptness, Akutagawa stumbled back. Now there was concern in Chuuya's gaze. "Hey, it's alright kid. I'll take care of it."

Akutagawa would not cry. He would not. He knew how useless tears were. So instead, he bit his lip and nodded. He ignored the red-haired woman's watchful gaze and merely stood to the side as Chuuya shouldered the bags.

"You seem a bit tense, my dear," the woman said. "Have you spoken with Mori yet?"

Chuuya grunted. "Yeah." His disgruntled, almost hostile tone had Akutagawa shrinking back.

But the woman was chuckling. "I see. He has named his price."

"Yeah, and part of the price was silence."

Now the woman was frowning, raising the sleeves of her kimono to her mouth, displeasure shining in her eyes. "You are stressed and I will allow this slight to pass. But do remember who you will need to call when the time comes." She strode out of the room. "You have my number."

The silence in the elaborate room had Akutagawa trembling, but he hid it by clenching onto his blanket, the only pathetic thing he insisted on bringing. Still, Chuuya fixed him with a determined look, and Akutagawa had been too young at the time to realize just how small Chuuya was at that moment.

"It's alright kid," Chuuya assured. "I can do this. I'm getting you out of here."

.

.

.

Chuuya could, in fact, not do this. He was barely sixteen, and he definitely felt like he had bitten off more than he could chew, and he was choking on the mouthful of responsibilities. But he had voiced none of these concerns to Akutagawa.

The kid was worth it.